Part 31 - Advent
There was a favorite topic among martial artists who loved comparing themselves to others, and among curiosity-seekers who took great interest in the martial world.
For a long time, they had wanted to systematize the "realms" of martial artists.
Like grading tea or cloth, so to speak.
To give the conclusion first: the attempt failed.
Whether they tried to use the amount of inner power as the standard, or the point at which one could project qi outside the body, or even combat power itself, everything had problems that made it unsuitable as a true yardstick.
If anything, the one that seemed most workable was combat power.
But as mentioned, it still failed.
Because in the end, combat was too heavily influenced by compatibility between individuals.
So the effort to subdivide ranks collapsed, and only one standard remained.
A wall.
As every martial artist grows, there comes a point when that growth slows—until, inevitably, they meet a wall.
Those who crossed it gained a strength so great it was as if they had become a different person, and once more they had room to grow.
And so, naturally, people began calling the strong who had crossed that wall "masters".
***
Se-a's guard, Gyu, knew the moment she saw Geumju—she was going to lose.
Unlike herself, who had only just barely reached the wall, the strength Geumju displayed was plainly that of a "master" who had crossed it.
"Still… I have my pride. I won't go down that easily."
And above all, she had to protect her young lady.
She was a guard.
"First Sword, Stance."
In her sect, they taught that raising the sword and taking the opening form was the same as delivering the first strike.
It meant that the very act of taking the opening form instantly switched mind and body into perfect combat readiness.
In a heartbeat, Gyu's aura changed.
With the eyesight she had pushed to its limit, she saw Geumju kick off from a half-collapsed building.
Here she comes…
What saved Gyu was the instinct forged from countless real battles.
…Now!
She drove her footwork purely by that instinct, and Geumju—shooting in like a beam of light—skimmed past her and slammed down into the spot where Gyu had been standing.
She's insane…!
She avoided a direct hit, but the shockwave from Geumju's blow hammering the ground struck Gyu hard.
Gyu didn't resist it head-on. Drawing on the subtlety of her sect's footwork, she let her body ride the force.
She judged it in an instant.
Geumju's first attack had been overwhelmingly powerful, and it was unlikely a second would follow immediately.
Even so, Gyu prepared the strongest defense she could manage at once.
"Fourth Sword, Mist."
A secret defense that suppressed and cut off an entire surface at once.
And again, her instincts were correct.
Two attacks that flew in through the dust were blocked by "Fourth Sword, Mist".
"Ugh!"
It was a defense she poured inner power into.
But even so, the two strikes Geumju threw at her delivered impacts that felt like they would twist Gyu's wrist and shoulder apart.
There was also the damage from the backlash—using footwork without even checking behind her, and then being driven into a wall by the aftereffects of the exchange.
But…
"Hoh?"
She bought time.
From within the dirt cloud, Geumju revealed herself, her crimson palace robes fluttering.
"Not bad?"
Just as Gyu expected, with Geumju's arrogant personality, she wouldn't feel satisfied unless she traded a few lines first.
But this time, Geumju moved against Gyu's expectations.
"Second Sword, Raging Current."
A technique of unified attack and defense—cutting the "vein" of the opponent's attack to suppress it, then using the remaining force to counter.
Damn it, 'unified attack and defense', my ass…
At best, Gyu could only deflect the blow Geumju sent while pretending to talk.
No—honestly, even deflecting it was an accomplishment.
It was a bizarre strike with a trajectory that couldn't be predicted.
"Wow. You're actually pretty good, aren't you?"
Geumju shook out her wrist in admiration.
Bare-handed?
Gyu couldn't understand it.
She had assumed it was something like a whip or a meteor hammer.
Otherwise, there was no way to explain that impossible trajectory.
How could a human arm—built with joints—move like that?
"Hey. When someone praises you, you should show some gratitude. You're like some rude bitch."
Gyu, returning to her opening stance, didn't answer.
If she could, she wanted to talk—buy even a little more time.
But if she ruined her breathing by talking in front of an opponent with such a clear gap in realm, she'd be no different from dead the next instant.
The problem is…
Whether she talked or not, her limit was already creeping closer.
The fault was that she had used an internal qi-gong technique that consumed massive inner power too many times in succession.
"Not answering?"
This attack, too, had a trajectory she couldn't predict.
And yet she could still block it—because of compatibility.
It was the result of "Second Sword, Raging Current" intertwined with Gyu's exceptional instincts.
"I said answer."
Again.
Damn it…!
Originally, combat had to be unraveled through harmony between inner and outer training.
But the difference in level between them forced her to keep using internal qi-gong repeatedly.
That continuous use doubled the drain on her internal energy.
How many more times can I endure this?
Her wrists were already numb, and it felt like her shoulder and waist would snap.
Her dantian was hollow.
"All right. Good. Block this one too."
"...!"
Her body felt like killing intent would spear straight through it.
But this time, she couldn't see any path at all.
Fourth Sword, Mi—!
Her internal energy wouldn't connect.
Because of the excessive consecutive use, her meridians had fallen into an overloaded state.
