Chapter 190 – The True Mystic Eye

Survival is a primitive instinct that humanity has carried with it since the beginning of time.

Not just humans—every living being wants to survive. And at the very least, leave behind their seed for the sake of their species’ continuity. But even that is just an extension of the desire to survive. It’s the hope that their offspring will survive and remember them.

Surviving means continuing to breathe while writhing in desperation. That cycle goes on and becomes what we call life. Even if it means clawing at others, the selfishness of wanting to live is the most logical evolution of all.
At least, that’s what Choi Seol-ah believed.

‘Choi Seol-ah, why did you become a villain?’

Once, her Lord asked her that question.

‘You know, if you think about it, villains are worse than demons. At least demons try not to start wars. But damn villains… they disguise themselves as humans just to hurt their own kind.’

‘But some humans do that too, don’t they? Besides, I didn’t exploit that many people, so I think I’m okay…’

Slurp.

‘I’m sorry!’

‘Bah, it’s fine. I’m not going to nitpick about your past. Then, what was the reason you chose to become a villain?’

‘Honestly, there wasn’t any special reason. I just thought it’d let me live longer and more comfortably than others.’

‘What kind of nonsense is that? What does being a villain have to do with living longer or better?’

‘If you’re strong, you won’t die at anyone’s hands. Villains use magic, and that makes them way stronger than average. I don’t have a shred of talent for blessings or combat, so I ruled those out from the start, hehe.’

‘You have… a strange objectivity about yourself. Fine, let’s change the question. Why do you want to live so long—even if it means selling your humanity?’

Choi Seol-ah blinked like a fish. With a genuinely puzzled look, she responded with another question.

‘Do you need a reason to want to live a long time? From the moment we’re born, it’s natural to say “I don’t want to die!”’

‘Even so, there’s something called morality. If you want to live well, at least do it without hurting others. You don’t even care about that. And well, it’s not like I’m in any position to preach either…’

Faces flashed through Kang Geom-Ma’s mind. The victims of his sashimi. Of course, he wasn’t like Choi Seol-ah. Those people were scum who deserved to die.

‘Anyway. You’re not a villain anymore, so live like a decent person. In fact, now you’re an instructor at Joaquin Academy. The very school that trains heroes—the symbol of self-sacrifice… and you were once on the other side.’

‘Ugh, that whole “self-sacrifice” thing… nobody even says that anymore. Our Lord is too romantic!’

‘I’m not asking for self-sacrifice. Just live with a minimum of human dignity. You’re not a villain anymore. Now you’re just an ordinary human. So live like one.’

‘Yes, Sir! But like I said before, you’re way too eloquent. Are you sure you’re not in your second life or something? Sometimes it feels like I’m talking to an old man…’

Swoosh.

‘I’m sorry.’

***

The blurry memories shattered just like Choi Seol-ah’s body. There was no pain, as the petrification reached her head right before she hit the ground.

Her magic bullet tore through the darkness and sliced through the air. The meteors were still falling. Yet the bullet, as if guided by will, swerved around the fiery fragments.

It passed through the explosions and finally hit its mark—the retina of the left eye. A clean hit. A perfect shot.

“Aaaaargh!”

The Basilisk let out a scream, clutching his left eye. Even though he was an S-rank magical beast, the mana-infused bullet had inflicted real damage.

The fact that he only lost an eye was proof of how monstrous he was. If it had been any ordinary beast, its head would’ve exploded like a grenade.

“Damn human! Just a worthless little snack dares to injure me?!”

He rolled on the ground, screaming in rage. The lava and debris on the surface burst up like popcorn. And at the same time, the meteor shower came to a complete stop.

An eerie calm descended upon the terrain, now scorched red. The Basilisk continued to scream something…

〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓

Everything was spinning. Like vertigo, a deep nausea, as if his skull was vibrating. Maybe it was from how the meteors had shaken the ground. But it wasn’t just that. He didn’t usually get dizzy.

He couldn’t hear anything. Ah, right. The silence came from the white noise blocking out the world.

Kang Geom-Ma took a step—not toward the Basilisk, but toward a few pieces of shattered rock nearby.

Clomp.

He stopped. The rock was so broken it no longer held any recognizable shape. But the faintly artificial curves were proof that it had once been a person.

“……”

Choi Seol-ah had died, turned to stone. Ironically, just when she was at her most human. Gazing at her remains, Kang Geom-Ma muttered.

“I told you I wasn’t expecting any sacrifices. Why’d you go and do that at the end…?”

There was a faint reprimand in his voice. But it wasn’t genuine. It was more like a self-reproach murmured quietly. He was about to touch one of the fragments, but paused at the sound of a voice.

“Foolish, pitiful creature! Worthless and ignorant! Your sacrifice was for nothing! Look! Even though I’ve lost my left eye, thanks to your energy… I have finally reached that state!”

The Basilisk laughed like a clown. Through the empty socket where his eye had been, you could see the landscape beyond. And yet, his face was glowing with joy.

“Boradori!”

At that moment, Horntail, having dispelled her dragon form, landed next to Kang Geom-Ma. She collapsed weakly before Choi Seol-ah, her pale knees pressing into the shards of stone.

“No… You shouldn’t have died here… Please… please…”

Horntail embraced the fragments of Seol-ah, as if she could piece her back together. But the human body is full of curves and hollows. No matter how desperately she tried to gather the pieces, they slipped through her fingers.

“Ah, no… no…”

She tried again and again, sobbing and sniffling, until at last her arms fell limp. Her eyes reflected a deep sense of loss.

Watching his sister’s despair, the Basilisk licked his lips with his long tongue. The dark scales on his body were peeling away, revealing raw flesh beneath.

