Chapter 136

[Translator - Hestia]

[Proofreader - Kaya]

Chapter 136: Omen

February 14th.

The day when the joys and sorrows of singles and couples intertwined had arrived.

In Sokcho, a popular tourist destination, the Valentine’s Day atmosphere was even stronger, as couples filled the streets.

Munch—Munch—

"Damn, there are so many couples."

Kang Minho grumbled between mouthfuls of Sundae, shoveling the hearty soup into his mouth with enthusiasm.

Normally, his appetite would’ve made the food look even more appetizing.

But today… for some reason, it just felt kind of sad.

"Chew your food before you talk."

"I was only thinking about the vacation part of the mock battle. I completely forgot it was Valentine’s Day."

"Would it have made a difference if you remembered?"

At Yoojin’s indifferent reply, Minho’s eyes grew misty with emotion.

Pfft.

A chuckle escaped from the side. His twin sister, Minyeong, was clearly trying to hold back laughter.

Minho’s expression immediately darkened, a slow-burning rage creeping up—

But with Yoojin sitting right there, he couldn’t just explode.

"By the way, Oppa, have you ever dated anyone before?"

"....."

Slurp.

‘This soup is pretty damn good.’

As Yoojin said nothing, the entire Little Runts team stole cautious glances at him.

The only sounds at the table came from the quiet clinking of chopsticks and spoons against bowls.

〔You are utterly unfit to be a hero.〕

'Where the hell did that come from?'

〔A true hero is, by nature, a man of passion. But you… are not.〕

‘Tsk. Damn this nosy— Sigh.’

He had promised not to call Kronos names, so he held back.

'I was too busy, alright?'

〔You’ve lived quite a long life if we count before your regression. You mean to tell me you never had time?〕

'A mortal trying to reach 9 Star has no time for romance.'

〔And yet, didn’t that so-called "Mage King" settle down and start a family?〕

‘Let’s just drop this already.’

Dmitri came from a proper noble family. Yoojin, on the other hand, was an orphan with nothing. How could anyone compare the two?

"Oppa, here, take this."

"Why are you handing me tissues?"

"To wipe your—oh, wait. Sweat. Yeah, just sweat."

‘…Much appreciated.’

After scarfing down the rest of his soup, Yoojin abruptly stood up.

"Oppa, where the hell are you going just to wipe some sweat?"

"I need to make a call."

Ignoring Kang Minyeong’s suspicious stare, he stepped outside.

'It’s almost time.'

As he emerged, the vast, open coastline stretched before him.

The crystal-clear water reflected the sky.

On any other day, this view would have been refreshing.

But today, it felt different.

"Hyung, why didn’t you eat the sundae?"

"Jang Miseon said she’d buy me some. I’m saving my appetite for that."

"You can just eat it twice, hyung."

"That ruins the anticipation."

Even as he exchanged lighthearted banter, his gaze remained fixed on the sea.

“.....”

How long had he been walking along the shore?

"Looks like storm clouds are rolling in. But the forecast didn’t mention rain today."

"Oppa, since when do you trust the weather reports?"

"They’re more accurate now that they use magical artifacts for forecasts."

"Even so, a prediction is still just a prediction."

While the Mirror Hunter grumbled, something suddenly burst forth from the dark clouds, its wings spreading wide as it hurtled toward the land.

"Prepare for battle."

"Huh?"

"It’s demons."

Yoojin declared.

‘Finally, it begins.’

Yoojin muttered to himself, his gaze locked on the cruise ship floating beneath the storm.

＊ ＊ ＊

2 Hours Ago.

Aboard the cruise ship ‘Hope’, which traveled between Sapporo and Sokcho, an unspeakable massacre was unfolding.

A colossal structure that stood in stark contrast to the Pantheon—the Tower of Babel.

The ones responsible for this tragedy were the Demonic Cult, worshippers of strength and followers of the Evil Gods of the Tower of Babel.

"Have the guards been taken care of?”

"Yes."

"Don't get careless and end up dying like fools."

Curly hair, dark brown skin, and half-lidded green eyes.

A gaunt, almost skeletal man in his sixties scanned the deck, his sharp gaze flashing with an eerie green light.

"Good. Everything is going according to plan."

Manuel Benjamin.

The priest of the Demonic Cult surveyed the ‘Hope’, packed with fresh sacrifices, before bursting into mad laughter.

‘It’s been twenty years since I devoted myself to the Cult. Finally, the perfect opportunity has arrived.’

The celestial beings of the Pantheon bestow their blessings upon mortals whose potential and achievements they deem worthy.

But to grant their divine favor is to interfere with the world—an act that costs them their own strength. Thus, they carefully select only the most exceptional mortals.

But the Demonic Cult was different.

'As long as we offer sacrifices, we receive power. True equality, isn’t it?'

