Chapter 389

Chapter 389
Chapter 389: I Hate This World.

—

His hands were in constant motion, never pausing for a second.

The image displayed on the monitor was undeniably a ‘game.’

Pangenia.

The catalyst for every transformation that had occurred.

His gaze was fixed on Pangenia, his eyes radiating a brilliance akin to the stars.

“Mirroring my movements? No, is it actually studying my playstyle?”

The man who had launched the Great Expedition was currently locked in combat with Basara, the Seventh Lord of the underworld.

It was a critical juncture where a single lapse in concentration or a stray click would result in total annihilation.

Yet, he betrayed no hint of anxiety.

There was no trace of doubt in his actions.

Quite simply.

‘He is having the time of his life.’

He was genuinely relishing the struggle against a formidable foe, finding joy in the very essence of Pangenia.

Basara observed him with unwavering focus.

Park Hyunmyeong.

The mind directing the actions of Wilhelm.

But his influence went further than that.

Visions flickered by of him guiding countless individuals to safety through hopeless circumstances.

Tens, hundreds—a multitude of lives within Pangenia that surpassed easy counting—had been granted a second chance through his intervention.

He had never abandoned a single soul.

He thrived on hardship and discovered genuine meaning in the act of survival.

This was a perspective Basara found impossible to grasp.

To her, this should have been nothing more than a ‘game.’

An artificial reality on a screen to be toyed with briefly and then discarded, a realm entirely disconnected from his own existence.

‘He truly cares for Pangenia.’

…He had possessed a profound love for Pangenia.

He had craved the reality that existed beyond the interface.

Because of that devotion, he rose to the summit, earning the title of ‘Phantom.’

Now, the realization dawned on her.

She finally understood why she had begun to develop feelings for the entity controlling Wilhelm.

The passions currently surging through Park Hyunmyeong were being channeled directly into her, Basara, with total clarity.

—I adore this world!

Ah…

Was that the reason?

Because he stood as the polar opposite of Basara.

‘I despise this world.’

This was her first encounter with someone whose internal world was so fundamentally different from hers.

In all her existence, she had never met anyone who cherished Pangenia to such a degree.

The weight of the emotions flowing from him left Basara shaken.

She remembered the cruelty she had endured since her first breath.

The prejudice.

In the vastness of Pangenia, there was no sanctuary for a mutant like her.

She was an outcast everywhere, followed always by the judgmental eyes of the Dragon Gods.

They forbade her from finding peace within their domains or upon their soil.

She was unloved.

Labelled a sorceress, a devil, a freak…

She realized now how much of a curse her ‘invincibility’ truly was.

To be incapable of death, immune to wounds, and shielded from intrusion.

It resulted in a life devoid of respect or sentiment, leaving her unable to connect with anyone else.

—Basara, this realm shall be your paradise.

Those were the words of the Demon King when she finally reached the demon world after an eternity of wandering.

Through a series of brutal conflicts, she eventually ascended to the rank of the Seventh Lord.

It was an inevitable path, given that violence was the only language she spoke fluently.

A dark realm where might was the only law.

Was that not the definition of a paradise?

Yet, even life among the demons soon turned stale.

The inhabitants were driven by greed, and the air was thick with the scent of arrogance and the bullying of the weak; it all became incredibly tedious.

“Is it true the humans have started their Great Expedition?”

“Great Expedition? Is that something I can kill and eat?”

Eventually, the denizens of the dark began to gossip.

Word had spread of a massive human incursion on the horizon.

While there had always been those foolish enough to trespass, a mobilization of this scale had not been seen for centuries.

“What is driving the humans to strike now?”

“Did a noble get snatched away again?”

“Hah, what hope does a swarm of insects have against us?”

The demons laughed it off.

They mocked the idea, claiming that humans were beneath their notice.

Their history was littered with failed human invasions; not once had a crusade ever reached its goal.

‘We will butcher every last one of them.’

