The goblins crested the hill, their screeches piercing through the sound of the heavy, unrelenting rain.
Mu-Hyeok stood his ground in the mud, the rusted, rectangular Jakdu resting heavy on his shoulder. Beside him, three other men drew their weapons, their backs forming a defensive circle.
In this timeline, Mu-Hyeok wasn't a disposable pawn. He was the "Tank" of their group—the orphan brute who had joined this elite squad of Young Masters because he was the only one crazy enough to keep up with them.
"There's too many of them!" shouted Namgoong Hwa, his massive claymore igniting with fiery Qi, though the rain hissed against it. "Mu-Hyeok! Don't charge in blindly like last time! Stick to the formation!"
"If he dies, I'm not carrying his corpse back," grumbled Cheon Woo-Jin, flicking his wrist to summon a sharp gust of wind to cut the rain.
Baek Seon stood in the center, his hands glowing with green healing light. "Stay close, everyone. We hold the line here."
Mu-Hyeok looked at them.
The fiery passion of Hwa. The cool arrogance of Woo-Jin. The gentle protectiveness of Baek Seon.
They were screaming at him to stay safe. They were worried about him.
'You all act so human right now,' Mu-Hyeok thought, his grip tightening on the rusted handle. 'It almost makes me forget how you butchered my family in the future.'
A goblin lunged at him.
In the past, Mu-Hyeok would have roared and swung his blade wildly, taking a hit to give a hit.
Not today.
He didn't scream. He moved with a fluid, predatory grace that belonged to a God.
He side-stepped the goblin's claw by a millimeter—a movement so precise it looked like he vanished. The rusted Jakdu flashed in a clean, vertical arc.
Crunch.
The goblin was split in half before it hit the ground.
"Hah?" Namgoong Hwa blinked, his jaw dropping. "Did... did the brute just use footwork?"
Mu-Hyeok didn't stop. He dove into the horde. He wasn't relying on the formation. He was the storm itself.
"Mu-Hyeok! Get back here!" Baek Seon yelled, stepping forward in panic. "You're overextending!"
"Let him go," Cheon Woo-Jin whispered, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he watched Mu-Hyeok fight. "Look."
Mu-Hyeok was dancing through the chaos. Every swing of the heavy straw-cutter was calculated. He used the momentum of the blade to pivot, ducking under clubs and decapitating monsters in the same motion. He wasn't fighting like a thug anymore; he was fighting like a Grandmaster who had lived through a thousand wars.
The Goblin Chieftain—a towering monster of muscle and dark magic—roared, charging straight for Baek Seon.
"Seon! Dodge!" Hwa shouted, unable to reach him in time.
But before the Chieftain could swing its club, a shadow eclipsed it.
Mu-Hyeok vaulted off the back of a dead goblin, launching himself into the air. He didn't use Qi. He used pure kinetic force and gravity.
He brought the blunt, heavy edge of the Jakdu down onto the Chieftain's skull.
BOOM.
The sound was like a boulder hitting the earth. The Chieftain's head collapsed into its chest. The monster crumbled instantly.
Mu-Hyeok landed on top of the corpse. He flicked the blood off his blade and looked back at his friends.
The three future Dragon Gods stood there, their weapons lowered, completely stunned.
Namgoong Hwa started laughing in disbelief. "No way... Mu-Hyeok? Since when could you fight like that?"
Cheon Woo-Jin looked at him with a strange mix of suspicion and respect. "He didn't waste a single movement. That wasn't luck."
Mu-Hyeok stood atop the pile of corpses, the rain washing the black gore off his face. He looked at his brothers, his golden eyes flashing dangerously for a split second before returning to dark brown.
"I got tired of getting hit," Mu-Hyeok said, giving them a savage grin. "So I decided to start hitting back."
Namgoong Hwa was the first to break the silence. He sheathed his massive claymore and stomped through the mud, his heavy armor clanking with every step.
