Kang Jun felt it… and smiled.
"This can't affect me. Even without the mantra… Why?" he asked himself, though the answer had already begun to stir within him.
As Kang Jun stood still, struggling to make sense of his thoughts, the insects began to swarm—dozens, then hundreds, crawling like waves of darkness across the walls. They sensed a threat. They leapt, slashed with claws, tore into flesh more viciously than before. Yet most of their strikes failed to land. The defenders held their ground.
When Kang Jun came to his senses, dozens of bugs were already attacking his team. Yet none touched him—for they had been ordered not to by Trent.
At that very moment, the mind-controlling bugs received a command. Dozens of them, previously hidden among rocks or behind their kin, began crawling toward one specific point—closer to Kang Jun.
That strange, silent figure stood amidst the battlefield like a shadow of death itself—calm, unshaken, evoking dread even in those who lacked emotion. The insects paused only for a breath, then, as if obeying an unseen mind, unleashed their spiritual tendrils toward Kang Jun. Not one. Not two. Dozens. Like a pack of predators ripping toward a single heart, they attacked his consciousness, trying to breach it, to tear the soul apart, to break his will.
But they failed.
Their energy—gray, rotting, a force that breaks the minds of ordinary men—was for him… like mine water pouring into a bottomless stone basin. It did not pierce him—it became a part of him. Absorbed, like dead dew into a black desert. His eyes trembled—not from pain, but from a dull echo deep within, the sensation of something ancient and dark awakening inside him. Something that was never meant to exist.
The power swelled. Heavier, denser, hotter with every second. And then—an eruption. A chain of mental seals shattered like glass struck by a hammer of thunder. His body trembled, not from fatigue—but from surplus. A cascade of black fire surged into his consciousness, blending with the shards of his humanity. From the depths of his soul, from the unknowable dark, truth emerged: The Body of the Demonic God.
And when one of the insects broke through to the second line, reaching Kang Jun and the old man, the boy didn't dodge. He stood at the heart of chaos like an ancient god awakened after millennia of slumber. Every attack, every drop of energy—only made him stronger.
His vision changed.
Everything became different. Every motion—of enemies, allies, even the wind—left behind pale-gray trails of shimmering energy. He saw them, like veins in a leaf, like threads that bound the world.
"What is this?... A new, unknown energy," he realized. "I can see it. And… can I control it?"
His hand instinctively reached out to one of the threads—residual energy from the bug's attack, where it struck the knight's shield. That energy hadn't yet dispersed. And he touched it—with a wordless command, a thought without sound.
It obeyed.
Like a servant, the gray energy pulsed, shifted the frozen pool of power lingering in the air, reshaping it into a crescent form. And when the bug that had been thrown back attacked again, its head exploded—ripped from within. A split like a burst stomach sprayed black slime everywhere.
What truly happened was this: Kang Jun had assigned a form, but the energy was scattered. Only when he gave the command did it unify, solidify—and the bug, whose head was poorly shielded, lost it instantly. The energy—previously scattered like particles—vanished after the strike. It could not be reused.
Kang Jun felt his flesh… change. Pulsing beneath his skin. The shadows under his eyes deepened. His veins glowed with a faint crimson light. The Body of the Demonic God was awakening—ancient, vengeful, unending.
He moved differently now. Each strike of his blade wasn't just a slash—it was guided energy, drawn from enemy attacks or even from the wind torn by archers' arrows.
Kang Jun realized that all energy within a ten-meter radius was under his control. He began to act more efficiently, more aggressively. He saw how much power surrounded him—generated by every person on the walls, every insect on the field.
Just then, a bug lunged at him—its claw slicing the air, leaving a trail. Kang Jun caught it, along with ambient energy around it, and shaped it into a spear that pierced the creature clean through.
Another insect fell before it even reached him. Dozens of spears—crystallized energy frozen in midair—turned it into a sieve.
The knights and soldiers nearby couldn't believe their eyes. They saw only… enemies dropping like puppets whose strings had been cut… and Kang Jun standing in the center, like a living embodiment of divine retribution descended with the night.
