Chapter 290: The Founding Hero (1)

Meain collapsed to her knees on the spot. Her knees were bleeding, bruised from the blows.

She covered her lips with both hands and murmured.

“This can’t be… Leon, was this your plan…?”

Though she didn’t show it, the hero’s betrayal had deeply shaken her.

After all, she was the one who had brought Leon to Joaquin Academy. Even if his intentions had been unclear, Meain felt a personal sense of responsibility for him.

That made his betrayal all the more painful—and confusing. Though they hadn’t spent much time together, Leon hadn’t seemed like someone who would act out of self-interest.

‘Leon carries the blood of the archangel Metatron. By nature, he couldn’t do something like this.’

There had to be another reason. Throughout the entire battle, Meain had kept turning that thought over in a corner of her mind.

And now, at last, she understood why Leon had acted as he did—and what the prophecy really meant.

“Akashic Records…”

If the prophecy was true, then the hero had come here to die.

At the hands of the Demon King’s sword.

***

The gods wanted to uncover the origin of the universe. So, they ordered their servants, the angels, to investigate.

The gods considered themselves omnipotent and omniscient. And indeed, they were—at least until He appeared.

The God of the Sword.

He changed everything. He stood alone against the omnipotent gods and shattered even truths that seemed absolute.

In later generations, that conflict would be grandly named “Ragnarok”… but in truth…

It was a massacre. It couldn’t even be called a battle.

From that moment on, the gods lost their physical forms and wandered through the cosmos as spirits. Perhaps that form was the most divine—but they didn’t see it that way.

It wasn’t enough for them to give formless commands to the angels. They wanted to exert direct influence over the universe. But to act immediately was impossible—The God of the Sword protected the universe.

So they decided to wait for the right moment. To prepare thoroughly for the day they could take their revenge.

During that time, a strange incident occurred—The God of the Sword committed suicide. It took the gods eons to understand why.

〈This universe was too weak for him to inhabit.〉

In other words, the universe they thought was “everything”… was only one of many.

〈The universe is one, but also all.〉

And they wanted all of it. Their nature was greed.

〈To have everything beneath them, to control it all—that is what it means to be a god.〉

So they ordered the angels to record every corner of the universe. And the first to lead that task was the archangel Metatron.

During that process, many angels fell to corruption and rebelled. They became fallen angels—the Grigori. Metatron suppressed them alone.

After that, the gods ordered Metatron to write only the truth of the world. They no longer trusted even their own creations.

And Metatron obeyed. He swore to dedicate his existence to the Akashic Records.

Eras passed. So much time that numbers lost meaning. Finally, only one planet remained to complete the Akashic Records.

Metatron disguised himself as a human and wandered that world. Warrior, scholar, noble, beggar, commoner—he lived many lives, listening to the voices of both humans and demons.

Perhaps because of that effort, in the end, only one blank remained in the record—emotion.

‘Specifically… what is love?’

That was his greatest dilemma. Angels were puppets of the gods. And puppets weren’t made to feel emotions. An angel with emotions? It was absurd. What seemed like feelings were just simulations.

And yet—

Metatron loved. Even though Leon had been created as part of his mission, he truly loved him. With all his being.

He wanted to be with him. He wanted to give him everything. If it was for Leon, he would give up eternity without hesitation.

‘But the gods won’t allow that.’

Even if they changed their minds someday, as long as the Akashic Records weren’t complete, it was impossible. There was only one option left.

‘Complete the Akashic Records as soon as possible.’

With that decision, Metatron accelerated his work. That’s why he could only be with his son one day a year.

Not just because there was so much to record, but because if the gods found out, they wouldn’t let Leon live.

The gods were incarnations of greed. To them, Leon—with his limitless potential—was the sweetest fruit.

Metatron, who had served them at the front lines, could already see the end.

‘The gods will try to seize Leon’s body.’

Then, Leon would lose his identity and become their puppet. As a father, he couldn’t allow that.

‘I must act more carefully. With absolute precision.’

Compared to that, kneeling before a former enemy meant nothing.

Metatron went to see Kuarne, once known as Azazel. He was ready to go again and again if rejected.

Not because he trusted Kuarne. Nor because of “the enemy of my enemy is my ally.”

But because they were brothers by blood. He knew his brother better than anyone. His cunning was enough to deceive even the gods for a time.

Kuarne didn’t think like an angel. He knew how to exploit the weaknesses of the immortals. If he could be intrigued, he might become the best ally.

Even as brothers, Metatron knew his visit might not be welcome. He was prepared to offer anything Kuarne asked for.

“Alright.”

Kuarne accepted without hesitation. Metatron was stunned by the unexpected response.

“The past is behind us. As you can see, I’m very satisfied with my current situation.”

Kuarne smiled, as if mocking everything, and said.

“I’m rather glad you came. That our virtuous Metatron is finally rebelling against the will of heaven—that’s the true path of defiance.”

