Chapter Text
Geom Mugeuk realized that he had closed his eyes again. This time, it felt as though he was truly about to lose consciousness—as though his bond to the world was slipping away for good.
He forced himself to hold onto that thread one last time.
When he could no longer hear his father’s voice, frustration consumed him.
I don’t want to die.
Father…
What will happen to Father?
He didn’t want to make his father afraid.
He had to wake up.
He had to survive—for his father’s sake.
Please, I want to return to Father.
I’m fine.
Geom Mugeuk felt as though he were floating—drifting into drowsiness, as if he were about to enter a dream.
I’m fine.
Please, Heaven.
For me, just once more.
As if The Heaven had heard, his breath steadied slightly at one point, as if whispering to him, “Say what you wish to say. We cannot hold you much longer.”
A ringing filled his ears, and Geom Mugeuk began to awaken with the last fragments of his strength.
***
The Demon Doctor was tending to the wounded, rushing from one patient to another, moving with practiced skill alongside his assistants.
When the emergency broke out and attacks came from every direction, he had trusted that the Sect Leader, the Young Sect Leader, and the Demon Supremes could handle the battle. His duty was to care for everyone else—to make sure the cult’s defenses would not collapse, to save as many lives as possible.
Most of the incoming patients suffered minor injuries, some severe but not life-threatening. Every infirmary in the Cult was in chaos from the aftermath.
While the Sect Leader and the Demon Supremes slaughtered their enemies, the Demon Doctor fought his own battle—saving the dying.
He was in the middle of preparing medicine when a sharp wave of qi struck his body.
It came from afar, hitting him so hard that his breath nearly stopped.
He recognized that qi instantly.
It belonged to the Sect Leader.
Not only The Demon Doctor but everyone around felt it: nurses, patients, even those passing by froze in terror. Some staggered and fell as the suffocating darkness of that qi washed over them, like the shadow of an eclipse swallowing the sun.
And like an eclipse growing darker by the second, the closer Geom Woojin ran toward them, the more painful that qi became.
Instinctively, the Demon Doctor grabbed his satchel and rushed out, chasing the source of that turbulent energy.
The Sect Leader’s qi—restless, furious, shattered—could mean only one thing.
The Young Sect Leader!
His heart leapt with dread.
He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, stumbling through debris and ruins.
The closer he got, the stronger the pressure of Geom Woojin’s qi became—pressing, suffocating, desperate.
Through a narrow forest path, he saw Geom Woojin running toward him—so fast it almost looked inhuman—carrying someone in his arms.
“No…”
The Demon Doctor’s heart sank.
“Young Sect Leader!” he shouted instinctively, sprinting toward Geom Woojin, almost slipping under the crushing weight of that destructive qi.
They met—
and the Demon Doctor froze.
He had never seen the Sect Leader like this before.
“My son…!” Geom Woojin’s arms trembled as he held the boy tighter. His voice broke. “Please, save him!”
The Demon Doctor immediately laid Geom Mugeuk down on the ground, forcing himself to ignore the terror clawing at him under the oppressive energy.
When Geom Woojin placed his son down and saw the boy’s closed eyes, it felt as if his own heart had been pierced.
He brushed his trembling hand over his son’s bloodstained face, unaware of his own ragged breathing as he did so.
The Demon Doctor didn’t waste a second—he was already examining the Geom Mugeuk's condition.
What he saw was a blood-soaked ruin of a body.
Geom Mugeuk looked as if he had bathed in a river of blood—his hair, face, and limbs drenched crimson. Traces of blood streamed from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
Anyone else would have turned away. The wounds were too gruesome, too unbearable to look at.
But it was Geom Mugeuk—the cherished face of the Cult—that made it all the more heartbreaking.
The Sect Leader would never allow him to die. Not like this.
Yet his condition was even worse than it appeared. His ribs were shattered in multiple places. His blood vessels were torn beyond reason. What shocked the Demon Doctor most was his internal organs—nearly all of them had been pierced from every direction.
Young Sect Leader… how have you survived this long?
His heart…
Anyone else would have died the moment their heart was pierced.
