"Look.
What’s standing in front of you?"

A beast.

A beast the likes of which I’ve never seen before.

Nohacheon, the Soul-Severing Sword, curled his lips into a slanted smile and swung his blade mercilessly.

He had come here on a mission, but now, he was fully engrossed in the fight, so much so that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

A sword as relentless as this is rarely seen.

And the more he tasted it, the more he craved.

Soul-Severing Sword (탈혼검, Talhongeom)
Fourfold Chaos Demon (사혼이마, Sahonima)

With every swing of the blade, bluish flames erupted along its trajectory, imbued with everything stolen from the opponent.

Senses. Strength.

Stamina. Internal energy.

Everything was siphoned away to fuel the blade, which wielded a dual force, unleashing explosive power.

To be struck meant to shatter and break.

This tyrannical blade grew even deadlier the longer the battle dragged on.

But...

--- KAAAAANG!!!

What should have broken didn’t break.

What should have fallen didn’t fall.

"Ahaha!"

The beast in front of him was holding out. Drenched in its own blood, it took a step forward.

A step deeper into the boundary between life and death.

Rather than fearing death, it seemed to be extending its own life by defying it. Look closely. The sword grazing its chin—what about it?

It’s sharp.

--- Sharper than any blade I’ve ever seen!

This one’s the real deal.

It truly...

It truly intends to defeat me, Nohacheon, the Soul-Severing Sword!

"Soft!"

Excitement surged within him. He gripped his sword in reverse.

On the spot, he changed his technique. His opponent’s eyes widened in shock.

Without giving them time to react, he struck down fiercely.

--- SPLAT!

The sound of flesh tearing and blood spraying echoed. The opponent’s body was hurled into the wall.

He didn’t relent. He charged in immediately.

Even with a half-severed neck, they’d reattached it before. In that case, he would rip their limbs apart this time.

Death. If they were human, they would die. Even if not, they’d be incapacitated.

Judging by how they had to pick up their severed arm and reattach it themselves, it was clear they couldn’t heal without external effort.

If all their limbs were torn apart, they wouldn’t be able to move anymore.

They were genuinely trying to defeat him.

Then it was only fair for him to respond in kind.

He swept through the dusty air, plunging his blade into the staggering warrior.

He tore off their right arm forcibly. The remaining left arm followed suit.

Bluish flames engulfed the air. His opponent dropped their sword, and once again, an arm flew through the void.

--- Got them.

Or so he thought, until something slammed into his head.

"Urghh?!"

The forehead. A blood-soaked forehead.

The opponent charged at him with desperate ferocity, their head crashing into him with internal energy behind it.

Within the shattered remains of their body, they twisted. Leaping up, they simultaneously reattached their severed arms.

Their steps forward, splattering blood everywhere, were marginally faster than before.

They were growing stronger. This mere warrior at the threshold of mastery…

Were they slowly catching up to me?

"...This..."

Nohacheon wiped the blood dripping from his cracked forehead with his hand.

"You lunatic...!"

...

The Heavenly Body howled.

I could feel it, surging through me. My body was so thoroughly wrecked that even its famed regenerative power couldn’t keep up. The seemingly endless roots of my internal energy faltered, struggling to hold on.

Pain coursed through every fiber of my being. Each step threatened to make me collapse, my dazed mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

But I held my sword.

I held my sword.

"What is the art of Paemyo (沛墓)? It’s the sword that counters."

My opponent thrust their sword at me. To block it, I had to pour out everything I had left.

Misjudging the gap, I let the blade graze my nose, leaving a deep cut that momentarily blinded me with blood.

But I trusted my hands. I trusted the effort I had poured into them.

The energy burst forth from the tip of my blade, dragging out what little internal power I had left.

Drawing a line with my sword, I managed to tear the hem of the Soul-Severing Sword’s robe.

"Ahahahaha!!"

The opponent laughed, their blade growing even fiercer. My trembling sword barely held on, looking ready to shatter at any moment.

So I fought harder to keep it from breaking.

"The second form is about the contest of strength: Maechal (痲擦)."

I anticipated the trajectory of their blade. It wasn’t something I could think through—I had to rely on my instincts.

The experiences etched into my body from countless cuts and bruises guided me, all culminating at the tip of my sword.

A path paved with pain. I ran down that path, reinforcing a part of my blade.

We clashed.

--- KAAAAANG!!!

My once-shaking sword no longer trembled.

"How far will you…!"

I wanted to answer.

But the breath stuck in my throat denied me even that.

The Soul-Severing Sword scattered another attack. Blue flames clung to the sweeping arc of his blade.

That same devastating move from before—the one that nearly destroyed my body in an instant.

I raised my sword immediately. Even though I managed to block it again, my body was hurled through the walls of a building.

I flipped myself upright, clutching at my trembling legs.

Ignoring the wooden splinters embedded in my flesh, I roared.

I wanted to win.

I truly wanted to win.

Gripping my scabbard, I sheathed my sword.

Baring my teeth at the opponent rushing toward me.

Let it out. Use whatever you have.

Doing nothing would only mean admitting defeat.

--- Drag out even the depths of your soul!

"The next form is Guak (久握). This is simple blade-drawing technique—a deadly strike meant to end it in a single move."

Within the scabbard, my sword accelerated. I hurled it forward, squeezing out the last vestiges of my strength.

