Chapter 6: Those Who Don't Smile at Winter, Will Never Laugh at Spring (1).
In the Village of Black Sand, the dark soil gleamed beneath the torchlight and the stars in the sky.
The brightly colored buildings overlooked the homeland, giving people a source of safety from hollow dreams.
The noise of the Warriors' Awakening Ceremony fell into the cliff of darkness, leaving only exhaustion behind.
Those who had passed the ceremony and successfully become Ego warriors could not contain their excitement, while those who had failed were left with only gloomy days ahead.
Regardless of sadness or joy, the still night came, and the moonlight silently smiled upon the world.
In the palace's green garden, the white-haired young man sat alone.
He held nothing but a cup of Winter Blossom tea.
This tea was not common; in itself, it was a refined form of Ego.
That Ego was the refuge of the thirsty, from which many types of drinks could be made.
They had no expiration date and greatly eased persistent thirst.
As long as the Ego was supplied with essence energy and the basic liquid elements, theoretically, the drinks would never run out.
Naturally, this type of Ego was rare. Refining it was extremely difficult, and one could only rely on luck to find it in the wild—
—or steal it from someone who already owned one.
As he drank quietly, Loki's thoughts drifted upon seeing the starry night sky.
" Tch! I won't lose!"
" Hahaha! I've never lost an eating contest! Give up, Lloyd!"
The celebration was still at its peak; the noise of others meeting refused to fade.
"… Sahyung."
When Loki saw Leon eating relentlessly while laughing at Lloyd, memories flashed in his mind, and with each flash, emotions swelled.
[ Sahyung, when we finish this war, what will you do? ]
[ What's with the sudden question? ]
That pale face, long black hair, and cold expression contrasted with the warmth deep inside.
The words Sahyung spoke that day refused to leave Loki's memory.
[ It's impossible that Sahyung never thought about it, right? ]
[ Tsk tsk… What an annoying Sajil I have… ]
Despite his mild complaint, the smile never left his pale face.
[ … Maybe I'll become a teacher at Moonlight Academy. ]
[ Sahyung becoming a teacher? You? You, Sahyung? ]
[ … Is there a problem? ]
[ I mean, we're talking about you, Sahyung. Imagine someone like you becoming a teacher—that's terrifying—agh! ]
After Loki said words that were not wrong in the slightest, he received a hit on the head.
[ You rotten brat! You ask me, then suddenly insult me! Kids weren't like this in my days … tsk tsk. ]
The stars of that night never lit the world; the moon's color was neither white nor blue.
Dead animals piled upon the rotting earth, the corpses cold, and the only path left was death.
On the black hill, Loki and Chun Hwa Ryong sat—no star with a glimmer to guide them, no beautiful moon to smile at them.
Crimson.
The moon that cursed the world with blood was crimson, the stars went out as if in an elegy for grief, and nothing remained but darkness.
[ The world is full of cries of sorrow. ]
Orphaned children, women violated, men left with nothing but blood, and hunger that left a person with no emotion but pity.
The hollow moon was the elegy to the screams of the world.
[ To fight the world means to understand hunger. Remember those days—how many days did you go without food? Did that hunger drive you to eat the bark of trees? Was the winter of those nights the coldest it could be? Why were you hungry? What did you want most in your mind? ]
While your body stiffens under the vile winter winds, nothing runs through your mind except the desire for food—even the shelter of warmth no longer matters in comparison.
[ Remember the moments you dug into the forest soil full of predators, your nails breaking, your blood clotting, yet to escape hunger, your hands did not stop. Was there an edible root under the cold forest soil? That wouldn't cross your mind. ]
Whether the mightiest being in creation or a vagrant in the street, everyone feels hunger.
You live to satisfy your hunger, How long has your soul longed to taste life?
Hunger is death, Hunger is life!
Before Loki's violet eyes, Hwa Ryong Sahyung held his sword.
[ What is the thirst for life? It is the hatred of the world, the mourning of the world, and its cruelty.]
[This is the sole weapon of killing—it is the desire to stain life with blood, the twisted love for the red flood when it springs from the body. ]
His expression was stiff, but it carried the anger of the world.
That anger in the edge of the sword was directed toward the crimson moon.
[ To fight the world means mourning, sorrow for your loved ones who have closed their eyes forever. It means raising your sword high to remember their helplessness, their pain, and telling their stories with your sword. To sing hatred. What does the blindness of darkness mean? To understand why you hate, and yet show your hatred! ]
The essence energy inside Hwa Ryong's body resonated with the world, and the killing intent was directed toward the sword.
Woosh!
The intent was directed toward the energy, and the two became desire. That desire was hatred.
Then that hatred became an aura that cursed the world.
Loki's consciousness sank into the cries of the dead when they were alive, into the laughter of the miserable when they were happy.
In his childhood, Loki lived through the days of winter isolation, crawling with his small body toward the shadow of a tree, hunger gnawing at his frail body into stillness, and the desire to close his eyes whispering madness into his heart.
Beneath the shade of the white oak tree, his body froze slowly.
He had no one to rely on.
Did the people of his homeland abandon him in the storm on purpose?
