The Number That Never Died

How is the Demon God Cult on Earth?

His mind grew tangled and heavy. In the world of Belhart, the ones who had opposed him to the bitter end were none other than that Demon God Cult. Through the Demon God religion, the demons gathered followers and offered humans as sacrifices, while the cult members themselves were those who longed to become vessels for the Demon God's power.

It's true the Demon God filled his strength by absorbing demons and cultists alike.

Of course, the cult members themselves had never imagined they would end up as mere fuel in that form.

So his influence had already spread to other worlds as well.

Earth was currently linked to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠multiple other dimensions. That being the case, it seemed the Demon God Cult from those other worlds had simply flowed into this one.

There were Demon God Cults in places besides Belhart, then.

No wonder. When the Demon God absorbed power from his followers, the sheer volume had been enormous. Do-ha had all but wiped the cult out before leaving, yet somehow the god had still been drawing in that vast reservoir of strength from somewhere.

It looks like the cult never heard a word of this from the Demon God either.

The last remnants of the cult had gritted their teeth and fought with insane ferocity to the very end. As if the entire order would vanish the moment they fell, they charged forward even with limbs severed, screaming the Demon God's name. Yet as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if mocking every ounce of that devotion, the Demon God had quietly raised followers in other worlds as well—and by never telling them, he had extracted even more fanatical faith from the ones he already had.

What would those dead cultists say if they learned the truth?

Would they curse him? Or simply collapse in shock?

Not a chance.

They would only have praised it more hysterically, claiming it was all part of the Demon God's grand design. Insect-like bastards.

Volunteer work? Give me a break.

Looking at the smiling cultist in the photograph, Do-ha's lips curved into a cold, bitter smile. He knew exactly what these people were. They were the ones who had burned an entire village to ash because they needed souls for the Demon God. They were the ones who had slaughtered hundreds of children because they needed sacrifices. And now those same monsters were playing the part of kind-hearted volunteers on Earth. It was almost enough to leave him speechless.

I need to find out just how far this cult has spread.

Scraping his chair back, Do-ha rose, returned his cup, and stepped outside. He would have liked to dig through every scrap of information available, but that was not the priority right now. First he needed to buy a SIM card and get a phone working again. Only then could he find his only remaining family—his grandfather.

Convenience stores used to sell SIMs. Wonder if they still do.

His grandfather's number might have changed, so the hospital in Seoul where the old man had once been treated would have to come first.

Outside, Do-ha casually switched on mobile data. The Wi-Fi icon vanished and the carrier logo flickered to life.

What? Why is the data connecting?

He had turned it on without thinking. Until moments ago he had been on the café's Wi-Fi, after all. Even with a canceled SIM, old texts and missed calls could still arrive if they had been sent earlier. That was why he had assumed the line was long dead. Yet the antenna bars were blinking.

This phone was ten years old. That meant the SIM was ten years old as well. And somehow the number was still alive after a full decade.

His heart gave a hard thud. Swallowing, Do-ha opened his contacts with trembling fingers.

If my number has stayed active for ten years, that means…

The dial tone began to ring. He swallowed again.

Please…

The ringing continued. Then—click.

Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched until the other party finally broke it.

At the sound of that voice coming through the speaker, the tears Do-ha had been holding back finally spilled over. Eyes that had stayed dry through decades of war and slaughter now flooded without restraint. Every emotion that had been thrashing inside him exploded the instant he heard his grandfather's voice.

He's alive…

For forty years in Belhart he had longed for this voice, yearned for it, fought for it. The reason he had battled the Demon God and clawed his way back to the world he once called home was still here—still breathing.

Baek Chul's voice shook. He had never been able to accept that his grandson was dead. For ten full years he had paid the bill without fail, keeping the number alive. People called him foolish, but he had stubbornly continued to pay. That number was the only keepsake, the only remaining trace of his grandson. He had never been able to enter Paju, so he could not even retrieve any of the boy's belongings. That was why he had left the line open—clinging to the absurd hope that one day the phone might ring.

And now, like something out of a dream, it had.

"Grand… father…"

Wiping at the tears that kept welling up, Do-ha finally managed to speak.

"Haa…"

Stepping into the small room and sitting down, Do-ha let out a long, steadying breath. This was his grandfather's house in Anyang. Two hours earlier they had reunited, and both of them had cried until there were no tears left, pouring out years of longing and grief.

To his grandfather he had offered a simple story: when the monsters poured out he had fled, taken a severe blow to the head, and lost his memory. Only when he happened to find his old phone again had everything come flooding back. He could not bring himself to say he had been in another world. True, Earth was now connected to other dimensions, so the truth would not have been impossible to accept—but claiming amnesia and that he had never left Earth made the explanation far simpler.

