331 — Talk A Little

“…”

Sword Ghost So Hang-woo stared at the stairs to the second floor with a hollow expression.

“Cough, guh!”

Blackened blood spat out of his mouth. His neck, half severed, had been forcibly rejoined—an aftereffect of blocked vessels reopening. Once the dead blood was expelled, oxygen flowed properly again.

In short, he had escaped death and been revived.

‘What the—’

What on earth was this?

Only then did the Sword Ghost realize his body could move on its own. Of course, his condition was terrible from the burns that had ravaged him, but the important thing was that he could move.

Gaining control, the Sword Ghost awkwardly stood.

He looked up at the second floor, following the traces Yu Seha had left earlier.

‘What is this…?’

He was baffled. ‘Why…?’

He couldn’t make sense of it. Of all people, Yu Seha would be the one who most wanted him dead—so why spare him?

The Sword Ghost pressed a hand to his chest and checked himself. The gnawing sensation from moments ago felt like a phantom; he felt nothing wrong.

“…”

With a beat of delay, he regained his composure and prepared to pursue Yu Seha.

Step-step.

Step-step.

Footsteps, timed as if they had been waiting for this moment, sounded: light but decisive. Two women, undoubtedly trained and honed. Presences the Sword Ghost recognized.

His face hardened like stone. He turned back with a single thought: could it be…?

“Ha…”

An empty breath escaped him, the sigh of someone despondent and furious. He bowed his head deeply; his body trembled. Thick veins webbed his face. Bloodshot veins burst in his eyes and blood-tinged tears ran down his cheeks.

“How petty, pathetic…!!!”

What he saw were two insignificant, miserable women not even worth his attention.

“…”

“…”

<Overlord Sword> Peng Jin-ah, <Plum Blossom Sword Empress> Wei Ga-ryeong. They had the audacity—unaware of their place—to enter the shrine, wearing the Peng family emblem.

The Sword Ghost erupted in fury. He looked to the second floor and shouted in a booming voice.

“Did you leave me alive just so these trashy, worthless bitches could finish me off? Is that why you abandoned me!!!”

He spat that they were nothing but two women who only knew how to sit and cry.

“You thought I’d meet the most miserable end? You really believed I’d die at the hands of these two? Don’t be ridiculous…”

Don’t be ridiculous. I said don’t be ridiculous, Yu Seha.

The Sword Ghost wailed. He had longed to see that final scene with his own eyes. He had been on the verge of witnessing it and meeting his end—so this cruel treatment was the deepest despair.

He strained his neck and shouted, “Yu Seha, Yu Seha… Yu Seha!”

Come back! Come back!

“The one who will take my head is you!”

Come back to me right now!!!

The two sworn sisters did not miss such an obvious opening. They seized it.

“Jin-ah, let’s go!”

“Yes, Senior!”

They unleashed everything from the start, closing the distance at once and activating their <Ultimate Skill>. A pattern, more intense and vivid than before, radiated a massive resonance.

“<Rip Them Apart>!”

“<Falling Petals, Bloom!>”

[Overlord Sword Technique], [Twenty-Plum Blossom Sword Technique]—their <Ultimate Skills> manifested as [Overlord’s Annihilation] and [Plum Blossom Fall].

The wailing Sword Ghost swung his long blade just as the two strikes landed.

Boom—!!!

A vast vortex of Magi thickened and spread. The Sword Ghost met their martial intent head-on, blocking firmly. On the surface it looked like a brilliant counter, but he was far more flustered than he appeared. Uncharacteristically, his torment showed.

‘What…?’

He would normally nullify an <Ultimate Skill> like this and plan to cut those two apart. But—

Why wasn’t the Ghost-Shadow Sword appearing?

The technique he wielded more freely than his own limbs, the shape-sword, did not manifest.

A sudden thought struck him. ‘Could it be that gnawing sensation during treatment—did Yu Seha somehow seal the Ghost-Shadow Sword?’

“This is ridiculous…!!!”

How much were they planning to toy with me, with me… with this lord…!

Are you planning to mock me, Yu Seha?

“But it doesn’t matter!”

Clack—!!

Peng Jin-ah and Wei Ga-ryeong were flung backward by the blade’s bite. The Sword Ghost slanted his long sword downward. From his remaining left arm flowed the essence of non-being, streaming into countless threads—each a realization that would slice anything it brushed. Those things were mind-swords, born of pure killing intent.

He inspected the threads wound around his long blade and nodded.

“As expected, this looks like something that can’t be sealed.”

Unlike the Guiying Sword, mind-swords are not techniques but forms of realization. Even the most absurdly meddlesome outsider could not block them.

