The Heavenly Demon Punch

I have met many who claim to have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reached immortality on their own. There was the one who once led the unorthodox factions, the immortal wretches who condemned this one as evil, and the Blood Cult Leader who long tormented this one's bones. Had they truly attained immortality, this one would have been buried beneath the earth long ago.

This one is strong, yet still human. In an endless war of attrition, victory is impossible. Yet here this one stands, having slain every self-proclaimed immortal and survived. Those who called themselves undying were merely close to it, never truly immortal.

In this one's eyes, Harkia is no different. If he were truly immortal, why would he feel fear before this one?

“Where has your earlier confidence gone?”

Why do you step backward? The power you wield is great. The strength you obtained through magic is real. Believe in yourself. A single strike from you would shatter this one's frail body. Do you not see this one's lips curving upward? It means the struggle with you has been rather enjoyable. Few have ever granted this one such pleasure, so you may take pride in it.

“You do not intend to flee, do you?”

“Would I show my back to a mere human?”

“You looked utterly terrified. Perhaps it was merely this one's imagination.”

Provoked by this one's words, Harkia drew up his mana and pressed down upon the entire space with overwhelming force. Hmm. Excellent. It has been a long time since this one felt such pressure. Indeed, a weak body is preferable. Excessive strength would only rob the joy from battle.

The moment this one stepped forward toward Harkia, he thrust out his fist. This one had thought it before as well—this power is truly wondrous. It moves so fast the eye can scarcely follow. The pity is that it is merely a fist. What use is speed and strength when the one swinging it lacks skill? A fist thrown by one ignorant of martial arts is so predictable that this one could dodge it with eyes closed. Thus, its invisibility posed no problem.

While evading twenty-one consecutive strikes in a single second, something seized this one's leg. The sensation was familiar—telekinesis, the same force that once hurled this one into the sky. He seeks to compensate for his lack of martial skill with magic. A sound judgment. An amusing one as well. Since he has shown this one something novel, this one must return the favor.

This one placed a palm against Harkia's extended fist. The impact that would have reduced an ordinary person to dust crashed down. Yet the flow of that power was far too honest. Redirecting it back upon its wielder was no difficult task.

BOOM!

Harkia's arm exploded. Even as he instantly regenerated it, he did not press the attack. Instead, he stared at this one with eyes full of questions. What is it? Are you curious what trick this one used? Unfortunately, this one has no intention of telling you. This one is not so kind to adversaries.

In place of an answer, this one sent Harkia's head flying with a punch. He clenched his teeth and charged. The close-quarters battle continued. Harkia wove his magic between his strikes. Blades of wind sliced toward this one the instant a fist was dodged, attempting to cleave this one in half. At times the earth itself rose to hinder movement, forcing this one to endure his blows. Occasionally the world turned blinding white. At other times his telekinesis seized this one's body.

This one had never experienced anything like it. A clumsy brawl fused with wondrous magic. Entertaining. Because this one had never encountered it before, the next moment could not be predicted. The knowledge that a single misjudgment would mean death was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠delightful.

Correction. You resemble the Blood Cult Leader, yet you are not one who must die. You are someone this one is willing to kill with genuine intent.

At some point Harkia abandoned all defense. Instead, he accepted this one's attacks to buy time for his own moves. Each time he acted, he sacrificed a life to threaten this one. Yet because this one never allowed the attacks to land, his threats remained mere threats, and his sacrifices only increased his count. One death became ten, then a hundred, then a thousand. As the deaths accumulated, Harkia's regeneration slowed. What had once regenerated instantly now required a second, then ten, then thirty seconds—and still his arm remained unregenerated.

The battle was drawing to a close. A pity. This one struck Harkia's abdomen, sending him staggering backward. He had lost even the strength to endure such pain. Few lives remained to him now. Harkia himself seemed to sense it; fear filled his eyes. Those eyes were somewhat disappointing. Had they been filled with resolve to die, it would have been perfect. Well. This one can overlook that much. After all, he provided this one with new amusement.

“Harkia.”

“What?”

“You showed this one something entertaining, so this one shall show you something amusing in return. You are worthy of witnessing it.”

