Heavenly Demon (1)
After dinner, Kang Hye-in parted ways with Yun-seok and headed home, confessing everything to her father—both the story Yun-seok had shared and the recording copy. What happened next? No need to watch further.
Furious, her father grabbed Kang Hyung-woo like a rat in a trap, and Kang Hye-in relayed the whole process to Yun-seok in real time.
With her final message reassuring him that she had no need to apologize, Yun-seok turned off his smartphone.
This incident had spiraled into the worst possible outcome for Kang Hyung-woo. Yun-seok didn't feel particularly refreshed by it, but he wasn't sympathetic either. Cause and effect. This was simply him paying the price for what he'd sown—nothing more, nothing less.
"It's really... over."
The bad blood he'd thought would last eternally had ended like this. Kang Hyung-woo's father was a chaebol chairman, but not just in name—he was genuinely pro-commoner and upright.
How the hell did such a great guy end up with a son like that? Always wondered.
Now thoroughly out of his father's good graces, all the privileges Kang Hyung-woo had enjoyed as a son would vanish. He wouldn't dare dream of revenge against Yun-seok anymore.
But why couldn't I do this myself?
Truth be told, he'd thought about it plenty. He'd just never acted. Ignoring the objective possibilities, he'd rationalized his cowardice by assuming even a great father wouldn't disown his own blood.
Feels kinda hollow.
In the end... the solution had been in his hands, not Kang Hyung-woo's. If he'd only mustered the courage to reach out, this hell could have shattered so easily...
Why was it so terrifying back then?
Because I didn't believe in myself.
Lost in thought on the hotel room sofa for a long while, Yun-seok's gaze drifted into empty space.
Return in 00:00:31.
Time had flown; it was now 3 a.m. Soon, he'd return there. But it didn't feel like being dragged back against his will—it felt like going home to where he belonged.
"Still feels liberating, though. Thanks. For giving me a chance to change. Otherwise, I might've lived like that forever."
As if responding to his murmur, text appeared.
Ticket (Rank F) has expired.
Moving to 3rd Floor Waiting Room.
Yun-seok chuckled softly. Time to go back. To the place that had forged him.
Next duel in 22:33:50.
Back in the waiting room, Yun-seok checked the timer first. The remaining time was exactly as it had been before tearing the ticket. Without wasting a second, he got to work on what needed doing.
First, time to spec up.
He had 8,700 AP left after buying the F-rank ticket. Yun-seok meticulously reviewed the skills section, focusing on ones useful against weird superpowers. This was to patch the weaknesses brutally exposed in his last duel.
Jackpot—something perfect.
◈ Your magic takes on anti-magic properties.
Acquiring Anti-Magic Force infuses anti-magic energy into magic-based skills like One Flash, allowing physical force even against superpowers. He'd learned this from searching "Anti-Magic Force" in the chatroom—info buried in vague descriptions.
Exactly what I need... no, it's essential for martial artists.
He wondered if it was bait to waste AP, but...
Mages are few. Buying Anti-Magic Force to counter them just lags behind martial artists. So the info spread wide. If everyone's got it, it's even. Mages and superpowered folks die off, but the skilled survive.
Sigh, if I'd bought it sooner, no suffering...
Regret lingered, but what was done was done. Reflect, prepare, don't repeat. With his new weakness covered, Yun-seok spent 6,000 AP on four stat potions and downed them.
Stamina (F-) rank rises.
Stamina (F) rank rises.
Mana (F-) rank rises.
Agility (F+) rank rises.
Agility now hit a whopping E-. He felt the strength surging through his body. Like before, the changes hit immediately and viscerally.
1,200 AP left—no real use for it. Save it.
AP tasks done, Yun-seok dove straight into training. With the physical upgrades and his new Blood Pact, he needed time to master it for the next match—but time was short.
"Aaaagh! Aaack!"
The real training began. Yun-seok screamed nonstop—and for good reason. What he was doing barely qualified as "training"; it was grotesque and brutal.
Splurt!
Groaning in agony at the fountain of blood erupting from his body, Yun-seok kept self-harming. He was practicing healing or exploding wounds with the flowing blood.
Too much loss to use in real combat right now.
He recalled that demon. Despite exploding blood hundreds of times mid-duel, it had seemed merely languid. Technique minimized stamina drain.
Having the skill isn't the end. Gotta ingrain it till it's instinct.
Born a predator via Predation, but raised weak. Those experiences kept Yun-seok humble, not arrogant. Still lacking. Tasting victory, he craved more. Self-forging was the key.
Next duel in 20:50:00.
Every ten minutes on the dot, his half-dead body fully healed. Springing up like he'd been waiting, Yun-seok repeated the torment endlessly. For a full 20 hours, without tiring.
Next duel in 00:50:00.
His efforts didn't lie. As time passed, the gap between collapsing exhausted and the ten-minute heal shortened. Training reduced stamina loss. Now he could stand firm for the room's healing.
Literally hundreds of liters of blood spilled, probably. But Yun-seok pressed on with the remaining time, unsatisfied. Practice was never enough—that was his creed. Plus...
Slash!
Yun-seok sliced his arm with his sword. Not a graze—clean through to the bone. His left arm tumbled to the floor.
Healing didn't dull pain; agonizing signals must be flooding his brain. But...
"Ngh."
A short grunt, and done. Worlds apart from his prior panic when an arm got severed.
Getting used to this too.
Pain was becoming familiar. Killing two birds—one stone. Even without Blood Pact, this was inevitable. Pain probes inner weakness. Fearing it means no cool head in fierce battle—like Yun-seok's past duels.
"......"
Amid shattering bones and tearing flesh...
Yun-seok mused: If this place had a growth system, wouldn't a "Pain Tolerance skill has leveled up" message pop now? He could smile even here.
Because right now, he was growing stronger.
Prepare. Duel starts soon.
The duel began, and the opponent spoke immediately.
"A child, eh? Consider yourself unlucky."
Arrogant tone, victory already assumed. Seeing her face, Yun-seok puzzled over his expression.
No age limit for challengers dragged in?
His foe: a white-haired granny past her sixties. But unlike stuffy elders, she exuded grace amid wrinkles. Must've been a beauty once. Back straight, towering at 170cm. Above all...
Why no openings?
Her slender arm gripping the sword evoked an insurmountable mountain.
"From Murim?"
"Indeed."
Dismissing preconceptions at her affirmation. Bodies here start equal regardless of age. No room for carelessness against anyone met here—nor should there be.
"What's your moniker?"
Yun-seok asked for her title, hoping to infer her style. But she just gave a scornful look.
"Survive one strike from my sword, and I'll tell you."
Meaning he couldn't even handle one basic strike? How so confident? They matched in the same bracket, so similar level...
But Yun-seok wasn't offended. More carelessness from her meant more advantage for him.
"Come."
He quietly raised sword and shield into stance. And...
Whoosh!
The granny's single strike flew. No system power—just a plain thrust. Yet Yun-seok couldn't block it. He'd swung confidently, but coming to, the snaking blade pierced his chest.
Squelch!
Only then did Yun-seok realize: He'd been the careless, arrogant one...
"Aimed for the heart, but grazed it. You've seen my sword?"
The granny, sword buried in his chest, smiled pleased and spoke.
"Heavenly Demon."
"...?"
"You asked my moniker? Heavenly Demon is this lady's title as cult leader."