“That human had the perfect blend of mana and humanity. She was delicious. Thanks to her, one was enough. My sister, Horntail. How can a demon weep for a human? Your tears are proof that dragons are a weak race.”

His taunts were shameless. The place was in ruins, swinging between a fiery hell and a thin veil of frost.

His malicious grin only deepened.

“Right now, I, Basilisk, shed the cursed label of ‘impure being’ along with my skin! This proves my clan was wrong and I was right! I was never inferior!”

Crack…

Finally, the membrane of his skin split, and a human form emerged, breaking free of its former shell. Unlike the previous grotesque fusion, now the shape was fully human. And yet, something still felt deeply wrong.

Bloodless skin. A crazed gleam in his magical eye. Black mist poured from his body, wrapping around him like armor. The darkness was so thick it seemed to swallow the light itself.

The Basilisk raised a hand and touched his face. Feeling the smoothness of his new skin, he exhaled in delight, almost entranced.

“Ah, at last.”

The Basilisk turned to face Horntail. His eyes were no longer those of a beast. Having fed completely on a human, he had evolved—and he declared it like a proclamation.

“I am the one who will drown this world in evil.”

The serpent that tempted the first human, leading them into original sin. The one ancient beings feared to name.

“I am Alduin.”

The black dragon, Alduin, looked around with lifeless eyes. His Eye of Petrification shimmered with a translucent glow.

His interior, which had been brimming with emotion just seconds ago, was now as serene as a still lake.

One who exists beyond the boundary of “survival” no longer possesses fear, sorrow, joy, disgust, or rage. All of that belongs to mortals. It no longer applied to the transcended.

He no longer felt the need for acknowledgment, nor frustration over losing an eye.

Only one idea moved him—to eliminate those before him and then devour the world. And he knew now that he had the power to do it.

His strength was comparable to that of a Corps Commander. Everyone would agree on that. He had truly succeeded.

Step.

Alduin slowly walked toward them. Wherever he stepped, a black sludge melted the ground beneath. The entire terrain turned into a sticky swamp in his wake.

“Human, it seems my sister caused you quite a bit of trouble.”

His voice was eerily hollow and mocking. But within it, overflowing greed built like pressure ready to burst.

“So I’ll pay for her sins with my own hands—through death. Don’t worry. After I send her off, I’ll send you too.”

“……”

“However, since you dared mock me, I’ll savor your suffering until you beg for death…”

Before he could finish, Horntail stood up. Her lips, pale from blood loss, trembled violently. The cold wasn’t just spiritual now—it was physical.

Exhaustion overwhelmed her. She had pushed her mana to the brink to cast her spells.

But she couldn’t sit still, waiting for death. Horntail bit hard into her lower lip.

At that moment, she felt a sudden weight on her shoulder. It was Kang Geom-Ma’s hand.

“Horntail, remember how you said earlier, ‘you’re back’?”

“……?”

He spoke without taking his eyes off Alduin. But the meaning of his words—and the moment he chose to say them—didn’t quite add up.

It was natural. Only he could see it.

―Shiiing!

[You have acquired the third fragment of 【???】: The Reincarnation of Ouroboros, Horntail.]

[You can use this power only once.]

[However, there is a high probability it will affect causality. All responsibility will fall on the user.]

[Do you wish to use it? (Y/N)]

·
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Kang Geom-Ma turned his gaze from the enemy to Horntail. With a strange expression, he continued.

“If the bearer of this power has been reborn, then this story isn’t impossible.”

Kang Geom-Ma gave a calm smile, encouraging the demoralized Horntail. Her confused eyes soon widened like lanterns. Within her dark pupils, a golden ring spun like a wheel.

“Those… those eyes!”

In that instant, the glowing ring rotated with greater force, emitting a blinding light. Horntail’s mind went completely blank, as if bleached by the radiance.

RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE.

A rumble like an earthquake echoed. Even though the ground wasn’t actually shaking, what was happening surpassed any logical explanation.

“What… is happening…?”

The anomaly began beneath Horntail’s feet. Feeling something brush her heels, she looked down. The scattered remains of Choi Seol-ah began to float, and like puzzle pieces, they assembled in three dimensions.

Alduin shuddered. He immediately scanned the area. The meteors embedded in the walls and ground vibrated. The fireballs returned to their points of origin and vanished as if sucked into an invisible void.

Though he no longer had emotions, this anomaly was impossible to ignore.

The outcomes that had already occurred were being postponed, the processes reversed and unraveled.

“W-What… what is this?!”

Even more signs of the bizarre emerged. Basilisk—now Alduin—felt something with utter clarity. Fear. Terror.

Why? If he had already become a transcended being, those emotions should have vanished completely. He looked down at his body with wide eyes—and understood.

The shed scales were reattaching to his skin. The discarded flesh wrapped around him like bandages, covering him entirely.

Basilisk immediately realized that his great power and gifts were being stripped away in real time.

His torso swaying, he stood bolt upright and screamed in desperation.

“T-This…!”

“ㅣㅇ ,ㅣㅇ!”

“…Huh?”

“ㅏㅇ…?”

The serpent’s face turned completely pale. Kang Geom-Ma watched him and spoke. His voice, sharp as a frozen blade, echoed in the monster’s mind like an endless chorus.

“Your time will now loop eternally at the moment you existed in.”

“……!”

“……!”

“Well, I guess you don’t get it. To put it simply, you’re trapped in an eternal death loop. Or more clearly put—the ‘result’ of your death has already been decided.”

Kang Geom-Ma spoke calmly as he tapped his sheath. Despite the entire space shaking violently, the gleam of his blade remained unshaken.

“But it’d be a waste to send you to hell so quickly.”

Kang Geom-Ma spun his sashimi blade with precision, then gripped it tightly. The calm in his eyes turned into a blazing black spark.

“I’ll kill you over and over until you beg for death.”