Chapter 463
Shatter-
Having reached the end, the world of the past began collapsing piece by piece.
“...”
“...”
Se-Hoon and Kwang-Soo just silently observed, reflecting on the misfortunes that relentlessly followed Ha-Rin’s death. The tragedies had come one after another, almost as if Ha-Rin was being dealt punishment after punishment for giving up on conquering the Tower of Heroes.
Thinking about it like that, Se-Hoon’s expression hardened. I have many things to say right now, but... I suppose this should come first.
Bracing himself, Se-Hoon cautiously turned to Kwang-Soo, who was looking at his shattering past with a complicated expression.
“Professor.”
“...I know. I was being selfish.”
He had simply given up on choosing one single path to follow because he didn’t want to lose anything more. If those actions of his made him look beyond pathetic even in his own eyes, how much worse must he appear to others?
If I couldn’t choose either... I should have at least found a new path.
He could have consulted Sophia. He could have sought advice from those friendly to them, like Ludwig. Yet he had hidden away, doing nothing. And his justification, that it was because he didn’t want further loss... was, in reality, simply him just giving up on life.
If Sophia hadn’t become Doppelganger... maybe I would’ve really ended like that.
Although the decades he spent reclaiming the other half of the Celestial Night to keep his promise to Sophia didn’t exactly make for a proper life, he had certainly helped humanity more than he would’ve if he had become a shut-in waste.
How ironic. Reflecting on his past, Kwang-Soo gave a bitter smile.
Yet, contrary to his thoughts, Se-Hoon shattered the mood by talking about something else entirely.
“No. That wasn’t what I was going to say. Given such a story, I’m just curious why you used Celestial Night so roughly. Wouldn’t it have made more sense if you had cherished it?”
“...” Avoiding his gaze, Kwang-Soo responded in a sour tone. “Do you really have to ask something like that?”
“Yes. It might seem trivial, but it’s essential to the reforging process of Celestial Night.”
If Kwang-Soo had treated the weapon roughly because he saw it merely as a tool, then, regardless of sentiment, the new version of Celestial Night had to be crafted accordingly by incorporating some restoration features.
Seeing that Se-Hoon wouldn’t let it slide, fully determined to find out, Kwang-Soo let out a deep sigh.
“...I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Maybe it was because the inner demons drove me mad... or perhaps I was just so exhausted I wanted everything to end.”
Being able to observe one’s own heart was fundamental, yet, in Kwang-Soo’s eyes, everything was obscured by a thick fog—which meant his pathetic self hadn’t changed, making Kwang-Soo grow depressed.
“Hmm... are you sure you aren’t just pretending you don’t know?” Se-Hoon questioned back innocently.
“Pretending?”
Completely baffled by the absurd suggestion, Kwang-Soo stared incredulously at Se-Hoon. How could he be pretending when, no matter how hard he thought, nothing came to mind?
Yet, for some reason, Se-Hoon confidently doubled down.
“Yes. Whether in the past or now, you had a habit of avoiding the situation completely whenever cornered. So, if you thought recognizing the truth would be unbearable, then you are most likely pretending to be ignorant unconsciously.”
“That’s impossible...” Kwang-Soo tried to object before trailing off. When he considered his own actions thus far, he realized it wasn’t actually implausible.
“Well... if you genuinely don’t know the reason, finding out will be difficult. But if you are intentionally avoiding it, then there’s a way you can figure it out.”
Saying nothing else, Se-Hoon turned to the collapsing world of memories and activated Metamorphosing Dream. Spreading out of his hand, a purple began reconstructing the world. And soon enough, a shadow appeared beneath Kwang-Soo: the emotions he had hidden until now.
“When I was defeated by Sophia after she had become a demon, I thought I had finally reached my end...”
“...”
“Strangely, though, I felt nothing at that moment. But as time passed... I began to think that if I’d died by Sophia’s hand that day, then... perhaps... I could’ve been at peace at Ha-Rin’s side.”
Listening to his hidden thoughts, Kwang-Soo clenched his fists tightly.
“How could I say such weak-hearted nonsense...”
“Are such thoughts actually wrong?”
“What?”
“After losing someone so precious to you and then seeing someone who is basically family turn out like that.... am I wrong? Isn’t it natural for me to want to let go and find peace?”
The shadow was exhausted.
“If the war ends like this, I might have to live on for hundreds... maybe even thousands of years. Ugh, I don’t even know what the lifespan of high-ranking heroes is.”
“...”