We collided. The blue flames pierced through the dust cloud, threatening to consume my blade.

My body was pushed back, sliding endlessly.

Footprints burned into the ground trailed behind me, charred remnants biting into my ankles like shards of ruin.

But I didn’t stop my blade. It quivered but never wavered.

Lacking strength, I shifted on the spot.

"The scroll called it Pyorim (慓霖)—a technique to scatter multiple slashes at once, like a storm of swords."

Deceiving the opponent’s eyes, I let loose a scattering of slashes that brushed against the Soul-Severing Sword’s robes.

For a moment, his eyes blinked shut.

I seized that opening.

Advance, Jegun.

I would win.

I would win.

I would win.

As a warrior. As one who chases the back of the Heavenly Demon.

I would win...!

--- Thud!

My feet stopped. The blade in my hand halted.

I looked down at my chest. The tip of a sword pierced through my heart.

The Soul-Severing Sword murmured bitterly.

"To think I must cut down a promising disciple like you with my own hands..."

The blade withdrew.

Blood gushed out.

Even the Heavenly Body that had been screaming within me fell silent.

"It’s time to let go now."

"...Ah..."

No sound escaped my lips. I had dropped my sword.

How much had I lost? Where was it now?

I turned my gaze. I couldn’t see it. Everything ahead was blurry, obscured by the haze.

Blood trickled intermittently from the hole in my heart. I tried to stop it, but the flow wouldn’t cease.

The Soul-Severing Sword raised his blade. Blue flames swirled at the tip, ready to deliver the final strike to my neck.

Despite all my effort, this was the end.

I hadn’t bridged the gap. I had held on for a fleeting moment, but it wasn’t enough.

But...

But not yet...!

"...Hah?!"

With a desperate lunge, I dodged another strike. The Soul-Severing Sword’s face stiffened.

"Junior brother, you’re barely clinging to the ground now. Why don’t you beg for your life? If you do... I’ll pretend I never saw you."

"......"

No sound came from me. Begging for my life?

At this point?

"Admit you were wrong. Cooperate in capturing the Sama family head, and I’ll show you mercy for entertaining me…"

"No... I won’t..."

"What?"

There was only one reason I crawled on the ground.

Because I was still fighting. This fight wasn’t over.

Think, Jegun. Think of every option you still have.

I had dropped my sword. I had nothing left.

The Heavenly Body was twisted, no longer responding. Blood poured endlessly from my pierced heart.

What about my internal energy? Was it gone? My hands—could they still move?

What was left?

What did I have left...?

"......"

I recalled it.

What I still possessed.

What Ilma had called me.

"Still, your tenacity is something to be admired."

I endured.

I endured again.

And I kept enduring.

My life was a series of endurance. Even now, with death before me, it hadn’t changed.

I reached out—not for the sword I couldn’t see.

I reached into the bloodstained folds of my clothing to retrieve something.

"...Junior brother?"

I wasn’t wrong.

That’s why I had drawn my sword.

Would I exchange the reason I wielded my blade for mere survival?

My body had already died once.

The day it became an empty shell, someone breathed life into it.

The Heavenly Demon.

"You shall stand below me as I ascend to the heavens. Though it may not be the very peak..."

The reason I held my sword was still clear.

The reason I endured was undeniable.

"Those so-called geniuses will never again look down on you."

So pour it all out.

...Pour it all out.

--- Crack!

From within my robe, I twisted open a wooden box. I pressed the shard of ice within to my lips, forcing it into my mouth.

My tongue froze instantly. Torn flesh made speech impossible. But I used all my strength to swallow it.

"What?!"

My trembling hand found my waist. The sword was still there—the one I had never drawn, simply hanging by my side.

A blade so cold it shattered at a touch. A divine relic of the Northern Ice Palace, the Frost Crystal Blade.

I gripped it tightly. Letting out a silent scream, I pushed myself against the ground.

My heart felt like it had stopped. Yet I remained here.

My vision blurred, but I was still here.

Pain unlike anything I had known choked me. But still, I…

I was here.

Still looking at you, Heavenly Demon.

"...I..."

Do not kneel.

Stand, even out of sheer defiance.

Use everything you have to rise again.

"...I..."

What lies at the tip of my sword?

What remains at the end of the blade I wield to win?

"...I am...!"

My body screamed. To drown out the pain, I roared louder.

I stumbled, then fell, seeing the frozen expression of the Soul-Severing Sword.

Though faint, I began to see everything clearly again. Even as my breath froze, the Heavenly Body began to wail once more.

What was lost returned.

The extinguished flame reignited.

"I did not draw my sword to beg for life, Soul-Severing Sword!"

I stood.

Feeling the cracks spreading through my body, burning myself to ash.

Even for just one more moment, I whispered into my fractured vision.

"Raise your blade..."

I assumed my stance.

Aimed obliquely at my foe.

Gripping the sword I had practiced with endlessly.

"If you don’t want to die!"

The broken soul, anchored by ice, prepared itself to surge once more.

What lies at the tip of my sword?

The answer is simple.

Hope and longing.

To grasp something that no longer feels distant, I wield my sword.

Even at the edge of death.

Even as the world whispers that it’s impossible.

A warrior’s dream doesn’t end so long as they keep moving.