"You crazy bastard!" Hwa roared, slapping Mu-Hyeok on the back hard enough to rattle his teeth.
Mu-Hyeok looked at the man who would become the Red Dragon. Even at twenty, Hwa was a giant. He had a mane of wild, fiery crimson hair that stuck up in every direction, refusing to be tamed even by the heavy rain. His eyes were wide and intense, the color of burning amber, always looking for the next thrill.
"I thought you were dead meat when you jumped!" Hwa laughed, his amber eyes shining with pure excitement. "But that impact? Boom! You cracked his skull like a walnut! Since when did you have that kind of explosive power?"
"It was reckless," a cool voice cut in.
Cheon Woo-Jin, the future Blue Dragon, stepped forward, flicking goblin blood off his pristine silver sword.
He was the polar opposite of Hwa. Tall, slender, and annoyingly handsome. His jet-black hair was tied up in a perfect, immaculate topknot, not a single strand out of place despite the storm. He looked at Mu-Hyeok with icy, glacial blue eyes—eyes that usually looked at the world with boredom, but now held a flicker of sharp calculation.
"You overextended," Woo-Jin critiqued, though he didn't sheath his blade, staying close enough to cover Mu-Hyeok if another enemy appeared. "If you missed that swing, the Chieftain would have crushed you. Only a brute gambles his life on a single strike."
"Stop being so stiff, Woo-Jin," a gentle voice chimed in.
Baek Seon, the future Green Dragon, walked toward them, his hands glowing with a soft, verdant light.
He looked the least dangerous of them all. He wore simple scholar robes that seemed too clean for a battlefield. His hair was a soft, warm brown, falling gently over his forehead, framing a face that looked more suited for a library than a war. He looked at Mu-Hyeok with moss-green eyes that radiated compassion.
"Mu-Hyeok saved the flank," Baek Seon said softly, reaching out to inspect a scratch on Mu-Hyeok's arm. The green light from his hands felt warm against the skin. "Without him, the goblins would have overrun us. Are you hurt, my friend?"
Mu-Hyeok looked at them.
The burning amber of Hwa's passion.
The cold blue of Woo-Jin's arrogance.
The gentle green of Baek Seon's kindness.
They stood around him, forming a wall against the cold rain. In this moment, they weren't Traitors. They weren't Gods. They were his brothers.
'They look so young,' Mu-Hyeok thought, feeling a twist of bitterness in his gut.
He remembered how those amber eyes would one day look down on him with madness as Hwa burned Mu-Hyeok's clan to ash.
He remembered how those blue eyes would look at him with disgust as Woo-Jin summoned storms to drown the survivors.
He remembered how those green eyes would smile that same gentle smile as Baek Seon plunged a dagger into Mu-Hyeok's spiritual core.
"Mu-Hyeok?" Baek Seon asked, tilting his head. "You're trembling. Is the cold getting to you?"
Mu-Hyeok forced his facial muscles to relax. He pushed the memory of the betrayal down, burying it under layers of five hundred years of rage. He forced the corners of his mouth up into the grin of the dumb, brute orphan they thought he was.
"Just adrenaline," Mu-Hyeok rasped, shaking off Baek Seon's healing hand. "And I'm starving. Hwa, you owe me a drink for killing the Chieftain."
Namgoong Hwa roared with laughter, throwing an arm around Mu-Hyeok's neck. "A drink? I'll buy you the whole tavern! Tonight, the Four Dragons feast!"
The Four Dragons.
It was a nickname they had given themselves jokingly. A promise that one day, they would all ascend to the heavens together.
Mu-Hyeok allowed himself to be dragged toward the camp by Hwa, with Woo-Jin sighing and following behind, and Baek Seon smiling gently at their antics.
Mu-Hyeok looked back at the pile of goblin corpses one last time. His dark eyes shifted, momentarily flashing gold in the rain.
Enjoy the drink, he thought, his heart turning to ice. Because in this life... I am the only one who will ascend.