For humanity, the war’s end marked a new beginning—which was akin to an eternal hell for Kwang-Soo, who had lost all will to live. All that was left for him now... was to prepare an ending he could accept.
“I guess... I should return the life that Celestial Night once saved back to it.... Entrusting myself to Ha-Rin’s will... is the only wish left for me now...”
“...”
“What reasons... do I... even still have to live...”
Swish-
Once the shadow dispersed into nothingness, having finished voicing all feelings, Se-Hoon glanced at Kwang-Soo.
“How do you feel?”
“Truly...”—Kwang-Soo looked down at where the shadow had been—“nothing has changed.” He sounded completely helpless.
Unable even to choose his death, entrusting himself to a broken sword... if it had been anyone else, Kwang-Soo knew he would have punched them out of frustration. But it was himself, leaving him speechless.
“What was I even planning to do in such a pathetic state...” Kwang-Soo let out a bitter laugh, dumbfounded by his fundamentally broken self.
So this is the root of his inner demons.
Kwang-Soo lived solely to fulfill Ha-Rin’s wish and uphold his promise to Sophia. There was no personal will involved at all, since his wish was for his life to come to a swift end. Fueling each other on, the three were balanced precariously, barely maintaining his current state.
And that was when Se-Hoon appeared.
My intervention gave humanity the upper hand, which disturbed the balance.... The newfound higher chance of an indefinite life ahead must have awakened his inner demon once more.
In other words, his regression had led to a truly ironic butterfly effect.
The simplest solution is to just promise to kill Doppelganger after everything, but that’s a bit...
It felt wrong, and more importantly, such a simplistic approach wouldn’t suffice against the current Doppelganger. Striking that one off, Se-Hoon began pondering alternative solutions for Kwang-Soo’s inner demons—and soon found one.
“How about now?”
“...What do you mean?”
“If you can entrust Celestial Night to me now, I could remake it into something powerful enough to defeat Doppelganger easily. But wouldn’t that go against your wish?”
Unable to believe his ears, Kwang-Soo gave Se-Hoon an incredulous look.
“Defeat her easily? Even for you, that’s...” Kwang-Soo paused inadvertently, not dismissing the absurdity. To deny it completely seemed difficult considering the astonishing feats Se-Hoon had accomplished thus far.
If that’s true... why did I even ask him for help?
Wouldn’t simply refusing to have Celestial Night repaired with one excuse or another and recklessly fighting on, as he always had, be the better path if he truly wished for only death?
It was an unexpected contradiction, putting a peculiar expression on Kwang-Soo’s face.
“I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking, Professor, but I believe you’ve been trying to find a new path.”
“A new path...”
“When none of the paths available are appealing, people will naturally seek new ones.”
Moreover, considering the person next to Kwang-Soo just so happened to be someone who continually uncovered bizarre solutions, perhaps it was worth giving it a shot.
“...”
Kwang-Soo gazed at the memory of the past crumbling before him. Having watched it all again, Kwang-Soo now knew he had been repeating the same mistakes, learning nothing from his past—and yet, paradoxically, that meant he was already walking a new path.
Was that it?
Finally aware of the truth, Kwang-Soo’s seemingly meaningless memories of the past began regaining their significance. Sure, the decades spent striving to escape his past and keep his promises could be considered a failure, but never once had he ever given up, not like back then.
“Phew...”
Kwang-Soo took a gentle breath before turning to Se-Hoon. It had been quite a long time since he had faced his feelings.
“Why were you willing to help me?”
“I...”
Initially, it had been due to Baek-Yeon’s advice, and later, it became part of his plan to settle things with Meirin. But now neither mattered to him, not after seeing Kwang-Soo’s past.
“It’s just that I hate bad endings more than anything.”
Kwang-Soo was just like him, who had sunk into despair upon losing both his master and Eun-Ha. In Se-Hoon’s eyes, their miserable existences overlapped. That was why, as a regressor and someone with more life experience, helping him just felt like the right thing to do.
“...I see.”
The sincerity in Se-Hoon’s reply was clear, making Kwang-Soo chuckled lightly.
“I feel the same way.”
Crash
The world of memories finally collapsed, returning the two to reality.
[The bond with ‘Ma Kwang-Soo’ has grown to Lv. 3.]
[Since the bond has grown to Lv. 3, your Relationship has deepened.]
[Relationship: Exploitation]
[Many relationships are made out of necessity to avoid emotional bonds, with some even treating each other merely as tools. And yet, humans inevitably form emotional attachments to even inanimate objects.
