Chapter 386: Destiny (5)

“*Hasn’t he gotten over his past*?”

It didn’t seem like it at all. Lycan thought that to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. Joaquin’s eyes, fixed on the sunset light, looked far too sad.

“Yes.”

Joaquin closed his eyes for a moment.

Then, slowly, he opened them again. The black sun had already disappeared completely. Night had fallen in Gehenna.

Everything was dark.

So silent it was almost suffocating.

If not for the soft rustling of squirrels moving nearby, one might think all senses had gone numb.

“Well? Dark, isn’t it?”

The voice of Joaquin, founding hero, cut through the blackness. Lycan tilted his head at the sudden and strange question.

“*It’s night, isn’t that normal*?”

“Yes. It’s normal for it to be dark at night. But in Geom-Ma’s past, there was no day or night. It was always night. Always winter. Think about it—even here, in the Demon World, there is day and night, and yet an entire person’s life was nothing but absolute blackness.”

Without going insane, no one could endure that. Even for Lycan, a corps commander, Kang Geom-Ma’s way of thinking was damaged.

Even so, he lived keeping at least a minimum sense of morality. Or rather, he tried to.

“Geom-Ma held himself back. If I had been in his place, I would have destroyed everything and just waited for the day of my execution in prison. I always boast that I made him into a person, but the truth is the credit is his. He suffers the pain of loss and still grew straight.”

“*…*”

“Human malice… sometimes it can be so atrocious that even a demon couldn’t imagine it.”

Lycan nodded.

“*I know. In the human world they have that phrase about people being so bad that even a demon would stand up and applaud.*”

“And you do know that phrase refers to demons like you, right?”

“*That’s not the important part!*”

Lycan’s expression hardened.

“*The important part is that Geom-Ma’s past was that terrible. That’s the core point of all this.*”

Joaquin’s lips twitched slightly. Even if he denied it, Lycan was beginning to understand human feelings.

Suddenly, Joaquin remembered.

A demon, in the end, was still part of the larger category of human beings.

Of course, their nature was so different that grouping them together sounded absurd—but from a cosmic point of view, humans and demons were, in the end, “In.”

A clear example was the current Lycan—an ex-ruler of Gehenna who now felt empathy for a human.

Unless old age had simply made him “softer,” of course.

If he said that, he’d surely get pelted with acorns. Lycan sometimes combined lightning sword with thunder magic just to launch acorns at Joaquin. Using those skills for that… well.

In any case.

“Well, since the person in question isn’t here and it’s nighttime, let’s drop the depressing talk.”

“*Always leaving me with a bitter aftertaste…*”

Lycan’s tail drooped limply. Sitting on the log, he swung his legs back and forth.

If Joaquin was his friend, Kang Geom-Ma was like Lycan’s mirror. Deep down, learning more about him felt good.

Around them, the torches hanging from the trees began to light. When night fell, the squirrels lit those torches.

They were Lycan’s subordinates, and by their contract, they could also use thunder magic.

The night in the Demon World filled with a warm glow. In the middle of that atmosphere, Lycan suddenly changed the subject.

“*Hey, if by any chance… he managed to overcome the pain of loss, what do you think would happen?*”

“He’d be stronger.”

The answer was immediate. Lycan turned sharply to look at him. The torchlight briefly lit up Joaquin’s profile.

“*…Could he get even stronger?*”

“Yes.”

This time it was an emphatic affirmation. On what basis? Joaquin hadn’t even seen all of Geom-Ma’s power.

Well, he had seen the Parsy disaster on video—but that wasn’t enough to measure his strength. That was only a fragment.

In truth, Geom-Ma no longer showed all his strength. He kept his power sealed so as not to harm this world.

Did Joaquin not know that? Of course he knew. He knew Geom-Ma better than Lycan did. After all, he was like his father, even if they didn’t share blood.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“*Fine, so you know.*”

“But that guy always breaks expectations. Lycan, you don’t get it—Geom-Ma didn’t have a shred of talent with a sword.”

Joaquin pointed a finger straight at Lycan’s crotch. Right where his life force was concentrated, with a small pair of sacks no bigger than beans.

Lycan’s brain short-circuited. This bastard…?

