The Viscount's Parasites
“How do you know that?”
Furcas’s expression turned deadly serious. It was only natural—almost no one knew of his connection to Mammon. Even the other Demon Kings remained ignorant of that particular secret.
“Your eyes just changed the second I said it, didn’t they?”
Baek Do-ha looked at Furcas and offered a thin, mocking smile. Moments earlier the demon had been calculating how best to slip away; now his face said he intended to kill Do-ha right here, no matter the cost.
“I never planned on clashing with you. I had something more important than a fight.”
“That ‘something important’ was creating an infiltration route into the Seon-gye, wasn’t it? On Mammon’s orders.”
“…….”
With only a few words Do-ha had laid the entire situation bare, and Furcas’s gaze grew colder still. Having never faced the Absolute Being directly, Furcas had not understood why the Demon Kings treated him with such caution. If the man had been nothing more than raw power, Furcas would have toyed with him easily. That was no longer an option.
“You’re different from the rumors, though.”
“Different?”
“I heard you were so hot-tempered you’d charge any demon the moment you saw one. You’re surprisingly well-behaved.”
“I’ve lived long enough to hear a demon call me well-behaved. That’s a first.”
Furcas’s lips stretched into a grotesque smile. Two months had already passed since he joined hands with Yeon So-bong and slipped into the Kunlun Sect. In that time he had finished every critical piece of his work.
“You should never have spoken with me like this.”
A thick, foul demonic aura began to pour from Furcas as he drew up his power. Seconds ticked by—dozens of them—and nothing happened.
“Wh… what is this…?”
“What’s wrong? Can’t absorb the life force of the Kunlun disciples?”
Do-ha laughed outright at Furcas’s panic. Did the demon really think he had come hunting without any preparation?
“I’ve been dealing with your kind for decades. You think I wouldn’t take basic precautions?”
“Even you—this is impossible!”
Furcas shouted in raw confusion. The work he had laid could not be undone by martial arts or magic. He had planted tiny worms inside every person in the Kunlun Sect. They resembled the gu-poison of the Moorim world, yet differed in one crucial way: these worms burrowed into a human heart and took root. Attempt to remove one and the heart would burst on the spot.
“Did you kill every single human in Kunlun just so I couldn’t drain their life force?!”
“This bastard’s trying to turn me into a mass murderer.”
Had every disciple and elder of Kunlun colluded with Yeon So-bong and sold themselves to a demon, Do-ha would have wiped them all out without hesitation. Most of them, however, had known nothing. He had only eliminated the core elders—men like Hwang Hu-pyeong—who had been the true pillars of the conspiracy. Yeon So-bong still lay on the ground, barely breathing.
Stupid bastard. Furcas already drained every last drop of his Seoncheon-jin-gi. He’ll be dead soon enough.
A low hum of power rose. Baek-bo Myeol-hwang Gong, Second Step: Mujegak.
With a sickening crunch, Do-ha crushed Yeon So-bong’s skull under a cold, merciless heel. In the final instant he spread his energy as widely as possible so that the dying man would feel every ounce of agony.
“You couldn’t just leave a man who was going to die on his own. Had to send him off in pain. Cruel bastard.”
“As if you’re any better.”
A creature like Yeon So-bong did not deserve a clean death. Because of him, innocent Kunlun disciples had nearly been slaughtered, and the entire Moorim world had nearly been thrown into chaos.
—Do-ha, all done.
Canteas’s voice arrived by sound transmission at the same moment he teleported to Do-ha’s side. Teleportation was normally impossible on the Eastern Continent, but Canteas had briefly returned to his true body; bypassing a dragon’s power was trivial for him now.
“Hey, Furcas. Mind if I keep these as research material?”
Still in his true form for the moment, Canteas smiled and gave a glass bottle a cheerful shake. Inside, hundreds of grotesque little worms writhed and screeched.
“The Lord of the Underworld…”
A dreadful aura washed over Furcas; his brow furrowed hard. Damn it all. Canteas, King of the Underworld, was here as well. Years had passed since the lich vanished—had he been with the Absolute the entire time?
“What trick did you use? How did you pull them out?!”
No matter how he turned it over, it made no sense. Those worms responded only to his own power. No one else could extract them. Split a heart in half and dig them free, perhaps—but short of that, not even a dragon or a Demon King could remove them. An eighth-circle lich should have been no exception.
“You remember Buer?”
“The Grand Duke Buer you killed years ago?”
“That’s the one.”
“Why bring up a dead man?”
“Because he pulled the exact same shit you did.”
Back then, neither Do-ha nor Canteas had been able to deal with Buer’s worms. They had failed to save a great many people and had failed to kill Buer himself. Afterward Do-ha collected samples of the creatures and handed them to Canteas for study, so they would never be caught unprepared again. A year later Canteas finally perfected a safe extraction method—then hunted Grand Duke Buer down and killed him.
