The sky bled red.
Not from dusk — but from fire.
Cities burned. Mountains cracked. The rivers boiled.
And the banners of the Four Nations flew high... only to be drowned in their own blood.
Mae-Bi ran.
He wasn't Mae-Bi the leader. Not a commander. Not even an assassin.
Just a shadow, crawling through rubble and corpses, trembling like a rat trapped in a burning cage.
He could still hear the horns of the orthodox sects blaring like last breaths — war cries meant to rally hope.
But hope was a lie.
He saw them — the greatest martial artists of the Central Plains, leaping across the battlefield like gods, blades singing, techniques blazing.
And then he saw them fall.
One after another.
Slaughtered.
Their limbs torn, their skulls caved in, their final attacks swept aside like sparks in a hurricane.
The Demonic Cult didn't fight to win.
They fought to erase.
Screams clawed at the back of his throat. He bit his tongue to stay silent. His fingers dug into the mud and blood as he crawled through dead comrades and enemies alike. Some were still twitching.
One had no face.
"Help... me..." a voice gurgled behind him.
He didn't look back.
He didn't dare.
Because then—
The earth stopped breathing.
The sky — the burning, screaming sky — went still.
Mae-Bi looked up.
There, above the war-torn field, floated a figure cloaked in night itself.
Long white robes. Bare feet. Eyes like holes in the world. A presence that bent gravity, bent sound, bent logic.
The Heavenly Demon.
He floated above them all — silent, regal, calm — as if watching ants perform their last dance before drowning.
And then his eyes moved.
Mae-Bi froze.
He wasn't supposed to see him.
He wasn't supposed to be seen.
But in that one moment, the Heavenly Demon looked straight at him. Through rubble. Through shadow. Through soul.
Mae-Bi couldn't breathe.
His heartbeat stopped.
No, worse — it listened. As if waiting for permission to beat again.
In that instant, he felt it. Not just power. Not just fear. But truth.
That this man — this being — was not mortal.
Not human.
That he was born from something far older and far crueler than the martial world could name.
And that running was pointless.
Mae-Bi screamed.
Not out loud — but inside.
He didn't care about pride. Or honor. Or the mission. He just wanted to vanish, to claw his way into the dirt and never be found.
But then—
A hand grabbed his shoulder.
He turned.
It was himself.
Older.
Wiser.
Bleeding from the eyes.
"You'll face him again," his past self whispered, voice cracked like glass. "Next time... don't run."
Mae-Bi snapped awake.
His body jolted, almost toppling over—until a strong arm shifted beneath him, keeping him steady.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there, Leader!" came a voice from below. "You're gonna roll off like a fat dumpling."
Mae-Bi blinked.
He was on someone's back. Piggyback.
He looked over the shoulder and saw the unmistakable wide scar slashed across the boy's cheek—his teammate.
Dol-Gae.
Big. Strong. Always grinning like an idiot. A brawler who thought with his fists first and never his brain.
"Dol-Gae... why the hell are you carrying me?"
Dol-Gae snorted. "You fainted, remember? Took one hell of a nap. We figured you were dead. But hey—light as a feather. Weird for a guy with so much attitude."
Mae-Bi groaned and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was drenched, like he'd been swimming through nightmares.
He looked around.
The squad was moving on foot. No Veil Step. Everyone was injured. Bruised. Wrapped in makeshift bandages. Jin was limping at the front, guiding the way.
"Damn... how long was I out?"
"Few hours," Dol-Gae said. "Jin said we're almost at the rendezvous point."
As if summoned, Jin limped over, bandages tight on both legs, still somehow smiling like a fox who just got out of trouble.
"You're awake," Jin said. "Good. I was starting to plan your funeral. Gonna bury you next to Rak. You both love drama."
Mae-Bi let out a weak laugh. "I'm not dying. Not from that."
"Really? Your soul left your body and waved at me on the way out."
The squad laughed. The tension lifted. For the first time since the mission began, the mood was light.
Yeon-Mi ran over, pink hair bouncing. "Thank you, Squad Leader... for saving me."
"Same here," another said. "That was... amazing."
"Not gonna lie," Dol-Gae added, "I figured you were the type to trip over your own sword. But you wrecked that freak."
They chuckled. Someone clapped his back. Mae-Bi flushed and buried his face in Dol-Gae's shoulder.
"Why do I feel like I'm being cradled by a giant baby cow..."
From the rear, Yuri marched forward, carrying Rak on her back. Rak's eyes were closed, pretending to be unconscious. Smart. No one wanted to deal with that awkward guilt just yet.
Mae-Bi raised a brow. "So, Yuri. You alive. What's up? Ready to throw hands again?"
Yuri scoffed. "Don't worry. Once I'm healed, I'll slap the smug off your face. Properly this time."
Mae-Bi laughed. Her pride was still intact. That was good.
She paused mid-step, glancing at him. Then—
"...Thanks," she muttered under her breath.
Mae-Bi's eyes widened.
Jin stared. "Did she just say—?"
"Shut up!" Yuri snapped. Her ears burned red as she stomped to the front of the group. The squad burst out laughing.
Mae-Bi grinned. Peace. Calm. Almost like a normal group of kids.
But that dream...
That damn dream hadn't left him.
He glanced at his hand. It was still shaking.
"Damn dream," he muttered to himself.But it wasn't a dream It was a memory.And one day—he would face that man again.
He just didn't know if he'd survive.