19 — Chapter 19

The faint scent of dirt and oiled wood clung to the soles of her shoes.

The constant running had worn them down noticeably.

When I untied the laces of her training shoes, a foot wrapped in spotless white socks appeared.

On the surface, there was no discoloration from sweat, but the fabric clearly held moisture.

“Ah, nnngh…!”

As soon as my hand brushed her sock, Yoo Se-byeol’s head sank down. Her toes curled adorably, too.

The sheer tension in her legs told me that one wrong touch could make her knee shoot up and smash into my jaw.

So I passed right by her toes.

Instead, I traced the seam at the edge of her ankle, circling the line where fabric met skin.

For a moment, I worried she might pull away—but compared to her soles and toes, her ankle didn’t seem to bother her as much.

Only the occasional muttered “pervert, you’re a real pervert…” drifted down from above my head.

“Mmgh…!”

At last, I began peeling her sock away, revealing her bare skin bit by bit.

The pale skin pressed by the fabric bore faint vertical lines. Her ankle curved with a graceful elegance.

Her heel and ankle bone carried a reddish tint, like a ripe apple. Blue veins ran across the arch of her foot.

Was this what an astronomer felt when staring at Earth, just a tiny blue dot in the cosmos?

Right here, in front of me, lay the entire world—no, the universe itself.

That sock was like the shell of the world. A cradle.

I wanted to preserve it, send it to the British Museum for safekeeping—but her hand darted down faster than any monster attack and snatched it away.

“Wh-what, were you really about to sniff it?! Hand that over!”

“Ah…”

A shame, but oh well.

That wasn’t part of the Oath anyway.

I turned my attention back to her foot.

Her five toes twitched restlessly, curling and uncurling in awkward rhythm.

Exposed to open air for the first time since childhood, touched by someone else’s hand, they moved as if lost.

Yet they never stretched out fully, clearly refusing to show the spaces between.

But that embarrassment—that seasoning—only elevated this sight to perfection.

…No, wait.

This wasn’t about desire.

Not a reward, but an inefficient, borderline inhuman act of peeling away her Star Scar.

A miserable act, not a delicious one, I reminded myself.

I swallowed reverently, like a fallen noble swearing fealty before an enemy king.

“Then, I’ll begin.”

“…Mm.”

Even as her knees trembled and pulled together, Yoo Se-byeol nodded.

Cradling her heel like a holy grail, I bent her foot back slightly, revealing the elegant folds of her sole.

Sweat glistened there like beads of gold ore—each one brimming with Star Scar.

When my hand touched her sole, she gave a sharp shiver.

“Please, just… finish quickly. It’s dirty.”

“I don’t think so at all.”

“…Really?”

“Feet are a swordswoman’s very life.”

Others might call it filthy. I didn’t.

All her martial skill, every strike she’d shown in our duel, came from here.

Gently, as though tracing the marks of her grueling training, I began drawing out her Star Scar.

Slurp.

“Kyah!”

The moment my only sensory organ—the tentacle-like tongue—touched her foot, she yelped like she’d been shocked.

Confusion from the unfamiliar sensation, ticklishness, shame—and beneath it all, a strange, tingling thrill.

Every emotion condensed into flavor at her toes.

Her legs trembled, curling as if she’d bolt any second. But when I didn’t let go, the strength drained out of her.

And so I kept licking, thoroughly, across every crease of her toes, siphoning every trace of Star Scar left within.

Amateurs might focus only on the sweat glands of the sole. But such a crude approach would be nothing but an insult to her feet.

The more careful, the more precise—only then could I reap the true essence.

Like brushing on nail polish, I teased the smooth surface of her toenails. Like the sudden nip at an Achilles tendon, I delivered new, startling sensations.

Slow, deliberate, but never routine—that was the real technique.

“Haa… haa…”

When I dared glance up, Yoo Se-byeol was still covering her face, bangs soaked with sweat.

The effect must have been overwhelming. Even as she perched on the desk, the faintest trace of Star Scar seeped into her heavy breaths.

This wasn’t something I could finish in a single sitting.

I was squeezing drops of power the way you wring water from a dry towel. Compared to cutting down an Archduke and claiming its Star Scar outright, the difference was night and day.

At least none of this harmed her.

If anything, like a massage for blood circulation, it might even serve as a stepping stone to raise her ability.

“…I-is it over?”

“Shall we stop here for today?”

“You mean you want to do this again?! Are you serious?!”

“It’s only my way of showing loyalty to Deputy Commander Yoo.”

Of course, I could have gone on all day. But if I pushed any further, she’d definitely reject me.

She was the Sword Immortal’s granddaughter. If I abused the Oath and went too far, I’d be the one courting disaster.

Better to frame everything as the devotion of a retainer to their lord, no matter how absurd.

But even that thin excuse made her flush redder and snap.

“Ugh… shut up! Don’t you dare use words like that ever again!”

“…Huh?”

