INV 73

Perhaps this being is the lightning bolt itself. Perhaps the firmament has cast down thunder and lightning to impose punishment upon all of creation.

Just as the vision seemed to grow dark, ink-black clouds gathered, obscuring the golden sun, and began to pour down a thick torrent of rain. The only ones on this land who realized that this was the carriage and procession of the Celestial Realm—a signal announcing a counter-attack that was far too late—were, surprisingly, Chacha and Kwon Yihyeon. Whether the Great Evils of the vast ocean knew is uncertain, but the other Great Yokai only recognized the true nature of the dark clouds after the emissaries of the Celestial Realm poked their heads out.

However, the emissary personally sent from the Celestial Realm seemed to be seeing the actual form of the Jae Angshin for the first time; he froze in place, unable to utter a proper word, and even slumped to the ground. Chacha had only been watching to see what kind of pathetic display he would put on, but it was a performance not even worth watching.

What should be the price for this boredom?

“Has the span of ten thousand years been quite long?”

Chacha, slowly raising a finger, brushed upward against Kwon Yihyeon’s earlobe as if toying with it.

“Is that why everyone has become so pathetic…”

…Suddenly, Kwon Yihyeon felt a chill. The gaze of the man caressing his skin was red, so very red. Chacha’s eyes were originally red, but something was different now. His piercing gaze was so intense that it felt ridiculous to even call it blood-colored; it felt as if he would be devoured right then and there. Sounds like people suffocating in fear erupted from all directions. The one who brought this breath-stopping tension to this place was none other than this man holding Kwon Yihyeon tenderly. Though Kwon Yihyeon had proudly shouted that Chacha was a being just like them, at this moment, he could not help but feel fear. Goosebumps rose all over his skin. Finally, when Kwon Yihyeon’s shoulders trembled, Chacha suddenly set Kwon Yihyeon down to stand on the ground and took off his long robe.

The subtle outlines that had been hidden beneath the soaking silk were starkly revealed.

It was a raw physique, without a tunic or anything of the sort.

Because of this, it was not much of a secret that even the high-ranking official of the Celestial Realm—who had personally descended here upon the clouds and was supposed to reject carnal desire and worship purity—had his gaze stolen in an instant. Looking at the physical body the Jae Angshin inhabited, it was as if statues had been modeled after him. A gaze that bewitched people to a terrifying degree and a violent physique woven with an almost aggressive wildness. An aesthetic so excessive it was even painful existed there. A moment later, as he leaned his upper body forward, the rainwater that had pooled below the ridge of his spine, which stood out along his back, flowed down. His wet, snow-white hair fell as if to veil the side of his face, and a desire to sweep away that curtain-like gloom surged within.

This was not a lewd thought harbored by just one or two. It rose up forcibly from the lower dantian to the hearts of an unspecified many.

And then, the disaster very carefully covered his young groom with the white robe. Was it because he received the pebble-like streaks of light scattering through the clouds? Clad in pure white light, he looked truly sublime. That might not be a fitting modifier for a disaster. Nevertheless, Chacha’s gaze as he looked at Kwon Yihyeon in this moment was even merciful. Such tenderness dwelt within it…

“But I must not be deceived. I must not.”

Leaning the head of Kwon Yihyeon—whom he had pulled into his embrace once more—against himself and burying his lips in the soft hair, the disaster fathomed an endless despair. If it could be permitted, he wanted to hold him in this embrace forever, to the ends of the earth.

However, it was excessive greed.

“I’m the fool for kissing you even while knowing that…”

As he looked down at the young groom buried in his clothes, a shabby sorrow heated his heart. It gave off a pungent smell of burning. A terrible heat, wanting to obtain him even if it meant crushing all of creation, scraped the inside of his throat.

That was the reason the following words were particularly brief.

“Go back.”

If you want to live.

⋆˙⟡

Now, the time has come to clean up the world ruined by the yokai.

The world is like Lego blocks, so if someone disrupts the formation, a task is required to put it back in its place. The work they were currently performing was exactly that. From the perspective of a modern person, it could be summarized as unrealistic warriors dressed in mysterious martial attire moving incessantly between sectors, executing the yokai who had cut the human world in two.

“Sector H-016. Extermination complete. Five Dueoksini, one Eoduksini. Reporting.”

“Sector H confirmed. Is Sector N safe?”

The commander had divided the narrow land of the Korean Peninsula into thousands. It meant that so much filth was staining this land that it was impossible to manage unless the sectors were split that finely and people were deployed.

Naturally, lives were bound to be at risk.

“…Casualties occurred. Requesting personnel reinforcement.”

But right at that moment, a leisurely tone that was the epitome of a wicked boss, subtly grating on one’s nerves, intruded through the radio.

“Reinforcements are difficult. Is it an injury that requires transport to the rear?”

“It is.”

“That has become quite a problem, then…”

The man, murmuring like a song with a face that didn’t look troubled at all, was looking down at the collapsed world from behind pitch-black sunglasses. Namsan Tower was sliced clean in half and toppled into the Han River, and the mountain ranges trampled thump, thump by a green giant had craters dug out in various places as if struck by meteors. It was a massive crater that could be easily found even from across the river with the naked eye, not a telescope. The movements of the yokai had ground down the Korean Peninsula. Seoul, with its heavy population density, was also devastated by this unprecedented event. Fortunately, no one was killed directly by a yokai, but many were injured from being pinned under the debris of collapsing buildings.

It was a disaster that would not be forgotten by merely manipulating memories moderately.

According to the regulations, dealing with yokai is the business of the Celestial Realm. However, when an incident of this scale occurs, the Underworld cannot just sit idly by either.

It meant everyone had to be ground down to reduce even one more unfair death not recorded in the register of the dead.

“This way—” At that moment, a bird-shaped yokai rushed in. It had the force of a dump truck charging, but for some reason, the man stood still, smelling the scent of a wild flower until it was right at close range, and only at the brink of being pecked did he flick the heel of his shoe. Click, clack-clack! The man, standing atop the beak in an instant with light footwork as if dancing a tap dance, used the recoil to spring his body upward and performed a somersault. Clack-clack! Another light step. Landing gracefully on a tree branch and avoiding the bird’s head, he split the yokai in half from its crown to the back of its knees with a single draw of his sword, then, Spl-a-a-sh! Leaving the noisy spray of blood and filth behind, he continued his words contemplatively. “—Because I’m not exactly dealing with something easy.”

Well. To call him a simple villainous boss, the state of the war is clear. If more people are pulled out, other sectors will surely be breached. Even so, the behavior of the commander, who insists on being hated by talking like this, might resemble a certain familiar rascal somewhere.

“Hey, you bastard. Let’s talk.”

Yes. He might resemble this person, indeed.

Geom Biyeon, the man facing Gwak Deukcheon who was approaching with a beast-like prowl, smiled, revealing his bright white teeth.