Because of that inevitability, maintaining this Relationship indefinitely is a challenge. Whether it leads to a new beginning or a permanent end, that will be decided in the final moment.
*A Fatestone is created whenever the subject exploits you.
*The maturation rate of the Fatestone increases whenever the subject has gained useful benefits from you.
*The probability of the subject’s synesthetic mindscape manifesting inside the Fatestone increases when emotional exchanges between the subject and the target occur.
*Currently created Fatestones: 1]
Seeing the notification pop up the moment they returned, Se-Hoon’s eyes lit up.
It worked.
Their bond level increasing meant his presence had significantly imprinted itself—positively or negatively—onto Kwang-Soo’s unstable mind. In other words, a new pillar called “Se-Hoon” had been added to stabilize Kwang-Soo’s wavering mentality.
This type of Relationship is somewhat bland, but it might be better long term.
To resolve Kwang-Soo’s inner demons, it was more important to stabilize his mentality than to have him rely on others. Maintaining a practical distance and helping each other as needed was, in fact, ideal for that.
“How do you feel?”
“Hmm... My chest feels tight. My head hurts, too.”
Seeing Kwang-Soo grimacing, still feeling as though something had pierced his solar plexus, elicited a silent laugh from Se-Hoon.
“If that’s all, you’re fine. Let’s skip the rest and start working on Celestial Night immediately.”
“Already?”
“Yes. I’ve finished deciding on how to reforge it.”
Kwang-Soo was taken aback. Although he had shown Se-Hoon his memories and talked extensively with him, he thought completing the blueprint with just that was improbable.
Is this guy just winging it...? No, he wouldn’t do something like that.
Wondering what Se-Hoon’s plan was going to be, Kwang-Soo watched Se-Hoon retrieve a box from his Dream Storage.
“Do you remember Natalia Kanaeva, the Seeker, giving an evaluation of Celestial Night in the memories we saw?”
“She said... that it was a sword that reacts according to its user’s emotions. Something like that.”
“Exactly. Celestial Night responded to the wielder’s synesthetic mindscape, unleashing strikes autonomously. Had it been evaluated properly, it would’ve easily achieved the Mythical tier.”
“Mythical tier...?”
Kwang-Soo was skeptical. While he knew that Celestial Night was a powerful weapon, Mythical seemed exaggerated.
“That seems like a bit of an overevaluation—”
“No, it’s true. It’s just because both you and Doppelganger couldn’t use it properly and ended up breaking it.”
“...Rude brat.”
Ignoring Kwang-Soo’s grumbling, Se-Hoon opened the box and picked up a fragment of Celestial Night.
“You viewed Celestial Night like the secret art of the Celestial Infinity Blade, but they’re different. Precisely speaking, it’s the Emotion Insight technique your master uncovered at her final moment.”
A swordswoman who would have conquered the Tower of Heroes long ago. A woman who continuously reflected on her sword and synesthetic mindscape until she reached the realm at the top.
A woman unrecognized by the world, having rejected becoming a Perfect One, but her final strike had undeniably cut through the world itself to save Kwang-Soo.
Her strength at that moment was comparable to the Perfect Ones, meaning it’s safe to consider her skill Mythical tier.
Se-Hoon placed the Celestial Night fragment containing part of her technique into Kwang-Soo’s hand.
“To forge the new version of Celestial Night, you must first grasp the insight left within this fragment.”
“Me... grasping Master’s insight...”
Staring at the fragment, Kwang-Soo then tightly wrapped his hand around it.
“I’ll manage somehow.”
It wasn’t a matter of possibility—it was something he would accomplish.
Satisfied with his mentality, Se-Hoon stood up.
“Good choice. Let’s head straight to the training hall, then.”
“The training hall... well, duking it out is indeed the quickest way to figure it out when unsure.”
Kwang-Soo stood up to follow, when suddenly a thought occurred to him.
“Speaking of which, can I use any weapon? I heard people use special ones for these occasions.”
Since grasping the Emotion Insight in Celestial Night was necessary, shouldn’t he make a training sword from the fragment first?
“I just gave you the training weapon you’re going to use,” Se-Hoon answered nonchalantly.
“...You did?”
“The one in your hand.”
Looking down and opening his palm, Kwang-Soo gazed at the small fragment no bigger than a finger joint... and was left dumbfounded upon realizing that was what Se-Hoon meant.
“Am I... supposed to throw it at you?”
Hearing that, Se-Hoon grinned widely.
“No, you swing it. It’s a sword, after all.”