Episode 74: The Monster Returns
[Author’s Note: Important Name Correction]
Alright, listen up, my sharp-eyed hunters. I realized something embarrassing while re-reading the past Chapters, the name I kept writing as "Kim Chem" was actually a typo. Her real name is Kim Chae-min (김채민). Yes, I know, I’ve been calling her by the wrong name for several Chapters, which is basically like forgetting your own cousin’s birthday for three years in a row. From here on, I’ll be using her real name, and whenever you see "Kim Chem" in the older Chapters, just mentally swap it for Kim Chae-min. She deserves her real name, especially considering what’s about to happen to her.
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The air in the narrow street was thick with dust, smoke, and that damp, metallic tang of fresh blood. Every sound felt amplified the crackling of small fires licking at the broken walls, the faint metallic groan of a damaged street lamp swaying in the wind, the wet dragging of something massive shifting its weight. The monster was moving forward, slow but certain, each step sinking its claws into the dirt-streaked pavement as if claiming territory. Its breath hissed like steam escaping from a cracked boiler, and with each exhale, the smell of rot and something sour rolled across the street.
Kim Chae-min was sprawled on the cracked concrete in front of it, her black jacket soaked to a deep, ugly crimson. A pool of blood spread under her like an expanding ink stain, too dark under the flickering light to look real, but too much for her to be fine. Her lips trembled, but there was no strength left in her voice. She turned her head slightly, her gaze locking on Kim Do-hyun, and somehow managed to form a single, broken command. "Run."
Her tone carried no desperation for herself only a plea that he not throw himself into a hopeless fight. That was all she had left to give him.
But the monster had other plans.
Its jaw unhinged slightly, not enough to show all its teeth, just enough to look wrong. A guttural, wet vibration rumbled up from its chest, and then, impossibly, a voice that wasn’t its own began to slip out of its maw. It was her voice. Kim Chae-min’s voice, distorted, dragged over gravel, as if some foul hand had reached into her throat and stolen it. "Don’t... let me die... like this..."
The sound didn’t just crawl under Do-hyun’s skin it slammed into him like a spike of ice driven straight through the sternum. His parents froze where they stood. You didn’t need to understand mana, curses, or monsters to feel the violation in that sound. Every human instinct screamed that this was wrong in a way language couldn’t cover. And still, neither of them could move.
His father’s eyes darted from Chae-min’s bloody form to the shadowed figure standing at the far end of the street. It took him a few seconds too long to realize that figure was his own son. And when the realization hit, confusion swallowed his face whole.
This wasn’t Do-hyun. Or rather, it was, but not the boy he knew. His frame was the same, but the way he carried it was foreign. The faint glow of cursed energy leaked off him in tendrils, twisting the air like heat haze, and the fishman’s cursed blade hung loosely in his grip as if it belonged there. His eyes, once restless but warm, were cold, glassy, and much too still.
The cursed sword didn’t just hum in his hand it pulsed, a slow, sick rhythm that seemed to sync with his heartbeat.
For one strange, fragile moment, something in him calmed. His breathing slowed, his grip on the sword evened out, and for a second, he looked almost human again. Then his gaze fell on Chae-min her pale lips, the way her chest barely moved and the fragile dam inside him broke.
The rage wasn’t a sudden burst. It was more like a deep reservoir he’d been standing next to his whole life finally cracking open, flooding every vein, every thought. His chest tightened until breathing felt like swallowing fire, and the edges of his vision curled inward, leaving nothing but the monster and the red at its feet.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t announce himself. He just moved.
One instant he was standing still, the next his legs coiled and released, hurling him forward with a speed that felt reckless even to him. The wind clawed at his face as the pavement blurred beneath his boots. His muscles screamed from the sudden burst, but adrenaline buried the pain deep. He swung the blade in an upward arc, aiming for the joint at the monster’s shoulder.
The cursed metal bit deep with a wet, ripping sound, and for a brief, vicious moment, it felt like victory. The arm came free in a spray of dark blood that hissed when it hit the ground. The severed limb twitched once before lying still.
But monsters didn’t follow the same rules as men.
Before Do-hyun could recover his stance, the thing lashed out with its remaining arm. It wasn’t a punch it was a hit meant to crush. Claws slammed into his side, forcing the air from his lungs and sending white-hot pain flaring through his ribs. His grip on the sword almost slipped, but he clung to it like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
The monster staggered back, but the sound it made wasn’t a cry of pain. It was a low, throaty laugh, the kind you’d hear from someone tasting their favorite meal after a long absence.
And then the blade pulsed again.
The same madness that had overtaken him in the fight with the fishman began to crawl back up from the depths. It started small, a warmth in his palm, a strange lightness in his head but it grew quickly, twisting into something that wasn’t entirely his own. The more blood soaked into the blade, the more it hummed with an eager, hungry rhythm, whispering that pain wasn’t the enemy, that the hurt was the point.
His jaw clenched. His heartbeat picked up. Somewhere deep inside, the sword’s thirst began to bleed into his own.