It's Time to Reclaim Akshan Too (1)

A new era's hero. The legend of Akkshan.

When that message popped up, my head throbbed—not just with pain, but with sheer injustice. Fine, I get it. You all becoming legends? Great. But now that you've materialized into reality, what does that make me—the guy choking back tears while gazing at the southern sea?! If you'd at least given me a time buffer before ascending to legend status, I wouldn't even be grumbling. Even accounting for Arcana Continent's time flowing four times faster than reality's, this was ridiculous. It felt like becoming a legend was just part of some diversionary tactic. You returned way too fast, our Akkshan seniors...!

Of course, I knew these materialized legendary seniors weren't the real deal. I knew the true ones were burning with unbreakable resolve in the belly of Omen or down in hell itself. My vow to reunite with them wasn't wavering or anything. It was just... Still as headstrong as ever, these guys.

The problem was that these materialized Akkshan demon hunters were no different from the originals. It felt like the number of seniors I had to worry about had doubled. And look at them now, right?

I hadn't even considered materializing the legend of Akkshan. But then.

Thud. Thud.

Typical Akkshan temperament—charging headlong at any whiff of demon, heedless of fire or water...! Spotting the bloodstains reeking of demons, one materialized on his own two feet. Frowning deeply, he growled,

"Filth."

Unlike the hell-bound seniors shackled by their code, these materialized ones could speak freely. But Akkshan being Akkshan, even back when Arcana was just a game in its continental chronicle era—when they had to play nice as NPCs—they never wasted empty praise on players. Cold to the core. So even seeing me, the last demon hunter, they showed no joy or感動.

Their words at our first encounter:

—"Just as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we left you, last demon hunter."

...Just as we left you? Did that mean I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't grown up at all? Well, no point getting mad. It was my middle-school chuunibyou, black history self, after all.

Naturally, Grandfell was cut from the same cloth as Akkshan—far more a man of action than words. So no need for much talk between us.

—"No need for concern."

—"Likewise."

—"Akkshan is yours."

—"No cause for worry."

—"Hmph. Good."

...What are you guys even doing? I was genuinely embarrassed for them back then. Was that really my taste? A scene that made me question my past.

Anyway, that was then. Now, as the last survivor of the legendary revived Akkshan, I was too busy fulfilling my duties.

My vision sparkled.

Yeah. In the end, I'd shouldered another burden. But honestly, whining about my lot felt a bit off now. What can you do? It's just how I'm built.

This time, I approached it positively from the start. And that shifted my perspective. Why, this Akshan reconstruction quest? I'd spotted the hidden value in what seemed like a hassle.

Demons will revive someday.

Ranking tenth. All demon kings save the upper demon kings deleted. Even right after returning to reality, I hadn't neglected my pursuit of the bizarre (internet surfing). Some communities hailed the patch as good news. Fair enough, maybe. But the world might be fooled—I wouldn't be. I'd witnessed it firsthand: the demon king struggle.

Demon kings weren't born; they were made. Those who claimed an empty throne in the struggle became new demon kings, seizing greater power. System-wise? Promotion to boss monster.

Via the item [Demon King's Throne], they ascended ranks. So the demon king deletion patch? Wordplay. Raymon Sean's deception.

Thus, to hurl demon kings into hell... only a demon hunter's hunt would do.

The number of demon kings didn't matter. If it must be done, it'll get done—with this temperament of mine.

Pride soaring higher before demons. Grandfell wouldn't shirk dirty work, but time was the issue. Considering my piled-up burdens, handling it solo was impossible. Viewed that way, Akkshan's revival was welcome.

I'd suffer in the reconstruction, sure. But look ahead. As the saying goes: suffer young, and you've stocked up for life. The process wasn't unfamiliar anyway.

Gaze fixed on the quest goal:

—Hunt demons. (Repeat)

Yeah, this damn repeat quest that bored players to tears...! Even after so long, it still grated.

As I inwardly stuck out my tongue, an Akkshan senior spoke.

"Time to track."

Then, in true Akkshan style, he relayed:

—Hunt demons. (Repeat)

● Track the hybrid demon via bloodstains. (In Progress)

Hybrid demon. Named, so at least a named demon. A named monster, then. An unfamiliar one, regardless.

But Akkshan wouldn't bother with explanations, and Grandfell's pride wouldn't admit ignorance. So action over words, as always.

With 100 rifts nearly cleared, time to track, I guess.

Bloodstains, huh... I shifted my gaze to them. And puzzled.

What exactly am I tracking?

As said, the blood was dried and pooled. No trail leading anywhere.

