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**

I swung the sword. Moved in time with the heartbeat.

I lowered my head. The beast’s forepaw barely grazed past me, forcefully breaking a tree.

Strength and grip.

Even the speed was tilted in their favor.

I swung the sword in a desperate effort to hold my ground. My body twisted to match the trajectory.

The Ghostly Spirit Step I unfurled shattered before my eyes. The herbivore crumbled like glass and scattered in all directions.

The sword rebounded. Blood erupted from my torn chest.

I turned my body to regain my stance.

“…Hoo.”

I caught my breath. To leap over that fortress of steel, I unleashed all my senses.

Hundreds of pushes back. I took another step forward for a fleeting chance.

I threw my body.

It shattered.

I threw my body.

It crumbled.

I threw my body.

It splintered.

The Dan Hoon Choo transformation had no effect. It was initially designed to counter humans.

It was ineffective against beasts. None of the transformed herbivore techniques could surpass the beast’s essence.

To inflict even a scratch, I had to exchange blood equivalent to dozens of times my weight. Gritting my teeth and pushing forward, I could barely add one scratch over another.

That was how the first day went. I had to be content with just inflicting a scratch.

The second day was the same. The third day followed suit.

Five days. Six days. Seven days.

Despite the passage of time, I remained stuck in place.

But I still held onto the sword. I hunted the surrounding beasts, tearing into them as I faced the creature.

I could see the beast slowly tiring. It, too, did not hastily vacate its position but remained at a distance, watching me.

Unlike me, which guarded its territory, its rear end was fixed in place, refusing to budge until it secured its prey. It sat there, as if vowing not to eat or drink until it hunted.

So, I brought them to it.

The beasts I had caught myself.

“Eat.”

The beast glared at me with a look of confusion. To prove I hadn’t mixed anything strange, I tore into the raw meat and devoured it in front of it.

The reason I provided food was simple. I did not want the creature before me to weaken.

What I needed to do was prove my ability.

It wasn’t about killing a beast starved to death.

The Demon Valley Lord, who had been stuttering, began to chew on the beast. Once the meal was done, I unsheathed my sword once again.

To place another scratch atop the previous one.

I stepped back into the blood-spattered battlefield.

…

This is madness.

Ilma could express nothing apart from that feeling regarding the panorama before him.

Madness. This was true insanity among insane acts.

What lay before my eyes was bizarre. The scenery I had witnessed on the first day was nowhere to be found.

The area was drenched in blood. Shreds of flesh and human blood were stuck here and there.

I knew the Thirty was a strange being. From the moment he was related to Ilma, I sensed he was no ordinary person.

But…

How could common sense not crumble when faced with such a sight?

The amount of blood spilled over several days would be enough for dozens of people. It was as though some marionette was having limbs torn off and sewn back on repeatedly.

A grotesque body. An unusual constitution. Such absurd wordplay could not adequately explain the situation.

…But.

It wasn’t an issue.

“Th-Thirty…”

So this is…I mean…

This is nonsensical. It doesn’t make sense.

There’s no way someone could go on without feeling pain when their body is that warped and stretched.

I saw it during our bout. His expression when struck by a wooden sword.

The Thirty is a person.

Whether due to a special constitution or not… that’s not something that could be rationally explained.

Pain.

A person must feel pain. This is no different from gnawing away at oneself.

Before the body is perfected, the mind would surely break first.

“Thirty. This… this isn’t…!”

I need to stop this.

“Wait… wait a moment… think…”

The Thirty Jeok-un.

He looked ahead. Crouched on a blood-soaked rock, his body glistened with blood.

A strange bloodlust flickered above it. The mixing of sweat and blood emitted a peculiar odor.

Heat. I felt the heat. From what could hardly be called clothing, tattered rags radiated a mirage-like energy.

“……”

No response even when I called. He didn’t answer no matter how much I shouted.

He merely stared ahead. His vacant eyes were already chillingly transparent, as if he had lost his mind.

Ilma reached out. Shook his shoulder.

“Why, why is this happening…? Let’s have a moment to talk… okay?”

“……”

“Calm down, Thirty. This is… this is not okay… It’s painful… it’s agonizing…”

“……”

“I-I’ve done enough! So just for a moment… It’s been half a month already. We’ve only been fighting non-stop for a fortnight!”

Ilma spoke, trembling.

“Y-You’ll really die at this rate.”

Shaking once more.

“You’ll really die for real!”

His once tightly shut mouth opened just a crack.

“…One…”

“…Huh?”

A droplet of saliva fell along the side of his mouth.

In that vacant gaze, the image of a beast flickered.

“…Take a step back… then two steps… counter…”

“What are you saying right now…?”

“The modification of Ghostly Spirit Step… Reinforce the sword qi extending out…”

He stretched out his hand. Pulled out the sword embedded in the ground.

Ilma felt a chill run down his spine. He was no longer engaging in conversation with himself.

