Chapter 151
Chapter 151
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 151
Chapter Title: The War God's Wish
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The world is wide and there are many experts.
Though Yong-un, once a Sword Master, had set aside his blade—and facing him without it was tantamount to yielding a move—even accounting for the War God's age in his late thirties, there was no denying he possessed extraordinary talent.
He looked to be in his early to mid-forties, but the War God was actually thirty-nine.
At thirty-nine, to wield martial arts approaching Fist Aura was proof enough of his genius.
"What the hell was that just now?"
"Fist Aura."
Yong-un's fist took on a crimson glow.
A denser, brighter light than the yellow fist energy he'd demonstrated earlier.
The War God couldn't conceal his astonishment before this Fist Aura.
"Tch. I thought we were true equals, but even if we'd fought without your sword back then, my defeat would've been inevitable."
The War God clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly.
Fist energy could never overcome Fist Aura.
Sword energy could never best Sword Aura.
The gap between energy and aura transcended mere quality—it was a matter of enlightenment and profound depth.
Was it any wonder the martial world measured a swordsman's pinnacle by mastery of Sword Aura?
"You didn't just come here to test your skills. You have something to say."
As Yong-un spoke, the War God wiped the sweat trickling down his jaw with his sleeve.
"You're right—I came to spar. And you're right—I do have something to say."
"What is it?"
The War God's eyes drifted to the Demon-Slaying Sword embedded in the ground.
A glint sparked in his gaze.
"It looks different now."
"Only the blade's color has changed."
"Purple, huh... A fitting hue for a cursed blade. I wouldn't believe for a second that you pulled off that absurd stunt earlier, either."
The War God pointed to the sky, where a straight gash pierced the clouded heavens.
He had seen everything already.
The Extreme Heaven-Piercing Sword leaving its mark across the firmament.
"Even if I denied it, you wouldn't believe me."
"I thought you were a monster, but you're even more monstrous than I imagined."
Calling him a monster yet unable to wipe the smile from his face.
Yong-un couldn't help but chuckle at the War God's inconsistent demeanor.
Defeat didn't seem to crush him like the sky falling—it was merely a step to climb upon.
"You said you'd grant me one request."
"Made up your mind?"
"Soon, someone from GHO's Korea branch—or maybe headquarters—will come."
Yong-un nodded at the War God's impassive words.
"I see."
"Because of that Demon-Slaying Sword."
"Probably."
Yong-un was even more nonchalant than the stoic War God.
That piqued the War God's curiosity.
"You're not asking why?"
"Should I?"
"I'm the only one who knows the sword's true nature. Naturally, I figured you'd suspect me."
"Then that's how it is."
In a way, it hinted at a betrayal of trust.
Yet Yong-un remained utterly unfazed, as if it were nothing.
"Heh. So now GHO's nothing to you, huh?"
The War God dropped his blank expression and burst into laughter.
What a mad, magnificent bastard.
GHO held the global hunter world in an iron grip—a superpower in its own right.
Even a top-ranked hunter, a hero who'd cleared the San Marino Demonus, might find himself pitted against every hunter on Earth at GHO's command.
And yet Yong-un stayed utterly indifferent.
To the War God, it looked like the leisure of a true powerhouse: Bring it on.
"I like that about you. Don't change."
"If I do, your days are numbered."
"Hah, cheeky bastard,"
The War God laughed heartily, gazing at the distant sky.
A brief silence fell.
Then he parted his heavy lips.
"It wasn't me who told them."
"I know."
The War God eyed Yong-un as if to say, I figured as much.
"They must've squeezed the info out of the San Marino Demonus survivors. Not just me—the whole Spanish team was there."
Though the War God led the Spanish team, his power alone couldn't subdue that many.
He was a frontline general who cleaved through foes, not a strategist plotting from the rear.
"I tried to hold them off as best I could."
"Thanks."
"That's why I'm telling you this: Whatever happens, don't hold back. Do as you please."
Yong-un's brow twitched.
"That's your wish?"
"That's it."
Was this even a proper wish?
It struck him as odd.
The usually playful War God—surely this was another joke.
But his grave expression said otherwise.
He's serious.
The War God meant it.
He wished, as his boon... for Yong-un to act freely.
"Every time I mention the Mercenary King, your face changes. Is that why you're asking for this?"
To outsiders, it was a bizarre request.
But Yong-un sensed there was reason behind it—some personal memory only he knew.
Most would ask why he thought that.
And Yong-un's answer was always the same: Just a hunch.
This time, too, his instinct proved right.
The War God's brief frown faded.
His lips, heavier now, began to recount the past.
"It's a long story."
"How long?"
"Pretty damn long. With drinks and the whole day ahead, it might go quicker..."
"Then I'll hear it next time."
Yong-un started to rise.
The War God chuckled and grabbed his hand.
"Kidding. I'll tell you now."
Beyond the realm of hunters lay the Royal Class.
They were once top-ranked S-Rank hunters like the War God.
There was only one path for a top S-Rank to ascend to Royal Class.
Overwhelming prowess.
Skills, mana, or raw power far surpassing other hunters.
That defined the current Royal Class.
They either boasted superior strength to today's top ranks...
Or had records of clearing humanity's catastrophe-level gates or bosses.
Light of Earth.
The Mercenary King was one such legend.
An undefeated monster who'd held the number one spot in S-Rank rankings for a decade straight.
That was the Mercenary King.
Even now, over ten years since he'd joined the Royal Class as the fourth "Light,"
No hunter had ever been called his equal.
Not even the War God, the world's top S-Rank hunter—his name was a living legend.
