Ten million years had passed since Dijun first descended into the mortal world, and in that endless span, she had grown to become the strongest of the Almighty Gods. Alongside her brothers, Dikun and Dik, she had mastered every art of war, every form of magic, every secret of the realms.
But there was one rule every Almighty God lived by — they must never bow to anyone. This was not arrogance. It was a sacred oath, a vow born of devotion and responsibility. Even the Emperor of Heaven could not command their bow. They were the protectors, the guardians, and their honor demanded such unwavering dignity.
In those years, the Gusu Sect flourished. Known as the most prestigious academy of heaven, it opened its gates only to those of noble blood — the children of Heaven Realm and the scions of great sect clans. Its halls echoed with the laughter and discipline of the future protectors of the realms.
It was during one such year that a mysterious boy appeared at the gates of Gusu. His name was Gu Ran. Cloaked in mystery, he revealed nothing of his origin. His eyes carried stories, his steps carried silence. He begged to enter the sect, but the rules were unyielding. "You must be of Heaven Realm or belong to a top clan to join," the guards said. He pleaded endlessly, but his request was refused.
On that day, Dijun was visiting Gusu. As she walked among the marble corridors of the sect, her sharp senses felt a strange pull — a thread of familiarity weaving through her soul. There, standing before the gate with quiet persistence, was the boy. His voice trembled with resolve, yet his silence held secrets deeper than any war she had faced.
Dijun stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. Her heart recognized him before her mind could name him. This boy was not ordinary — he was the same small thief she had encountered in the mortal realm ten million years ago. The boy whose life she had spared, whose mother she had healed, whose promise she had bound to the Exiler.
Without hesitation, Dijun intervened. She petitioned the sect leaders, vouching for Gu Ran. "Let him enter. I know his heart," she said softly, yet with authority. The leaders hesitated, but Dijun's word was not to be denied.
Thus, Gu Ran was accepted into Gusu. Under Dijun's careful guidance, he learned the arts of martial discipline and magic, her teaching both strict and tender. In her lessons, he found warmth he had never known. In her presence, his heart found peace. Slowly, Gu Ran's admiration blossomed into something deeper. He fell in love with Dijun — not for her beauty alone, but for the quiet care she showed him without condition.
Unbeknownst to Dijun, her heart began to answer him. She felt drawn to Gu Ran's quiet devotion, the way his eyes lingered on her during practice, the way his soul seemed to remember her across centuries. In him, she sensed a kindred spirit — a connection that time itself could not erase.
Yet, not all watched this growing bond with acceptance. Dik, her younger brother, grew restless. He noticed how Dijun's attention drifted away from him, how her laughter now found another. He could not bear that she was no longer spending her days with him, her partner in countless battles, her closest confidant.
And so, an unspoken tension arose — between love and loyalty, between a vow of protection and the stirrings of desire. In the quiet halls of Gusu Sect, the fate of hearts was quietly being written, under the shadow of promises older than the heavens themselves.
The Student Contest of Gusu Sect
The air of the Gusu Sect that day was electric. The Great Arena, carved from the purest white stone, was adorned with banners of every realm. Crowds gathered in joyous anticipation — the annual Student Contest was the most celebrated event in heaven. It was a test not only of skill but of willpower, discipline, and heart.
Among the Almighty Gods overseeing the contest were Dijun, Dikun, and Dik. Each had chosen twenty students to represent their sect in the grand challenge. The games were set in turns, each testing a different skill.
The first round, set in the remote valley where students competed to collect rare roses guarded by natural beasts, was claimed easily by Dik's students. His strategical guidance and training ensured victory. The second challenge, a contest of artistic skill in drawing the divine landscapes, was again claimed by Dik with effortless grace.
But the third round — the battle round — was the true test of power. Every student would enter the battlefield, fighting until only one remained standing. This was the trial that would decide not only the champion of the contest but the pride of their master.
When the battle began, it was fierce yet orderly, each fight a spectacle of skill and power. Eventually, the final round was reached. The crowd hushed as Dik and his chosen student, Sejong — the God of Fire — stepped forward. Their opponents were Guran and Daneil — the God of Water.
The tension in the air was palpable. Four figures stood in the center of the battlefield, eyes locked, breathing slow and steady before the storm. Sejong and Daneil, lifelong friends, looked at each other with unspoken agreement. They would not harm each other unnecessarily. Instead, Sejong would face Daneil herself.
Meanwhile, Dik and Guran circled each other. Guran's aura was unusual — powerful, dangerous, and not entirely human. Dik narrowed his eyes.
Guran: "I know you are strong and could easily defeat me, but I will not surrender. You must win over my dead body today."
Dik: (smirking) "Are you serious? Well… I've been curious about your true form. I suppose luck is on my side. Be ready to reveal it."
With a sweep of his hand, Dik performed a spell to unveil Guran's hidden power. The air shimmered around Guran, and an immense aura of darkness and raw strength rippled outward. Dik's expression changed. Guran was far stronger than he had anticipated. The truth was undeniable — Guran was no ordinary fighter; his essence was that of a highly skilled monster.
Guran could no longer hold back his power. His form began to twist and change, bones elongating, muscles bulking, wings unfurling — a beast of raw fury was revealed. His eyes glowed like molten fire.
Guran: "I am not someone you can simply challenge. Kill me? You must be joking. But today… one of us will die, because you dared see my true form."
The clash began. Dik's strikes were lightning fast, his movements honed through centuries, but Guran matched him blow for blow, his monstrous strength shaking the ground. Steel clashed, magic flared, and sparks danced in the air. Dik's voice was steady yet intense:
Dik: "Who… are you?"
Guran: "The one you will never forget. Dik… I will have my revenge."
Meanwhile, Sejong and Daneil fought with unmatched intensity. But Sejong, driven by her pride and determination, managed to overpower Daneil. She emerged victorious, rushing to aid Dik in his duel with Guran.
Their combined assault pushed Guran back, but the monster retaliated with overwhelming force. Sejong was struck down. As her vision blurred, she saw Dik drive his blade deep into Guran. The world seemed to shudder. Guran's roar echoed through the battlefield. Dik stared, breathing heavily, before turning and fleeing.
The battlefield erupted into chaos. Heaven's officers attempted to stop him, but Dik fought through them with precision and force, leaving a trail of defeated guards behind him. None could stop him — he vanished into the wind.
The crowd was in uproar. Whispers spread like wildfire: "Dik has slain Guran!" Yet among the watchers, disbelief and doubt lingered. Sejong, lying on the blood-stained battlefield, watched him disappear. Her last breath was filled with disbelief.
Sejong: "He… killed him…"
Word spread quickly. The rumor became a certainty. Guran was dead. Everyone believed it. Everyone except Dijun.
Dijun stood in the quiet of the arena, her hands clenched, eyes burning with disbelief. She could not accept it. She blamed Dik, her voice sharp and accusing.
Dijun: "How could you? How could you let this happen?"
Dik said nothing. The truth — that Guran had been a monster all along — remained locked within him. He feared that telling Dijun would only lead her to blame herself for letting Guran enter Gusu.
Far away, in the shadows, Guran stirred. His wounds sealed, his rage deepened. His voice, filled with venom, echoed into the night:
Guran: "Dik… you will pay for this. I will have my revenge. You will die by my hand."
The air was heavy with the promise of war. The contest was over, but a greater battle had just begun — one that would be etched into history.