Time in Japan crawled by with agonizing sluggishness. I was killing time in a secluded villa in Kyoto provided by the History Compilation Committee, waiting for the arrival of the newborn King, Kusanagi Godo. Alessandro was in the garden, lost in meditation while polishing his sword. Everything was peaceful—and because of that, it was deathly boring.
The silence was eventually punctured by Alice’s low voice. She had been reading an archaic grimoire in the study, but now she was staring intently into a decorative hand mirror resting on the desk.
"My King, a moment of your time."
There was a faint trace of tension in her voice that wasn't usually there. As I approached, the surface of the ordinary mirror rippled like a disturbed pond. Soon, the face of a man flickered into view. It was Choi Jin-woo, the Chief of the Four Divine Guardians—the organization that oversaw the magical world in Korea. It was a transmission spell via the mirror. Instead of his usual composure, his face was etched with the kind of frantic anxiety you see in a parched field cracking under a drought.
"My King, please forgive this insolence for contacting you so urgently."
"Looking at your face, it seems this is going to be more than just a minor annoyance."
I peered into the mirror and urged him to get to the point. Choi Jin-woo moistened his dry lips before continuing.
"It's the North. In the northern region of the Korean Peninsula... a massive vortex of Cursed Power is forming. If this continues, it won't be long before something descends there."
"North Korea?"
My brow furrowed instinctively. North Korea. It was a name I’d heard until my ears bled during my mandatory military service, labeled as the primary enemy. But that was the extent of it. To me, that place was a backward, hermetic political entity that should have had nothing to do with mythology or magecraft.
"What on earth could even be happening there?"
"Technically, it is North Korean territory, but it’s further up. The area centered around Mount Paektu, where the borders of North Korea and Manchuria meet."
His clarification raised a new question in my mind.
"If it's Manchuria, isn't that Chinese territory? There’s a leader over there whose name I’ve heard once or twice. Shouldn't that woman be the one handling this?"
I was referring to the Campione of China, the absolute ruler at the peak of the martial world, Luo Hao. If something was happening right on the doorstep of her domain, it was only natural for her to intervene.
"Luo Hao is someone who enjoys extreme seclusion... and more importantly, the northern regime has recently been distancing itself from China to a radical degree. Their magical associations are the same."
Choi Jin-woo added with a look of extreme distress.
"The northern magical association... the 'Heavenly Fist Society' has secretly contacted us at the Four Divine Guardians. They claim that an invocation ritual for a massive indigenous faith has spiraled out of control. They’ve sent a plea for help... asking for the Southern King to intervene."
As far as I knew, the magical associations of the North and South hadn't just been separated by politics; they had been out of contact for decades, living like total strangers. For them to throw away their pride and face and beg the South for help?
"The situation must be truly dire, then."
I fell into thought for a moment. It was a massive pain in the neck. However, letting an out-of-control descent ritual run rampant only to have the fallout hit my own territories in Korea or Japan would be an even bigger headache.
"Fine. I'm going now."
Choi Jin-woo’s face in the mirror brightened instantly at my immediate answer. I turned to Alice and Alessandro, who were standing nearby.
"Alice, you’re coming with me. I need your Spirit Vision to see exactly what this 'descent' is supposed to be."
"I shall follow your command, my King," Alice replied instantly. I then turned to Alessandro.
"Alessandro, you stay here. Keep a close eye on the situation in Japan. If Kusanagi Godo arrives or if those old geezers from the Committee show any suspicious movement, report it immediately."
"Leave it to me, my Lord. Please, proceed without worry and take care of yourself."
Alessandro bowed his head reliably. It was more efficient to leave him in Japan as a liaison. I turned back to Choi Jin-woo in the mirror.
"Arrange a flight. We’ll meet in Paju."
"Yes! I will have everything prepared immediately!"
Choi Jin-woo’s face vanished, and the mirror returned to its mundane state.
Leaving behind the tranquil scenery of Kyoto, we headed for Korea on the fastest flight available. A few hours later, as soon as we landed at Gimpo Airport, agents from the Four Divine Guardians greeted us. They guided us to a secluded military facility in Paju, a city adjacent to the Military Demarcation Line. I could feel the tension hanging in the damp, cold air, prickling against my skin.
