Heroic Hymn —

It is mighty, like a mountain veiled in storm.

But the Hero King is not alone; starlight gathers like banners in wind.

The gears of the World turn, bronze teeth grinding dawn.

He will meet five companions, like rivers converging into one sea.

(Unfinished)

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After that talk in the practice hall with Aerin, and a quick wash, Ye Weibai led the golden‑haired girl out, like stepping from mist into sun.

By day, the imperial capital pulsed; signs crowded like reeds, and a tide of people flowed like a river of color.

Rules endure; when the Demon King travels, all things step aside, like grass bowing under storm.

Ye Weibai’s black robe billowed like night wings; he stepped forward, and the crowded stream split like water around a stone.

The girl followed Master Bai, hands clasped behind her back; her hair tips rippled like golden fish, playful and bright.

Relief first, like a soft breeze; this time she could savor a world with only her in it, like a clear lake with no ripples of whispers.

She could be her true self, like a hidden moon finally breaking cloud.

— Huh? True self?

A tremor first, like a sparrow startled; when the thought flashed, Aerin’s heart thumped like a drum.

She halted, feeling that taste, like pressing tongue to winter frost.

Ye Weibai’s awareness pricked, like a blade catching light; at her sudden heartbeat he murmured “Hm?” and turned, like a hawk wheeling.

In that glance, he opened the Eyes of Misfortune, like lids lifting on a storm.

Then the World vanished—no, it was swallowed, like a shore devoured by ash tides.

His vision filled with endless gray, like a Deity spilling a palette, the World smeared with dull paint.

Dense, layered gray motes swarmed, like locusts in dusk, flooding the World, pouring into his eyes and body like cold rain.

Nothing but gray; no horizon, no flame, like fog that erases paths.

Trapped in gloom, a heartbeat of shock, then clarity; these were Aerin’s Misfortune, like thorns hidden under silk.

So vast, so fierce, it was drowning the World, like a monsoon over a dry plain.

His five senses locked inside like doors barred; yet his spirit surged, like a tidal wave, mind poised to sweep the World many times.

Before action sparked, color returned; the gray motes blew away like ash on wind.

“Master Bai, what’s wrong?” The golden girl watched his strange gaze, like a doe peering through leaves. “Did something feel off?”

“Aerin.” After a quiet beat, Ye Weibai held her eyes, voice soft as dusk. “Remember what I said this morning—the part you didn’t catch? I’ll say it again. Listen.”

“...Mm.” Reluctance first, like a knot in silk; but since Master Bai insisted, it must matter. She nodded, ears tilting like petals.

“I meant—”

Crack—!

Thunder detonated at the ear, like a war drum splitting sky.

Faster than thunder, a violet lightning fell, bucket‑thick like a blade cleaving blue noon, and its glow drowned the World like a purple sea.

And faster than that lightning—black, the Demon King moved, like shadow outracing flame.

He had expected an ambush on a bright road, like a thorn in rose.

“Did you really think the Demon King’s a sick cat?” His voice was iron under frost.

Boom—!

Black fire kindled in his eyes, like twin furnaces; for the first time, Ye Weibai unsealed all the power caged in bone.

As the Demon King, he housed all the black and evil of the world, like a pit of pitch; without fetters, even walking would mean wilting life and fields of corpses like fallen leaves.

But now, he knew the foe—an existence that made even a Demon King feel “no more than this,” like slate under lightning.

He had to go all out, like a volcano breaking winter.

Black radiance surged from him like a tsunami, sweeping the capital; and everything stilled, like insects trapped in amber.

Aerin’s long hair flew and froze like silk in glass; talkers’ mouths hung like masks; a galloping carriage hung mid‑arc like a beetle in resin.

Peddlers’ cries folded, droplets under eaves halted like pearls, and dust spiraling in sunbeams froze like tiny planets.

All of it glazed in clear black, motion sealed at the instant his power burst, like a bell struck and silenced.

In that instant, Ye Weibai stepped into another space; the world went pitch‑black, and only he remained—him and that violet bolt, like a river of sky‑fire.

Wind howled, his black robe snapped like banners; his eyes burned night‑flame as he lifted his gaze, torso spearlike, knees coiled like springs.

Then—

Boom—!

Flame burst, force bloomed, like shockwaves in a storm; houses caved, earth cracked like a dried lakebed.

With the Demon King’s leap, the street became ruin in a heartbeat, and bodies burst into blood mist like red rain.

Ye Weibai became a streak of black lightning, slicing the Void, climbing thousands of meters like an arrow loosed.

He hung in high air; robe and hair flew like ravens, clouds milled like torn wool, and before him that bolt linked heaven and earth, hundreds of meters like a speared river.

Black fire in his eyes, face washed in violet, he reached out, like a hunter grasping a dragon’s tail.