“Just get out already! I still have work to finish!”

She hopped off the desk barefoot and shoved me toward the door.

I hadn’t even managed to explain before she slammed me out of the office.

And waiting right outside was Kang Ha-neul.

Judging from the bandages, he’d just been discharged after that spar with the Butcher of Bishkek, where his bones and flesh had practically split apart.

Leaning on his spear like a crutch, he blinked at me in surprise.

“Excuse me, Deputy Commander. I wanted to discuss the next training ground—wait, Hayan? What are you doing here?”

“Ah, I was just—”

“It’s nothing! He was only here to deliver a mission report! Five minutes—no, ten! Give me ten and I’ll be right there!”

Before I could say anything, Yoo Se-byeol slammed the door shut again, leaving just the two of us in the hall.

The silence was thick, but he broke it first.

“I heard you’ve been taking on a lot of missions lately.”

“It’s all thanks to you, senior.”

“Don’t butter me up. And don’t slack on training. Our job isn’t just cleaning up after others.”

He turned his head, clearly done talking.

Still, maybe he wasn’t as cold as he looked. His words felt like genuine advice from a senior looking out for a junior.

I gave him a salute, meaning to leave—but he stopped me with one more question.

“By the way. I heard some rookies have been changing how they save seniors’ IDs in their watches. You know anything about that?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, spread the word. If anyone gets caught in a random check, the whole squad gets punished on the spot.”

“…Understood.”

¹

I nearly got caught.

The moment he disappeared from sight, I clutched my wrist and bolted down the hallway.

---

“Mala-nim! Your one and only Apostle has returned!”

After all the twists and turns, I had finally succeeded in recovering a Star Scar for the first time since arriving on Earth.

I opened the dorm room door with excitement, eager to find my Outer God.

Of course, Mala-nim was always with me—within my sleeve or deep in my heart—but lately, not always. For reasons I couldn’t explain.

As I stepped toward the bed, where the blanket wriggled faintly, I found Mala-nim curled up at the center, clutching the egg I’d obtained from Patel as though it were a priceless treasure.

“I brought something that will make you very happy, Mala-nim.”

『Fear not.』

“Hugging that thing forever won’t squeeze out a Star Scar. If you’re hungry, I could at least make you an omelet with it.”

『Fear not…!』

Why had they been so obsessed with the shell of an Incarnation lately?

I coaxed gently, trying to ease my Outer God back into my sleeve. I wanted to deliver the Star Scar before Alexei returned.

Summoning mana, I formed a small golden orb at my fingertip. It gleamed like the light of a star—Mala-nim’s essence itself. But this wasn’t the true Star Scar. More like its husk.

When I began injecting the refined Star Scar taken from Yoo Se-byeol, a black darkness bloomed at the orb’s core.

Sensing their strength, Mala-nim raised a tentacle toward me.

“You feel it now, don’t you?”

『Fear not!』

“Of course, it’s yours. Please accept it and show me the path forward.”

As the Bureau always said, an Awakened’s ability wasn’t directly tied to their faith in the Outer Gods.

But what if it wasn’t about worship? What if the Outer God themselves favored you?

The stronger Mala-nim became, the stronger I grew as their Apostle. Each time they absorbed a Star Scar, they bestowed me with a blessing.

The first blessing had been survival itself—allowing a weak human like me to adapt to the Demon Realm and live. Without that, I would have died.

And from there, the blessings had multiplied. Unlocking stronger tentacles as I collected Star Scars. Helping me pioneer and develop Extreme Magic after years of Archduke hunts.

“Though it isn’t much, I trust you’ll use it wisely.”

Perhaps to them this meager offering meant nothing, but my gratitude never wavered. Neither of us could afford complacency until I faced an Archduke directly.

Mala-nim slowly coiled the tentacle around the orb of shadowed light.

Feeling that vast fragment of existence through all five senses, I knelt once more and waited.

What blessing would come this time?

The complete transparency of all my tentacles, so I’d stop worrying about other Awakened staring?

A greater ability to detect Star Scars across wider ranges, so I could track Archdukes?

Or maybe the full release of one of my single-digit tentacles, which I still couldn’t use alone?

No… perhaps even a third enlightenment, leading me toward the great completion of Extreme Magic itself?

I couldn’t presume to know. Like a mortal before an endless void, all I could do was bow my head and guess.

Eons seemed to pass. Then finally, Mala-nim spoke.

『Fear not.』

“…Eh?”

The message, carried through Channel, felt oddly out of place. I tilted my head.

But regardless, Mala-nim swallowed the entire Star Scar husk and retreated back under the blanket.

Had I misheard? Miscommunication, like water stuck in the ear? I tapped the side of my head a few times.

And then… Squelch! A wet cracking sound came from beneath the covers.

“What did you just say? A… stray cat?”

Cautiously, I lifted the blanket.

The white tentacles were gone. In their place, from the broken egg, a human figure emerged.