“News has arrived that the Ghost King, Ahram, has fallen.”

Ahram’s loss was dismissed as trivial.

He was a dim-witted creature, possessing little more than a vast army of puppets.

However, the subsequent report made her pause in confusion.

“Lady Isera…”

The passing of her younger sister, Isera.

The humans had somehow identified Isera’s shifting weakness.

Considering Isera could relocate her vital point at a whim, the fact that they had pinned it down was staggering.

The surprises didn’t end there.

Shortly after Isera’s fall.

“Lord Mammon…”

Mammon was gone, and both the Fourth and Fifth Division Commanders had been eliminated.

The elite Lords of the underworld were being pushed to their limits by mere humans.

Even though the demon world was designed to be a living nightmare for mankind.

Against all odds and through sheer adversity, the invaders continued to seize ground.

And at the heart of this storm stood a single man.

By then, even the Seventh Lord Basara could no longer suppress her intrigue.

‘Wilhelm.’

Who was he?

What manner of man was capable of bringing the demon world to its knees?

Basara began to observe him from the shadows.

“Knight King, move forward!”

“Don’t let up!”

“Make sure our deaths mean something!”

The soldiers placed their absolute faith in Wilhelm.

They threw themselves into the fire, offering their lives and their loyalty just to ensure Wilhelm could take one more step forward.

“…Very well. I will.”

Wilhelm looked upon their faces, memorizing them.

Then, he turned away and drew his blade in silence.

From that moment on, he never looked back.

He acted as if he were oblivious to the carnage behind him.

It was a profound display of trust.

He had entrusted his very life to those following him.

Witnessing that resolve, the humans’ loyalty only deepened.

…Basara had seen a thousand wars, but never a sight like this.

The humans she knew were creatures of betrayal.

They would smile to your face while readying a blade for your back.

Basara herself had been the victim of human treachery more times than she could count.

Those who desired her strength would inevitably grow terrified of it and attempt to destroy her.

A creature of overwhelming power is destined to be lonely.

Faith?

Confidence?

Sincerity?

They were empty concepts.

They were things people only ever demanded from her, never gave.

But… what of this man, Wilhelm?

“I am Wilhelm. I lead these people as the Knight King. Might I ask your name?”

He was a shattered remains of a man.

By the time he finally stood before Basara.

He was soaked in gore, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

The polished warrior who had begun the Great Expedition was now a ragged, bloodied mess.

It was a miracle he was even standing.

Yet, despite his condition, he spoke with genuine politeness.

He wanted to know who she was.

She wondered what kind of soul inhabited that broken body.

“It is of no consequence to you.”

“I am asking for your name.”

“…”

Basara did not speak; she simply raised her weapon.

They were destined to kill one another.

Why bother with introductions?

She saw no reason to exchange names with a corpse.

Clang—!

The steel collided.

In that first strike, she saw his true nature.

She recognized the incredible precision of his style and realized that his devotion to the blade was more profound than any she had ever encountered.

“You.”

Even more startling was that with every clash of their blades.

“Your name—”

Wilhelm persisted.

“What is it?”

He kept asking for her name.

Had he lost his mind?

…Did he truly possess such composure that he could worry about names in the middle of a death match?

Basara tapped into her true power.

She began to replicate Wilhelm’s swordsmanship perfectly.

This was the despair all warriors felt when facing Basara.

She would master her opponent’s life’s work in seconds and then surpass it.

“I asked for your name.”

“…You are incredibly stubborn.”

“Give me an answer. If you don’t, I’ll keep asking long after this fight is over.”

“…?”

“Teabagging… no, forget I said that.”

What was this man rambling about?

For a moment, his behavior seemed entirely nonsensical.

As the duel intensified, Basara felt a growing sense of awe.

Wilhelm.

She sensed a presence—a shadow standing behind this man.

It was a mere intuition.

She couldn’t grasp it, and even with her divine sight that could pierce through the fabric of reality, she saw nothing.

