Chapter 78: Source of Light
At the foot of the ruined building, Big Min froze. Her mind clawed to catch up with what her eyes refused to deny.
Seo-jin stood at the doorway, corpses littered around him like cast-off meat. Blood soaked the steps, pooling under his feet.
She opened her mouth to shout to him—then stopped as he stripped his shirt.
Two gaping maws split open across his back. Their shriek rattled her ribs, high and jagged, the sound of something that had never belonged in flesh.
The sight alone had her skin crawling, but what followed twisted her gut. The mouths heaved bile, spat chunks of raw meat, limbs half-formed, organs splattering wet against stone. The stench rolled heavy, stomach acid and rot.
She bit her cheek hard to stay steady as the mess convulsed, pulling into shape. Three demonic husks rose, their forms tearing themselves solid with each twitch.
Before she could breathe, the creatures bolted, charging through the doorway with feral screeches. The stairwell above lit with gunfire and the cries of dying men. Soon it would get worse.
Seo-jin followed behind them at a walk, calm as if he were strolling through a market. His voice carried over the breaking glass and screams.
"Hurry. You won't want to miss this."
Big Min's lips pulled back from her teeth. Her chest hammered like a drumline as she stepped forward, the heat of battle-lust washing over her. The bastard knew exactly how to stir her blood. The stink of carnage already dripped from him, and it thrilled her more than she'd admit.
Seo-jin felt her stare burning into his back and grinned.
'She'll watch. She won't be able to stop herself.'
[Warning: human corruption highly probable. Elevated state indicates extreme violence.]
'Good. I'd be disappointed otherwise.'
[-1SM]
[Hellfire // Active]
[+10% Damage]
Black fire crawled like creeping frost from his chest, licking across his arms, hungry and cold. He flexed his hands, Butcher's Wrath would sit this one out. Something in him demanded bare flesh, bone and knuckle grinding through bodies. Maybe it was Min's hunger bleeding into him. Maybe it was his own.
The moment his foot hit the first step, his Soul Sense flared. Something unnatural, a radiance unlike anything he'd felt before, pressed down from above. His vision stuttered as a panel ripped open across his sight.
[System // Notification]
[New Quest Available // Snuff Out the Light]
[Clear Conditions // Kill and Consume the Source of Light]
[Quest Rewards // +10% Soul Integrity]
[Accept]
[Yes/No]
'Source of Light?'
[A being from the Realm of Light.]
He stopped cold.
"Wait…you mean an angel? You're serious?"
Before the system answered, Min barked a laugh behind him.
"So that's it. One of those glow-worm freaks sent 'em. Figures. I was wondering what gave these pussies a spine."
She drove her boot into the skull of one of the corpses he'd dropped, bone crunching flat against the dock planks.
"You know 'em?"
"Yeah. Children of Light."
The name cracked open a flood of Seo-jin's stolen memories. A cult. Not a gang in the true sense. No rackets, no territory, no product to move. Their only trade was bodies. Recruitment. Preaching salvation through faith, branding the desperate and weak with their gospel.
Faith-mongers. Zealots. The kind that wouldn't stop until every throat was slit or converted.
Seo-jin dragged a hand along the wall as he climbed, mind chewing on the scraps of memory.
'Gods…huh.'
The Children of Light didn't just worship faith, they bent the knee to a god from the Realm of Light itself. One of the five realms that tore into Earth during the Convergence. Another problem, more questions.
"Ever seen one?"
Min's voice cut in, pulling him out of thought.
"An angel? No. You?"
"Yeah. Ugly fuckers."
She wasn't talking about gold-haired men with feathery wings. The things she'd seen were nothing like scripture promised. Rings of eyes stacked in spirals. Wings layered by the hundred, twitching, shifting, bending space around them. Some too massive to measure, others too warped to describe. Humans who glimpsed them back during the first bleedthroughs usually ended up babbling, drooling, clawing out their eyes before the week was done.
"Doesn't sound like you're fond of them."
Min snorted.
"Why the fuck would I be? People like to forget—they invaded too. Don't give a shit how they dress it up. Nothing comes free."
The second floor stretched out silent, not a body in sight. No guards. Just emptiness. Both of them felt cheated.
But his Soul Sense didn't. The itch was gone. It burned now, searing through bone. Whatever sat above was causing his killing intent to itch more than anything he'd brushed against before.
"So you think they've got another motive?"
Min's jaw twitched.
"If you think they dropped in just to play savior, you're fucking retarded. They've got all that power—even a god to back 'em—and they didn't do shit when the world went to hell. They waited. They're still waiting. Makes it clear enough they want something."