He needed more power.

For revenge.

Manuel’s hand unconsciously traced the length of his right arm.

'Once I rise to the rank of Apostle, I will have the strength to take my revenge.'

The island of Mindanao, in the southern Philippines.

A place plagued by constant civil wars over religious conflicts. After the Great Cataclysm, anti-government factions seized control of the entire island.

It was in the midst of this chaos that Manuel lost his right arm.

Cornered by hunters from one of the rebel groups, with no escape in sight, an Evil God had reached out to him.

〔Do you desire power?〕

In desperation, Manuel had sacrificed every last one of his fellow refugees from his homeland.

In return, he forged a contract with the Evil God and defected to the Demonic Cult.

The arm he now absentmindedly touched—the grotesque limb fused to his body—was one he had obtained by sacrificing 666 souls.

Demonic flesh, infused with overwhelming black magic, pulsed with power along his forearm.

‘Not enough. I still need more.’

If he wanted to reclaim his homeland—

If he wanted to avenge the very people he had slain with his own hands—

Then he had to offer even more sacrifices to receive further blessings from the Evil Gods.

…At least, that was how he justified his atrocities to himself.

"Have you seen my child? Please, my son—!"

"How noisy. Be quiet."

Shaak—!

A tendril of black magic snapped out, clamping over the mouth of the desperate parent calling for their child.

The tourists aboard the ‘Hope’ shrank back in horror at the sight of the writhing appendage, primal fear seizing their hearts.

"Aaaaahhh!!"

"S-Somebody help!!"

"I’ll pay you! As much as you want! Just let us go!"

Despair flooded the cruise ship.

Finally, satisfaction curled at the corners of Manuel’s lips.

"Scream louder! Your fear will serve as our nourishment!"

‘Just a moment ago, they were told to be quiet’

—One of the cultists muttered under his breath.

The Demonic Cult was a congregation of those who had sold their souls to the Evil Gods.

Since power alone determined one's rank, unity was never their strong suit.

Even those who had followed Manuel in preparing this ritual were only here to snatch up whatever scraps of power they could.

"Priest, all preparations are complete."

"Excellent."

Manuel stepped onto the cruise ship’s deck.

At its center was an inverted pentagram, drawn with the blood of the ship’s hired Hunter security force—a blood-soaked altar.

‘I devised this plan myself, and it’s flawless.’

Cruise ships spent long hours at sea after setting sail.

Even if something went wrong, the interference spells and disruption sigils would delay any outgoing transmissions.

By the time the news of the hijacking reached the outside world, and organizations like the Hunter Association, the Vatican, or the families that opposed the Tower of Babel finally decided to act—

—It will all be over.

By then, every passenger aboard would have been sacrificed, and they would simply slip away into the abyss.

"All that’s left is to set the final coordinates for the ritual."

Thud—

A black coffin was placed at the center of the pentagram.

A medium that linked the Evil Gods of the Tower of Babel to the Demonic Cult—The [Coffin of the Undying], a resting place for an ancient vampire lord.

"This is my blood. This is my flesh. O sanctuary of the undying, let the blood flow forth."

Wooooom—!

Inverted pentagrams had been inscribed across the ‘Hope’, each one carved by the hands of the cultists.

Manuel activated them all simultaneously, using the [Coffin of the Undying] as a medium.

The ship trembled violently.

Scarlet energy erupted from the sigils, engulfing the entire ‘Hope’ in an instant.

"Guh… Khh…!"

"Gaaah…!"

Passengers collapsed, clutching their throats.

Linked to the inverted pentagrams, the [Coffin of the Undying] had begun to drain the blood from everyone aboard.

"I've heard about it before, but seeing it in person is even more horrifying."

"Still, thanks to that artifact, we don’t have to make a trip all the way to the Tower of Babel."

"We’ll be fine… right?"

Even as the ‘Hope’ was swallowed by a crimson mist, the cultists chatted idly amongst themselves.

Selfish creatures incapable of empathy.

Having sold their very souls to the Evil Gods, it was only natural that they felt nothing for the innocent lives they were stealing.

Clang—Clang—

The [Coffin of the Undying], now bloated with the stolen blood and life force of the passengers, began to shake violently.

A sign that everything was ready.

Manuel raised his arms toward the sky.

"O sovereigns of the Tower that defies the heavens! Answer my call!"

The life force drained by the [Coffin of the Undying] seeped into the inverted pentagram.

A pillar of bloodshot skyward, and with a deafening crack—A massive rift split open in the sky.

Beyond the pitch-black rift, a massive structure loomed faintly into view.

The Tower of Babel had revealed itself.

〔The Deceiver takes an interest.〕

〔The Marquis of Strife takes an interest.〕

〔.....〕

An overwhelming force emanated from beyond the rift.

