Episode 557: Return to the Demon Fortress
A sharp whoosh cut through the air.
Neung Un-pa surveyed his surroundings.
Towering into the sky was the Black Fortress, its presence as imposing as ever.
“So this is… the Black Fortress.”
It was only the second time he had laid eyes on it. To be precise, he had witnessed its creation, but this was the first time he saw it completed.
The feeling was entirely different.
Back then, the sight of the fortress being constructed had filled him with dread and fear. The sheer scale and alien nature of it, rising seemingly of its own accord, was enough to send shivers down the spine of even someone as seasoned as him.
But now, it was different.
The Black Fortress, gleaming like obsidian in the setting sun, was breathtakingly beautiful. It stood as a symbol of power—strong, solid, towering, and sharp. There was no place more formidable.
As he tore his gaze away from the fortress, he noticed the ten thousand demon soldiers who had been transported with him. Once human, they were now the embodiment of pure strength.
In truth, it was only because their opponent had been Sabi Kang that they had been so easily defeated. Against any other warrior, they would have torn their foe to shreds.
Standing among them was Count Adler.
Neung Un-pa frowned slightly and approached Adler. He was not pleased with Adler’s interference during his fierce battle with Sabi Kang. To him, Sabi Kang was a nemesis, a thorn that needed to be removed, a chapter in his life that had to be closed.
Yet Adler had intruded.
As Neung Un-pa, now a black mage, approached Adler and placed a hand on his shoulder, he asked, “Why did you interfere in my fight? Coming in like that…”
Adler abruptly turned and brushed off Neung Un-pa’s hand.
“Enough. Until you’ve fully adapted to your new body, you shouldn’t act recklessly!”
Neung Un-pa frowned at Adler, more puzzled by the fear in Adler’s eyes than angered by his brusque manner.
“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”
“It’s none of your concern. Go and formally greet His Majesty. Count Jakok will guide you.”
Neung Un-pa studied Adler with a furrowed brow. When he was still human, Adler’s appearance had been nothing short of grotesque, instilling fear. An untouchable, transcendent being.
But now, Adler seemed pitiful, weak even. It was hard to believe that such a person had made him so powerful.
“Understood,” Neung Un-pa replied stiffly.
As Neung Un-pa entered the Black Fortress, Adler shivered, rubbing his arms.
“Sabi Kang… that man is terrifying… never let your guard down!”
He was like a child who had seen something he shouldn’t have, filled with fear. Adler had intended to enter Sabi Kang’s consciousness and turn him into a demon by exploiting his desires. He also hoped to glimpse his own future through Sabi Kang, who had returned from the future.
But the outcome was horrific.
Sabi Kang… Sabi Kang was…
“The one who killed me… in the most gruesome way!”
A chill ran down Adler’s spine.
**
“Damn it. Don’t look at me like that.”
Akcheon Goe spat curses at Ilsal, who was looking down at him with a troubled expression.
Akcheon Goe didn’t have much time left. Sabi Kang had infused him with energy to keep him alive, but it was only a temporary reprieve.
Once a renowned martial artist and leader of the Assassins’ Guild, his final moments were pitiful. One arm was torn, and a gaping wound in his abdomen spilled his innards.
When Ilsal first met Akcheon Goe, he thought him a mad killer. Yet, there was a humanity to him, a stark contrast to the previous guild leader. Despite his aloof demeanor, he cared for his assassins.
He often said, “Eat well. You need strength. An assassin’s life is all about eating and shitting.”
While others insisted assassins suppress their emotions, Akcheon Goe encouraged them to embrace them, claiming emotions were a weapon that made one stronger. It was this belief that had made him powerful.
The guild began to change. Assassins, once mere killing machines, started to think and reflect on their lives. Working mostly under Sabi Kang’s orders, they naturally distanced themselves from senseless killing.
A guild that didn’t kill—it was becoming a strange organization.
Some assassins resisted the change, but they were human too. As their long-suppressed emotions resurfaced, resistance waned. They began to find meaning in their lives.
That’s why Ilsal felt such sorrow at Akcheon Goe’s impending death.
“Master, thank you for everything.”
“Don’t be so quick to say goodbye. I might not die yet.”
Ilsal smiled faintly.
Just then, Sabi Kang approached, his footsteps echoing.
Akcheon Goe barked, “Late and you let the enemy escape? Tsk, tsk!”
“Manlyeong was slow.”
“Hah!”
Akcheon Goe let out a dry laugh, knowing full well that Sabi Kang’s timely arrival was nothing short of a miracle, affirming his faith in him.
Sabi Kang sat down beside Akcheon Goe. It had been a dull fight. He had kept Akcheon Goe close to Neung Un-pa, anticipating a day like this might come, though he had hoped it wouldn’t.
Perhaps he had been complacent, wanting to believe in Neung Un-pa, a symbol of hope for the martial world, someone everyone looked up to. Maybe that’s why he had turned a blind eye to Neung Un-pa’s changes.