‘An entity I cannot perceive?’

Her curiosity burned.

She had to know.

Basara channeled every ounce of her concentration into finding that hidden presence.

She knew Wilhelm lacked the power to kill her.

How could he find a flaw in her that she didn’t even know existed?

Unlike her sister Isera, Basara was flawless.

Or so she believed.

And so… the Seventh Lord Basara began to mirror everything about Wilhelm.

It wasn’t just the sword techniques.

She mimicked the slight twitch of his muscles, the rhythm of his lungs.

She began to read his every move as if she were seeing the future, deciphering the very thoughts of her opponent.

She felt that if she became him, she would see it.

She would finally feel the entity standing behind him.

A perfect counter-resonance.

Basara had never focused this intensely in her entire life.

—Thump!

…It began then.

Her heart, which had been silent for ages, began to beat.

She felt it.

A surge of emotion unlike anything she had ever known.

This wasn’t Wilhelm’s feeling.

It belonged to the one controlling him.

It was the sentiment he was radiating.

As he looked at Basara, he seemed… happy.

He seemed to want to push his own limits, to see just how far she could keep up with him.

Thrust!

Finally.

As the blade sank into Basara’s chest.

Only through that wound did she see it clearly.

The being on the other side.

She felt him with absolute certainty.

In that final moment, Basara wanted to speak.

Not to Wilhelm, but to the one beyond the veil.

“My name is…”

She spoke her name.

The Seventh Lord Basara.

She exhaled her final breath in that state.

Finally understanding the weakness she never knew she possessed.

“Knock it off, you lunatic god…!”

…The last thing she saw was Wilhelm performing a mocking dance over her fallen body.

Where was she?

—You are a Dragon God.

A kind, soothing voice echoed in the void.

It was likely her mother.

—A protector of all things. A truly magnificent being.

Was that the truth?

—Please, cherish and hold this world dear.

…Was this world worth her love?

No.

Because no one loved a place like this.

She didn’t view herself as a Dragon God.

The Seventh Lord Basara.

She was the Seventh Legion Commander of the abyss, the one destined to turn the world to ash.

—Thump!

But she couldn’t shake that heartbeat.

Her surroundings shifted once more.

Suddenly, she saw the man standing before the Demon King.

There stood a man who was fighting to save Pangenia because he loved it with all his heart.

His name was Park Hyunmyeong.

The entity from beyond, who had been a mystery to her then.

Now, he stood vividly before her.

“You were the one who showed me.”

Now she understood.

She knew what her weakness was.

At first, she assumed it was because she had fallen for Park Hyunmyeong.

That wasn’t entirely wrong, of course.

Her true vulnerability was.

“A soul who truly loves Pangenia… that is my undoing.”

Only someone who genuinely loved this world could lower Basara’s guard.

Only a being who could teach her to love this world could ever hope to strike her down.

In that same instant, she remembered.

Her own aspirations.

Her buried past.

“I… I think I wanted to be a Dragon God.”

…That had been her wish from the very start.

She had wanted to love this world so badly that she had subconsciously set that very condition for her own defeat.

It made everything clear.

Why Park Hyunmyeong was resigned to his own end.

The man who was currently having fun with Pangenia seemed like a stranger compared to the Park Hyunmyeong she saw in the waking world.

…At some point.

Park Hyunmyeong had lost the ability to enjoy Pangenia.

“I want to see you find that joy again.”

The Seventh Lord Basara reached out and placed a hand on Park Hyunmyeong’s shoulder.

The two goddesses watched her with bewildered expressions.

As did Wilhelm, Randolph, and even the Primal Heavenly Demon.

She didn’t care about their stares.

Instead, Basara looked at him and asked.

“My name is Basara. What is your name?”

She offered him the same question he had once asked her.

She would keep asking until he gave her an answer.

Over and over.

Without end.

For this was the only path to bringing him back to life.