Without thinking, Aseok moved.

  He lunged, broken arm and all, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the glowing sword.

  It was like lightning hit him.

  Something foreign surged into his veins, something hot and sharp and ancient. He nearly collapsed from the force of it.

  But his body moved. The man with the gun never got the shot off. Aseok struck him down with a single slash.

  Afterward, he stood there in stunned silence.

  The sword hummed.

  He didn’t know why it felt so strange. So wrong. So right.

  Mu Yichen turned around, eyes searching.

  And there it was.

  Their first meeting.

  Mu Yichen’s gaze landed on him, on the dirt-covered, bloodstained, nameless F-rank who held his sword like it had always belonged to him.

  And Lee Aseok, who didn’t even know what he’d done, only stared back, quietly breathless.

  They didn’t speak.

  But something had shifted.

  Something that would not be undone.

  Present – S-rank Gate, Now

  The memory shattered like glass.

  Lee Aseok blinked slowly as the present returned.

  He was still standing where the gate howled and monsters poured out.

  He was no longer F-rank.

  No longer helpless.

  And yet, the feeling remained.

  The same weight.

  The same blade beside him, floating patiently.

  Waiting.

  The holy sword had never left him.

  But he had never once raised it in battle.

  He didn’t need it.

  And he didn’t want what came with it.

  A mutated lizard shrieked and lunged toward him.

  The sword moved on its own, no flash, no ceremony, just one clean cut. The creature died before it landed.

  Hunters nearby watched from a distance.

  No one dared ask why Lee Aseok wasn’t fighting.

  No one questioned why he didn’t charge into the gate like the others.

  Because something in the air around him was different.

  Too still.

  Too dangerous.

  Lee Aseok kept his gaze locked on the swirling red gate.

  The past still burned behind his eyes.

  But this time, he would not be caught off guard.

  This time, he would not grab the sword for anyone.

  This time… he held the iron rod.

  And that was enough.

  Because no matter what came out of that gate, he would not play the hero again.

  Not for the world.

  Not even for Mu Yichen.

  The battlefield roared with screams and steel, but Lee Aseok stood in the eye of the storm, untouched.

  The holy sword moved without command.

  Any monster that came near him was sliced down by its will alone, arcing with divine light, its edge splitting scales and bone with silence so sharp it almost made the world feel quieter around him.

  Lee Aseok didn’t even glance at the dying creatures.

  His gaze was distant. Cold.

  Still trapped in memory.

  Memory – Past Life

  The headlines were merciless.

  “Thief of the Holy Sword?”

  “F-Rank Hunter Lee Aseok – Coincidence or Deception?”

  “Chosen One or Pretender?”

  No matter how many interviews he refused, how many words he never said, the world decided for him.

  He had stolen the holy sword.

  He had touched what only the chosen could.

  And so, the only explanation must be manipulation, treachery, delusion.

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  They said he used tricks.

  Said he must have had backing from a shadow guild. Some accused him of heresy.

  No matter how calmly he tried to explain how he had only meant to protect someone, the truth drowned under louder voices.

  But through it all, Mu Yichen never said a word against him.

  In the trial held behind closed doors, Yichen stood by his side.

  Even when the guilds threatened to blacklist Aseok. Even when the association warned Yichen not to defend him.

  Even when everyone demanded to strip the sword from his hand by force.

  Yichen didn’t betray him then.

  He simply stood next to him.

  And Lee Aseok, young and unwanted by the world, believed that was enough.

  He believed that kindness meant trust.

  He believed too easily.

  That was the first mistake.

  And the last one he would ever make.

  Present – S-Rank Gate, Now

  Lee Aseok blinked.

  The sound of screeching metal snapped his attention back. Smoke curled from a fallen monster a few meters away, its thick tail still twitching as it bled out.

  His eyes, once unfocused and distant, now sharpened.

  That memory… was over.

  And yet, the past clung to his bones.

  His gaze flickered toward Mu Yichen.

  The man moved with ease across the battlefield, cutting through scaled monsters with precise, graceful swings. Not a hair out of place. Calm, noble, admired.

  Other hunters shouted encouragement from behind the barricades.

  “He’s incredible!”

  “That’s the Moon Guild’s vice commander for you!”

  “Look at that control!”

  Lee Aseok said nothing.

  He watched Yichen with an unreadable expression.

  There were still no answers.

  Why had Mu Yichen stayed by his side during that chaos in the past life?

  Why had he defended him?

  And… Why had he betrayed him inside the Hell Gate?

  Why then?

  Lee Aseok didn’t understand.

  And maybe he never would.

  He turned his gaze downward, to the sword beside him.

  The holy sword shimmered faintly as it spun in the air, severing any monster that dared cross its path toward him.

  Not once had he called it forth.

  Not once had he claimed it again.

  Still, it came to him.

  It obeyed him.

  As if it remembered the past too.

  As if it had chosen him, long before anyone realized it.

  Lee Aseok watched its silver edge split another monster.

  A whisper escaped his lips, soft, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

  “I don’t want to become a hero.”

  The wind carried his voice away, lost among screams and fire.

  “I don’t want to touch you again,” he added, eyes locked on the sword. “I don’t want to be chosen. Not by you.”

  He wasn’t even sure why he said it aloud.

  Maybe it was exhaustion.

  Maybe it was that same, bitter ache still lodged in his ribs from that day in the Hell Gate, when everything ended.

  He expected the sword to remain silent.

  But the moment the words left his lips, the sword shook.

  It trembled violently in midair.

  Its glow flickered. Not weak, but reactive. Emotional.

  Lee Aseok’s brows drew together.

  He turned his head slowly.

  The holy sword wasn’t steady anymore.

  It vibrated with something. Anger? Sorrow? Confusion?

