Origin of the 【World】

Hunger and thirst gnawed like rats in the dark, but they weren’t his worst enemy.

【Loneliness】 was, a winter empty sky that bit like frost.

Worse than the 【Loneliness】 of losing your way was the 【Loneliness】 of seeing your home like a lamp across water you couldn’t cross.

He did try to slip back, a dusk shadow edging toward his door.

Her eyes caught him—surprise like a startled deer, blame like cold iron, fear like a knife.

His whole body went numb; he bolted like a frightened bird.

Her gaze stayed in him, etched like a scar under ice.

He refused to believe that was her, clinging to denial like driftwood in a current.

He wouldn’t set foot on shore, drifting day after day like a leaf on the river’s skin.

Until one night.

Thunder stitched the sky, and wind howled like wolves.

Rain came in sheets, waves shouldered the hull, and lightning speared the mast to bloom a crown of fire.

Under fire-rain the sail tore in two and flew like torn wings.

Water rushed the cabin, crept into the room like cold snakes; chills and fear tightened his breath.

He shivered, eyes wide, wondering if the river had carried him into a real sea, black and endless.

The boat rolled; a heavy spar pinned him, dragging him down like an anchor.

The river’s cold bled into him, and his blood slowed like freezing syrup.

On the lip of death, the last flare in his eyes caught a phantom.

That phantom—

Black as 【Nightfall】.

Thick as ink.

…

…

“I lost hard. My attacks did nothing. 【It】 hit me—seven moves, and I was riddled like a sieve, dead as stone.”

Augustine spoke with a calm as flat as still water, as if telling a stranger’s tale.

The rage he’d shown for the fallen had faded like ember ash in rain—hundreds of winters wash even grief thin.

Ye Weibai knew who 【It】—【Atmosphere】—really was.

【It】 was the violet lightning that swallowed his voice when he tried to speak to Aerin, a sudden storm that muted him at the throat.

It was the unknown girl he met on the Y-layer of the 【World】—she flicked a finger, and he spat blood, thrown back like a leaf.

That lightning wasn’t 【Its】 true body, just the way 【It】 reached into this sky.

For a 【Demon King】, even lightning is a thing to grasp; no storm should drown his voice—but 【It】 could, and that girl did.

If the 【Hero King】 is child of the 【World】, if the 【Demon King】 is the 【World】’s dark and Misfortune gathered,

then 【It】 is the 【World】 itself, the current under every wave.

What is 【It】, truly?

“【It】 is—【Atmosphere】,” Ye Weibai said under his breath.

“Right. 【It】 is the 【World】’s 【Atmosphere】,” Augustine’s mouth bent in a cold smile, his words dry as dust.

“【Atmosphere】 is people’s longing, hunger, pursuit—and their hate, a wind full of whispers.

The instant I saw 【It】, I knew—【It】 is a condensation of mind, the crowd’s awareness made flesh.”

“【It】 follows what people desire at the deepest root; from that angle, 【It】 is also 【Law】, a spine of the sky.

【It】 guards the ancient 【Cycle】 that’s been here since dawn—【Demon King】 and 【Hero King】, reborn to clash.”

Whenever the 【Cycle】 slips its track, 【It】 moves like a hidden hand to set the rails true.

Ye Weibai lowered his gaze; yes, 【It】 corrects anyone bold enough to break the 【Cycle】.

He had tried to tell Aerin things—truths like blades, truths that would gut the 【Cycle】.

So 【It】 came, and 【It】 sealed his voice from reaching her ear like wax.

Ye Weibai didn’t ask why Augustine could be sieved and still be breathing—Misfortune had given him its crooked gifts.

That didn’t matter. What mattered—why did he still dare—

“Why do you show yourself so brazenly in this 【World】?” Ye Weibai stared, a cold lake under storm.

【It】 wouldn’t allow a threat to the 【Cycle】 to live.

If 【It】 killed Augustine once, 【It】 could kill him twice.

“Is it this violet field?”

“You’re sharp. This is my ability—a veil to hide my trace.” Augustine sounded almost pleased, the violet glow around him like dusk fog.

“Here, we don’t have to fear 【Its】 gaze.”

“If so, why spend all that effort to break the 【Cycle】?”

“To hide has never been Augustine’s choice.” The white-haired elder’s eyes held a nail-hard light, hammer-true.

He looked through Ye Weibai, as if his gaze speared the far place where 【It】 watched.

“I will do more than stay 【alive】. I will break the 【Cycle】. I will kill 【It】.”

“But that didn’t work, did it?”

“It didn’t.” His voice was stone. “I tried killing the 【Demon King】 before the current 【Hero King】 rose, but another 【Demon King】 surfaced, like a head from the sea.”

“I killed the 【Hero King】’s companions dozens of times—the 【Knight】, the 【Warrior】, the 【Thief】, the 【Priest】, the 【Imperial Tutor】—but it was useless.

No matter how many I cut down, the 【Hero King】 met more, fresh faces stepping onstage.”

“The cast filled again; they leapt into the 【Cycle】 like actors to a script.”

“Then I understood—”

“Titles like 【Demon King】 or companion of the 【Hero King】 are just labels,” Ye Weibai said, voice a blade in silk.

“If 【It】 wills it, 【It】 can stick them on anyone.”

“Exactly.” Augustine pinned Ye Weibai with a stare, dry as desert wind.

“But I won’t give up—if a hundred times fail, I’ll try a thousand, if a thousand fail, ten thousand—the stone breaks on the ten-thousandth chip.”

“Even if that rests on the lives of the innocent?” Ye Weibai’s voice was quiet, a winter stream under ice.

“Do you find that acceptable?”

“Innocent?” After a long beat, Augustine’s mouth curled, a thorned smile.

“Where in this 【World】 is anyone innocent?”

“Every person—every crowd—feeds 【It】, a spring and essence of 【It】.

They’re all guilty, all accomplices—they must pay for my comrades’ graves.”

He spoke as calm as a blade laid on a table.

“No one gets to call themselves spotless.”

“Even a baby?”

“Even a baby.” Augustine’s tone was light, like ash rising. “Everyone must pay, must repay their debt—because everyone is born in sin.”

Ye Weibai said nothing; only his mouth tilted, showing a smile like a slash.

There was no warmth in it, only mockery.

“What are you laughing at?” Augustine’s question struck like a pebble on still water.

“No. I just think—being ‘born sinful’—”

The black-haired boy’s eyes smiled, the corners sharp as knives.

“Is painfully adolescent.”

“You won’t understand.” Augustine sighed, looking at the 【Demon King】 like a man watching a doomed star.

“You’re fated to die, a cog that drives the 【World】 forward, turning without end in the 【Cycle】.”

“Only we—the 【Hero Kings】—have a chance to grasp the filth in this 【World】, the oil under the skin.

But that insight demands a price.”

“What price?” Ye Weibai’s smile faded; his gaze fixed like a blade on a whetstone.

“Sometimes,” Augustine lifted his head; violet light settled on his brow like frost, “only pain to the bone can wake a sleeper—the ones pretending to sleep.”

Aerin—or John?!

Ye Weibai’s pupils pinched to needles; his face hardened, fingers splayed like a hawk’s talons ready to strike.

“Oh? Done talking? If you want out, you’ll have to kill me.”

Augustine’s mouth curved, a crescent over a cold sea.

“Come then. Let me see how this era’s 【Demon King】 outstrips the last.”

Vmm—!!!!

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