In this fleeting moment of rest…even that brief instant…

“Refine the sword strike… The unavoidable blow must be endured with the body…”

He was recalling and refining the battle with the Demon Valley Lord.

Like a single sword.

“…Ah… ah…”

This, he’s definitely lost his mind. There’s no doubt about it.

Spending every moment channeling himself into the sword— it was the same as throwing his life away.

Why go this far?

What purpose does it serve…?

“Is the sword really that precious…?”

“……”

The Thirty did not answer. He simply took another step into the Demon Valley Lord’s dominion.

That step answered for him.

A hollow laugh escaped my lips, uninvited.

“You’re insane…”

No other words could elucidate his single-minded obsession.

In a state of **super** concentration, he paid no heed to anything but the foe before him.

How many could even step into such vast territory? How many warriors would be so genuine to risk their lives for such endeavors?

Unknowingly, Ilma gripped the sword hanging at his waist. Without another word, he watched the Thirty’s back.

Feet pounded against the ground. The Demon Valley Lord howled.

What stood before him was not a mere human.

Another…

Beast.

…

Swords clashed. They moved and thrust forward.

The claws that barely missed tore through the skin. But this time, the arms didn’t fly off.

Another stumble. When I got back up, I was a little closer than before.

Now I forgot even the thought of sleeping. I forgot hunger and just rushed onward.

I unleashed the sword. Overlord Demon Technique. Layering Dan Hoon Choo upon it.

The writhing Nine Heavens Blood Demon Sword wailed. The beast responded with an even lower growl, moving its body.

Fast. At the same time, it was overwhelming.

The sheer size of the force contained was beyond description.

In the grip of that crushing force, I steadied the sword with both hands. The pulled-out inner strength trembled as if it would break at any moment.

I was pressed back. Once again, I was splintered. Every bone in my body rattled as I was smashed into the rocks.

Staggering to my feet, I looked ahead through the blood-soaked haze.

Still far.

…Still… far.

A moment’s rest. The sword lunges again.

As long as it doesn’t break, I run within its limits. I breathed at the edge of the diagonal line.

With each step forward came pain. The horrid agony was so intense it could drag me into darkness.

Cheongeop’s healing. The pain accompanying it.

This was not something my body could adjust to. It was an effort to keep dragging me into the morass.

Had I not received anything from the Heavenly Demon, I would have surely collapsed long ago. If not for this absurd recovery capacity, everything I had built would have vanished.

Even as I took a step, the swamp followed me. It whispered that everything would be fine if I just took one step back.

The human desire for comfort juxtaposed against the sword.

I moved between that chasm fueled by my parched breath.

One step.

One step.

What is a sword? What is a warrior?

I struggled to find answers to the torrent of questions at the tip of the sword. The beast with a scratch cried out.

Claws hammered down. I couldn’t stop it with the lost sword, so I flew the Ilma.

From the White Sand to the Abyss.

From the Bloodstream to the Demonic Shadow.

I hurled every application of Ghostly Spirit Step I had learned before the beast. The clashing inner strength and sanguine demon energy made my mind feel as if it would fly away.

But I endured.

I was confident in my ability to withstand this much, so I could withstand.

Embracing my splintered arms. Drawing strength from legs that felt ready to collapse…

I endured.

I moved forward. What lay ahead? I couldn’t see well.

But even in a space filled with darkness, it was the path I wanted to take.

The dream of every warrior.

Even if I were to dash for a lifetime, I might never reach that summit.

I flailed desperately. I longed for that flailing to carry some meaning.

But…

But that alone was not enough.

I retrieved the lost sword. Straining against my emptied inner energy, I forced out a torrent of blood as I enacted the Nine Heavens Blood Demon Technique.

I want to see.

What does the end of this road look like?

I want to overcome.

The howling beast before me.

If I can’t flail with meaning, then create the meaning for myself. If no one else knows the pain, engrave it deeply upon your own body.

There are no results without effort.

And there’s no such thing as effort without results.

I… I don’t know.

Once, I glimpsed what it means to be a genius.

To lightly grasp the sword and catch up in an instant to the realm achieved by others.

I know nothing.

…Yet, I have something.

What is…

What is there?

“…Wrench…!”

…a sword.

—Isn’t there a sword?

Nine Heavens Blood Demon Technique

Third Brother.

Overlord Demon Technique.

I saw, heard.

Felt with my whole body.

The howls of the Demon Valley Lord. The power blooming within it.

The whispers of the mire wanting to swallow me whole. A mere step back brings comfort.

I grasp all of it, wrapping it in my hands. Amidst the bursting sanguine demonic energy, I hammered down everything I had learned.

I stand.

I stand.

I stand and look down.

Even if I’m torn and ground.

Even if I am cut apart.

In the end, it’s the sword I will stand with.

In the end, the sword I will achieve.

—I hammer down all I’ve gathered upon the grasped sword.