  Whatever it was, it wasn’t normal.

  The surrounding hunters didn’t notice, too focused on their battles, too far from him to feel the subtle change.

  But Lee Aseok felt it.

  His eyes narrowed.

  He took a step back, watching it closely.

  The sword hovered still, spinning slowly in place, but its energy pulsed erratically, glowing brighter in bursts, then dimming.

  His mind moved faster than his breath.

  This shouldn’t be happening.

  He hadn’t summoned it.

  He had never summoned it in this life.

  So why…?

  A terrible thought bloomed in his mind like black fire.

  He was reborn.

  Back from death.

  Back to seven years before it all went to hell.

  And no one remembered.

  Not Mu Yichen.

  Not Park Taegun.

  Not Seo MinHyun.

  They all looked at him like strangers.

  Even the world treated him like a quiet, new anomaly instead of the man who had once tried to save it.

  But the sword…the holy sword..

  It was not human.

  It was not bound by time the same way.

  And suddenly, Lee Aseok wondered.

  Did it remember?

  Was that why it followed him?

  Was that why it still hovered by his side without his call?

  Did it, unlike the rest of the world, remember the Hell Gate?

  Did it remember him?

  His heart thudded hard against his chest.

  He slowly reached out, not to touch, but to test.

  But the moment his fingers moved toward it, the holy sword surged forward, trying to close the gap itself.

  He froze, hand suspended midair.

  The holy sword hovered silently beside Lee?Aseok. Every other sound in the city seemed to fade into the distance.

  His gaze was locked on it, eyes cold beneath dark lashes. He’d steeled himself, no more hesitation, no more mercy.

  Then, subtly at first, the gate’s luminescence deepened. The blue pulse brightened to violet, then spun faster, runes glimmering like angry embers.

  Then came the roar.

  Not a monster's shriek. A primal, thunderous bellow that rumbled through bones and shattered windows across the evacuation zone.

  People froze.

  Even hunters staggered under the force of it.

  From the gate, arching out in a cascade of black shadow and ash, slithered an enormous grey dragon.

  Its body towered above ruined high?rises now half?consumed by vegetation and crumbling concrete.

  Scales rippled like dark steel. Eyes glowed molten. Spines ran down its back like a mountain range.

  A thunderbolt in flesh.

  Every living creature near the gate jerked back in terror.

  Their breath froze. Heartbeats stopped mid?pulse.

  Dragons always inspired fear—and this one did worse: it projected absolution.

  Its breath would scare cities to ash.

  Instinct demanded flight.

  But instead, all eyes turned to one man.

  Lee?Aseok.

  He stood in the open, no barrier, no shield. Only his skin-dark iron rod in hand.

  The scale of the beast should’ve dwarfed him.

  But he looked up, unflinching.

  The dragon lowered its massive head.

  They locked eyes.

  Onlookers screamed silently.

  Time bent.

  In that moment, something unspoken passed between dragon and man.

  A challenge.

  A promise of blood.

  Mu?Yichen caught Kang?Juwon’s eye behind Lee?Aseok.

  “Everyone, we retreat now!”

  Roars erupted. Hunters scrambled. Civilians fled.

  Even so, no one bumped Aseok’s line of sight with the dragon.

  They fled the fallout zone, knowing they’d return to nothing but ruin after.

  But the dragon and Lee?Aseok did not move.

  Until, finally, the beast reared its head and lashed back.

  The battle had begun.

  The moment stretched like a taut wire.

  Dragon and man locked eyes.

  Silence pressed down like a physical weight.

  The grey dragon’s massive form coiled, muscles rippling beneath stone-like scales. Its enormous wings flexed, sending shards of broken glass tumbling from half-collapsed buildings.

  Lee Aseok stood rigid, the worn iron rod gripped tight in both hands, shadowed by the ghostly presence of the holy sword that hovered silently beside him.

  Neither flinched.

  Then, with a deafening crack, both moved.

  The dragon lunged.

  Lee Aseok charged.

  The city around them seemed to shrink beneath the thunderous collision.

  Lee Aseok’s body was a coiled tempest. His face contorted with an unfamiliar fire, the cold detachment replaced by raw fury.

  This wasn’t a measured, calculated fight.

  It was vengeance made of flesh.

  Every swing of his iron rod carved bloody arcs through the air.

  The dragon snarled, claws slashing the cracked pavement, smashing through metal beams and shards of concrete.

  Every strike Lee Aseok delivered echoed through the hollow streets, sending shockwaves that shattered windows miles away.

  His rod was no gleaming weapon forged by master smiths—it was battered, scarred, old, but it struck with the weight of his anger, each blow landing like a hammer upon the beast’s thick hide.

  The dragon countered with violent bursts of flame, blasting infernos that turned parts of the street into blazing hellscapes.

  Lee Aseok, however, pressed through the fire without hesitation.

  He moved like a force of nature, shrugging off the heat and debris as though it were nothing more than rain.

  Buildings crumbled under the weight of their conflict.

  Steel girders bent like twigs.

  Concrete walls cracked and collapsed.

  Dust filled the air, choking on the scent of destruction.

  Yet, amidst this ruin, Lee Aseok fought on.

  His eyes burned brighter with each strike, his eyes turned purple and blue, reflecting the carnage he wrought without mercy. The core energy inside him was running rampage.

  This wasn’t about protecting the city.

  This was personal.

  The onlookers, safe for the moment behind hastily erected barriers, gasped in awe.

  They saw a man dwarfed by a colossal dragon, but his presence overwhelmed everything around.

  Author Note:

  Every “OH MY GOD ASEOK STOP” gives me the strength to write the next disaster.

  Mon ? Wed ? Fri

  (Yes, I too question my life choices.)

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