Upon entering the command room deep inside the facility, Choi Jin-woo met us. Behind him, a massive screen displayed a distribution map of Cursed Power around the Mount Paektu area, captured by satellite. It was marked in an eerie, tumor-like red.
"My King, thank you for making the long journey. All preparations for the crossing to the North are complete."
Choi Jin-woo continued his report, gesturing toward the situation board.
"I have informed the Heavenly Fist Society of your arrival. Their Grandmaster sent a reply personally. He stated that they will risk everything to delay the spread of the descent ritual as much as possible until you arrive."
I stared at the blood-red map and muttered under my breath. On one side of the screen, the Cursed Power readings were being updated in real-time. The upward curve of the graph was not something that could be stopped by human effort.
"A futile struggle."
– At the same time, near Heaven Lake on Mount Paektu –
"Cough—!"
Ryu Jin-kang, the Grandmaster of the Heavenly Fist Society, hacked up a thick glob of blood. With a pain that felt as if every bone in his body was being pulverized, his vision darkened momentarily before he managed to snap back. He heard the sounds of his disciples collapsing behind him, too exhausted to even scream, but he didn't have the luxury to look back.
Before his eyes, the sky had become something that could no longer be called a sky. A massive pattern in the shape of the Bagua—a chaotic mixture of sickly violet and pitch-black darkness—was swirling, devouring the firmament above the lake. The metallic song echoing from its center felt as though it were scraping away his sanity just by listening to it.
The ritual they had performed was a secret art intended to sublimate a local spirit of this land into a higher state of being. Their target was the Mountain Spirit Grandmother, the indigenous deity who presided over the mountain spirit of Mount Paektu, the very origin of this land. They had intended to elevate this Earth Mother Goddess, possessed of profound wisdom and protective power, to the 'Rank' of a celestial martial god from the myths of the distant continent.
However, the deep, primordial wisdom of the local deity failed to fuse with the belligerent divinity of the heavens. The result was not sublimation, but a hideous transmutation. Wisdom twisted into a cold strategy of annihilation, and the protection of the earth warped into a merciless territorial bulwark.
"Grandmaster! The 7th Formation has collapsed!"
"The comrades of the 12th Formation... they’ve lost consciousness!"
"The square formation is weakening, Comrade!"
Listening to the desperate cries of his disciples from all sides, Ryu Jin-kang bit his lip until it bled.
"Do not falter! It is only until the Southern King arrives! If we can just hold out until then, this land can be saved!"
He roared in a raspy voice, squeezing out his nearly depleted Cursed Power once more. The 'Heaven-Earth-Man Defensive Array,' a barrier he had deployed by staking his very life, was trembling precariously beneath the celestial cataclysm.
Flash—!
From the Bagua pattern in the sky, shards of pale light poured down like a blizzard. It was a calamity—a corruption of the Authority of the Earth—that turned everything it touched into cold crystal or stone. Every time a fragment of light struck the defensive array, parts of the barrier petrified and crumbled away.
Among the disciples maintaining the formation, several were silenced instantly, hardening into stone statues the moment the light grazed them.
Is this... the limit?
Requesting help from the Southern King was the most humiliating act in the decades-long history of the Heavenly Fist Society. But protecting this land came before their pride. He didn't know what kind of being that King truly was. He had only heard the rumors—the protector and calamity who reigned over the southern lands. But now, he had no choice but to stake everything on that existence.
"Everyone, gather your strength in me! I shall use the final secret art!"
At Ryu Jin-kang's cry, the disciples who were still conscious sent the last of their strength to him with grim resolve. The Cursed Power of dozens flowed into a single massive stream, surging into Ryu Jin-kang's body. It was a power far beyond what his aging flesh could handle, but he swallowed the agony and formed the final hand seal.
A last resort that would strengthen the barrier by burning his very life force. This would buy a mere sliver of time, but he would vanish into ash. The vortex in the sky grew more violent, glowing ominously as if preparing a final blow.
Please... do not be late, King of the South...!
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