"Kyah—!"
But no impact came to Gyu's body.
That shrill, reckless scream wasn't Gyu's, and it wasn't Geumju's either.
A girl had blocked Geumju's strike that had been aimed at Gyu's back—then rolled across the ground a few times and sprang to her feet.
Waving a hand clad in a gauntlet toward Gyu, she grinned.
She was an astonishingly beautiful young woman.
"You've waited a long time, right? Reinforcements are here!"
"You insect of a—!"
"Miss, careful—!"
Geumju's next strike was blocked by someone else.
"Whoops…!"
It was a man with the build of a bear.
His expression hardened as he spoke.
"This is one hell of an opponent. Not sure we'll be walking out of here alive."
The girl clenched her fist.
"If we work together, we can win!"
Thanks to the time they bought, Gyu managed to calm the overload in her meridians and joined them.
"We can't do it with just us. Are there no more reinforcements?"
At Gyu's blunt words, the girl's face crumpled.
"For now… we're all there is."
Gyu clicked her tongue.
"Then it can't be helped."
Geumju sneered at them.
Then she crooked a finger.
"If you're done talking, come at me together, you bugs."
***
Se-a retreated to the on-site commander's side and succeeded in sending support to Gyu.
"…Is there really no other martial artist we can bring in, no matter what?"
"It's impossible right now."
Se-a's face darkened.
"Squad 3, Squad 10—losses are too high, we're falling back!"
"Squad 17 is requesting support!"
The moment Geumju appeared on the front line, for some reason the Black Bone Sect's morale soared to something absurd.
"RAAAH!"
A man who had been nothing more than a thug charged in with a blade run through him, swinging an axe wildly.
Whether the man in front died, whether he himself died—he surged forward, and forward again.
That suicidal rush wasn't something you called morale anymore.
Calling it madness was more accurate.
"Urk!"
Then Se-a saw the large martial artist who had been fighting Geumju get flung away.
One of his arms was gone, and his entire body looked like a rag.
"…No!"
Before Se-a's scream even finished, the beautiful girl was thrown aside too.
"Kyah!"
Fortunately, her wounds didn't look severe, but as if her dantian had taken a hit, her face was pale, and a thread of blood ran from her mouth.
All that remained was Gyu, covered in injuries.
Without retreating even an inch, she raised her sword and blocked Geumju's path.
Even from that distance, it was obvious how violently her blade was shaking.
"Gyu, run!"
In that chaos, there was no way Gyu could have heard Se-a's voice.
Yet Gyu looked precisely in Se-a's direction—as if she wanted to carve Se-a's into her eyes one last time.
My liege…
Geumju, standing before Gyu, lifted her hand, and qi—visible to the naked eye—began to gather in it.
Then darkness arrived.
Se-a felt the white breath from her mouth grow stronger.
She felt the wind change direction.
The sweat-soaked skin of her back turned icy, as if freezing solid.
As if possessed, she turned her gaze toward where the wind was coming from.
And she wasn't the only one.
The on-site commander beside her, the adjutants relaying orders—they all stopped and stared the same way.
The Black Bone Sect members who had been charging like mad, the combat agents of Hyunwol Pavilion who had been about to swing their blades, all went still.
Even Geumju, who had been condensing qi in her hand, and Gyu, who had been bracing for the end, and the martial artists struggling to stand again—everyone fell silent.
Everyone looked in one direction.
West.
The red sun vanished at speed beyond the distant mountains.
Lengthening dusk stretched endlessly, mixing into deepening darkness.
In that dim scene, tall buildings barely clung to the last of the sunset glow.
On the roof of the tallest tower—"darkness" slowly lifted its head.
A chill raced through the bodies of those watching.
The stoutest-hearted person there trembled in fear, and the most optimistic felt despair.
…Night.
Se-a realized it without thinking.
Night has come.
The darkest, the coldest, the most brutal night had come for them.
The darkness on the rooftop beat like wings unfurling.
It was deeper than anything—darker than anything.
A complete absence of light.
When it swept once, night smothered the streets.
Like the aura of the most ferocious beast, that curtain of darkness spread in every direction.
The fleeing sun disappeared without a trace.
But there was no moonlight, no starlight.
In every space, darkness filled everything, thick and viscous as it flowed.
Like floodwater bursting a levee, darkness poured out and swept around the onlookers.
…A white Mask.
That pitch-black darkness wore a face that mocked the world.
Only that white Mask—sneering at the powerless heavens and at villains who did not fear the sky—shone with a desperate brilliance.
He looked down on them all.
"Were you waiting for me?"
That sound, like molten iron, didn't even register as a voice at first.
Packed with ghostly qi, it drilled into their ears, shredded their eardrums, and when it reached even their brains, it finally became meaning.
Everyone there heard it.
Se-a trembled from head to toe, yet she couldn't take her eyes off him.
Th-that is…
A grim reaper with a white face, the disciple of the ancient demonic monster The Ruler Of Darkness, the Dark Heaven Venerable One revealed himself in full.