A golden-edged Moonblade was held in the hand of the oldest man. The crescent-shaped tip pierced its wielder’s hand. Without hesitation, he dragged the blade in a long, tearing stroke, and the overflowing blood and flesh fragments dripped onto the floor. The pattern engraved on the golden edge absorbed the blood and emitted a faint glow. The newcomer, who had been watching, asked cautiously, “...It’s not dangerous, is it?”
“This time it was a bit close.”
The young Chaos answered in an oddly calm tone, despite his words.
“They’re all tangled up together, every last one of them, except that one. They’re all so young. In the end, the oldest one is the culprit.”
He drove his blood-soaked sword into the dark-red-stained floor and continued, “If we could just pull that one out, half the problem would be solved.”
“You could force him out, couldn’t you?” I asked.
“He said he wants to live. Here.”
Although he claimed no memory, he must have sensed the layers of time wrapped around him. That’s why the oldest blade understood and sympathized. Seong Hyunjae had even asked him if he knew. Despite being incapable of pitying himself, he skillfully drew out others’ sympathy. The young Chaos’s brow furrowed.
“The first one’s got a rough fate. If you’re going to be tied up , you should at least have a strong body. Even handling the second one alone is a feat, and here I have to fetch one after another, crowding my eyes and all.”
“Honey is their guardian first and foremost,” I reminded him.
“A rabbit growing up among rabbits and then harboring a wolf is crazy. Fine if it’s the second one, since you raised him yourself, but the others—what’s with them? Anyway, the first one is the biggest problem, the real problem.”
The newcomer pricked up his ears—an unspoken ‘yes, yes.’ Having heard the Chaos’s grumbling day in, day out, he simply went along. Meanwhile, the blade had darkened to black. The young Chaos withdrew the sword and sheathed it.
Countless constraints tangled around him as densely as his long life. He had endured innumerable minor curses, and several major ones. In particular, the wrath of powerful transcendent beings, left behind as they died, had bound him for thousands or tens of thousands of years. So whenever he intervened too deeply with those entwined with multiple transcendent beings—like today—the curses coiled up like venomous snakes.
“The transcendent beings who pour out their final grudge all curse loneliness above all. I wonder if they too felt lonely over the years.”
Sometimes transcendent beings gathered among themselves. But many never forgot leaving behind their own worlds, their pasts: parents, siblings, friends, children. Even if they grew ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) used to the passage of endless time and emotions numbed, their source had been people.
A faint smile curved the young Chaos’s lips.
“I still love those who live.”
Despite having seen all sorts of horrors, it only made him cherish them more.
“But, you said, caring for each individual makes it harder,” I reminded him.
“Affection is frightening. Even a transcendent being, unless you cut out the heart, is swayed by emotion. But that’s not bad. That’s life.”
“We’re not supposed to, though—ow!” Follow current novels on NoveIＦire.net
The Chaos tapped the newcomer’s head with his forefinger.
“You are people too. You just live long and are strong. Strength means you must keep your balance—but don’t delude yourselves into thinking you’re gods. Whether great or humble, you are human. A great one has neither the need nor the right to chore your life. Kindness that crosses the line becomes rudeness and tyranny.”
“But if we help, we’ll save more worlds, right?” the newcomer persisted.
“You young ones are so confident,” the Chaos chided.
“That may be, Chaos-nim, but—”
“I have the ability, unlike you.”
The newcomer muttered under his breath.
“A rabbit. Even before systems and transcendent beings existed, people lived. Systems helped more people live, yes—but the world turns without you.”
Systems and transcendent beings are mere aides. It all began that way. The newcomer’s eyes rolled without whites. Then, glimmering, a round orb appeared.
“Oh—excuse me, I need to step away a moment. It’s a message from Senior Namu,” he said, asking the Chaos’s pardon, and slipped away, lowering his voice as he spoke into the orb.
“What’s up, Senior Namu?”
[Newcomer, have you adjusted Honey’s title skill yet?]
“Ah, yes. It’s not easy!”
Though Namu couldn’t see his face, the newcomer wore an expression of distress.
“It’s registered as L-rank, but it’s hard for the system to analyze. It’ll take time. That’s why the initial estimate was five years.”
[Isn’t that the maximum estimate? Weren’t you aiming for half a year?]
“Deadlines are always set tight, Senior!”
[But the timing’s perfect now. With Chatterbox taking action, Honey is less likely to refuse. Why not ask him?]
“No!” the newcomer exclaimed, shaking his head.
“I’m not ready. He’s already suspicious—if we mess this up, he may never see me again.”
[If Honey falls into Chatterbox’s hands, that’s worse, right?]
“That’s our job to prevent. So keep a close watch.”
He heard Namu sigh softly. The newcomer flinched.
[And if Chatterbox fails, that’s bad too. If the Filial-Obsession crowd withdraws, it’s over. Honey’s world and those around him are strong and growing fast. At current levels, without Filial-Obsession’s meddling, they can protect their own world.]
The standard method to guard a world: keep raiding dungeons until the source exhausts its power and withdraws.
[Then Honey will be satisfied—and won’t help us.]
“I guess—but saving a world is still a success.”
[Newcomer, worlds are like stars. We mustn’t lose chances to save more.]
To save more worlds. The newcomer learned this way. The king trapped in his tower lived that way: enclosing himself to shelter countless people, then devouring his own world to save more.