The Demon Doctor had a selfish thought, to let Geom Mugeuk go, to spare him from further pain.
How much agony had he endured to cling to life like this?
Wouldn’t death be kinder?
It was clear that the only thing keeping him alive was sheer will—and Heaven’s mercy.
The Demon Doctor’s heart ached imagining the torment Geom Mugeuk must have gone through.
He was just a child.
Even if they saved him, would he not be left broken, crippled?
Would the trauma ever fade?
...
No.
What was he thinking?
'What could possibly be healed from this'?
Foolish.
He would heal him—completely.
At that moment, the Demon Doctor faced what might be the greatest regret of his life.
Even now, Geom Woojin’s qi was pouring endlessly into his son’s body, desperately trying to mend what could no longer be mended. The Demon Doctor worked feverishly beside him, doing everything within his power.
If Geom Mugeuk died under his care, the wound it left would last forever.
He would never forgive himself.
Not after what Geom Mugeuk had done for him.
Not after what the he had done for the Cult.
Moments passed in frantic silence as Demon Doctor trying to cure Geom Mugeuk—until at last:
“Urgh…”
At that faint sound, Geom Mugeuk’s eyes fluttered open.
Geom Woojin, who had been staring at his son’s wounds, snapped his gaze upward, his breath caught.
“Mugeuk…” he whispered.
Geom Mugeuk didn’t respond—only looked back at him in silence.
Geom Woojin brushed the hair from his son’s face.
He had been too afraid to look before, but now he forced himself to.
He wanted to see those bright eyes again, that radiant smile, even just once more.
Had Geom Woojin ever felt fear like this before?
Never. Never had he imagined he could be so terrified.
He pulled his son into his arms.
“Stay with me, Mugeuk,” he said hoarsely. “Just like this. Stay awake.”
A faint whisper escaped Geom Mugeuk’s lips.
“...Fa…ther?”
He looked confused—staring at his father’s face.
Geom Woojin cupped both his cheeks, wiping away the blood. “Stay awake,” he murmured again. “You’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be fine,” he repeated, so softly that only Geom Mugeuk could hear.
Geom Mugeuk’s hand moved, weakly gripping his father’s wrist—trying to calm the tremor, the absolute fear he could feel in Geom Woojin’s touch.
What should I say to ease that lonely soul? he thought.
Then he remembered—this man before him, the one whose face was now filled with anguish, was his father.
His father who always listened patiently to his rambling.
His father who quietly watched over all his children.
Now he understood—his father would listen to anything he said.
He didn’t need to worry.
So he spoke,
as he always did.
“Father...”
“Keep talking.” Geom Woojin’s voice was a command—only to keep Geom Mugeuk awake.
“I like you.”
His father’s eyes widened in shock.
‘I’m not joking. I’m not flattering you either.’
Those words were left unspoken.
“I really like you, Father.”
At that moment, Geom Mugeuk could feel his father’s breathing grow erratic.
Then he felt his father patting his face, trying desperately to keep him conscious.
“Mugeuk, don’t close your eyes,” he urged. “Don’t fall asleep again.”
Oh.
Had he closed his eyes again?
He tried to push away the fog of darkness and force them open.
“Talk to me,” Geom Woojin said, voice strained. "Say something, anything."
Geom Mugeuk wanted to make a joke—anything to ease his father’s panic. He wanted to lighten the mood, truly he did.
But his heart ached when he saw his father’s face.
“Why...” His voice faltered, grief flickering in his chest. “I don’t know why... but I missed you, Father...”
He wondered why speaking alone took so much effort. But he wouldn’t complain—his father needed him. He would do his best.
Geom Woojin fell silent.
Seeing his father at a loss for words, Geom Mugeuk selfishly hope his father wouldn’t get so angry.
“I’m srry...”
With great effort, Geom Mugeuk forced his hand to move and touch his father’s cheek. Forgive this insolence, Father.
He wanted to smooth the lines from his father’s forehead, to calm and soften the expression of the old man he loved most.