Manuel and the other cultists of the Demonic Cult trembled with ecstasy.

"Ah… Aaaah!"

"Ooooh!"

"They saw me! They looked at me!"

"You fool. They're looking at the sacrifices."

Underneath the unfolding scene of pure hell, the cultists cackled like madmen.

Manuel clenched his fists tightly.

Reflected in his eyes were the flickering silhouettes of beings beyond comprehension, watching from the rift.

"O great ones who render all things meaningless! I offer you these sacrifices—grant me your power!"

〔The Primordial Lion gazes at you in silence.〕

〔The Primordial Lion accepts your offering.〕

〔The Primordial Lion bestows its blessing.〕

The first demon of Hell.

A being that, in ancient times, had once represented a great and noble will.

Belial's blessing rained down upon the 'Hope' like a torrential flood.

"Hah… Hahaha! Yes! This power!"

"Incredible! It's overwhelming!"

A tidal wave of immense energy surged through them.

Drunk on the power they had so desperately craved, the cultists’ eyes turned bloodshot as they screamed in ecstasy.

Time passed.

10 minutes.

20 minutes.

And then, after an hour—

A sudden, insatiable thirst gripped Manuel.

‘I'm so thirsty.’

With a flick of his fingers, seawater defied gravity, flowing straight into his mouth.

Naturally—

The thirst only grew worse. It could never be quenched.

"W-What… is… this…?"

His mind was unraveling, piece by piece.

Belial's Blessing was far too powerful for an ordinary Hunter to endure.

There hadn’t been enough sacrifices to prevent the madness that came with such overwhelming power.

An insatiable greed for a strength beyond his means.

More offerings were required—more sacrifices to fully accept Belial's Blessing.

‘Sacrifices? From where? Yes… the land!’

The entire plan—hijacking the cruise to avoid the eyes of the Hunter Association and the Vatican—meant nothing to the mindless beast Manuel had become.

A short while later—

With bloodshot eyes, Manuel abandoned all reason, steering the ship toward the nearest place where human scent filled the air.

＊ ＊ ＊

A miracle that distorts the flow of time—Regression.

It had been about four months since Yoojin returned to the past.

During that time, both major and minor changes had taken place.

The Romanov clan had reached out to Yoojin first, and the Arhan Guild had begun to waver. These were just a few of the many turning points.

'So, things will happen regardless, huh?'

A bitter taste lingered in his mouth.

The "Bloody Valentine" incident occurred at the exact moment [Memento] had shown in its vision.

Even though he had gathered enough forces in preparation for this day, part of him still wondered—would it be possible to minimize the damage in advance?

〔Did you not say there was no way to prevent it?〕

'I did.'

Even Yoojin didn’t know the details of the "Bloody Valentine" incident.

If he had possessed information about the mastermind or the preparations leading up to it, he might have been able to stop it beforehand.

'There were too many variables to act based on unreliable information.'

Even after turning back time and returning to the past, saving the cruise passengers was impossible.

In that case, there was only one thing Yoojin could do.

'Minimize the casualties and obtain the Coffin of the Undying.'

〔You have already steeled your resolve. Do not waver—walk the path you have chosen.〕

Nodding at Kronos' lingering will, Yoojin ran his right hand slowly over the mask covering his face.

Shadow Mask.

An artifact imbued with both protective charms and curses, acquired after defeating the boss monster of the [Forgotten Temple].

‘Kuhihit! Kuhihihit!’

A monster spread its bloodstained wings wide.

A swarm of Lesser Demons, low-ranking spawns of the abyss, broke away from the cruise ship and began flying toward the coast.

"Boss! We've got monsters incoming!"

"Technically, they're demons."

—Sssst…!

[Using Death Spear.]

A spell crafted from the fusion of dark mana, spirit power, and venom.

Yoojin formed the weaponized magic but did not immediately fire it. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the approaching Lesser Demons.

〔Why do you hesitate?〕

'The distance is too far. If I throw it carelessly, they'll dodge.’

〔And what if more casualties occur while you wait?〕

'That's why I prepared this.’

[Using Curse—Pursuit of Resentment.]

A curse that consumes a wraith to ensure the attack hits the designated target.

Adding this new curse consumed some durability of the [Shadow Mask], but it was a fair trade.

The cursed Lesser Demon.

—Shaaack!

Yoojin unleashed the Death Spear.

Sensing danger, the demon attempted a sharp turn midair—but it was futile.

"Kuhihihit—?!"

—Puaaak!

The magic weapon pierced through the chest of a Lesser Demon roughly 400 meters away.

An attack that far surpassed the typical range of a 4 Star magic spell.

"Boss? What the hell was that…?"

Kang Minho murmured in astonishment.

[Translator - Hestia

[Proofreader - Kaya]