Or did they leave him because of their helplessness?
He was left there to die, and he never knew why.
When a person sings of winter and tastes it like a thirsty man, they will not be afraid.
And so the boy ate snow to survive.
Even at the cost of illness that might come from it, he swallowed frozen soil, counting the seconds and minutes—that was the desire to survive.
And so the will to fight against deep loneliness and the emotion of defeat took shape.
That was the hatred of winter.
Loki's expression turned cold before the emotions of his memories.
[ Yes, exactly like that. Direct your hatred toward a fixed goal, like a people whose hearts dwell in winter and sing of it. Remember their stories and light their lines with your sword. Fight, understand, mourn, hate, and then kill! ]
On the edge of the black hill, Hwa Ryong stood, his back straight, his arms raised, the sword pointing toward the sky.
[ Live in the mourning of the world; this is the sword of hatred. ]
The black sword cut toward the sky, and the blue aura was dark.
Bam!
Although the sky was dark, the light of the sword lit up the world as if it were screaming.
A scream of bitterness and refusal—a scream of the sword that refused to fall.
"…!"
Even from behind, Loki felt the oppressive darkness pressing from that sword and that swing.
A heavy, dark desire—a desire carrying a man's grudges toward the world.
[ It is the most magnificent killing sword. ]
Through his sword, Hwa Ryong illuminated the essence of Loki's world.
[ That is why I do not want my homeland's people to learn this sword. It is hateful, destructive, and sorrowful. Its weight on the soul is like the elegy of a self-made prison. Our land will never grow with such a sword. ]
The cold anger faded from Hwa Ryong's face, leaving only a bitter expression—
A tired smile.
[ Sajil, what is the path of our sect? ]
When the path of a group comes to mind, it means walking together toward the same goal.
The speed of each person and the way they arrive differs. The intent and desire to walk the path differs.
Yet the destination is always the same.
The path of the sect is the creed of the people rejected by the world who chose to protect each other—a creed that lights the ways of those who have lost their direction.
When the question came, only the path of their teacher, their sole leader, came to mind.
[ The path of our sect is our teacher's path. Our teacher's path is our path, and that path is a compass pointing toward the same end—and that end is growth. ]
Growth means to develop and understand, to understand and respond, and through your response, to change your world.
[ That's right. Whether it is the sword of sorrow or the spear of hunger, the flame of hatred or the waters of betrayal, the ferocity of the nightmare or the warmth of the dream—whatever one's understanding of their world may be, it always flows forward. That is the path of our people. ]
As Loki sank into the memories of those days, the tea in his hand slowly cooled.
"Sahyung."
Don't worry.
The black sword gleamed with a violet light under the moon, and the palace garden was filled with a calm opposite to the clamor of the day.
"Just as our family chose its own path, our new homeland also has its own path."
And the Winter Sword in his arms was the proof.
[ Sajil, if Leon sings of the Ruin and the ecstasy of endings blade, then Ragna sings of the suffering and struggle flame. Lloyd sings of of the free and harmony spear. Then Ken sings of the certainty and perseverance sword. What is your path? ]
Although the shadows of the dead never stopped screaming, leaving only their hollow bodies moving with the hatred of the world, Loki's heart did not tighten.
[ Winter and Spring. ]
Loki's sword carried the coldest ice of winter. Loki's sword carried the warmest breezes of spring.
That was what his path sang of.
[ I am different. ]
Hwa Ryong was nothing like them.
[ A man like me does not belong on the battlefield, where my sword cuts the breath of enemies. ]
The path of my sword lies among the people.
The world is a cold place, and people cannot rely on anyone.
I want to teach them to rely on themselves.
In my heart is a desire—to leave my mark, for my sword to light their world.
To teach them survival, the cruelty of the world, and its beauty.
To teach them about their own path and the paths of others.
That was Chun Hwa Ryong's place.
[ … It may be strange that I wish to teach future generations, but it is my only desire. I may not know much—but that's fine. I may never succeed—but that's fine. That is what growth means. ]
[ You don't need to worry, Sahyung. I think—no, I'm sure—you'll succeed. ]
[ Do you know what I'll call the sword that guides people toward growth? It is Purity. Just as the Sword of Hatred sings of sorrow, the Sword of Purity will sing of life and embrace it. ]
As the image in Loki's mind of that day began to fade, he could never forget the smiling expression of Hwa Ryong Sahyung.
Swish!
"Sahyung, we are here at last."
The land of our ancestors still exists, and we are still alive.
You never had to worry.
Swish!
The hand holding the sword cut through the air without hesitation.
"Sahyung…"
The tone of sorrow swept the young man's thoughts into nothingness.
And only stillness remained in his expression.
Sahyung—Hwa Ryong Sahyung—what you could not do then, I will carry on my shoulders.
Slash, thrust, block, dance of the sword, Sword of Destruction, Sword of Life.
He had tasted hunger before.
Now, he no longer did—there was food.
But did that mean he had forgotten hunger and thirst? Forgotten the eternal desire to satisfy hunger?
No, he had not forgotten.
That was the essence of killing.
It was understanding the motive and the goal—to live within it and through it.