But when he saw his own hand smear blood across his father’s face, Geom Mugeuk let out a faint sound deep in his throat. He tried to pull his arm back, but Geom Woojin immediately stopped him.
Geom Woojin clasped his son’s hand tightly in his own.
Only then did Geom Mugeuk realize how small his hand was compared to his father’s. In that moment, he found himself laughing softly.
“Warm... your hand is warm, Father.” He smiled brightly as he said it.
Geom Woojin couldn’t speak. He was struck dumb.
It wasn’t his hand that was warm—it was his son’s body that was turning cold.
He can only gripped that hand tighter.
At that moment, the Demon Doctor was frantically working to heal Geom Mugeuk.
Geom Mugeuk could feel how much inner energy the Demon Doctor was pouring into him, and suddenly, he regretted it.
Because deep down, Geom Mugeuk knew—
he wouldn’t last much longer.
He shifted in his father’s arms, burying himself in Geom Woojin’s warmth.
As his face pressed against his father’s robes, he thought, 'The weather’s so cold.'
Strangely, he felt like shivering under the sun.
At least his father’s clothes were soft, and his father’s body was comfortably very warm.
Above him, Geom Woojin and the Demon Doctor locked eyes.
The Demon Doctor’s face was filled with terror, his eyes wide and frantic, his hands moving even faster—but this time, his motions were clumsy, desperate. Geom Woojin didn’t have time to ask what was happening before Geom Mugeuk startled in his embrace and let out a muffled cough.
“Ukh...”
Geom Woojin instantly felt warmth of blood spreading across his robes.
“Mugeuk!”
He immediately cupped his son’s face, and Geom Mugeuk blinked up at him in a daze.
His eyes were unfocused.
His head throbbed violently; the world spun.
“What’s happening?!” he heard his father shout. “Mugeuk, stay with me!”
Geom Mugeuk tried to swallow the blood pooling in his throat but choked and coughed instead. His body convulsed, and his father tried to steady him.
He felt warm blood trickle from his nose.
When he tried to breathe through his mouth, he only vomited fresh blood.
His father look at him like he saw a ghost.
Ah... he must look terrible right now.
And in that moment, Geom Mugeuk gazed sleepily at his father, hardly blinking. Sounds reached him as if from underwater, distant and muffled.
He could vaguely hear the Demon Doctor speaking, his father shouting in anger.
Just a little longer...
His breath came in ragged gasps, choking.
When his vision blurred and his father’s features faded into shadow, Geom Mugeuk panicked, blindly reaching, looking for his father’s hand.
“F-Father...” he whispered.
Geom Woojin caught his hand immediately. “I’m here,” he said. “I’m here!”
Only after feeling his father’s presence did Geom Mugeuk feel at peace.
However, his body truly wouldn’t last much longer.
Geom Mugeuk gripped his father’s hand, trying to swallowing his screams of pain.
He ended up biting his own tongue, pressing his palm against his mouth, refusing to make a sound that might worry his father further.
“Don’t do anything foolish!” Geom Woojin snapped.
“Open your mouth!”
When Geom Mugeuk didn’t obey, Geom Woojin pulled him into a rough embrace. “I’m fine, don’t do this!”
“Mugeuk!”
Geom Mugeuk was too dazed to understand.
“Don’t be like this, dont hurt yourself again.”
Geom Woojin pried his son’s hand away. And Geom Mugeuk immediately coughed up more blood.
His ears rang, his vision spun. He could finally feel the full weight of every wound he’d taken.
Pain. His entire body ached beyond saving.
He struggled to breathe.
“Aahh... ukh—huu... fa... ther...” he whimpered. “Hurts.”
He sobbed. “It hurts, father.”
“Hold on!” Geom Woojin shouted. “Mugeuk!” he yelled again, as if scolding him.
Mugeuk tried to cover his mouth again, but his father stopped his hand.
He ended up screaming, sobbing violently.
The pain from his wounds—all of it—he felt it fully in his consciousness. He cried with everything he had left.
Pain, and the sorrow of being helpless, of letting his father witness him like this.
“It hurts... Father.”
He wept bitterly.
