Chapter 97

Gazing down from the empty void, Shin-hoo suddenly realized the true scale of the entities he was observing. While they possessed distinctly humanoid silhouettes, their sheer, gargantuan proportions proved they were anything but human.

A new silhouette approached the long-haired man who had been left behind.

“It seems another one has departed.”

“You’re here?”

Shin-hoo’s eyes trembled. He intimately recognized this newly arrived entity as well.

Adorned in flowing garments reminiscent of a Greek goddess, a thin veil obscured her eyes. She was a perfect, living replica of the statue holding the scales—the very entity that had bestowed the Vesper and Aurora rings upon them.

‘Ah…’

Shin-hoo finally understood exactly who these beings were.

They were the boss monsters that inhabited the apocalyptic dungeons currently ravaging Earth. And the ethereal panorama unfolding before his eyes was undoubtedly a playback of their distant past. Judging by the fundamentally alien mana density and atmospheric composition, this was an entirely different planet.

“Even if we pooled all our strength, defeating what is coming would be nearly impossible,” the Goddess noted grimly. “Scattered like this, we don’t stand a chance.”

“I know. That’s why I told them all to leave.”

“■■■■…”

The man’s name remained heavily censored, reduced to an unintelligible static in Shin-hoo’s ears.

Responding to the Goddess’s call, the man offered a bitter, weary smile.

“I’m honestly still not sure if abandoning this place is the right choice.”

“Why are you still hesitating?” the Goddess demanded, a faint trace of disgust creeping into her features. “Don’t tell me it’s because of those repulsive humans who cling to us, claiming to worship us? Why do you care so deeply about such insignificant, fragile creatures that do nothing but endlessly breed and die?”

Reading the disgust written across her face, the man gently pulled the Goddess into his arms. Offering no resistance, she softened her posture and leaned into his embrace.

“The apocalypse is descending entirely because of us,” the man murmured. “It is the toxic residue born from our reckless, unrestrained abuse of power without ever paying the cosmic toll.”

“Haa…” The Goddess exhaled a long, heavy sigh. “Which is precisely why we agreed to scatter across different planets this time. To ensure this catastrophe never repeats itself.”

“So you’re saying this planet is already a lost cause, and I should just abandon it?”

“Yes.”

She stated it as if it were a fundamental, irrefutable law of the universe.

“I plan to depart very soon as well. My beloved ■■■■… if you are willing, I want you to linger on this planet for as long as you need, and then join me on the new world I have chosen.”

“…Alright. If I must leave for another world, it is only natural I go to yours.”

The man gently patted the Goddess in his arms. Yet, in stark contrast to his tender touch, the eyes staring into the distant horizon were chillingly cold.

A massive gust of wind violently swept through the flower field. A blinding, agonizingly bright light flooded Shin-hoo’s vision, completely overwriting the scene.

When the light receded, he stood within a magnificent temple constructed entirely of pristine white marble. If the sanctuary where we faced the Judgment of the Scales hadn’t been in ruins, this is exactly what it would have looked like. In the center of the grand hall, bathed in ethereal light cascading through breathtaking stained-glass windows, sat the long-haired man.

He reached out and plucked one of the countless, iridescent glass orbs floating aimlessly through the air. As his fingers brushed the surface, the orb—fragile as a soap bubble—shattered.

—Please, let my family live happily without any tragedy.

The long-haired man gently tapped the next orb.

—Please, let my mother be fully cured. I don’t need anything else.

—When the flowers bloom next month, I’m going to confess to him. I pray for a good outcome.

The millions of glowing orbs filling the temple were all crystallized prayers, harboring the desperate, heartfelt wishes of mortals. Seated upon his throne, the man listened to the souls trapped within the orbs, over and over, until the night bled into dawn.

“Even this tragically brief life must be incredibly precious to you all.”

He looked profoundly tormented. Bowing his head, his long hair cascading over his face like a shroud, he spent an eternity burying his face in his hands upon the throne.

Trapped in an endless spiral of agonizing deliberation, the man stayed awake through the night, then through the entire following day, until an entire month had agonizingly slipped away.

‘…’

Watching the tragedy unfold as a silent phantom, Shin-hoo already knew exactly how this agonizing deliberation ended. He had already witnessed the aftermath: the man’s freezing corpse, and the Goddess weeping inconsolably as she cradled his lifeless body.

The scene shifted once more.

Having finally reached a decision after his agonizing vigil, the man fractured his own divinity, distributing his cosmic power to humanity. Hundreds of millions of microscopic, fragmented shards cascaded across the entire planet like a meteor shower. Stripped entirely of his power, the man collapsed onto the marble floor.

Surrounded by his weeping, desperate followers, the man who had been worshipped as a god offered a weak, exhausted smile. Scraping together the absolute last, microscopic embers of his divinity, he broadcasted it into the atmosphere.

A low, resonant voice echoed simultaneously within the minds of every surviving organism on the planet.

[Receiving my power will not save you from the impending apocalypse. However, your tiny souls will drift through the cosmos until, one day, you are granted new life. When that time comes, use this power to fight. Do not meekly submit to your fate like livestock bred for the slaughter within the civilizations you build. Fight fiercely against the unknown with your own hands, and survive.]

