Infernus (3)'

From the moment he heard there was a binding process, he had expected to face a being like this.

So he wasn’t flustered, nor was he surprised by its unexpected appearance. It was just as he had imagined.

The ‘Eye’ spoke.

– Prove to me why I must be with you. What do you mean to me?

Instead of answering, Kang-hoo recalled his past as if reminiscing about his life. That level of mental sharing should be possible.

There was no pretense or staging.

He simply recalled everything from the start of his life as Shin Kang-hoo to the present.

He didn’t even hide the fact that he was a Possessor.

Even if the Eye knew he was one, there was no way to reveal it to the world anyway.

And even if it were revealed, he didn’t care. After all, he truly was a Possessor.

It felt liberating to show everything as it was.

It even made him think that the Eye might be the only being he could face with complete honesty. A chuckle slipped out.

A long silence passed.

The Eye continued to fix its gaze on Kang-hoo, as if it were trying to pierce through something deep inside him.

How much time passed like that? Just when the silence was beginning to feel tedious—

– What an interesting life you’ve lived. Is this really your life?

The Eye responded with genuine curiosity.

Its voice sounded neither young nor old, fixed in the tone and cadence of a young man.

‘Yeah. It’s my life—exactly as it is.’

– And I’m supposed to believe that?

‘Then what do you want to believe?’

– ……

He figured that a being playing the role of the talisman’s master must be capable of seeing through everything.

But apparently, it wasn’t all-knowing.

Rather, he started to think it was brimming with vitality—yet still a greenhorn.

What was this Eye? A constellation? But if so, why would it be embedded in an item?

Then perhaps a being from another world possessed into the talisman? That sounded plausible, but it didn’t resolve his questions.

“All I want to say is simple. I’m going to change the fate and future ahead—and you should become the foundation for it.”

– Arrogant brat! If I wanted, I could turn you into a mindless fool this instant!

“If you were really capable of that kind of trickery, you wouldn’t need to be sealed in a talisman in the first place. Doesn’t it occur to you that you’re lowering your own status?”

– Hmph.

The Eye fell silent.

Then suddenly, the environment around Kang-hoo began to shift rapidly.

As the darkness lifted, what was revealed was an unexpected backdrop.

“This is…….”

It was the workshop from his past life as the original author—where the damp summer air clung day and night.

Meanwhile, Jung Yuri continued watching Kang-hoo with worried eyes.

From the moment he grasped the talisman, Kang-hoo hadn’t moved at all.

He was as still as a frozen image on a screen, completely motionless.

Thankfully, they had seated him on a comfortable sofa in advance—it had been the right call.

Naturally, no one touched him. Even the bereaved were waiting outside the room.

Curious, Jung Yuri turned to one of the bereaved and asked. The man was elderly.

“Do you know what happened to the hunters who touched Infernus and ended up mentally broken?”

“I recall it took them about a week to return to normal. However—”

“However?”

“They said the hunters lost a significant portion of their abilities. The most important part didn’t return.”

“What do you mean by that……?”

“According to someone who experienced it directly, their constellation contracts had been severed.”

As a hunter’s level increases, so does their dependence on and synergy with constellations—exponentially.

Jung Yuri imagined the scenario.

What if the constellations she was currently contracted with vanished overnight?

Most of her powers would be halved—or worse.

“If that happens to Oppa too…….”

Perhaps reading her mind, Kang Bok-hwa gently grasped her hand.

“Yuri. In most cases, the outcome turns out far better than the worst we imagine. Don’t worry too much.”

“Grandma…….”

“Don’t you feel the fighting spirit in him? Even if there’s no focus in his eyes, there’s a living power coursing through his body.”

“I do feel that.”

“Let’s trust Celestial Assassin’s judgment—and your grandfather’s, too. Everyone acknowledged him, didn’t they?”

“Yes! I believe it’ll go well!”

Perhaps her words held power. The moment Jung Yuri finished speaking, a change stirred in Kang-hoo.

His once unfocused eyes lit up fiercely.

And the talisman he was holding—Infernus—began to emit an endless red glow, engulfing him.

“Ohhh…….”

The bereaved were the first to be shocked. They had never seen a reaction like this before.

“Wow, seriously…… did Oppa pull it off? Um, has anything like this ever happened before?”

Jung Yuri asked the bereaved.

Her lips were already curled into a smile. She felt almost embarrassed by how worried she’d been just moments ago—Kang-hoo had overcome it so quickly.

The same man from before replied.

“It’s a first. We never imagined the talisman could emit such a brilliant radiance.”

“As expected of Kang-hoo Oppa…….”

She clicked her tongue in admiration.