This one drew a breath and observed the body within. The fight had not exhausted only Harkia. The body in this game was now in tatters. Even if martial insight compensated for a deficient physique, there were limits. This one barely remained standing, yet once the battle ended, this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠body too would reach its limit. If it must collapse anyway, the finale should be spectacular.

Let us burn life itself. Mana had already run dry, yet that was irrelevant. It could be replaced with life. Even a body that never learned martial arts possesses innate true qi. What this one would display was no imitation of martial arts crafted from mana. It was the single crystallization of everything this one had accumulated over a lifetime.

Oil was poured upon a dying candle so that everything might burn brilliantly. All true qi gathered beneath the feet. This one stepped forward with the True Step.

BOOM!

The aftershock sent earthquake-like tremors through the earth. The true qi beneath the feet raced up the thighs, through the waist, twisted at the hips, surged into the shoulders, traveled down the forearms, past the elbows, and finally gathered in the hands.

“This one has never given this technique a name, yet lately the other children call this one's fist by this title.”

Harkia, sensing danger, rushed forward in desperation, but it was already too late. The fist was ready to be unleashed.

“It is the Heavenly Demon Punch.”

The launched fist tore through the earth, pierced Harkia, and continued onward, splitting the clouds in the sky and revealing the full moon that had been hidden. Struck directly by the fist, Harkia could no longer regenerate. His corpse collapsed to the ground.

Good. This is a fitting conclusion. Nodding in satisfaction, this one pitched forward in the same posture.

This one wanted to answer the screaming Enry, yet the body would not move. How troublesome. If one must die, one should die quickly. Why delay death and cause others worry?

As though it had heard this one's grumbling, a black window appeared and this one's vision went dark at once.

When this one regained consciousness, a fortress stood before the eyes. Was this not the place called Dawn-something?

“Why is this one here?”

At Enry's words, this one moved arms and legs and confirmed the body was whole again. It should have been like this from the beginning.

“This one merely burned life to unleash martial arts. It could be called a self-destruct technique.”

“It is only a game. Why be so surprised?”

Scolding Enry, this one turned toward the chat window and saw viewers lost in madness.

This was precisely the reaction this one desired. How stingy you all are. Only after witnessing this one's sincere martial arts do you show such a response.

“This one shall end the stream soon. This one has already broadcast for nearly half a day.”

The viewer count had already reached several thousand. It was a sufficiently successful debut. The original goal of showing the human Baek Ara had not been achieved at all, but that could be done gradually. There was no need to rush. Nothing good comes from impatience.

The viewers voiced their complaints, but this one ignored them. Enry had given strict instructions. No matter what the viewers said, when it was time to end the stream, the stream must end. Enry was surely glaring with murderous eyes right now, so there was no changing this one's mind.

“Who knows. This one will turn it on when the mood strikes. Farewell.”

Without the slightest hesitation, this one pressed the stream end button.

*

Min Il-su, who had just woken up in the morning, picked up his smartphone and, with still-heavy eyes, checked the community. Spending thirty minutes browsing the community right after waking had become part of his daily routine. He claimed it was necessary to avoid controversy, but in truth he was simply an ordinary community addict.

Once again, the center of attention in the community was the Heavenly Demon user who had thoroughly crushed him—Hwaryeong. She had said she would start streaming yesterday. Naturally, the Heavenly Demon Cult followers had taken over the community. Il-su had not been able to watch Hwaryeong's stream yesterday. He had been busy with real-life matters. He had heard his friends exclaiming that Hwaryeong's stream was insane, but he did not know exactly what had happened. He had originally planned to watch the replay, but while browsing the community, Il-su could not contain his curiosity. He decided to see how the community's reactions had unfolded from the start of the stream.

With a light heart, he flipped through the pages. When he passed the tenth page, he felt something was wrong. Why was the topic about Hwaryeong not ending? He continued flipping for a long while before finally finding the very first post mentioning Hwaryeong's stream.

Nothing much here. Il-su wanted to know what Hwaryeong had actually done yesterday. He flipped six pages forward before finally learning which game Hwaryeong had played.

Il-su watched the video once, then could not believe what he had seen and pressed play again. It was no illusion. Hwaryeong had cut down the sun with a sword and made it fall.

Why is that person playing Apis inside Sky's End?!