791.
Park Seongjin suddenly felt as if he had done everything he needed to do. It felt as though he was finally putting down something he had long delayed. He remained still for a long time, not moving. He didn't even think to catch his breath. The thought of taking a breath never crossed his mind. He simply stood there. In that moment, he suddenly understood. There was no reason. No logic. But it was so clear that it couldn't be denied. I was a warrior in my past life, too. That thought wasn't surprising. He had known it for a long time, but now it felt like he was finally bringing it to the surface. It had been shown to him. Not once, but several times. The terrifying smell of a burning battlefield brushed past him—blood, dirt, burnt wood, and wet cloth. Hunger came to mind first. Hunger was scarier than the sword during those times. Faces that disappeared before he could even call their names, people crumbling before his eyes. He fought. To survive, to protect, because it was ordered, because it was his duty. But at some point, the reason started to blur. After winning, there was always a greater emptiness left. The stronger he became, the more he killed. The quicker it ended, the more was shattered. Now, he realized how cruel the repetition was—raising the sword again, carrying that weight. That was when it had started. It wasn't strength he wanted anymore, but an end to it all. A world where he didn't have to lay anyone down. That was why he might have become a warrior in this life as well. He had committed such acts of killing, so he found himself back in a battlefield. But it was different this time. This time, he didn't fight to win. He didn't strike to prove himself. He didn't live to leave a legacy. The sword was still in his hand, but his heart had already parted from the sword. That's why he had come to respect life. That's why it was hard to destroy nature. That's why excessive desire made him uncomfortable. That's why compassion came first. Simplicity was not a virtue but exhaustion. Humility wasn't a lesson but an old wound. Compassion was not a choice but a memory. He had fought for too long. And that's why, in this life, he wanted to end it. Seeking a greater peace through force was not a contradiction but atonement. This time, he wanted to open a path with the sword and then lay it down on that path. And now, having come to this point, he finally understood. The old task was finally over. Something deep in his heart loosened. It felt as if a long-forgotten knot that had been tied hundreds of times and never loosened over dozens of past lives was finally being undone. He didn't need to fight anymore. He didn't need to prove himself anymore. He didn't need to move forward anymore. Now, he could simply live. Park Seongjin quietly closed his eyes. The shadows of countless battlefields inside him slowly turned to earth. And one very old will finally rested.