“I’ve already lived through this little stunt of yours, decades ago. You son of a bitch.”
Power surged. Sparks of black lightning crackled. Baek-bo Myeol-hwang Gong, Fourth Step: Geukma Noegwon.
Do-ha, having risen in realm, no longer needed to load the Extreme Demon Thunder Fist into his fist; he could fire it the same way he projected Baekbo-singwon.
A thunderous explosion tore the air.
“Canteas. Evacuate everyone nearby.”
“Got it.”
Do-ha shot forward through the rising dust. In that brief instant he had seen Furcas’s form change—shrinking until the demon looked no larger than a bean. A worm, no doubt, intending to burrow into the earth. Furcas would not flee, of course. As long as someone who knew of his link to Mammon still lived, he would try to kill Do-ha on the spot.
“Not a chance.”
Earthquake.
The ground heaved and split. Screams rose from the streets around the Kunlun Sect as people fled the sudden quake. Canteas, however, had already locked onto every living soul within a five-kilometer radius and was preparing a Mass Teleport.
The earth cracked open, revealing a tiny bean-shaped worm. Do-ha’s hand shot out.
“A worm form suits you perfectly.”
No matter how small a demon became, it could never hide the filthy demonic aura it carried.
Golden light blazed from Do-ha’s body. Daeryeok Geumgangjang—the Great Strength Vajra Palm, charged with the purifying nature of Pama—closed around Furcas.
A wet crunch. A scream. Liquid poured between Do-ha’s fingers as Furcas’s body dissolved and slipped free.
“You fucking bastard!”
Furcas reconstituted himself, but the damage from the Vajra Palm had been severe; his flesh kept dripping and failing to hold shape.
“Hey, for a Viscount ranked fiftieth, you’re pretty pathetic. One hit from a Vajra Palm and look at you.”
Do-ha’s taunt made Furcas grind his teeth.
“Then again, a parasite-planter was never going to be strong. That’s why you resort to cheap tricks like this, right?”
“You son of a bitch!!”
Enraged, Furcas lunged. His arm liquefied and reformed into a massive blade that sheared half a Kunlun building away in a single stroke. He kept swinging, each blow collapsing more structures.
—Do-ha, we need to stop him soon.
Canteas’s transmission came from overhead. Every attack was leveling the surrounding buildings. The Kunlun Sect could rebuild its own halls, but ordinary citizens were another matter. The sect would eventually pay compensation—yet if the elders dragged their feet for a decade, the people who had lost their homes would simply end up on the street.
—Just a little longer. I’m watching something.
Do-ha kept dodging the furious strikes.
“How long are you going to keep running, Baek Do-ha?! If you’re the Absolute, fight me!”
“Call a guy weak and he starts throwing a tantrum. Shame it doesn’t actually make him stronger.”
“Aaaaaargh!!”
The fresh taunt drove Furcas’s power still higher. The Vajra Palm had scattered a great deal of his demonic energy, yet he remained more than capable of battle.
“Now.”
Do-ha clapped his hands lightly the instant Furcas’s aura spiked.
Furcas’s body began to pour downward in thick streams—far worse than after the Vajra Palm. He could no longer maintain any solid form at all.
Why… why is this happening?!
Panic seized him. Even after drawing up every scrap of power, this should have been impossible. He was no low-rank demon; a couple of hits should never reduce him to melting sludge.
“Feeling hot? You’re melting like ice cream.”
“What did you do to me?!”
Do-ha’s mockery drew a raw scream. The Absolute had not struck again, yet something had clearly been done. Nothing else explained this.
“I watched carefully. You form your body by drawing in the moisture around you. Once the body hardens, the water evaporates.”
“…….”
“So while you were rebuilding, I just added a little extra moisture.”
Do-ha flexed his fingers; Mokhon-sura-gong stirred in answer. All he had done was supply more water.
“On Earth we call it ‘glass skin.’ I just helped you stay nice and dewy.”
“Baek Do-haaaaa!!”
Furcas finally lost all reason. He poured every remaining scrap of power into a headlong charge.
Mokhon-sura-gong, First Form: Pasu Yeokjang.
Both of Do-ha’s palms—each carrying a different current of energy—slammed into Furcas’s abdomen. Then the hands spun at blinding speed. The whirling force completely unraveled the demon’s body.
A final scream. Liquid sprayed. An explosion of foul fluid.
“Canteas.”
“On it!”
Canteas streaked in, popped the lid of an enormous glass jar, and held it ready. The completely liquefied Furcas poured neatly inside.
The lid sealed with a firm twist.
“Done. He’s all in.”
“Still alive?”
“Yep.”
“Then we’ll squeeze every scrap of information about Mammon out of—”
Thick fog began to billow up around them while Do-ha and Canteas still stared at the bottled Viscount.