“…Do you truly want nothing, Azazel? If you wish, I can even give you a copy of the Akashic Records.”

“I couldn’t care less about a product of those losers. We’ve already seen the true source of this world, haven’t we? And you want to reach it through written words? As their servant, I consider that utter blasphemy.”

Even so, Metatron couldn’t shake his distrust of his brother’s wicked grin.

“I swear by the Path of Defiance. I, Kuarne, swear to protect your son. Moreover, without any personal interference, your nephew will act according to his own will. I ask only one condition.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing major. I just want your nephew to be there when that being returns. That’s all.”

That “being” his brother referred to time and again was the God of the Sword. Metatron had witnessed his suicide with his own eyes and recorded it in the Akashic Records.

A return? Absurd. The God of the Sword could no longer exist in this world.

“Alright.”

But Metatron said no more. After all, Kuarne had sworn by the name of the God of the Sword.

That carried weight. Breaking such an oath would mean forfeiting his very identity.

“Thank you, brother.”

Those were the last words Metatron spoke before leaving Kuarne’s sanctuary.

“Thank you for coming, brother.”

“Yes…”

That had been a mistake. A rash act, blinded by love.

The following year, Kuarne sold Metatron out to the gods. And yet, he faithfully upheld the oath.

He carefully hid Leon from the gods’ gaze until he had “ripened,” and respected his will—his vengeance.

Up to that point, everything was going according to Kuarne’s plan.

***

The heavens and earth roiled in chaos. Each time Leon took a step, the ground cracked like a spiderweb.

It was as if the land itself couldn’t bear his weight. Space was so distorted it seemed to boil red.

Clutching someone by the hair, a dull sword stabbed into their abdomen and their guts spilling out, everyone else had stopped moving.

And all eyes locked onto Leon. That’s when his figure vanished.

Whoosh!

Leon closed in on Kang Geom-Ma. It wasn’t a movement—it was like he folded the concept of time itself like a piece of paper.

Kang Geom-Ma was still bound by physical laws. He wasn’t fully awakened yet. That’s why he reacted a second too late.

Leon’s fist struck him squarely in the jaw.

Bang!

The sound was more explosion than impact. Kang Geom-Ma’s body launched skyward, easily piercing the stratosphere.

Gravity faded, his body floated.

A bluish arc came into view. The clouds drifted like boats in the sky.

‘The Earth…’

The planet beneath his feet shrank rapidly. He could now see entire continents.

A majestic sight that would steal anyone’s breath—though this was no time to marvel.

The air was so thin he could barely breathe. The sun’s unfiltered rays scorched his eyes.

Kang Geom-Ma looked down, his eyes trembling. Leon was speeding toward him, tearing through the air.

Though there was no sound, it felt like a sonic boom had struck his ears.

Leon stared straight at him—or rather, something behind Leon did, grinning maliciously.

Kang Geom-Ma’s jaw quivered. His cheek trembled. Blood crystallized into crimson pearls.

It was more of a blast than a blow. And he was at ground zero. Kang Geom-Ma’s body, free from gravity, flew like a beam of light toward a distant point. At the same time, Leon propelled himself again from the stratosphere.

The scenery changed at incredible speed. Fixed stars fled like meteors. The Earth and Sun faded into the distance.

Floating debris struck his back.

‘Ah…’

Finally, reason returned to him. That thing charging at him like a demon—was his enemy.

He had to cut it, split it. He felt unity between his hand and his sashimi.

‘That’s enough.’

Kang Geom-Ma smiled. And, mid-flight, crashed into the Moon. Its surface shattered.

From the pile of gray dust, a gleam emerged. His pupils were white, the contours of his eyes black.

Kang Geom-Ma rose from the crater. Pieces of rock slowly fell from his body.

Something roared inside him. It was his humanity, still clinging on.

“If I cut.”

He blew on that fragile flame and extinguished it.

“It shall be cut…”

The round Moon split like an apple cleaved in half.

***

Consciousness dipped briefly into overwhelming darkness.

·
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《Activating the Demon Eye of Defiance Against the Heavens.》

***

A dust-covered lamp gave off a dim light. Red lanterns with massive Chinese characters hung from the ceiling, along with oriental-style dolls.

The sweet scent of liquor and the smell of raw fish filled my nose. It was a familiar, yet oddly foreign sensation.

“Where am I…?”

I held my forehead as I sat up. Just then, my elbow accidentally knocked something over.

The table shook. A green bottle rolled off, shattering with a sharp crash.

“Hey, you idiot!”

The sharp rebuke yanked me back to reality. I blinked in confusion and looked to the side.

The first thing I saw were the swollen, balloon-like eyes of a furious man. His expression was irritable, one sleeve rolled up and flapping.

“Are you gonna snap out of it or what!?”

It was the first boss who existed only in my memories. The founding hero, Balor Joaquin, stood right in front of me, wielding a sashimi knife.