Once again, Geom Mugeuk was pulled into his father’s desperate arms.
“You’ll be fine,” Geom Woojin whispered into his ear. “You’ll be arlight, Mugeuk.”
Though blinded by the haze of pain, he could still hear his father murmuring comfort over and over, every time he screamed.
Geom Woojin’s hand never stopped brushing through his son’s hair.
“You’ll survive,” whispered Geom Woojin.
That was all he could do. His words were less a comfort than a prayer.
His son tried to endure, but the cries kept escaping.
Those screams—filled with unbearable agony—were the worst Geom Woojin had ever heard.
Why did his son have to go through this?
Every time his son whimpered, his heart shattered a little more.
If he could, Geom Woojin would have taken all that pain into himself.
It felt like a fog had covered his sight. “Mugeuk, my son, you're gonna be alright.”
His son gasped against his shoulder, crying harder as the pain tore through his body.
"Listen to me."
Geom Mugeuk had always had a high tolerance for pain, but this time it was too much—he couldn’t stop screaming.
"Please. You're gonna be alright."
At some point, the pain grew so great he couldn’t even scream anymore.
In those moments, Geom Woojin only held him tighter, stroking his head, trying to ease the suffering.
“Don’t give up.”
Geom Mugeuk heard his father’s voice more clearly than his own screams.
There was a tremor in that voice—fear, and a fury barely restrained.
Even Geom Woojin was struggling to control his own qi. His emotions surged so violently it felt as if he might lose himself at any moment.
Normally, his father was the hardest person to understand.
But now, he was completely seen before him.
At that moment, Geom Mugeuk decided he couldn’t endure any longer—not after seeing the emotions weighing on his father’s face.
Finally, he surrendered to the pain.
He steadied his breath, just for a moment, and pushed his father’s chest gently so he could see his face once more.
“Father...” his voice broke, gentle but clear enough to draw his father back from panic.
As his cries faded and his breath evened, Geom Woojin froze, gazing at his son—relief barely touching his face before dread replaced it.
He saw it, everything, written in his son’s expression. “No...”
Geom Mugeuk quickly soothed him. “It’s alright, Father...”
In that instant between father and son, time itself seemed to stop. The world around them fell silent.
Knowing he had his father’s full attention, Geom Mugeuk spoke softly,
“’m sorry...” he whispered, trying to keep his breath even. “Don’t... b’ angry because of me.”
Geom Woojin knew exactly what those words meant.
“Please...”
Don’t start a war for my sake.
And at that moment, Geom Mugeuk no longer saw his father.
What he saw was a dark silhouette cloaked in blazing red qi.
The qi that had been held back for so long finally erupted.
It was a declaration of absolute war.
“Stay alive,” Geom Woojin’s voice rasped, rough as if rising from the deepest pit of hell.
It meant he would not start a war if Geom Mugeuk survived.
A good bargain—one that favored him greatly.
But Geom Mugeuk could only smile faintly.
This time, he couldn’t stop his father’s wrath.
Seeing that fragile smile, Geom Woojin’s anger deepened.
Because he knew—his son had anticipated him. As if that final request was too heavy to bear, as if he had already chosen to yield.
'It’s alright if that’s the only comfort left for Father.'
That was what his son’s expression said.
He looked once more toward his father’s blurred silhouette, feeling that warmth one last time.
And with a clear call, he knew—his time was up.
Geom Mugeuk paused, painting his father’s face in his memory, then said for the last time,
“I love you, Father.”
He smiled so brightly. It was a beautiful smile.
He could never hate his father, no matter what came after.
Those words were meant to free his father from guilt, even if war followed.
It was all right. That was simply his father’s nature.
Mugeuk knew that asking him to restrain it all would only be cruel—it would destroy him from within.
So, it was all right.
After all, Geom Mugeuk would always love his father.
With the last of his strength, he squeezed his father’s hand—to assure him of his sincerity—before his fingers loosened, and fell still.
And with that, his heavy eyes closed.
The smile on his face slowly faded.
Geom Woojin looked at his son.
Geom Mugeuk exhaled a small breath.
He did not take another.