The blazing Overlord Demon Technique. The intertwined sanguine demonic energy awakened techniques lacking in the Nine Heavens Blood Demon Sword.

Using Dan Hoon Choo is insufficient. That transformation alone is inadequate.

Even backing it with Overlord Demon Technique doesn’t release its full might. It merely layers scratch atop scratch.

Then what must I do?

Create.

Beyond a scratch, surely a blade capable of piercing that hide.

I received it with my body.

The fierce thrashing. The howls of the Demon Valley Lord.

Application of sword qi. That alone is insufficient. Twisting the stretched energy into one.

Leaning my body.

Gazing ahead.

I crouched and extended.

Through relentless time, I will one day float to the surface…

The Sword of the Common Man.

The finest technique I can wield now.

Drawn with the teeth and claws of the Demon Valley Lord, the one singular sword mixed with the fire within me.

I reach out the sword amid the beast’s howl. Throwing my flame-wreathed sword with my whole body, I whisper.

Draw.

If there’s no meaning…

—Then show it by drawing it yourself.

Nine Heavens Blood Demon Technique

Outer Sword.

Overlord Blade’s Bloody Rend.

Like a beast, I howl, and the vibrating sword qi at the tip coils like a spiral.

The air is sucked in. The very atmosphere warps and shimmers above the sword.

A fatal blow of certainty. From the countless scratches etched upon the Demon Valley Lord’s body, blood is drawn, staining the world red.

The body unable to withstand the techniques crumbles. Even the scabs barely settled are whisked away and blended into the chaos.

Breath hitches.

From within it, I extend my step.

The pieces of sword qi…

—Dyeing them with the pieces of True Energy.

Stepping upon death.

Recalling dreams.

To see the tip of the sword.

“…O Demon Valley Lord.”

I smile, spitting blood from my contorted lips.

“Sharpen your teeth.”

I leaped.

Ready to relinquish everything I had been protecting.

Towards the beast.

—Like a beast.

“…….!”

“…….!”

The howls of the Demon Valley Lord faded. The white world enveloped me. I flailed to move beyond it.

I reached the fingertips. A wall that seemed ready to shatter at any moment.

Thus, I pushed. I surely left my handprint there.

From that handprint began a crack that devoured everything.

Engrave it. Words.

Imprint the meaning behind the struggle.

The crimson clouds over Bi Cheon.

The two characters, Jeok-un.

…

Ilma trembled, gazing ahead.

What lay before him was a gigantic mass of flesh. Skin that had not even glimpsed sword qi was shredded all around.

In the center, a circular wound. The ironclad wall he believed would never shatter had cracked.

By whom?

—By the person who had even lagged behind entering Overlord Demon Technique.

“…….”

Ilma walked among the scattered flesh and fragments of meat. He approached the ‘Warrior’ leaning against the sword, gazing ahead.

He, who had been catching his breath, turned around. Like someone awakened from a deep dream, he slightly lowered his head, then smiled.

“How many days… is it today?”

“…Exactly… it’s the thirtieth day.”

“You kept it.”

The new form staggered back. Ilma hurriedly caught him.

The body he caught felt light. As if it had shaken off everything within.

“Ilma.”

He extended his hand.

“Would you like to see something… interesting?”

“…….”

Ilma glanced down at that face. The scarred expression was smiling as if relieved.

What had that been earlier? That final technique. It was a technique absent from the manual containing the Nine Heavens Blood Demon technique.

Was it Ilma’s technique?

Or perhaps…

—Was it a technique he had created through experience?

There was no doubt that his movements were inhumane. They had also touched upon the Demon Valley Lord, and the smell of beasts was incredibly strong.

An overwhelming force that didn’t even regard broken limbs. Just one release yielded a backlash so intense it wrecked the body.

A dangerous technique capable of being a fatal blow to both enemy and self.

To extend such a thing while smiling.

“…Thirty, putting the interesting tales aside, let me ask one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Were you perhaps mad?”

“Mad… I might be. Days I lived as a mere shell far outweigh the days I lived fully…”

He flicked his raised fingertip.

“Now that I’ve deeply immersed myself, I might not have my wits about me. But I have no regrets.”

“…Then why did you capture the Demon Valley Lord? Still not answering?”

“Alongside proving my capabilities… there was one thing I wanted to do.”

“What is it?”

“Ilma.”

From his fingertips, a transparent energy arose. The energy that appeared to shimmer like heat coalesced and floated like small stars from his fingertips.

The symbol of utmost perfection.

True Energy.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ilma gasped.

“…This crazy monster… what exactly is it supposed to mean…?!”

“I witnessed more than dozens of deaths in a single day. I repeated that more than thirty times.”

He smiled, his shoulders shaking.

“Indeed… effort does not betray oneself.”

“…Who on earth… would call that effort…?”

Ilma raised his hand. He slapped both of the Thirty’s cheeks simultaneously.

—Splat!

“You insane lunatic!!!”

He exploded with rage, albeit late.

 

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