Popcorn at the Battlefield
A deep rumble rolled through the air.
"Wh—what the hell?!"
"We've been connected to the Demon Realm!"
"What is going on?! How did we get linked to Hell?!"
"All forces—to the Sixth District, now!!!"
"A demon destroyed the altar!"
"That… that bastard Baek Do-ha…"
Mammon stood frozen for a beat, then his face twisted as angels poured through the portal in a living flood.
The moment the altar fell, the angels came swarming at terrifying speed. Demons could gather quickly—but the angels were moving even faster.
"The… the Demon King?!"
"A Demon King destroyed the Heavenly God's altar… unforgivable!"
"Kill every last one of those filthy demons!"
"Waaaaaah!"
"Hah… first things first. We deal with these pigeons. All forces—advance."
"Waaaaaah!"
At Mammon's command, the demons massed before the fortress charged.
BOOM!
KRA-KOOOOM!
"Damn. They're putting on a show."
While angels and demons tore into one another in a slaughter, Do-ha—who had vanished by teleport earlier—sat perched on a withered tree, watching the carnage unfold.
He had worried the angels might take their time reaching an empty Sixth District. Instead, they had crossed over almost at once. Practically standing by.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
"Mammon really can fight."
A single punch shredded hundreds of angels at once, and Do-ha clapped. Whatever sulking, pathetic figure Mammon had cut earlier was gone—now he radiated the murderous aura of a battle-fiend, carving through the heavenly host.
A soft shimmer of light.
"Finally. He always shows up late."
As angel corpses piled higher, a crushing presence swept the field—and the Four Great Angels appeared alongside Metatron.
"Mammon! Not content with desecrating the Heavenly God's altar, you dare slaughter His angels as well?!"
"Metatron. The coward who always hid in the shadows actually crawled out of Heaven and into Hell. Impressive."
"You bastard!!"
CRAAAAACK-CRACK-CRACK!
Mammon's and Metatron's auras collided, and a shockwave tore outward. One exchange of fists was enough to flip the earth and split the sky.
But the first to falter was Mammon.
No surprise—Metatron was simply stronger. In raw power alone, Metatron stood nearly level with Lucifer, first among the Demon Kings. In a pure one-on-one, Mammon was bound to lose ground.
But demons have something angels don't.
A blur of motion—
A thin cut.
"Kh!"
Rakkatu, the grand general who served at Mammon's side, nicked Metatron's shoulder.
Coordinated assault.
Angels knew the concept of ganging up, of course. But when commanders fought, no one interfered. High-ranking angels considered one-on-one combat a matter of honor. To join in was shameful—so no commander-class angel ever piled on.
"You coward. Typical demon—no honor at all!"
"Hmph. True honor is something you get to keep only while you're still breathing."
Metatron's rebuke earned nothing but a snort from Mammon.
The commander-class angels still preferred to fight alone.
"Lord Metatron! We'll fight with you!"
"We'll take the punishment for this dishonorable act later!"
Idiots.
Watching from afar, Do-ha shook his head.
A jolt of collision.
"Ra—Raphael! You can't just jump in like that!"
"What are you talking about? I was already moving!"
A coordinated assault is far harder than a clean duel. And they're diving in with zero experience.
Do-ha narrowed his eyes and sighed at the angels. Their eagerness to help Metatron was only tripping each other up.
Even in Moorim, martial artists drilled sword formations hundreds—thousands—of times before trusting them in battle. Yet here they were, improvising unfamiliar teamwork on a blood-soaked field.
"Is this some kind of joke?!"
WHOOOOOOSH!
Mammon seized the opening and struck.
"Ghk!"
"Ugh!"
"Raphael, Uriel—fall back!"
The two angels took hits, and Metatron lunged forward in alarm. The attacks themselves shouldn't have wounded them so easily—but tangled footwork had left them wide open.
Looks just like watching the Orthodox and Unorthodox sects go at it.
In the clash of angels and demons, Do-ha saw the old divide between righteous and demonic paths.
"Ah—right!"
Still spectating, Do-ha suddenly yanked open his spatial bag, face urgent.
Damn it. He had nearly forgotten the most important thing.
A rustle. A crunch.
"Nothing beats popcorn for a good fight."
This time he had packed properly. Last time, with the succubi, he had only had snacks—and it had felt incomplete.
A distant thunder of footsteps.
Here they come.
An hour into the angel–demon clash, a vast presence approached from afar. Do-ha rose from his seat.
The battle had drawn other demons as well.
Hmm. Barbatos is with them.
Satan's right hand. Eighth in the demonic hierarchy. Grand Duke Barbatos—Do-ha could feel him closing in from the distance.
Thankfully, no Satan.
If the second-ranked Demon King had gotten involved, the whole plan would have fallen apart.
Do-ha dusted the crumbs from his hands and wiped his mouth.
The moment Barbatos entered the fight, the balance would tip. In Heaven, a few noble-class demons would hardly have mattered—but this was the Demon Realm. The angels could only emerge from the opened portal, so they couldn't flood the field with numbers. Metatron was holding the line alone.
Of course, he's probably holding back on purpose—refusing to kill Mammon outright.
A deep, resonant hum.
A surge of power.
Mokhon-sura-gong — Second Form: Sea God's Deluge
×
Fire Field
Martial art and magic unfurled as one. A colossal tidal wave and a wall of flame erupted together.
A violent hiss. Billowing white clouds.