Taking the basic foundation and frame of the Ghost-Shadow Sword, he imbued his demonic-energy long blade with those mind-swords. Then he raised the blade and watched the incoming strike.

Bang—!

Peng Jin-ah and Wei Ga-ryeong, quickly composing themselves, combined their strength for a downward blow.

“…So Hang-woo, today at last—”

“You damned old bastard! Right now, like this—”

“…”

Burning with resolve, the Sword Ghost barely registered their words. He openly turned his back—he did not even consider them worthy opponents—and howled up toward Yu Seha on the second floor.

“Yu Seha, I’ll make you regret this.”

I’ll cut these two’s necks and then come for you.

“Wait…”

Wait!!!

The enraged Sword Ghost flung them aside and launched his mind-swords.

---

Meanwhile, Yu Seha, who had gone to the second floor, slowly surveyed the shrine’s final chamber.

“…”

It wasn’t much different from the first floor: a wide, barren, desolate space. If anything was peculiar, it was the old sofa, a table, and a mini-fridge—clear signs someone had been living there.

And right in the center of that sofa, a woman sprawled and glanced his way.

Short hair, a purple deeper than violet. A sharp gaze that contrasted with Moon Bora’s gentler eye shape. Yet, as proof they were sisters, her aura echoed Moon Bora’s.

It was Moon Ha-yeon.

“…”

Yu Seha studied her quietly. Her eyes were darkened, as if announcing her descent into a full Demon King. Even her faint breath exuded a pure demonic energy that only a Demon King could release. The gaze pressed down like an oppressive weight.

Moon Ha-yeon glared at him with a sulky expression and asked bluntly, “You came?”

“Yeah, I came.”

“…”

Her curt reply made Moon Ha-yeon scowl. She clicked her tongue, rose, and asked casually, “The Sword Ghost?”

“He’s dead.”

Moon Ha-yeon tilted her head. “He’s still alive, though?”

“He is dead.”

“…Really?”

A subtle silence lingered. Moon Ha-yeon pulled a cheap beer from the fridge, drank half, and asked, “Did he die somewhat satisfied? That old man.”

“No.”

“Then?”

“He died wailing miserably, regretting everything for the first time as he went.”

“…Hmm, I see.”

Moon Ha-yeon finished the beer, crushed the can, and tossed it into a recycling bag. “Well, nothing can be done about it.”

She flicked dust and snack crumbs from her clothes.

Kugugu—!!!!

A vast surge of demonic energy rolled outward. Its density felt like a sea of demon energy boiling. Long, thick horns sprouted; a pattern that once symbolized Kazantia inked itself across her smooth back like a tattoo. The black dress, slashed in places, completed the transformation. The sight was undeniably erotic, but no one would dare harbor such thoughts toward the last surviving Demon King of the human world.

Ah—except Yu Seha.

“The outfit’s a bit much… don’t you have anything else? You’re not planning some ridiculous beauty-trap, are you?”

“Kid… it’s because I can’t control it, so shut up!”

Moon Ha-yeon clicked her tongue and raised her hand. Demonic energy surged and formed something peculiar—a ringed, Saturn-like shape, a darkness that let no light through. A technique born from the Demon King’s full manifestation.

Moon Ha-yeon spoke as if urging quick resolution, “Neither of us likes wasting time, right? Hurry up and finish this.”

Just as she was about to throw it, with a srrng- the sphere suddenly lost power and vanished. Before she knew it, Yu Seha had sheathed the [Sword of the Saint], stopping the sphere and lifting his hand.

“Wait a moment.”

“…What is it?”

“Let’s talk a bit.”

“…What?”

“Now that I think about it, we’ve never faced each other one-on-one.”

They knew each other well—Yu Seha aware of Moon Ha-yeon’s potential, Moon Ha-yeon wary of Yu Seha’s growth—but this was their first true one-on-one.

Moon Ha-yeon sounded incredulous. “You wouldn’t be the type who prefers cozy chats with your enemy, would you?”

“No.”

Yu Seha disliked dithering. He disliked washing machines. He wasn’t curious about an enemy’s backstory. Still, he had to talk to Moon Ha-yeon. As director of GAL and as the one who knew of that boy’s fate, he needed to tell her and hand it over.

“Because of all people, you are the one who must know.”

“Hm?”

Yu Seha produced something that made Moon Ha-yeon’s expression harden like stone.

“That, no way?”

“Yeah.”

Yu Seha stepped forward and set a skull-sized ossuary directly in front of her.

“Kim Min-su.”

It’s his end.