Thank God he's alive.

Back then his grandfather had already left Paju to visit a hospital in Seoul. That single stroke of luck had kept him safe when the city was overrun by monsters.

Knock. Knock.

"My boy, are you asleep?"

"No."

Do-ha rose at once and opened the door.

"This old man is about to turn in. Crying so much drained every bit of strength I had left."

Baek Chul chuckled and patted his grandson's shoulder.

"I just wanted one more look at my grandson's face before I slept."

"I'm not going anywhere. Please go rest."

Do-ha smiled as he looked at the old man.

"You aren't hungry?"

"I'm fine. What about you, Grandfather?"

"I'm all right too. Besides, if I ate anything tonight I think I'd just get sick."

There was so much he wanted to say, yet the shock of the day had left his whole body limp. In truth he wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he kept fighting it—afraid that the moment he closed his eyes this entire miracle might vanish like a dream.

"If you get hungry, just say so. This grandfather of yours will fix you something."

"If I get hungry I'll take care of it myself. Don't worry."

Do-ha shook his head with a gentle smile. Sleep already clouded his grandfather's swollen eyes, and beneath that exhaustion lay a thick layer of worry and unease.

"I'll be right here, so stop fretting and get some rest."

Reading the old man's heart perfectly, Do-ha took his hand and held it firmly. How could he not understand that anxiety? He himself still half-feared that all of this was some final cruel joke of the Demon God.

"All right. You must be tired too—rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

When Do-ha squeezed his hand, Baek Chul smiled and nodded.

"Yes. Sleep well."

"…Good night, my boy."

Baek Chul stroked his grandson's cheek once more, then gently closed the door.

Once his grandfather had returned to his own room, Do-ha stood motionless, slowly replaying the warmth that still lingered on his cheek. In Belhart he had spent forty years and grown past sixty. Yet the simple touch of his grandfather's hand made him feel like a child again.

With a quiet breath he turned and gazed out the window at the night sky, eyes settling into a colder calm. Now that the reunion had given him a moment of peace, something else rose to the surface of his mind.

The Demon God.

In the final clash, just before he lost consciousness, he had heard the Demon God howling.

Do-ha's fist clenched tight as the final scream echoed through his memory. He remembered now. The reason he had survived an otherwise fatal wound.

The Demon God healed me and kept me alive.

That mad god had saved him with his own hands so he could finish the job personally. Simply watching him die slowly would never have been enough; he wanted Do-ha whole and healthy so he could kill him perfectly.

Yet several questions remained.

The Demon God saved my life—but who restored my vessel?

That was precisely why the Demon God had spared him. Even if he lived, his vessel had been shattered; he should have been reduced to an ordinary man forever unable to accumulate power again. Had the Demon God known the vessel would recover, he would never have left him alive.

Because he would have known that any power I rebuilt would become an even sharper blade aimed straight at his heart.

The restoration of his vessel had not been the Demon God's doing. And another mystery: the one who saved his life was certainly the Demon God—yet who had sent him back to Earth? The Demon God had never realized, to the very end, that Do-ha was from another dimension. Even if he had known, there were countless worlds; how could he have pinpointed Earth and returned him there?

I'm certain everything was supposed to end only when the Demon God died.

As he had felt instinctively before—his instincts, which had remained silent even after he achieved everything in Belhart, had roared the moment he faced the Demon God.

"Haa…"

Finishing his thoughts, Do-ha leaned back against the wall, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠closed his eyes, and settled into a cross-legged posture. Time would eventually reveal how he had returned to Earth.

I thought once I came home I would never need to use my power again…

A sudden vortex of mana began to swirl around his body.

The Demon God Cult… and the Demon God himself.

That mad god was not dead. Do-ha's final strike had pierced halfway through the Demon God's heart—yet it had been a fraction too short. The Demon God's remaining hand had been a step faster, punching clean through Do-ha's solar plexus.

He has almost certainly gone into hiding somewhere to heal.

And on Earth, the Demon God Cult had already taken root.

Demon God. You should never have kept me alive.

That had been a catastrophic mistake. Had he grown complacent simply because Do-ha's power was gone? Lost power could be restored in no time.

You said you would kill everyone I care about?

That would never happen. This time he would eradicate the Demon God and every last member of the cult that followed him—root and branch.

The mana boiled more fiercely; his clothes whipped and snapped in the invisible storm.

I've already walked this road once. And I will use that same road to climb even higher than before.

His eyes snapped open. The raging mana sank into his body, and a blue light began to blaze from his gaze.

The four continents of Belhart—East, West, South, and North. The first absolute ruler to unify them all. A 10-Circle Archmage who had simultaneously reached the Life-or-Death ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Realm.

That was Baek Do-ha.