Before he could explode, Joaquin continued.

“At first he couldn’t even cut a cucumber. Who would have thought that, after ten years with a sword, he’d dominate the entire country? His real talent is stubbornness. He’s hard-headed. When he faces an obstacle, he slams his head right into it. For how long? Until he succeeds.”

Fwooosh.

Lycan barely managed to calm down.

“*So he’s always been that stubborn.*”

“Stubbornness is his true gift.”

“*Wow… in that he really is just like his father.*”

Joaquin as well—his talent in swordsmanship, being generous, was third-rate.

If it weren’t for his “Infinite Regression,” humanity would have fallen and been enslaved by the demons long ago.

For Lycan, that was a small bit of revenge—but Joaquin, far from being upset, let out a hearty laugh. He looked happier than he had in a long time.

“Lycan, you’ve gotten better at giving compliments.”

“…?”

Compliment? He didn’t think he had.

Maybe Kang Geom-Ma’s madness really did run in the family.

***

“Ten years ago, the Villain Union that was believed to have been eradicated has reappeared in the world. Back then, they were individuals who used magic in exchange for giving their souls to a corps commander. Given the seriousness of the situation, we’re going to speak directly with a specialist on the matter.”

The screen changed from the always-serious anchorwoman to the image of a woman in a rabbit mask, sitting cross-legged.

The camera zoomed in on her, focusing first on her hands clasped over her knees and then on the mask.

It was easy to guess the cameraman’s tastes.

“Hello, you asked me to call you Rabbit, right?”

“Yes, hello.”

Her voice was distorted, but from her manner of speaking, her height, and her ease, it was impossible not to recognize her—it was Choi Seol-Ah.

“May we know where you’re currently working? In the pre-interview, you said that was something you could mention.”

“I currently work at the Joaquin Graduate School.”

“Ah, so you’re a graduate student.”

“Sir, don’t insult me like that.”

“…Excuse me?”

Surprise showed in the anchorwoman’s eyes, while the murmur of the audience leaked into the broadcast. Realizing this, Choi Seol-Ah coughed a couple of times and corrected herself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it… I’m staff at the graduate school. I can’t give details, but I work there.”

“Ah… alright. Then, back to the main topic—Rabbit, why do you think the villains, who were thought to be extinct, have returned? And in a different form than before?”

Choi Seol-Ah uncrossed her legs and crossed them again the other way. The camera moved urgently to follow her, revealing far too obviously the nervousness behind it. In the middle of that restless movement, she replied.

“There will be various reasons, but I think the main one is the current state of the human world. Even on this channel, I believe you’ve covered it before. Right now, in the human world, a faint current of mana is flowing. For villains who have been living in hiding, this is an opportunity. Like bees that detect the smell of honey.”

“Could you explain that connection in more detail?”

“No, not that. That’s a matter we’re currently investigating at the Joaquin Graduate School.”

Choi Seol-Ah lifted her chin arrogantly. The audience reacted with mixed expressions, and some looked at her with sharp eyes.

“The reason I came here is to reassure everyone. Don’t worry. The Joaquin Graduate School is working to understand the unknown phenomena happening in the human world.”

“There were many concerned voices at its founding, weren’t there?”

“Ah, seriously, sir… are you going to keep derailing the topic?”

“Rabbit, if you keep answering so rudely, some viewers might feel uncomfortable…”

Choi Seol-Ah suddenly stood up. With her long legs, she stepped right up to the camera, abruptly turning a cultural program into a fashion show.

“I came here to say this. Both those here and those watching the broadcast—what you mean to say is this, right? That the villains have started acting again because Mr. Heavenly Sword isn’t doing his job properly. Isn’t that right? Well, listen to me—if you can be lying in bed watching this, it’s thanks to him.”

I instinctively straightened my back. That sounded like it was directed at me.

“Sir…”

Choi Seol-Ah spun sharply on her heels, like a professional model.

“You really are malicious. Everyone here is a member of groups that hold resentment toward Heavenly Sword. And you brought me here so I could throw stones alongside them. But you chose the wrong person.”

Her words, firing like a barrage, paused for a moment. The audience’s faces tensed; their lips moved as if they wanted to hurl back the humiliation.