And then—

His hand closed on nothing, like mist through fingers.

“Hmm?”

Like moon in water, his touch made only a ripple; the lightning passed through his palm, plunging down unhindered like a falling star.

“Eh? — You again?”

A voice brushed his ear, a girlish lilt, cute and vexed, like a bell with a crease.

“How many times do I have to say it? You can’t touch me.” The tone was light as down.

In the next instant, a pale hand appeared at his chest, skin like jade, fingers slender as green shoots, and she flicked, like tapping a bowl.

“Only I can touch you.” Soft words, yet edged with scorn and certainty, like silk wrapping a blade.

Like a lover’s teasing gesture, warm and cruel.

Hum—!

The release was a sky‑shaking roar, like ripples exploding across a lake.

Power pulsed outward in rings; within a thousand meters, clouds vanished like smoke blown by gale.

He spat a mouthful of black blood, like ink on snow; his body dropped like a cannonball, faster than his rise, headfirst into the sea of roofs.

Earth rushed up, his view streaked into prismatic lines, like rain melting into glass.

A Demon King who cannot even touch the foe, knocked back with a tap to cough blood—how could the World house such a terror, and still keep a legend of the Demon King who ends worlds?

First time in this World he was hit so hard, blood sliding from his lips like black wine; yet Ye Weibai laughed, like fire under rain.

“This time,” he grinned up at that hazy figure far above, joy clean as mountain spring, “I caught you—one percent.”

“You—?!” She looked down through height and thunder and saw what he gripped—a strand of violet ribbon, like a shed serpent skin—the remnant of that lightning.

Impossible—how could he touch it? Her calm face shifted, like ice cracking.

“You really—want to die!!!” Her voice crashed like a falling cliff.

Boom—!!!

...

...

“Master Bai...?”

The golden‑haired girl blinked as Master Bai stepped close, cupped her face like holding a warm peach, and smiled softly. “Caught you.”

His hand was big and warm, like a hearth; her cheeks flushed until they burned like sunset.

“C‑caught what?” Aerin’s eyes trembled like stars in water.

Ye Weibai’s smile thinned, bright as a blade.

“I caught the World.”

The World...?

“Wh—?” Aerin’s mind went blank, like snow over tracks; was Master Bai confessing?

But the look, the air—none of it felt like a love scene; it felt like lightning coiled in silk.

“Aerin, let me tell you a story.”

He released her almost‑glowing cheeks and walked on, steps steady like a metronome.

“There’s a game,” he said, voice even as rain on tiles.

“A game?”

“Yeah, a game. Forget the setting and what you play for; hear the Rules—like strings on a guqin.”

“In the game there are three spaces, laid parallel like a three‑layer cake. We’ll call them X, Y, and Z.”

“X is the bottom, Y the middle, Z the top, stacked like earth, cloud, and sky.”

“This game has hierarchy; Z can touch Y, Y can touch X, and X can touch no one—like shadows that never meet sun.”

“That’s not fair,” Aerin blurted, like a sparrow pecking grain.

“Unfair? Sure.” His tone was calm as stone. “But those Rules were carved at creation—like seals in jade. If the players agreed, fairness becomes smoke.”

“Then people in X can never win?” Her worry fluttered like moth wings.

“Not so. There’s a hole in the weave.” He paused, breath steady like night tide. “Ever heard this—when you can’t change the World, you change yourself?”

“...No.” Wonder first, like a child at stars. “It sounds deep... Was it a sage’s quote?”

“Deep? Sage? Who knows.” Ye Weibai smiled, thin as moonlight. “But if you’re in X and want to touch the other spaces, you climb—X into Y, Y into Z, like vines reaching eaves.”

“Is there a Rule for that?” Aerin asked, head tilted like a willow.

“At the start, there was; a path upward existed, like steps cut in cliff.”

“And later?”

“Later, Z noticed something wrong, so they sealed the path, and wrote a Rule—like iron on stone.”

“Even if someone from Z enters a lower space, they will never regress to Y. That way, no one dies of their own stupidity, like a king falling off his throne.”

“Then people in Z win for sure?” Her voice trembled like a reed.

“No. Quite the opposite.” Ye Weibai smiled at Aerin, eyes bright as embers. “Because words like ‘one hundred percent’ fear one thing—Misfortune, like sand in gears.”

“Those who dare say ‘absolutely’—when they fail, even by one percent, the whole edifice collapses, like a tower with its keystone cracked.”

“Such beings, frankly—”

He paused; his smile grew faint, tipped with scorn like frost on steel.

“—are nothing but trash.”

...

...

It —

But it is not solitary; it walks with shadow, like a moon with wolves.

Black and evil are drawn to it, like crows to carrion.

Naturally, they become its claws and fangs, like night birthing thorns.

(Unfinished)

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