Crack.
The air was filled with the sound of something breaking, the acrid scent of burning everywhere.
The world was scorched black.
Whoosh— Flames roared upward.
Opposing flames clashed, as if each was trying to claim dominance over the other.
The Qi contained within each flame was so dense and powerful that each collision sent tremors throughout the area.
Boom! Boom, boom!
The surging energy heated the air, making it deadly to approach, let alone breathe.
Above, the sky was an odd mix of red and black, split into sections like oil and water that refused to blend.
Roooar—!
A massive flame let out a sound like a feral scream.
The flames began to twist into the shape of a dragon before crashing to the ground.
Crack!
When the flame hit the earth, the ground fractured, the stones turning half-molten from the intense heat.
It was so hot.
Everything around was blazing red.
The chaotic flames consumed the surrounding dark flames before returning to their caster.
Sssssss— As the flames receded back to their source, the scorched and molten world remained.
...Huff.
I looked at my opponent with exhausted eyes.
Once, our flames had been the same. Now, having fallen to darkness, my black flame was hotter and wilder than it ever had been.
Yet, it was so easily devoured by the red flames before me.
I forced my expression to stay neutral as I looked at him.
The same severe look. A stern face, weathered and hard.
I could say he looked like me. Or, rather, I looked like him.
Time had surely passed, though it showed no signs on his face.
His crimson eyes bore down on me.
"It's been a while."
"…"
His first words to me in years.
"...Yes."
"I had thought she would return. But sending you instead... she is more ruthless than I imagined."
He was talking about Cheonma.
After our last battle, Cheonma had retreated to recuperate. I glanced at him.
The wound Cheonma bore was a gift from my father, a scar from a warrior who no one else had managed to harm.
And yet, he looked unscathed.
But I knew better.
"I know you’re struggling."
"…"
His eyebrow twitched at my words.
It was clear. His body was being consumed by demonic Qi—not just any, but Cheonma's own Qi.
Yet, even in that state, he stood, breathing only by sheer willpower.
That my flames couldn’t reach him was proof enough of his power.
"Third."
I grimaced at the address.
"...Isn't it time you stopped using that title?"
"You don’t like it?"
"Do you still see me as your son?"
His face shifted, a strange expression crossing his features.
"Wasn't that the case?"
I closed my eyes, clenching my teeth.
"Do you know I killed Hong Hwagwanggeom?"
Hong Hwagwanggeom, the title held by the late Gu Heebi. His eyes flickered at the mention of her name.
"And I’ve come to kill you now."
"…"
"Even now, do you see me as your son?"
He remained expressionless. He knew I was involved in Heebi’s death.
And yet—
He didn’t even get angry.
"Did you ever think of me as your son?"
If he had, he might have reacted differently.
He might have scolded me, demanded an explanation, or tried to pull me back.
But he did none of that.
Even when I fell to demonhood—
Even now, standing before him—he did nothing.
I wished he’d shown some anger.
Was it the flames that made my insides burn?
"Why did you spare me that day?"
I asked him.
When I had first fallen, when my name spread across the martial world, he had come.
And in that moment, I had expected death.
I didn’t think he’d let me live, not after what I had become.
Yet he had only looked at me and walked away.
"I wondered for a long time why. Then it dawned on me—you must have been pleased to see me gone. You didn’t have to worry about keeping the young lordship open anymore."
The words fell from my mouth, spoken in resignation. He only listened.
"Is that why you haven’t shown any anger, even now?"
"Were you hoping I’d be angry?"
"I don’t know. But it might have been better that way."
There was a time when I wanted the world to be indifferent, to just look the other way.
And yet, maybe I wanted attention after all.
He nodded in understanding.
That, too, frustrated me. I asked him, almost laughing,
"What was I to you?"
What was I to him?
Just a disappointment? The bastard son of a concubine? A stain on the family?
I felt lightheaded, maybe from the heat or the strain.
He didn’t answer. Did he think my question was worthless?
That was just like him.
I let out a small laugh, watching him. At the same time, I wreathed myself in black flames again.
"We don’t need to talk anymore."