Water met fire, and a vast bank of steam flooded every direction.
Ice Fog would have been simpler…
But pure magic would have tipped off Mammon or Metatron instantly.
A low thrum.
And maybe a spoonful of formation work on top?
Do-ha stretched a hand toward the steam and laid a formation over it. Drawn from natural energy, it carried no trace of inner force or mana.
"Wh—what is this?!"
"The angels are pulling some trick!"
"The demons are up to something! Stay sharp!"
As the steam blanketed the battlefield until no one could see a step ahead, angels and demons alike fell into panic. What in the world was happening?
The demons are arriving in just the right numbers.
Not too many. Not too few.
Time for me to move.
A soft whisper of motion.
Dark Ghost Step.
A thin, cold smile on his lips, Do-ha slipped into the shadows and vanished.
A rush of footsteps through fog.
A punch cracked the air.
"Hmph."
Mammon narrowed his eyes and let out a low growl. He had tried to blast the sudden fog away—and it refused to clear.
"Since when do Heaven's lot have a technique like this?"
The strange steam was scrambling every sense of aura. He couldn't place his own allies—much less Metatron.
"No choice. Anything that comes close dies. Ally or not."
Mammon shoved through the steam and pressed forward.
In that instant—
A whisper of shadow.
Do-ha burst from Mammon's own silhouette.
"Baek Do—!"
Slash!
"Ghk!"
A soft hiss of withdrawal.
The strike landed and Do-ha melted back into the dark.
Mammon clamped a hand to his throat.
Damn it!
In the blink of an eye, Baek Do-ha had appeared, cut his vocal cords with a dagger, and disappeared.
What… what is this…
The wound closed almost at once—but his voice was gone. When the blade had opened his throat, it had also sealed the pressure points deep inside with crushing force.
Baek Do-ha! What have you done to me?!
WHOOOOOOSH!
Mammon stamped the ground, and a howling gale roared skyward.
That single act sealed his fate.
A soft glide of shadow.
A thrust—
There!
Someone stabbed near his wing joint. Mammon's hand shot out in a counterstrike.
The figure blurred.
What?!
The afterimage wearing Do-ha's face dissolved, and Mammon's eyes went wide.
This technique.
He had seen it long ago. How could he forget? After that uncanny art, a massive diagonal wound had always followed.
A soft rush of air.
A grip.
"Hey, Mammon. If you stay alive, the angels will figure out who opened the portal."
Do-ha appeared at Mammon's back and closed his hand around the dagger buried near the wing joint.
A deep, building resonance.
Hwaneum-yeyang-gong — Sixth Form:
Resonant Internal Blast
A violent, bone-deep vibration.
"Ghh—GAAAAAAH!"
Every organ. Every drop of blood. Even the heart itself began to shake—and Mammon tore through the sealed pressure points with a raw scream.
Resonant Internal Blast amplified everything inside the body. More precisely, it amplified every sound.
The rush of blood. The flex of muscle. The beat of the heart. All of it, magnified without mercy.
The vibration climbed higher.
And then—
"This… this goddamn…"
Blood streamed from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
BOOOOM!
Mammon spat a final curse—and burst apart.
The first Demon King to die by the seven orifices spouting blood.
Rest easy.
Do-ha looked down at what remained of Mammon with an expressionless face. The demon's death was simply one piece of the plan.
Now—on to Heaven.
A soft whisper of motion. Do-ha erased every trace of inner force left on Mammon's body, then slipped once more into the shadows.
"Lord Mammon has fallen! Slaughter every angel—avenge him!"
"These pigeons deserve to be torn apart!!!"
"Our lord is dead!"
"Avenge him!"
A roar of killing intent surged across the field.
Mammon… is dead…?!
Metatron, still cutting down lesser demons, reeled in shock. Mammon—dead, just like that? The fog had risen, and he hadn't even crossed paths with the Demon King. So who had killed him? And where?
The assault intensified.
Damn it! This is exactly why I didn't kill him myself…
Watching the demons throw themselves into mutual destruction with reckless fury, Metatron clenched his teeth. He had known what would happen if a Demon King died on Hell's own soil. That was why he had been grinding down the surrounding forces in a war of attrition—nothing more.
And with Barbatos joining in, this is getting dangerous.
Mammon's enraged subordinates were charging with no regard for their own lives, and every defensive line was collapsing. Only so many angels could emerge from the portal—while the demons kept pouring in without end. Mammon, among all the Demon Kings, had been infamous for the sheer size of his army.
The moment we turn our backs, they'll crash over us like a wave.
If that happened, the Sixth District would fall to the demons in an instant.
What now?
Then—
"Ugh, what the hell is all this?!"
A familiar voice carried from the portal. Metatron's head snapped around.
"Baek Do-ha!"
"Hey—what is this supposed to be? Did the Great Demon War just kick off or something?"
"H-how are you even here…?"
"I had something to give you. Went looking for an angel in the First District, and the guy suddenly begged me for help. So I came."
"You could have just crossed over directly. Why go through all that…?"
"If I waltzed straight into the Fifth District like last time, you'd throw a fit. Obvious, right?"
"E-even so—perfect timing. Help us!"
Metatron grabbed for aid with desperate urgency. The Absolute Being had arrived. This nightmare was as good as over. This was Baek Do-ha—the man who had overturned the entire Demon Realm alone!
"Why would I?"
Do-ha only tilted his head at Metatron, as if the request made no sense at all.