Prologue.
Prologue.
Prologue.
Have you heard of Heinrich's Law?
Small accidents lead to minor disasters, and those minor disasters pile up into a great catastrophe.
I, Cheon Sihu, was eleven. I think that was when the first small accident happened.
My family had always been poor, but thanks to my parents, who respected each other and worked hard, we were happy.
But as if mocking that happiness, I lost both parents in an instant in a tragic accident.
Neither of them had any siblings or other relatives.
So naturally, there was no one to take me in, and I ended up in an orphanage.
Some might think, 'Is that really a small accident?'
You lost your parents—how can you be so calm?
But growing up as an orphan from a young age, I learned to get by in the world and matured faster than anyone else.
Teachers who genuinely cared for orphans? Friends who accepted me without prejudice?
All of that is fiction—a lie made up by the media.
The orphanage director who embezzled donations and supplies meant for the children, and parents who told their kids not to play with me, using their own clueless children as messengers.
I spent my childhood enduring all kinds of contempt and ridicule.
Of course, not everyone was like that. There were kind people here and there.
But they, too, eventually couldn't bear the stares that came with being associated with me and drifted away.
But there was one friend who always felt sorry for me and looked out for me.
Was it pity? Compassion? Sympathy?
I knew all too well how the friends who'd once hung around me had ended up leaving. There was nothing good about being with me, so I kept snapping at her, pushing her away.
I thought that even if I was used to it and wouldn't get hurt, you would have a hard time.
And that was when a minor disaster struck.
Eventually, that friend was ridiculed along with me. She pretended the mockery didn't bother her, but because she showed no reaction, they harassed her even more viciously.
To underage students, there's no more appetizing prey than that.
'A girl who hangs around a parentless orphan.'
She couldn't take it anymore and transferred during the most critical year—her senior year of high school.
She didn't want to go, but from her parents' perspective, they couldn't stand by and watch their daughter be bullied for simply doing something kind.
I gritted my teeth and studied even harder, vowing to become a decent adult and come find her one day.
With that tenacity and persistence, I graduated with excellent grades and got into a good college through the special admission track for youth from child welfare institutions.
But even there, I couldn't dream of a normal campus life. I just focused on building my resume, and in the second semester of my senior year, I somehow managed to pass the open recruitment for a major corporation.
The day I got the job, I shed a few tears, but I felt nothing else.
Why had I worked so hard?
It wasn't like my parents had left behind any debt, and I hadn't been bullied to the point of suicide—just contempt and ridicule.
I think I had simply vowed to live well enough for the sake of my parents, who had been poor but happy, and with the thought of finding you, I finally saw a glimmer of hope.
But in the end, a great calamity struck.
'One day, I fell into a strange place.'
* * * * * * * *
At first, I thought I was finally having one of those dreams about being summoned to another world—the kind stress might bring on.
Until a bug with a weird three-pronged mouth tore a chunk of flesh from my thigh...
After that, it was nothing but a frantic struggle for survival.
I killed monsters so I wouldn't be eaten.
I killed monsters to stave off hunger.
I killed most of the monsters in the forest, and I think it took about fifteen years just to get out of that forest.
While killing and eating those monsters, I realized I was getting stronger. The monsters seemed to possess some degree of intelligence.
They even banded together to attack me, trying to stop me from growing any stronger.
I still managed to overcome every situation.
During that time, I suffered burns that seared my flesh, and once I sprained my ankle while running away.
I fought monsters day and night, and in the end, I came out on top.
And after devouring them, I grew even stronger.
But even after countless near-death struggles, it turned out that forest was just a dumping ground for discarded monsters.
I thought I'd become the apex predator, drenched in blood and wounds—so how do you think it felt to discover I'd been nothing more than a frog in a well?
Honestly, around that time I felt like I was slowly going insane.
But surprisingly, I didn't really care.
'Nothing had changed. I just killed and ate to survive.'
With that thought, I stepped out of the forest.
Beyond the forest, even stronger monsters existed, and it took another thirty years to kill them all and reach a region where other humans lived.
I stopped aging, and I learned to wield supernatural abilities using the energy found near the hearts of monsters.
When I finally found a human city, I gathered every possible means of returning home while pushing my body to its absolute limits to grow stronger.
This planet was Titan, a world ruled by humans, other races, Demons, and Celestials.
What surprised me was that the Demons and Celestials weren't the devils and angels I'd known.
They were just a bit stronger than humans and more adept at handling mana.
Simply another intelligent species.
Also, humans called the energy from monsters' hearts either mana or internal energy, depending on which continent's tradition you followed and where you stored it.
To survive anywhere, you needed strength.
Sometimes I took requests to subjugate monsters, other times I ventured into dangerous areas to grow stronger.
I didn't just hunt monsters. I also took requests to kill groups that engaged in banditry and plundering.
That was probably my first murder—me, who had lived by law and morality back on Earth.
If you read novels, they describe your first murder as making your hands tremble or making it hard to breathe.
But I felt nothing at all.
Maybe my mind was already dulled or worn away. All I felt was the unpleasant sensation of cutting through flesh.
But I spent a long time killing only when necessary, constantly reminding myself that I was human.
I was going to return to Earth eventually, and there I would live by law and morality.
Rather, the people I met here couldn't understand my way of thinking.
To them, the weak were simply culled, and if you showed mercy with half-assed skills, that mercy would return and stab you in the form of revenge.
But I felt that no matter how strong I became, I mustn't abandon my humanity mentally.
Even if my limbs were intact and I thought with the head on my shoulders, was I still human?
If someone targeted me with half-assed skills, I'd make sure no one could stand before me with overwhelming power.
Ironically, the stronger I became, the more my reputation spread, and many people approached me—whether with good or ill intent.
My fame rose, and I received requests from people akin to medieval nobles back on Earth.
Tasks like escorting a noble or killing monsters and bringing back spoils.
Of course, they also commissioned assassinations for succession feuds or other filthy reasons.
Whenever those requests came in, I tore up the contract immediately.
Those who approached with ill intent died by my sword. Conversely, those who approached with good intentions were killed by those who approached with ill intent.
I was still not broken. I maintained the mentality of a twenty-something.
Meanwhile, rumors spread that if you collected the divine artifacts scattered across the continents, you could gain immense power—or gold and treasure.
And so,
One hundred and thirty years after falling into this other world, I killed the Martial God of the East Continent, where martial arts were revered.
After killing him, I earned the title Sword God.
One hundred ninety years after falling into this other world, I killed the Sage of the West Continent, who dominated mana.
After killing him, I earned the title Master of Mana.
Two hundred fifty years after falling into this other world, I killed the Demon God, pinnacle of all demons.
After killing him, I was called the Heavenly Demon, meaning Lord of Ten Thousand Demons.
Three hundred twenty years after falling into this other world, I killed the Heavenly God, king of all angels.
At last, after roughly nine hundred years, I had slain all the absolute beings who ruled each continent.
The Martial God was a piece of trash who pursued tyranny and trampled on the weak.
The Sage was trash who treated human rights like dog food, kidnapping people for experiments.
The Demon God was trash who tempted humans into unfair contracts and toyed with them for amusement.
The Heavenly God was trash who, like the Demon God, tempted humans and spread absurd cult doctrines.
Ultimately, I conquered all continents with a single sword, and from then on, the name 'the Disaster' spread across every land.
As I killed them, one or two people gathered around me, and we grew from a group into an organization.
We called ourselves 'Disaster,' living by the principle that 'evil is crushed by a greater calamity.'
And so, using the artifacts I'd gathered from each continent, I finally attempted my return.
In the end, I came back.