"…"
He, too, summoned his flames.
As they erupted from him, I felt the pressure building.
Red Heaven had activated.
I, too, activated Black Heaven, pulling on every ounce of strength I had.
Dark Qi coiled around my fingers, gathering into a blazing orb.
It wasn’t just one. Orbs of flame filled the air around me, more than I could count, before shooting toward him.
Even though they would have incinerated everything around us, the orbs vanished before they reached him.
"…"
Even with all that energy disappearing, there was no sound, no disturbance.
I clenched my teeth, leaping forward.
As I moved, I glanced at his hand.
There lay the secret.
"That..."
The ultimate technique of our clan, a secret known only to those who had mastered Guyeom Taryun Ah.
The power that had wounded Cheonma, and the flames that symbolized our family.
With that, I knew I could never beat him.
But I had known that from the start.
I came here not to finish what Cheonma couldn’t.
It wasn’t about the honor of a demon.
I came here—
To die by his hand.
Whoosh—
The flames surged forth, burning darker as they consumed my buried emotions.
It might be an illusion.
But maybe not.
The flames lashed out again and again, but they couldn’t reach him.
I bit down hard.
Boom—!
Flames erupted from his feet, stopping me, but I forced my way through.
It was hot.
Even though I was a master of fire, his flames felt unbearably hot.
My clothes were singed. Flames pierced through my defenses, searing my skin.
The pain was almost enough to make me pass out, but I pressed on.
Seeing me charge at him, something flickered in his eyes.
I gathered flames at my fingertips, condensing every ounce of energy I could muster.
This wasn’t an intricate technique. It was just raw, condensed emotion.
I would die here.
I had reached my limit.
I was tired of the slaughter. Even if my life had been for others, it wasn’t enough to keep going.
My goal had crumbled a long time ago.
What was I living for? I might have known once, but now, I couldn’t remember.
I was tired and just wanted it to end.
Maybe, with this death, I could atone.
But—
"No."
It was childish, but I felt a twinge of guilt.
This wasn’t atonement; it was selfishness. But it was too late to care.
I took another step forward.
The red flames grew stronger as I approached, as if he intended to burn me alive.
I had wanted this, but there was a hint of bitterness.
This wasn’t the ending I had wanted.
To die by the hand of the father I had feared and resented.
Such a pitiful end.
And I laughed, feeling that it was a fitting way to go.
I took one last step.
Suddenly, I was wrapped in flames, taking the form of a dragon and a tiger. Trying to bind me.
I pushed through, scattering the flames.
He stood right in front of me.
Wreathed in those red flames I once bore, his crimson eyes and hair stared back.
What was that expression?
I couldn’t tell.
His hand moved—a hand wielding the ultimate power of our family.
When it touched me, it would be over. I reached out, wondering—
What face would he make when I died?
Would it be as emotionless as it was now?
That seemed likely.
Anything else was hard to imagine. Just as I thought that, his hand came closer.
A large, rough hand.
It should have moved quickly, but somehow, it felt slow.
Was my life flashing before my eyes?
I hoped not.
Most of my memories were ugly and bitter, hardly worth revisiting.
I just wanted to close my eyes.
Just as my hand was about to reach him, his hand made contact.
And then—
Whoosh—
"...!"
The flames around him vanished.
The disappearance of the flames meant he had released his power, and the Qi that had been guarding his body was gone.
There was no time to process it.
I tried to pull my own energy back, but he grabbed my hand, pulling me forward.
Thud—!
My fist hit his chest, sending a shockwave through the air.
Huff—! The wind burst around us.
I struggled to comprehend the situation.
I struggled to comprehend the situation.
"What… what is this…?"
My head lifted slowly, and when I finally looked up at him—
"...!"
There was blood at the corner of his mouth.
I had tried to retract my energy before impact, but I hadn't managed to pull it all back.
The force had struck his unprotected body directly.
In a situation where immediate death would have been understandable, he stood there, unaffected, steady on his feet.
"What… what are you doing…?"
Incoherent words fought their way out of him.
At that moment, I felt something on top of my head.
It was his hand.