"I've inherited this power, Father…" he murmured to himself. "And I'm only beginning to grasp what I can become…"
His eyes blazed as if fire burst forth from a hell-forged furnace. In that moment, the world held its breath. Blood, screams, the burning ash of battle faded from his mind—only one thing remained: darkness. It coiled around his soul like an ancient seal, woven from curses, pain, and millennia-old chains. But even it… trembled.
That darkness, which had haunted his mind his entire life—whispering fear, doubt, shadow—suddenly recoiled. Like a predator losing its prey, it froze, watching something new awaken in his heart. And then—it broke. Not with a shriek or crash, but a deep, dull crack, like the breaking of an age-locked seal. The knot that weighed on his soul snapped. The curse that bound his essence scattered like dust on the wind.
The echo of power rippled through his body. His spine straightened. His face glowed with unnatural light. In his veins flowed not blood—but something deeper, primal, alien… mighty. This wasn't just untapped potential. It was an awakening. A curse turned blessing. Shackles reforged into a blade.
Only fifteen minutes had passed since the battle began—but for Kang Jun, they were more than moments. They were an awakening—not of body, not of strength, but of something deeper… something that had slept in his soul. Now he could see. Now he could feel. The world opened to him anew.
The energy around him boiled, surged, vanished. It had no form—flowing like water, dissolving like smoke. The particles of this unknown force lived only a second before fading. But Jun noticed one thing: if he didn't catch them—didn't command them—they were lost. He had to fight not only his enemies, but the very nature of the new power.
But the hardest part was something else. The particles, scattered far apart, returned to him slowly—reluctantly, like disobedient servants. This was no mere fight. This was training… purification… self-discovery—at the very heart of chaos.
The next fifteen minutes became a blood-soaked ritual. Not battle—initiation.
When dozens of insect-beasts reached Trent's squad, even the most hardened warriors froze. Thunderous wings, hissing, slime, fury—they were drowning in a living abyss. Some clenched their teeth. Some cursed fate. But all prepared to die.
And then… a miracle happened.
Amidst the chaos, Kang Jun moved. His gaze flared like the eyes of an ancient deity. Without a motion, without a word, death began to fall from the air. Bugs were dying mid-flight, split apart as though their insides collapsed under pressure. Blood, mucus, shattered shells—erupted in fountains. The air became a slaughterhouse, where bodies dropped before arrows could reach them.
Trent stood frozen. His warrior's instinct kept his body moving—but his mind couldn't comprehend what he saw. He had never witnessed such power—not physical, not technical, but pure, merciless, invisible. It was magic… but of another kind. Something ancient. Primeval.
The battlefield churned around them. The insects' attacks, their deaths—created waves of energy. And Kang Jun reached for them, devoured them, reforged them. To him, it was a feast. The monsters looked like pitiful puppets made of rotted cloth—and he tore them apart like a wrathful god, with effortless grace and icy precision, knowing: he stood above them.
The first observers didn't understand what was happening in that sector. But when swarms of insects began targeting Trent's team, and bodies fell before any contact was made—alarm rippled through the ranks.
From towers and platforms, from high balconies, archers held their breath. Their arrows flew—but rarely struck, for the enemies were already torn to pieces midair. Something—or someone—was annihilating the beasts on the wall.
And at the center of it all—Kang Jun.
The final fifteen minutes of the battle passed for Kang Jun in an instant. He felt no fatigue. His body was as fresh as when he'd first stepped onto the field. Because it was no longer his body that fought.
It was something else.
Meanwhile, his team stood drenched in sweat and blood. Faces pale. Eyes hollow. The battle was hell. Though Jun slaughtered dozens, it wasn't enough. The enemy was too vast.
Trent—whose sword had never trembled—now stood in a river of yellow slime, bones, and eviscerated corpses. His armor dripped, mixing enemy blood with his own exhaustion. Yet even in this state… he saw the world changing—and at the epicenter of it, his comrade in arms.