Chapter 52: The Man Cloaked in Black
In a hidden realm, far beyond the known constellations and at an edge known only as the Outverse—the vast, empty space where existence meets non-existence—a being cloaked entirely in swirling black energy stood before a towering, obsidian gate. This gate was a viewport, a window into countless realities.
He stared through the shimmering veil of the gate, focusing on a specific reality: a cramped dorm room where a guy with ashen white hair and deep black eyes was smiling. That smile wasn't one of happiness or relief. It was a predator's grin, sharp and lethal, filled with undeniable killing intent.
The Man Cloaked in Black (MCIB) was smiling too, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips. He had expected Lucian to be a failure—a man who believed in boring morality, kindness, and playing by the rules. But what he saw now was a perfect predator who couldn't wait to sink his teeth into his prey. This was far better than expected.
The MCIB ran a hand over his own Black Hair and the scar that bisected his right eye. His crimson red eyes glowed with amusement and ancient power. Six majestic, black, feathered wings, vast enough to blot out minor stars, shifted slightly behind him.
"Interesting," the MCIB spoke, his voice a smooth, deep baritone that carried the weight of shattered worlds. "I thought he would be the same as his first transmigration—a naive hero playing the game. But I guess after he became that demonic cultivator, he changed completely."
He tilted his head, savoring the memory of the cruel twist he had inflicted on Lucian's third life.
"What was his name again? The title he earned in that wretched little Murim world?" he mused, tapping a finger against the cold obsidian of the gate frame.
"Ahh, right. Geomma Seonin—the Blade Demon Immortal. A demonic cultivator, an extra who became the most feared man in the martial world after losing his dear lover by the hands of the so-called 'orthodox' and evil factions."
A cruel laugh, rich with cosmic mockery, boomed across the silent Outverse. "What was her name? Ahh, right, Seoryeon. The Queen of Northern Sea Palace. The woman who taught my other half what true, unforgiving pain felt like. The woman whose loss made him shed his last thread of humanity."
"Hahahahaha, ohh dear. I was right sending him there," he crowed. The MCIB, in his role as the Warden of the World Between Worlds, had subtly engineered Lucian's third life—the one that turned him into a demonic cultivator—specifically to temper him. He needed Lucian to be ruthless, detached, and utterly cold. The pain of losing 'Seoryeon' had achieved that perfectly.
"And here I thought I would be bored, seeing my other half being boring, just like the Demon God—my own other half that I created," he sneered.
The Demon God was a part of him, an aspect of his own power given life and independence, designed as the ultimate cosmic prank.
"Seriously, why did I even create that soft-hearted father?"
He paced slowly, the movement of his six black wings stirring the void.
"Oh, right. To ridicule my own father, The All Mighty One—or known as God on earth. I wanted to show him that's what happens if you love your children too much, just like what happened to Lucifer and the humans," he explained, his voice thick with a bitterness that was ten billion years old.
The MCIB, the exiled Archangel, had a fundamental disagreement with the ultimate creator, and it was all centered on the concept of freewill—the thing his own creation, the Demon God, also championed, but with fatal softness.
"Giving freewill to those humans was a mistake, a flaw in the design," he muttered, his crimson eyes flashing. "Ohh, my dear father, why should you wait to let the Rupture happen? That is the final, ultimate war that will cleanse this whole cursed universe of its flaws. If I were him, I would begin the Rupture already. The cycle is broken, the design is corrupt, and the creatures are spoiled."
He scoffed, kicking a fragment of solidified void matter across the hidden realm.
"Hah, but knowing that old man, he will not do it because he is soft-hearted and kind to his creations. He is bound by his own love. But look at it now: those humans didn't even believe he exist. They didn't even pray to him anymore, and they even ridicule him, using his sacred texts to justify their own greedy wars. They used the gift of freewill to forget their giver."
The resentment in his voice was palpable, a thunder in the silent space.
"If I was still an archangel and leader of the Watchers, or better yet, if I took my old man's place, I would already have destroyed the whole Omniverse already—not just once, but multiple times. I would destroy and create again so those damn mortals know their place. So they understand that their existence is fleeting, and their only role is to serve the perfect order. Not this endless, chaotic sprawl of sin and hypocrisy."
A maniacal yet mournful laugh escaped him. "Hahahahaha, I miss the old days. Giving those mortals knowledge, the art of war, and wisdom that led them to their own ruins. I thought I was helping them evolve, giving them the tools to master their own destiny. That was my original intent as a Watcher—to elevate them."
He clenched his fists, the force crushing the fragments of void. "Though I did it before because I thought it was helpful, I was rather punished for my kindness. Why? Because the gifts I gave, the knowledge I shared, was used by the humans for their own selfishness, their own destruction, and the ultimate sin of Pride."
"Hah. Ironic, isn't it? I was the one who get punished instead of those humans. What did I expect? Favoritism existed during my birth, and before the whole Omniverse was even created. My father favored the humans, those fragile, temporary creatures, over his loyal, eternal children. I was stripped of my glory, bound to this miserable prison, while they got to run free with the corrupted knowledge I gave them."
The MCIB allowed the black energies surrounding him to recede, fully revealing his form. He was devastatingly handsome—a terrifying, sublime beauty. He had a profound scar on his right eye, and countless other scars ran across his body, tracing patterns over his muscular frame and across his abs. These were not injuries from battle; they were the physical marks of divine judgment, the constant pain of his exile and punishment.
He was a being whose very existence demanded attention. If a mortal were to see him in this true form, they would likely die on the spot, overwhelmed by the sheer, unholy magnitude of a creature this handsome and powerful—a fallen angel and former leader of the Watchers.
"Though I should stop watching this if Metatron—my own twin brother—sees me like this again, he would scold me," he grumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically. "He would say that it takes years or worse, millennia, for me to complete my duties, and I have no damn time for being scolded for such trivial matters."
His twin, Metatron, was the embodiment of obedience and cosmic law, still serving God in the highest heavens—the polar opposite of the MCIB.
"Knowing my twin brother, who is too loyal to that old man, yeah, he would scold me. But so what? If it was not for me being the Warden of the World Between Worlds, many multiverses will shatter, and every cosmic being will die. It will cause a mass destruction to the whole Omniverse, fulfilling the very Rupture my father refuses to allow."
The MCIB's job was a punishment, a constant, thankless chore: managing the endless, fragile membrane that separated all realities. He was a caretaker, when he wanted to be a destroyer.
The Man Cloaked in Black combed his hair by using his hand, a gesture of profound weariness, and looked at the gates used to cross worlds. He really wanted to quit his job already—or should we say, his eternal punishment after rebelling against God, his own father.
"Hah, after merging with him again, I should have no trouble managing the World Between Worlds, because his Void and End power will stabilize this whole system," he explained, his cynical tone softening momentarily as he pictured his true reward. "And so, I could finally relax and create a universe where I could relax on a beach, surrounded by those tasty foods that those humans always eat—those foods that rich people could eat. I want the finest cuts of meat, the best wines, the most decadent desserts, without having to fight for them or steal them. Hahahahaha, I can't wait for that to happen. My ultimate goal is simple, selfish paradise."
He adjusted the folds of his black cloak, his eyes returning to the screen showing Lucian's ruthless face.
"Well, for now, I should keep watching my interesting other half. The game is just beginning, and I need to be ready for the final move."