Hearing the divine mandate, every living creature immediately dropped to their knees, bowing their heads to the earth in primal, absolute subjugation to a supreme entity.

As the fragmented shards of divinity sank into their bodies, their souls ignited with brilliant light. Humans, birds, even the flora—all of them began to mutate.

Observing from afar, Shin-hoo instantly recognized the terrifying metamorphosis. They were fundamentally evolving into entirely new species. The process was identical to the modern phenomenon of Awakening.

Having witnessed his final miracle take root, the dying god slowly closed his eyes.

Having surrendered absolutely everything he possessed, the god addressed his newly forged children.

[It seems you will require a new name.]

Slowly opening his eyes one final time, his irises glowed with a striking, silver-gray light.

[Those who forge their own destinies with their own hands, those who hunt fate with their own power.]

Drained of his divinity, the god’s physical body began to petrify, turning into solid stone starting from his fingertips.

[In your next lives, you shall be known as Hunters.]

His final decree was barely a whisper. It was so agonizingly faint that only those kneeling inches away could have possibly heard it. Yet, standing as a phantom at the god’s side, Shin-hoo heard the final words with terrifying clarity.

[…The next generation will be shaped entirely by your choices.]

With those final words, the god perished. For an entity that had once harbored such omnipotent, apocalyptic power, it was a profoundly hollow, tragic death.

Moments later, a violent purple portal tore open beside the corpse. Arriving far too late, the Goddess collapsed, desperately cradling the petrified body of her lover as she wailed in sheer agony.

Mirroring the tragic ending Shin-hoo had witnessed in the dungeon, an absolute, suffocating darkness rapidly consumed the world.

With the god dead, the apocalypse immediately descended. A colossal, formless mass of pure, pitch-black malice swallowed the planet whole. The once-vibrant, beautiful world was instantly reduced to a sterile, apocalyptic wasteland where not a single blade of grass or butterfly survived.

Left floating alone in the pitch-black void once more, Shin-hoo raised his head. Staring into the abyss, he demanded answers from the unseen observer he knew was watching him.

“Why the hell are you showing me this?” Shin-hoo demanded.

This cinematic playback was undeniably someone’s personal memories. These were fragmented, highly subjective records reconstructed entirely from a single entity’s perspective. And just as Shin-hoo was observing him, the owner of these memories was undeniably observing Shin-hoo.

“Did you want me to know? About your grand sacrifice? Or the true origin of hunters?”

—…No.

The answer echoed from the absolute darkness.

—None of that is important.

Shin-hoo was physically paralyzed. Unable to turn his body, he remained frozen, staring straight ahead while fiercely concentrating on the voice resonating directly behind him. It was unmistakably the voice of the long-haired man from the memories.

—I am here to entrust you with the task I failed to complete.

The pitch-black void before him suddenly illuminated. Floating dead center in his field of vision was a writhing, formless mass of black malice. Even after devouring the entire planet, the apocalyptic darkness continued to gorge itself on the cosmic debris, exponentially expanding its sheer, terrifying mass.

Suddenly, a faint, pure light began bleeding from the absolute center of the growing darkness. It was the exact same divine energy the god had bestowed upon the living creatures.

Having swallowed the final shard of divinity, the formless darkness rapidly mutated into a massive, elongated oval before violently expanding into the silhouette of a colossal, cosmic whale.

“That’s…”

—That darkness is the monster born from our collective arrogance. And simultaneously, it is my ultimate regret. In the exact millisecond our planet was annihilated, I fed the absolute last shard of my fractured divinity to that monstrosity. I foolishly believed that with my remaining power, I could permanently override its consciousness and seal it within the abyss forever.

The man’s voice dropped, heavy with profound sorrow.

—But it seems even that power has finally reached its absolute limit.

It was a voice dripping with bitter devastation. From behind Shin-hoo, the man slowly extended a pale hand. Above those pale fingertips, holographic projections of familiar dungeon entrances materialized in the void.

—The monster was infinitely stronger than I calculated, and my comrades were infinitely more foolish than I feared. Even after resettling on new planets, they continued to recklessly abuse their cosmic power. Drawn by those massive energy spikes, the apocalypse reawakened, hunting them down and devouring them one by one.

The holographic projections of the dungeon entrances seamlessly transitioned into live feeds of the horrors within. The crowned boss of the Sand Dungeon resting in his sarcophagus. The blindfolded Goddess petrified into a weeping statue. The colossal crystal radiating endless hallucinations.

—I artificially tethered the remnants of my slaughtered comrades to the world you currently inhabit. I did this praying that as you encountered these anomalies, you would absorb their residual power and grow exponentially stronger. So that, eventually, you would…

—Waiting for the day you could finally, permanently annihilate me when I inevitably woke from my slumber.

The man’s voice sank to a terrifying, guttural frequency. It was a low, resonant vibration that physically scraped against the deepest, most primal nerves in Shin-hoo’s brain.

—My name is Nuckelavee.

The man standing behind Shin-hoo finally stepped forward, entering his field of vision. His silver-gray irises bore a haunting, terrifying resemblance to Kwon Haeju’s.

—It is the name of the arrogant fool who attempted to control a monster only to be devoured by it, and the name of the pathetic apocalypse that forged you, only to now seek your absolute destruction.