Summon Akkshan's guardian, Tempest? That'd track it easily. Is that what they want?

Calling out that name...? Tempest Over the Horizon or something? Right?

As I pondered, the demon hunter spoke.

"Not with the eyes."

A mutter, not directed at me. But it helped anyway.

Who was Grandfell? A genius who mimicked perfectly just by watching. Add explanation, and he'd master anything effortlessly.

"View it through consciousness transcending the five senses."

Consciousness. Demon-related? Only one option.

The demon hunter uttered exactly what I'd predicted.

"As if gazing upon a demon within the exorcism ritual."

One of the demon hunter's basic innate skills: [Exorcism Ritual]. I'd thought it only for hunting possessed demons. Who knew it had this use? Seniors indeed.

Admiration brief, I activated [Exorcism Ritual].

"...!"

It sharpened into focus. Within consciousness. Centered on the spilled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bloodstains—what had transpired here.

An incident in the rift. Players could enter, so naturally involved.

I intoned coldly.

"Repulsive."

PK. Once called Player Kill. Now, no different from murder. The atrocity here demanded remembrance.

The scream piercing consciousness:

—"You're no mere supernova after all...!!"

The killer: a demon in supernova guise.

—"Count it an honor. You're becoming a historic sacrifice."

And it called its victim that. So, scheming something grand. Tied to the hybrid demon, no doubt.

Exorcism ritual released. Afterimages faded, revealing the demon hunter. He'd done the same, explaining for my sake? No—he continued,

"Been a while. Needed reminding."

Then, eyeing me:

"Last demon hunter. We Akkshan—all of us—may unwittingly burden you. Myself included."

I nodded. I'd figured.

Legends grow with renown's spread. Thus, Akkshan legend couldn't surpass the originals now.

Consider how Akkshan was treated. Forgotten by Arcana, becoming legend through the overlooked. I knew best: Akkshan seniors far stronger than known. Their resolve? Beyond imagination.

So I replied,

"Did I not say? No cause for worry."

Truth be told, I, Lee Hoyeol, lacked confidence. Matching their resolve, sacrifice? Unthinkable. Rebuilding Akkshan with legendary seniors? No guarantee of better results than the past originals.

Yet.

"Akkshan will be reclaimed."

"Reclaimed...?"

Grandfell was here. Claudy family's youngest head. Talent hailed as generational even among greats. Included rebuilding ruined Claudys. Felt it in Claudy territory, mansion, banquet.

Thus.

"The honor that must be seized."

"Honor..."

Such arrogance I could spout. Akkshan-style talk suits moments like this.

No rebuke from the senior despite my haughtiness. He just nodded silently. Then, leaving one phrase, dispersed into legend.

"Then I'll await the next trace."

Reassuring, yet exhausting. But no time to complain.

Demon-hater Grandfell, intolerant even of sharing air with demons, had sniffed out their plot. No room for leisure.

Shing—

In this half-reality, half-Arcana vista. Amid collapsed real-world backdrop.

I manifested my sword from rebar in concrete.

"This is why I despise you."

Blade aura flaring, accelerating rift clears.

"Ever oblivious, rendering discipline futile."

No banter even with monsters now. My pace burned fiercer.

Suddenly, entering the next rift, I mused.

Two left now?

Lets see. 98 rifts cleared... The world must be in uproar by now.

*

Mage Tower.

Emerald Hall.

Where magical tomes exist as copies. In that vast space, players huddled, whispering furtively. Eyes wide.

Precisely 59 minutes and 40 seconds. Time taken for Hoyeol's Day Hundred rift clears.

Overwhelming.

Right after his declaration, netuber players who'd rushed into rifts broadcasted the spectacle.

To Hoyeol, rift clears? Not a metaphor—easier than strolling. Lining 100 rifts single-file would take over an hour walking.

Players concluded.

Yes. With Hoyeol proving his might.

Raymon Sean's turn again.

Gulp—

Dry swallows echoed. Now, waiting game.

Hoyeol vs. Raymon Sean. Their colossal matchup's outcome inevitable, one way or another.

Normally, they'd anxiously await next Thursday. But not in Mage Tower.

"Hey, time."

Suddenly, Emerald Hall players rose in unison. Mages too. All footsteps led to Crystal Hall.

Murmurs—

The pureblood magus race: Twilight Descendants. One claiming the title about to verify power at Crystal Hall's podium. Imminent.

Irresistible bait.

As players entered Crystal Hall.

"......?"

Gazes converged. Not just players. Mages too.

"......!!"