“But we must finish preparing first... it’s safer that way...”
[Understood. Why sound so down? If Filial-Obsession withdraws and we lose our excuse, we can act ourselves. In a few years, when you’re ready, we can claim a new Filial-Obsession has emerged.]
Namu’s voice faded along with the orb. The newcomer sighed.
Countless worlds. It should have been a no-brainer. Yet the newcomer looked troubled. He suddenly recalled the young Chaos’s words:
Because I do it simply because I want to.
“...I used to love saving worlds too...” he whispered.
But now, he didn’t. If the young Chaos learned this, what would he say? Surely, he’d tell him to follow his heart. The newcomer fiddled with his long ears. The seniors didn’t dislike him—it was a long-standing bond.
Still... he couldn’t deny how much he’d enjoyed recent days. He’d looked forward to when people would come to dungeons. Their varied gazes had pleased him, like in a time so distant his memory blurred, before he was trapped—a feeling of returning to childhood.
“Honey will hate me. Others will never see me again. Even the blacksmith will despise me.”
Complex mana lines spiraled around the newcomer. Contrary to Namu’s words, Han Yujin’s title skill adjustment was nearly complete—it was merely delayed in its final phase. If he finished it now and made the offer, he could predict Han Yujin’s reaction.
The newcomer closed his eyes tight. He still couldn’t decide.
“Ppiyak, don’t cause trouble. Stay still.”
“Bellare, don’t follow Ppiyak. You can’t teleport.”
“Rin, it’s too dangerous. You can’t come. Be good. Peace will be here soon.”
The baby fox buried its head in the cushion and thumped its tail in discontent. As always, leaving the children behind felt like a heavy stone on his chest. He hoped it wouldn’t take long.
“If Sorok grows more, please leave him in Dodam. With Song.”
Sorok, whose growth he had been suppressing, was slowly growing even when unobserved. Slower than under a skill, but still. He entrusted this just in case.
“Nothing left behind? Fridge is empty, unnecessary cords removed?”
He left the children’s enclosure and checked the house one last time. Chatterbox had said the party lasted a week but could change depending on circumstances. With the number of participants alone, it might go longer. They’d spent quite some time on the main ranking matches. Well, if they culled early losers with rock-paper-scissors, a week would suffice.
“Here, brother. Just in case.”
Yuhyun handed him easy storage rations he’d prepared. Yerim slipped a few into her pack, too. Rin no doubt noticed, but turned a blind eye.
“And you packed plenty of food for Peace?”
“Yes. But raw meat takes up a lot of space.”
“If Chatterbox starves Peace, appeal on the broadcast—show Peace in astral form. The complaints will flood in. Especially in America, where people care about animal rights.”
Haeyeon Guild’s PR team had given advice about bringing Peace. Young animals draw attention, they said. He and Yuhyun and Yerim each received media training. Yerim and he might well tear up over our poor kids, but Yuhyun—hard to say. Maybe teach him to fake hunger for Peace.
“Goodbye, Hodoo. Take care of the house.”
After bidding Hodoo farewell, he shouldered his bags and left. Of course the kids carried nothing heavier than a small satchel. Kids, I keep telling you—I’m in my twenties. Even thirty is still youth.
“Are we only joining our party? Can’t we tour places like Las Vegas?”
“If we have time, sure. But no gambling.”
“It is a popular tourist spot in America. But best not gamble.”
“How about overseas celebrities? Yerim, you’re S-Rank. You might meet someone if you want.”
“S-Rank hunters are the biggest celebrities now. I’m not interested in stars.”
“I was more interested in hunters than actors anyway.”
...If it had been a while ago, he might’ve gotten excited about meeting Chloe in the U.S. Yuhyun opened the car door and asked:
“You’ve already met one. The others...”
“I’m sure Koreans loved the government officer the most. Or Hyunah-noona.”
“Well... but I like it better now, more than then.”
“How about Seong Hyunjae-ssi?”
“I wasn’t interested.”
“No way. I don’t believe that.”
“I didn’t have any luck with him. Still don’t.”
Though he’d known him casually, he still had no real memories. In the end... there was nothing he could do. Neither Seong Hyunjae nor Director Song nor my brother. But that ending led to the now we have.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, Yuhyun asked softly.
“You? Of course I’ve always watched over you.”
If he truly hated him, he wouldn’t have looked. Just payment for raising him, he supposed. He stroked Peace, who sat on his lap. But if he’d done that, our home now wouldn’t exist.
As they left the parking lot, reporters swarmed. Yuhyun and Yerim both frowned—such similar expressions.
“There’s chaos every time we come out.”
“Don’t mind them, brother.”
“It’s fine. The mood’s changed a lot. Abroad, they always root for fellow Koreans.”
Nationality comes before rank, they said. So long as he didn’t completely flop, domestic support would remain strong. Abroad, they’d still want an S-Rank from Korea over any F-Rank. The government had even inquired, through back channels, about transferring the invitation—but Korea refused.
Arriving at the airport, his heart fluttered. Not just for the party, but for America itself. He’d only officially traveled to Japan, and his kidnappings hadn’t left East Asia. Idle thoughts, but still thrilling. Even if he couldn’t sightsee, he’d bring back souvenirs for his staff. America—what was it famous for?