“I’m not a particularly just person. I’ve done more bad things than good, and I’ll keep doing them. My priority will always be survival. But even so, I have to say this—stop nitpicking Heavenly Sword and the Graduate School. Because the day he turns his gaze away, you and I will be dead, understand? Stop stirring up trouble for no reason! Honestly, you only know half of it…”

“We’ll be right back after a commercial break.”

The image abruptly changed. Now it was a public service ad, with a family laughing in a field. I watched it absently, then turned off the television.

“I went to sleep and, when I woke up, the whole world knew.”

I clutched my head with both hands. It had been a while since I’d seen a hospital ceiling. It was the hospital affiliated with Joaquin Hospital.

‘Well, of course… I was unconscious for three days.’

The doctor said I’d slept for three days and three nights straight.

I remembered collapsing, but three whole days? Even though it sounded impossible, when I looked at the calendar, I confirmed it was true.

While I was asleep, Ryozo mobilized all the medical staff to put my body through a thorough examination. It seemed she’d been waiting for the chance.

In any case, there were no significant abnormalities in my health.

The collapse was also due to accumulated exhaustion. Even so, both Ryozo and Abel had somber expressions.

After that, my two wives took turns coming to see me in the hospital. Though to varying degrees, both were busy without a moment’s rest. And yet, whenever they could, they stayed by my side. Fearing they’d end up sick themselves, I insisted they take a break.

The opposition was fierce. Both women were strong-willed. There were even shouts so loud I was embarrassed for the patients in the next room. And, to my shame, I, who hold the title of “Heavenly Sword,” couldn’t do anything against them.

In the midst of my discomfort, a mediator appeared who broke the deadlock.

When that person intervened, neither Ryozo nor Abel could do anything but step back.

Clack.

“My, what a racket.”

Ah, speak of the tiger and she appears. Arriving at just the right moment.

I tried to sit up clumsily, but she took her hand out of her doctor’s coat pocket and gently pushed me back down.

“Son-in-law. I don’t want Ryozo holding a grudge against me. That girl’s very vindictive. So stay put, alright?”

A youthful face that made it hard to believe she was past forty. This was Saki Cynthia, my mother-in-law.

She’s the one who regularly checks on my health. Both my body and mind could be safely entrusted to Cynthia. That’s why, before her, I always took a humble attitude.

“…Sorry for worrying you.”

“Worry me? Not at all. If you want to make it up to me, give me a shoulder massage instead. At my age, the smell of medicine is already killing me.”

While massaging her trapezius muscles, I replied.

“You seem as healthy as ever.”

“Well… who else can boast of hearing that from Kang, my son-in-law? I really lucked out with my daughter. Thanks to you, I feel like living.”

“I’ll work harder.”

“Hmm.”

She let out an ambiguous sound. Then she placed her hands behind her back and rested them lightly on my fist. That posture was unsettling somehow.

“I’d actually prefer if Kang didn’t work so hard.”

“…Pardon?”

She squeezed my hand and looked me in the eyes. The blue light entering through the narrow window shone on us.

“Everyone knows you work hard. Imagine how my daughter and Abel must feel. The anger they’ve had these days wasn’t toward you. It was toward themselves.”

“They…”

“So don’t try to shoulder everything alone. I’m not telling you to depend on others, but if it’s difficult, talk to someone. You’re too far ahead. That doesn’t bring peace of mind—it makes others feel useless.”

My gaze shifted to the water in the flower vase. The excuse stuck in my throat. She patted the back of my trembling hand.

A brief comfort. Then she rolled her neck in a full rotation and, as if relieved, stretched.

“Ah, that’s refreshing.”

She stood up and started walking. Just as I leaned forward to say goodbye, she stopped at the door and turned around.

She took her time before speaking, her eyes slightly moist.

“In truth, these words were meant for him.”

Him.

Saki Kojima, Absolute Archer.

“But I’m saying them to you, Kang. Maybe I’m just getting sentimental with age. Anyway, take good care of yourself. And if you feel any pain, even a little, tell the nurse.”

“Mother-in-law.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Her lips moved as if in surprise, then she smiled broadly.

“I really lucked out with my daughter.”