Burning Brightly for You
'What bullshit I wouldn't understand.'
I might've thought that back in the day.
Suddenly asking if I was gonna move forward, talking about my future.
Once I answered his question,
he suddenly declares he's gonna burn brightly and vanish.
Who the hell could hear that and go, "Whoa! You're burning yourself up for me! Thank you! Thank you!" while clapping?
"Burning" yourself means pouring out all your passion and effort, or sacrificing something precious to achieve something—but "vanishing" means exactly what it says.
Maybe he just got excited and misspoke.
But the relief and satisfaction in the Old Man's tone, along with his fading presence, gave me a bad feeling deep down.
Just five days.
That's all the time I'd spent with him.
Even so, him leaving didn't sit right with me.
He was a weird old coot, sure, but a connection was a connection.
There was no way sending him off would feel pleasant.
As a mercenary, you inevitably have to say goodbye to people.
"Egil!!!!!!! Fuck!!!!!!!!!!!"
A comrade who'd been alive right up until the job started,
a guy who'd laughed and said, "Loser buys drinks after this," sending him off warmly,
dies charging into hell without proper safety gear—just because he was "worthless cannon fodder," a "meat shield for scouting."
When the fight ended, I collapsed and held him.
Back then, unlike now, I blamed the nobles more than my own incompetence and weakness.
If only we'd had proper supplies, enough antidotes and gear.
I closed my eyes and had to let him go.
No choice.
We all knew it was dangerous from the start.
The shitty treatment, the lack of supplies—we knew.
Knights or mercenaries, we're all just people fighting on the battlefield.
But the value of lives was clearly divided.
These were people who'd become mercenaries knowing all that.
Time was of the essence.
No time to mourn them properly.
Stopping now meant more people would die.
Lives treated worse than ants—but someone had to do the dirty work, and that was us mercenaries.
That's how I'd sent off one after another for years.
At some point, I started hating making new connections.
Afraid they'd vanish someday. Afraid the familiarity I'd grown used to would turn into painful strangeness.
Saying goodbye to people was always shitty.
I followed the Old Man.
Then I spotted an impossible sight in the distance.
A castle...?
It was a castle.
The Demon Realm wasn't a place where people lived, basically.
So a castle with such pristine upkeep in the Demon Realm? That made no sense.
The Old Man stopped for a moment and asked me,
"Tell me everything you know about the sword and the realms."
Sudden question, but I spilled everything I knew.
There were all sorts of subtleties to the sword, aura had various attributes,
and the realms went Runner → User → Expert → Master → Grand Master.
And so on.
"Hm..."
After hearing me out, the Old Man nodded slightly.
Like he'd gauged my level.
"You're missing a lot on aura. Engrave this in your mind."
The Old Man had never emphasized anything enough to say "engrave it in your mind" before.
He'd drop teachings casually, like passing comments.
So this meant it was something rare even outside, something even a Master would value.
I listened more intently than ever.
"Aura is the world itself."
Your own world is contained within you.
Everyone's is.
That's what he taught me.
"Aura is the world..."
I kept muttering it to myself.
Seared it into my brain so I'd never forget, no matter what.
Finishing the lesson, the Old Man turned and walked ahead again.
"The aura of the castle's master—the concept his world wields—is space-time."
"Space-time...?"
"It means he can manipulate the concepts of time and space through his aura."
Time and space.
Concepts no race, human or otherwise, had fully conquered—and never would.
A being who could handle both at once? Sounded cheat-level just hearing it.
No way that was just some monster.
Which meant...
"A demon lord. And a high-ranking one."
"Yes. One called a Demon Archduke among demons."
Demon Archduke.
In human terms, a monster needing Master-level to even fight.
Gazing at the castle's top, the Old Man said,
"Today, I will annihilate it."
Gonna kill that monster.
The Old Man didn't even have a cheap iron sword in hand.
Yet he brimmed with confidence and conviction.
His voice didn't waver, his presence as calm as ever.
Like someone out for a morning walk to wake up their body.
According to the Old Man, you normally couldn't see this castle with the naked eye.
If humans ever pushed into the Demon Realm far in the future and passed it unknowingly, heading deeper,
it'd ambush them at the moment they felt safest, no time to watch their backs.
I wondered how the Old Man knew all this, but I didn't ask.
Some knowledge hurts to have.
Anyway, I trailed him toward the castle.
"Ugh."
The closer we got, the stronger the pressure bore down on me than when I'd first stepped beyond the barrier.
"The closer you get, the more his world will try to crush and devour you."
The Old Man advised.
"Reveal your presence. Unleash your aura. Show that your world isn't to be trifled with—that it can't be swallowed like it never existed."
I started circulating my aura right away.
Having awakened it recently, I didn't have much.
It helped, but with so little and my world still so frail, I couldn't maintain it long.
Good thing: I'd learned aura cultivation from the Old Man.
If I could just escape this damn Demon Realm, it'd grow slowly.
No need to fret or rush over the small amount now.
Confirming I was okay, the Old Man moved forward again.
Like when he'd crushed those monsters with sheer presence.
He unleashed his aura freely.
This much...?
I gradually dialed back my own aura.
His was pushing out the demonic energy instead, so no need to waste my limited supply.
I could ramp it up again if needed.
Once we entered a certain range of the castle, monsters crawled out.
Their presence...
The ones I'd seen so far were manageable—I could cut them down.
Numerous and tricky patterns, but coverable with the skills I'd picked up in the Old Man's shadow.
But these were different.
I was barely low Sword Expert, scraping by with aura.
These felt mid Expert at least... to win for sure, you'd need high Expert. Disasters.
He's gonna beat these—and the even stronger Demon Archduke—without a sword...?
Even I, knowing his overwhelming power, felt uneasy.
But the Old Man quickly proved my worry unfounded.
The Old Man's presence...?
He was asserting his existence amid the monster wave.
The most vivid presence and aura I'd sensed from him yet.
'I'll burn brightly and vanish for you!'
Didn't expect his words to manifest like this,
but damn, it fit perfectly.
His whole body rippled with pitch-black flames.
Nothing like the sacred flames the Holy Kingdom's saintesses wielded.
His aura, my aura—shaped like flames, sure.
But holy or normal? Nah.
Bit of an edgy term, but... closer to hellfire, if anything.
Uh, hellfire's too much.
Yeah, karma flames.
Industry fire. Let's call it that.
From the fiercely burning flames, the Old Man shaped a sword with his aura.
Gripping it, he silently stared down the oncoming monsters.
No rash swings or charges.
If he were some average guy, you'd think he was scared stiff.
But anyone could see, even without knowing him, that his wait stemmed from overwhelming confidence.
The monsters closed in.
50 paces.
30 paces.
20 paces.
10 paces.
5 paces.
The moment their attacks lunged for his life—
- Whoosh.
Suddenly, the Old Man stood beyond the monster wave.
The sword in his right hand had risen to his left shoulder, angling down to guard his torso.
Like he'd achieved his goal, he flicked his wrist, slashing the blade from upper left to lower right.
As that motion ended,
the monsters froze in place.
And moments later,
- ROOOARRR!!!
Their bodies erupted in karma flames, melting into ash in an instant.