Blood was warm, but his body already cold.
No.
“Mugeuk?”
Geom Woojin shook him.
When there was no response, panic filled his breathing.
He shook his son harder—too hard—as if death could be shaken away.
“Wake up...” his voice cracked, barely a whisper.
“Wake up!!”
No answer.
The fingers that usually pressed steadily for a pulse now trembled.
No beat. No life. Nothing answered his despair.
“No.”
Geom Woojin cradled his son’s head, pulling him to his chest.
“No, no, no, no...”
He didn’t cry. He never cried.
But his jaw clenched so tight his teeth rang.
“You... foolish child...” he muttered, his low voice full of rage—at the world that his son had fought for, which had now taken him away.
Amid his panic, Geom Woojin tried to calm himself.
“Stay,” he whispered through broken breath, answering Geom Mugeuk’s last call. "Don't do this."
He clutched Geom Mugeuk desperately.
“Mugeuk,” he called.
Mugeuk’s blood soaked through all his clothes, staining his body, but he didn’t answer. Geom Woojin’s breath came rough and unsteady, his hands trembling as they held him up.
The blood smeared on Mugeuk’s face stuck to his palm—warm, yet the body already cold. He stared at the crimson on his hand, as if blaming it.
His blurred vision shifted from the blood to his son’s lifeless face. His ears rang violently.
He could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart.
“Answer me!!” he shouted, almost cursing.
His chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, as if he were suffocating.
The Demon Doctor stood frozen, realizing what had happened. He looked down at his blood-stained trembling hands. His breath faltered, dizzy, as if he might faint any second.
His disciple rushed through the storm of qi, dragging him away, yet the Demon Doctor’s eyes never left Geom Mugeuk’s still form.
Disbelief filled his chest. It all felt like a dream, unreal.
Geom Mugeuk was dead.
A man’s voice rose behind Geom Woojin. “No...”
Followed by hysterical, broken laughter. “Ah... Ahahah... Ahahahahahaha!”
The Demon Doctor turned his gaze towards that person.
He could not help but be startled—Soma, in that dying state of his own body, was still standing.
With just one look, the Demon Doctor knew,
Soma was already dead once.
Looking at the Evil Smiling Demon and Geom Mugeuk, it was clear—what they had faced was no battle, no war.
It was hell itself.
They already killed Evil Smiling Demon once.
What kind of monsters they were fighting?
How did Soma come back from the dead?
“Why...” Soma gasped. “You promised!!”
He coughed, collapsing to his knees. Fresh blood seeped from beneath his mask, staining the ground.
One by one, other martial artists, Demon Supremes, appeared, surrounding them. Some crouched in trees, others on rooftops, all bearing witness. Their faces hardened as realization struck.
“What are you doing?! Bring him back!!”
In the silence of Geom Woojin’s grief, it was Soma who screamed.
“Bring him back—no matter what!!!” he shouted, staggering toward Geom Woojin and the body of Geom Mugeuk.
After a struggle, he reached him.
The grief in his eyes was absolute. Soma’s breath trembled.
He stretched out his shaking hand, placing it over Geom Mugeuk’s chest.
“Haha...”
No heartbeat.
“Young Sect Leader...”
Then everyone could see it—the madness of Evil Smiling Demon, and why his name brought terror.
It wasn’t the mask that made him terrifying.
It was that smile.
Soma laughed like a madman—a sound long and chilling, sending fear into all who heard it.
When the laughter stopped, he turned his crazed eyes toward Geom Woojin, seeking approval.
The shadowed figure of Geom Woojin, his eyes glowing red, faced Soma, who could see nothing but a blood-soaked haze he had long awaited.
Geom Woojin’s chaotic qi tore at Soma’s body relentlessly.
But what is rage against madness?
It didn’t take long for Soma to find what he sought.
He spoke clearly, his body was disarray—his mind still at war.
“I promise,” came his voice, madness gleaming behind his half-shattered mask.
“Even in death...”
The sound of clashing blades and dying screams echoed in his mind.
"PALACE OF DARKNESS WILL NEVER FIND PEACE!!!"