Gu Yoon likely felt the same, which is why he had stood by as things spiraled out of control. Humans make mistakes, but this one would leave an indelible scar on Gu Yoon.
In the end, he had to fight someone he least wanted to. It was mentally exhausting, not physically. And now, he was losing Akcheon Goe.
When he decided to spare Akcheon Goe, it wasn’t out of trust but because he couldn’t waste such talent. He had bound him with unbreakable chains. But this incident taught him that people can change, even if it’s rare.
Perhaps the saying that people can’t change is because we try to use them. Akcheon Goe changed when all chains were removed, when Sabi Kang no longer tried to use him.
It’s a simple truth. Just as a good person like Neung Un-pa can turn evil, the reverse is possible, though much harder.
Akcheon Goe’s death was a loss for Sabi Kang too.
Sabi Kang asked, “How does it feel to be dying?”
“Like shit.”
“Figures.”
Sabi Kang nodded, understanding. He had felt it too, when death loomed, pierced by the Demon King’s guards. When it’s not the death you want, it feels like shit.
“Still…”
Akcheon Goe gasped for breath, continuing, “It’s better than dying back then.”
Sabi Kang chuckled. “Back then” referred to when he almost killed Akcheon Goe.
Akcheon Goe rambled on, “If I’d died then… I wouldn’t have seen so much.”
“You didn’t see much good, did you?”
“You fool…! I don’t mean what I saw with my eyes, but with my heart! You never understand… cough, cough! Gah!”
Akcheon Goe coughed violently, spitting blood. He gasped for air, managing to speak again.
“Everything starts from the heart…”
“What kind of riddle is that?”
“I just wonder if my life of resentment was necessary.”
“Are you feeling regret?”
“Regret, maybe. If I were reborn, I’d live more… leisurely… enjoy more…”
Akcheon Goe’s voice faded.
Sabi Kang didn’t look back. He could feel it—Akcheon Goe had passed.
“Master…”
Ilsal bowed his head, tears streaming down. Had he ever felt such grief over someone’s death?
Not just him, but all the assassins bowed their heads, mourning Akcheon Goe.
Sabi Kang looked up at the sunset sky.
“At least… he lived like a human in the end. Not a bad way to go.”
He murmured to himself.
Ilsal approached Sabi Kang. “After the master’s funeral, we’ll join you at the Demon Palace.”
“No need. You’re free.”
“It’s a decision we’ve made freely.”
Ilsal’s eyes were filled with determination.
It was a different kind of resolve, no longer the murderous intent he once had when taking a life.
Sabigang nodded and looked away.
“As you wish.”
“Then.”
Ilsal bowed respectfully, picked up Akcheon-gwe, and leapt away.
The assassins followed in his wake.
Perhaps the name of Salmak would soon be erased from the annals of history.
Sabigang was certain after seeing the look in Ilsal’s eyes.
He no longer had the gaze of a killer.
What had changed them?
Was it him?
Or the demons?
Or perhaps Akcheon-gwe?
He didn’t know.
And did it really matter?
He despised complications.
All that mattered was that Akcheon-gwe was dead, and Salmak would vanish.
They chose to fight the demons instead of leaving behind a terrifying legacy.
That was all.
He was too tired to ponder it any further.
Just then, Guyun approached with heavy steps.
He looked at Sabigang with a complex expression.
His eyes seemed to hold every emotion imaginable.
There were good feelings, and not-so-good ones.
As is often the case with people…
“Why didn’t you warn me sooner?”
Guyun’s voice was filled with reproach.
But he regretted it almost immediately.
Who was he to blame anyone?
He still had a long way to go.
He sank to his knees.
Sabigang frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Teach me. What should I do?”
Tears streamed down Guyun’s face.
He cried so hard he could barely see.
He thought it wasn’t too late.
He believed he could rebuild Neungunpa.
But it was a naive thought.
Self-reproach pierced him deeply, threatening to consume him entirely.
He felt like he was on the brink of madness.
Everything seemed to be his fault.
A prodigy of the century?
What did that even mean?
Guyun cried out again.
“Didn’t you say you’ve lived through this before? That you’ve lived a long life? Please, guide this wretched soul! What… what should I do?”
He was crying out in despair.
At the edge of hopelessness.
He had lost Neungunpa.
He had lost the leader of the righteous alliance.
In essence, the alliance had crumbled.
Not to mention, he had lost the ten thousand warriors of the martial world.
He had turned them into monsters.
He should take responsibility, even if it meant ending his own life.
At this moment, Guyun had not a shred of pride left.
If there was a rock bottom in life, this was it for him.
Sabigang looked at Guyun intently before speaking.
“It’s time to prepare for the final battle against these cursed demons. And for that, I need soldiers. No matter how fine a sword, in the wrong hands, it’s just scrap metal. I’ll show you the value of a true soldier.”