His stolen memories filled in the cracks. She was right. Light had bled into Earth same as Fae, Hell, Abyss, and Beast. But unlike the others, they hadn't fought. No wars. No slaughter. Just watchers on their towers of radiance while humanity drowned. Only after Users started to crawl from the rubble did Light even move.
And even then, their reach stayed locked to King-ruled territories. In the Freelands, Light's presence was a fucking cult sermon and nothing more. Their dungeons were hollow, no monsters, no loot, only words burned into walls.
It was new to him, and it thrilled him.
'So there really are gods out there?'
[Unconfirmed. Based on available evidence, probability is high.]
Seo-jin's host memories offered little, either ignorance or disinterest, but another detail rose sharp as a knife as they stepped onto the third floor. Each realm carried gods: Light, Fae, Beast, Abyss.
All but Hell.
No demon god. No divine throne. Only the Six Demon Lords, carved from spite and hunger, ruling over endless carnage. The tablet had confirmed as much. Hell was godless. It always had been.
He was about to press Min with another question when they both saw it, movement ahead. Five men huddled at the base of the next stairwell. One knelt over the others, palms glowing white as he tried to knit them back together.
Min clicked her tongue, unimpressed.
"Tch. They're half-dead already. Not worth—"
She cut herself off. Seo-jin was gone. Her eyes snapped to the group again, finding him already inside them. She grinned wide, teeth bared.
"Greedy fucker."
He struck first. His fist punched straight through the healer's skull, spraying meat and light across the wall. Another man took a boot to the chest, ribs collapsing. A jawbone crumpled like wet clay under a backhand. The last survivor tried to crawl, heels scraping on bloody tile, but Min's boot dropped before he could turn.
Crunch.
"Die, you cockroach!"
She stomped again. And again. The head collapsed into paste, blood and teeth spraying up her legs, speckling her cheeks. Her eyes glowed in the red haze as she ground what was left into the floorboards.
It stirred something black inside him. Violent, ugly, eager. Watching this woman revel in the ruin of a broken man was an image that clawed into his chest and held. His first hard-on.
[System // Notification]
[Human (Big Min) // Corruption Afflicted]
[Madness State Active]
Her pupils blown wide, chest heaving, she was gone—drowned in the hunger.
"Think he's dead—"
Whoosh!
Her fist tore past his face, close enough to feel the wind on his cheek.
"Who gives a fuck!"
She bellowed, stomping again.
He slid back, not even angry, just amused. She'd chase him, rage gnawing her bones, and that suited him fine. He turned and took the stairs two at a time.
[Warning: caution required. Angels wield Light—the natural bane of Demons.]
He ignored the system. He already knew. He didn't care. The warning only sharpened his grin.
Because more than fear, more than reason, one thought kept digging into him.
'How much will it hurt?'
He needed to know.
----
Gregor had seen plenty of slaughter, but this...this was different.
Pain was a monster let off its chain. His frame swelled, fissures running fire through his skin, each step cracking the ground. When he slammed into the Children's barricade, stone and steel burst like glass under a hammer, the cultists behind it screaming as they burned.
Panic moved the opposite way. Silent, darting in shadows, he struck like a viper. One moment gone, the next inside their lines, claws opening throats, teeth chewing soft tissue, entrails spilling across the floor. He didn't stop to finish kills, just left torn meat behind, already hunting the next weak spot.
But it was Snare that made Gregor sweat. The other two were predictable, brutal, rabid, easy to read. Snare wasn't. His staff hummed with something old, his eyes too sharp, too deliberate. Weakest body, maybe. But the way he watched, the way he chose...Gregor's instincts kept howling. That one was the problem.
Through all of it, one cultist stood still. A young man, robes half-burnt, blood dripping down his cheek, but his face…calm. Detached. Like none of this mattered. He never raised a hand. Just watched.
Then Snare saw him.
Their eyes met. Snare's scream cut the battle in half, raw and animal. He dropped his staff, hands clutching his skull, blood running between his fingers as if his eyes were tearing themselves out.
And then the voice came.
It wasn't human. It wasn't one. Male and female, high and low, all layered at once. It crushed the air flat, even the flames seemed to shrink under it.
"You dare look upon me, ashling filth."
The battlefield froze. Even the cultists stopped breathing.
But another voice answered. Cold. Certain.
"He can look wherever he wants. If that's a problem, you can address it with me."
Gregor turned.
The Broodfather had come.
And the Brood stirred.