Was it because he was no longer hungry that he could not understand hunger? No—he understood.
Was it because he was alive that he could not understand the weight of taking another's life?
To kill others is to kill part of yourself.
That was the first lesson understood by the child who grew up in winter.
As the young man lost himself in his swings, the world slowly faded from his eyes—memories of the days of winter isolation, the warmth of blood amidst ruin, and the deep hatred of tragedy.
The sword drew the emotions of the heart, expressing what words never could.
Kwang!
That was when a crimson-black blade appeared before Loki's eyes, and he blocked it instinctively.
"We've been calling you for a while. What are you daydreaming about, idiot?"
The unique voice was annoyed, and his blood-red eyes stared calmly at Loki.
Leon, whose crimson-black blade had emerged strangely from within the bones of his hand, moved back and raised the arm connected to the blade toward Loki.
"Has the gray in your hair reached your brain or what?"
"...."
Remaining silent, Loki raised his sword instead of answering.
"Oh? So brave, hahaha! Let's give you a few strikes—maybe your head will go back in place!"
Swish!
The moment he took the first step, only a hazy afterimage of Leon's form remained.
Loki's eyes moved upward, and in a split second, he made the best decision—
He did not attack, nor did he evade.
He raised his sword upward, one hand gripping the blunt side of the blade.
At the same moment he moved his sword, the red-eyed man struck with force.
Kwaaang!
The sound of colliding metal rang in the ears like grating waves, the splitting air leaving no room to breathe.
"I understand."
From amid the sparks of that enormous strike, Leon's calm expression faced Loki.
"You feel what we've all felt. That's why your sword is sharper than usual. You blame yourself and carry the weight of responsibility alone."
As Leon spoke, he swiftly lifted his left foot—
Bam!
"Ack!"
The strike to Loki's torso sent him flying back, groaning.
Swish!
"Hmph!"
But that brief moment of stillness gave the white-haired man an opening—an icy spike shot toward Leon from behind, nearly piercing his head. Leon dodged it, leaving only a cut on his cheek.
"I will not convince you to change your mindset, and I won't try. But don't you dare ever be arrogant enough to think that what happened is a weight to drag around your neck!"
Space bent like matter, air compressed together, making gravity heavier.
Leon's cold expression was matched only by the darkness of his eyes.
Pointing his blade to the sky, old words echoed in his mind—
"You who sing of winter—don't forget who you face. It is the whole world! No matter how strong you become or how hard you fight, you cannot do everything alone. It is impossible."
Because everyone has flaws.
And because everyone has flaws, they will make mistakes.
Ragna did not interrupt the duel between his brothers; he kept watching them intently.
Dio and Lloyd were carrying the sleeping servants to their beds.
Uncharacteristically, Lucas watched quietly.
Before Loki's dark eyes, Leon walked toward him slowly.
"The world is not a place to live alone."
If you sing of winter and house it in your heart—
"I am the one who sings of nightmares and steals the joy of the living. I am the one who sees the stories of the miserable and paints their endings."
Loki did not remain silent; his sword moved diagonally.
"Leon, I know. I already know that. But why? Why doesn't the pain ever fade?"
"It never will."
"For what reason is blood spilled? For what reason did they die?"
"Even if we knew the reason—it wouldn't matter."
Kwang! Kwang! Kwang!
As the blade and sword clashed, as the eternal madness met the winter, the brothers' words crossed.
"Loki, do you know why the weak suffer?"
"There are countless reasons. And no matter how many, their rights will never be honored."
Leon's crimson-black sword aura played with the air, lifting the dust.
"The most important reason is this—those who claim to be strong cannot live without people beneath them. Without people from whom they can take what they love, they cannot feel. It is their means of escaping the loneliness of isolation."
That is why people cannot live alone.
Even if one wishes to, they will never be left alone.
"You asked me the reason for bloodshed? It is because they fear us. They fear we will become stronger than them. The rules of life are built on the world kings systems, and those kings fear the collapse of the light of their lives."
The sword dance between the brothers swept the air and scattered the dirt, but strangely, nothing was destroyed.
"Leon, do you remember? Hwa Ryong Sahyung always loved building his own sword. I never understood the weight of that love on him, but now… I feel like I understand a little."
"Hwa Ryong Sahyung…"
When Loki spoke his heart, Leon spoke Sahyung's name with a tender tone.
And it wasn't only Leon—
The moment they all heard of the kind and strong elder brother, the wise one who had been their sword and shield, their expressions turned to longing and sorrow.
"I want to grow."
Loki could never speak words more honest than these.
If one cannot smile in the cold of winter, they will have nothing but tears in spring.
Loki had always heard those words; his teacher had always repeated them.
He had never understood what they meant, so he would go to Hwa Ryong—but he would never answer, only smile.
But now, he understood—a little.
Those who laugh despite misery and endure it will never be sad.
Those who cry in misery and fall into it will never laugh.
This was the contradiction of life.
"You are not alone, brother. You are not alone."
As the brothers' bodies filled with scars, their heads collided, and their swords met.
The white of winter clashed with the black of nightmares. The purple of spring clashed with the red of twilight.
This was a sleepless night.