She didn’t know the details, but she could guess why Kang-hoo had been so confident from the start.

Then, Kang-hoo turned to Jung Yuri with a look of absolute certainty and gave her a nod.

His gaze said it all—everything was over.

Kang-hoo had a strange experience.

He was able to relive every memory and moment from his life as the original author in vivid clarity.

These were memories he had long forgotten—perhaps even memories from a previous life.

But there was a difference.

Previously, when he recalled his past life, the memories felt as if they had occurred just yesterday—or as if they were part of his current existence.

In other words, while he had self-awareness as Shin Kang-hoo, he also retained a clear sense of identity as the original author.

But this time, it was different.

He felt like a third-party observer, as if he were watching a film unfold in a theater.

Although he was reflecting on his past life, it seemed distant—like someone else’s life.

The memories remained vivid, but they no longer felt like his own.

Conversely, his life as Shin Kang-hoo became more deeply ingrained in his identity.

It felt like his true life—any previous feelings of detachment had vanished completely.

How could he describe it?

It felt as if the synchronization with Shin Kang-hoo, which had been steadily progressing, was now complete.

If he was 99% Shin Kang-hoo before, he could now confidently say he was 100%.

“Hoo……”

A sigh escaped naturally.

So much had happened internally.

Too much to explain with words—too long and complex a tale.

But in the end, it was simple.

He had become the master of Infernus, and the ‘Eye’ had acknowledged his life and journey.

Moreover, it had developed a deep interest—beginning to view Kang-hoo as an object of curiosity and inquiry.

Kang-hoo raised five fingers toward the bereaved, Jung Yuri, and Kang Bok-hwa, who were watching him from outside.

It was a sign—something they’d discussed beforehand—requesting about five minutes to explore the talisman’s options.

Since it was already agreed upon, they waited quietly outside.

They couldn’t help but marvel as they observed the talisman, which had finally found its rightful owner.

A woman, who appeared to be the mother of the previous owner of the talisman, even shed hot tears.

Perhaps it was a mixture of guilt and relief—guilt for only now fulfilling her son’s last will, and relief that it had finally been done.

Clutching the talisman tightly, Kang-hoo carefully checked its options.

What kind of configuration would a Grade 1 talisman have?

If it was so picky about choosing its owner, maybe it held hidden value or purpose.

‘So excluding Dark Energy and Divine Power, I can choose three others? Strength, Magic Resistance, and Toughness are essential. But let’s check the additional options before finalizing anything.’

Kang-hoo’s eyes moved downward.

There was no rush to allocate stats, so he turned his attention to Infernus’s other features.

‘……The Wind of God, which I never could figure out. Is this related to that? Does fighting Divine Weapons mean I’ll be taken to a special area, like a spirit training zone?’

It wasn’t something to take lightly.

Even the name of the option—Gate of Hell—was ominous. Could it mean he’d literally be sent to hell?

Considering that the talisman was named Infernus, the connection seemed far from coincidental.

Kang-hoo recalled the moment he first encountered the Wind of God.

It was when he killed a Touishi Guild member in Osaka to save a grandmother and granddaughter in danger.

Upon killing the man, this message had appeared:

In other words, the constellation wasn’t forcibly taken.

And seeing the fading constellation window, he had tried to burn its contents into his memory.

Kang-hoo had been horrified by how it glorified suicide, as if it were a sacred offering to a god.

At the time, he initially theorized that the Wind of God was related to the Demon King.

That’s why he believed it was something he’d never get answers to—after all, the original story ended right before the Demon King’s advent.

The true nature of the Wind of God only revealed itself in fragments, like pieces of a broken word.

Even Kang-hoo found it nearly impossible to imagine what it truly was.

What was certain, however, was that it didn’t seem like something that would benefit him. If anything, it felt more like a hidden villain lurking in the shadows.

So he decided to postpone judgment on the Wind of God and moved on to the next option.

‘Now this is the core.’

It felt like a kind of mental immunity talisman.

Not only could it block mental attacks from would-be controllers,

It was even structured to serve as a counterattack.

The being that had been conversing with Kang-hoo earlier appeared to be this very ‘Eye of Hell.’

Gate of Hell and Eye of Hell.

Aside from stat distribution, Kang-hoo felt the true value and purpose of the talisman lay within these two options.

Wind of God.

What kind of being was this, showing up from some unquantifiable domain?

What Kang-hoo feared most was a future where this being allied with Jang Si-hwan.

So then—was there no way to turn the Wind of God to his side?

It was a question with no clear answer, but one he couldn’t help asking himself.

Maybe he needed to find the Gate of Hell physically, wherever it might be. That thought suddenly occurred to him.