"Impressive, I'll give him that."
Yong-un had to admit it.
The world was full of powerhouses.
The War God was one of them.
Yet to hold the top spot for ten years without falter...
Easy to say, but impossible without effort that carved into bone—beyond mere talent or genius.
"He is impressive. Just hearing his name still sets my blood boiling."
The War God's fist clenched tight.
"But where does your anger come from? What happened between you and the Mercenary King?"
"The year he ascended to Royal Class..."
A faint killing intent seeped from the War God's body.
"He changed."
He didn't recall the exact year.
Only that it was over a decade ago.
The year the Mercenary King became the fourth Light and entered Royal Class.
As always, the world S-Rank rankings battle unfolded.
The War God faced him as a challenger vying for first.
"Aren't you tired? Isn't it time to give up?"
"Give up? How could I quit something this fun?"
"Seventeen times, counting unofficial ones? Ugh, you're exhausting."
Seventeen duels, sixteen losses.
Yet the War God still awaited each rematch.
Face battered bloody, body pummeled raw—he counted the days.
"This time'll be different."
"Same old routine every day. Tsk tsk tsk."
Sixteen defeats, yet seventeen challenges—he knew the Mercenary King inside out.
But that day felt... off.
"Off?"
"The Mercenary King... wasn't the Mercenary King."
Rain poured.
The Washington Dome's roof took time to close, pausing the match.
Then, facing him, the Mercenary King's smile felt wrong.
"Sorry in advance. Things'll be different this time, too."
The twenty-something War God sensed something amiss but brushed it off.
To his vigorous youth, the Mercenary King was an idol, a goal to surpass, a figure of deep respect.
"Bring it! Just what I wanted!"
As always, he slammed his fists together over his heart.
Yellow energy surged; the start signal rang out.
In a blink, the two—who'd stood frozen—clashed fists at the arena's center.
"Until then, I trusted the Mercenary King."
But it was strange.
Fists met in empty air, energies colliding in explosions.
They rolled in the dirt, choking on dust.
Yet why...
With each clash, why did the War God's prized energy drain so rapidly?
"I thought it was my imagination. He wasn't the type."
Still, he trusted the Mercenary King.
He was more than an undefeated legend—he was etched deep in the War God's heart.
"But that illusion didn't last. It shattered with the final blow."
Ignoring the unease, the War God poured everything into the next strike, unveiling his honed efforts.
Energy from his entire body gathered in one fist.
Pulled back taut, it glared like a loaded pistol.
"The Mercenary King looked flustered."
Deep furrows in his brow, focus trembling in panic.
The War God felt indescribable joy.
Win or lose, it didn't matter.
He'd rattled the Mercenary King, if only for a moment.
"Just for that instant... I felt I could win."
Confidence swelled; he drove deep into the earth.
Then unleashed the fruits of his labor.
"That's when it happened."
His charged energy poised to blast the Mercenary King away.
The trembling eyes grew hazy.
Then the unbelievable occurred.
Boom!
"Uwaaaaaah!"
Energy shattered; the War God flew back, crashing into the ground.
Cheers erupted.
"Mercenary King! Mercenary King! Mercenary King!"
"Send that War God flying!"
Adulation for the Mercenary King filled the air.
But the War God heard none of it.
Just before energies clashed.
Those black pupils in the Mercenary King's eyes.
Eyes of a demon, seen only in those contracted to their kind.
The moment he saw them, he couldn't rise.
Not from pain or injury.
"It took years to understand why. The hero and legend buried deep in my heart—the Mercenary King—was dead."
An inexpressible grief had sapped his strength.
It was the first time.
The first time the War God lost his energy.
"That's when I realized: What moves the body isn't just muscle or brain signals."
Devoid of energy, he couldn't stand.
His goal corrupted and gone—the emptiness shut his eyes while sane.
Grip.
"I was paralyzed for a while. I screamed he was a demon-contracted hunter, but all I got was scorn and disgust. Can you imagine? The object of my respect, buried deep—revealed as a fraud, one with the demons I loathed."
Memories resurfacing, the War God boiled with energy, his faint killing intent surging.
"I see. So that's what happened."
Yong-un nodded slowly after hearing it all.
Then the War God poured out what he'd never told another soul.
"I don't recognize the Mercenary King. A demon-contracted hunter lapping up Royal Class honors and universal worship? It's wrong."
Yong-un gave a bitter smile.
But the War God pressed on.
"Demon-contracted hunters all become demons in the end. I'll hunt them down and make them pay. That demon bastard behind the Mercenary King's face—I'll kill it with my own hands!"
Killing intent rippled, shaking the earth around them.
A demon-contracted hunter...
Cracks from Yong-un's power sprayed dirt.
Dust swirled, enshrouding the House of Ghostly Soul Annihilation.
Amid the War God's rage, Yong-un's wry smile faded.
"What do you think?"
The probing words hung in the air.
Yong-un met his gaze squarely.
"What if I were one, too? What then?"
Crunch.
The War God's intent solidified, coiling around Yong-un.
His yellow-tinged eyes twisted in glare.
"If you were..."
Thud.
"I'd stake my life on it: I'd kill you."
Today's ally could be tomorrow's foe—it hit home.
In this reality, even steadfast comrades could turn deadly enemies.
Yet Yong-un stared back coldly.
"Then kill me."
Their positions atop the sparring grounds, once shared like old comrades...
Remained unchanged after that brief exchange.
But now...
Their eyes had changed.
No longer those of allies or friends.
They glared with the murderous intent reserved for enemies to kill or be killed by.