The Heavenly Demon Teaches (1)
The desire to learn the Heavenly Demon Divine Art simply because it was cool was quite a refreshing story.
After all, the Heavenly Demon Divine Art was a demonic art. How often did one encounter someone who wanted to learn a technique that could very well take their own life, purely because they thought it was neat? Usually, people attached grand justifications—becoming stronger, for the eternal glory of the Divine Cult, for their family, for wealth and fame. They might dress it up with all sorts of flowery rhetoric, but beneath the surface lay the cold calculation that their life and their martial arts were a fair enough trade.
That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. A wish one held dear could later become a firm simji, a mental anchor that might save them from being devoured by the Heavenly Demon Divine Art. No, the real problem was the ones who simply said they liked it.
Those types fell into two categories: those who hid their ugly inner desires behind a noble longing for martial arts, and those who were genuinely obsessed with the art itself, to the point they wouldn’t mind being consumed by it. Neither path tended to end well. Those who denied what could have been their anchor could never withstand the ferocity of the divine art, and those without any anchor at all—how long could they possibly endure?
Therefore, under normal circumstances, Seol-ah’s answer should have been one that I despised. But she was an exception.
Because the girl standing before me hadn’t once considered offering her life.
She was a modern person. A being learning martial arts inside a VR world. Even if she mastered the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, she wouldn’t actually die. That was why she could shout her wish with such bright, innocent joy, without the slightest hint of solemn resolve.
It was a sight I had never once witnessed in all my years living in the Murim. How could the word “refreshing” not slip from my lips?
It was a pleasing answer, but I still couldn’t let myself feel at ease. Even now, I could see the seed of fanaticism buried deep within her heart. It lay dormant for the moment, but there was no telling when it might bloom. And the moment it did, the real person behind her would be in danger.
Seol-ah, for the sake of your own safety, you must prove one thing to me. That your feeling of “liking” it is pure. That it is a bright, clear smile rather than a sticky desire. That it can stand firm as a simji, a breakwater that prevents it from influencing reality.
So I shall ask.
At Hwaryong’s question, Seol-ah’s eyes drifted toward the empty air.
“L… lengthily?”
Why she liked the Heavenly Demon Divine Art. There were more than enough words she could say about it.
She liked its arrogance—that it would shatter any oppression that came its way and stand above it. She liked how it could stand tall and proud before any storm. She liked the confidence that even if something that seemed impossible blocked its path, it could still break through.
But when she thought about it, those reasons were closer to why she liked Hwaryong than why she liked the Heavenly Demon Divine Art.
That was why Seol-ah couldn’t answer easily. Laying her heart bare in front of someone else was far too awkward.
“Hmm. It seems difficult for you to answer. Very well. Then I shall change the question slightly.”
Just as she was desperately trying to choose her words, Hwaryong spoke again, her voice laced with laughter.
No, it’s not that I can’t answer. I’m trying to find the right one. If you give me just a little more time, I’ll definitely give a proper—
“…Pardon?”
It was a rather abrupt question, completely different from the previous one.
“A god?”
“I heard a story from Harin once.”
Harin. The Nyan-Nyan Fist. The moment she heard that name, one particular memory surfaced in Seol-ah’s mind.
The time when she had first discovered Hwaryong’s stream and learned how to truly use martial arts. The period of emptiness when she realized all her previous efforts had been meaningless, followed by the joy of meeting a true master who could teach her proper techniques. The days when she had worshipped Hwaryong with nothing but vague admiration, as if the Heavenly Demon she had always dreamed of had stepped out of fantasy and into reality.
Back then, Seol-ah had been half-insane.
Looking back now, she wondered why she had acted that way, but at the time she truly hadn’t been in her right mind. She had completely abandoned the video editing job she had poured all her passion into and devoted herself solely to martial arts.
During that phase, Seol-ah had spouted countless chuunibyou lines at Harin. Excited by the change in herself after discovering Hwaryong’s existence, she had said countless things that would later become dark history.
It was a memory Seol-ah wanted to forget, but she couldn’t. After she had grown somewhat close to Harin recently, Harin had started teasing her about it.
Seol-ah, do that thing again. You know, that thing.
Every time Harin sent her a message like that, Seol-ah would renew her vow to give even harsher feedback next time.
Until now, Seol-ah had thought it was just harmless teasing between the two of them. But reality was different.
Harin had told someone else.
Harin! You told Hwaryong-nim about that?! There are things you say and things you don’t! If you blab everything to Hwaryong-nim, what does that make me?!
Seol-ah, who had been screaming internally, snapped back to attention at Hwaryong’s words.
She still admired Hwaryong. Since the ideal she had always longed for had appeared in reality, there was no reason not to admire her. However, if asked whether she worshipped her like a god, she could confidently say no.
She liked Hwaryong enough to make an effort to watch her every move. Naturally, she rarely missed any of Hwaryong’s streams. Through them, she had naturally come to understand what kind of person Hwaryong was.
Hwaryong wasn’t the type to put on a fake persona during her broadcasts. She didn’t create a character to entertain others. She was someone who showed her true self without reservation.
When she was serious, she looked cooler than anyone else, but she also showed plenty of clumsy, careless sides. Back when she wasn’t used to streaming, she once banned a viewer while trying to allocate points. Even though there was a standard route, she would get annoyed and solve problems with brute force instead. When she saw something cute, the corners of her usually heavy lips would lift slightly. When she ate something delicious, she would genuinely look happy. Even when viewers tried to stop her, she would stubbornly keep going until she reached a catastrophic ending. She revealed her human side countless times.
Just look at what happened recently when she became a cat-eared maid. If Hwaryong had been a flawless god, she never would have done something like that.
Because she was Hwaryong’s editor, and because she liked her, Seol-ah knew these facts all too well. She had never thought of Hwaryong as a god. She was simply a human who appeared omnipotent when it came to martial arts.
Hwaryong stared quietly at Seol-ah’s face for a moment, then nodded.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What did you learn there?”
Two days ago, Seol-ah had met the man who had survived Solitude. Having completed every procedure as the sole survivor of the ritual, he had become noticeably stronger—even to Seol-ah’s eyes. To the man who was now expected to play an even more important role, Seol-ah had asked this:
‘You knew the dreams of so many people. Now that you’ve survived after killing them all, do you carry their dreams within you?’
She had been curious. Had the bright-eyed little girl, the man with the voice loud enough to make ears ring, and all the countless others who had spoken their dreams simply vanished without leaving anything behind? Or had they entrusted everything to this man before departing?
The man had answered without the slightest hesitation.
‘They were the weak, and I, the survivor, am the strong. Therefore, my will is more correct.’
He would feel a sense of duty for standing here upon their deaths, but he had no intention of carrying on their wishes.
Upon hearing that, Seol-ah had realized something.
Those who had participated in Solitude but died had left nothing. They had simply been consumed as fuel for the ritual. The dreams they carried and all the effort they had put in had vanished along with their deaths.
She certainly wished to learn the Heavenly Demon Divine Art. But if the end of that path was to collapse like that bright little girl, leaving nothing behind, then she would not learn it. Seol-ah did not want such an ending.
Besides, there was no real need to worry about such an ending in the first place. After all, Seol-ah was someone who only used martial arts inside a VR game.
Hwaryong nodded once more after hearing Seol-ah’s answer. Only then did Seol-ah notice something strange.
The pipe that Hwaryong always held in one hand whenever they faced each other was missing. Her hand was empty.
What kind of ominous sign is this?
Just as Seol-ah was growing tense at the sight of the silent Hwaryong, the corners of Hwaryong’s lips lifted lightly.
“Huh? No. It’s still there.”
She hadn’t logged in since Hwaryong had forbidden her from using the Heavenly Demon character last time, but the game called Apis itself remained untouched. But why is she asking about that?
“…Uh. So, you mean…”
Seol-ah froze on the spot. It was an answer she had not expected at all.
Until now, Hwaryong had refused Seol-ah’s requests several times. She had said she could not teach her the Heavenly Demon Divine Art. Because of that, Seol-ah had assumed she would hear the same answer today. Even she thought her reason of simply “liking” the Heavenly Demon Divine Art sounded absurd.
“Did I hear that wrong?”
Did Hwaryong-nim really just say she would teach me the Heavenly Demon Divine Art? Right? I didn’t mishear, did I?
Overjoyed that her long-cherished wish had come true, Seol-ah wanted to hear those words once more from the person she admired.
Hwaryong looked at Seol-ah’s sparkling eyes for a moment, then let out a small chuckle and spoke with a mischievous tone.
“No! No!! That’s not it at all! I’ll log out right now and connect to Apis immediately! That’s all I need to do, right?! Right?!”