TFMBM 03

Episode 3 — “Live Your Own Life.”

Stella’s final words to her husband, Sion, left a profound mark on him:

“Live your own life.”

She might have meant that, as an immortal being, Sion shouldn’t spend eternity bound to his family and dukedom, but instead live freely.
Or perhaps it was her way of thanking her husband—who, despite being a hero, the king’s brother-in-law, and a great duke—had remained utterly devoted to her alone until the day she died.

But Sion interpreted her words differently.

A life that was truly his own…

For him, that life wasn’t in this world.
He had been a citizen of 21st-century South Korea. Those twenty-odd years back on Earth were his real life.

Of course, his time in this world wasn’t “fake.” His love for his wife and children was too real and deep for that.
But no one could deny that his roots lay elsewhere.

So Sion decided to follow Stella’s will and seek out “his own life” — by finding a way back to his original world.

Not because he wanted to recklessly return, but because he wanted to know how.
The decision of whether to actually go back would come after he found the way.

Immediately after entrusting his wife’s ashes to his eldest son, Theo, Sion began to make plans.

The plan was simple:
Unravel the legends and mysteries scattered throughout this world, one by one.

If some inexplicable power had brought him here, then the key to returning must also lie within something equally inexplicable. And legends and mysteries were precisely those kinds of things.

Haunted ancient temples, swamps where witches gathered in secret, vampire castles, werewolf legends, assassins with near-supernatural abilities, ancient religious cults—Sion pursued all of them, whether they were ancient myths or mere rumors.

He was immortal; he had time.

So after Stella’s death, he began wandering from place to place, chasing down countless mysteries.

Just like the old days, when he’d sought out masters to grow stronger, he never stayed long in one spot—sometimes only three or four days, sometimes up to half a year.

He faced many dangers and threats, but none were difficult for him to overcome.
He was far stronger than before and seasoned by centuries of experience.
His methods were usually… physical.

However, when investigating in bustling cities, he acted quietly to avoid attention.

Until he heard news from Theo, he had been in the city of Exon, investigating the identity of a secret religious cult.

“……”

Sion slowly looked around.

About thirty masked figures in white, cone-shaped hoods had surrounded him, armed with swords, axes, and clubs. A black snake symbol was painted on their hoods.

Only one man wore a red hood. He stepped forward.

“Brother Jang, we’ve long suspected you. What’s your purpose for joining the sacred Brotherhood of the Holy Serpent?”

“……”

Seeing Sion remain silent, the red-hooded man thought he was shocked or had given up. His tone became smug.

“Didn’t expect you to come back. I thought someone as clever as you would’ve fled.”

“……”

“So, you met the ones who sent you here, didn’t you? You gave them information about the cult? Who are they?”

The cultists grew more aggressive, brandishing weapons and pointing blades at Sion, itching to kill a “traitor.”

“Heh! No need to answer now. The night is long. We’ll find out slowly.”

The man gave a signal. The cultists raised their weapons and closed in.

“It’d be wise to stay still. You only need to stay alive—we might break a limb or two, though. That kind of pain is hard to endure, you know.”

“Pain? Pain, you say…”

Sion finally spoke, his calm voice making the red-hooded man frown.
There was no fear, no tension in his tone.
And he was smiling.

As if this situation posed no threat at all.

“I know pain. Better than anyone here, probably.”

“What…?”

“You people have no idea what real pain is. Oh, and you asked why I came back? At first, I planned to just leave quietly. That was before I realized you were a bunch of low-grade frauds.”

“You heretic bastard! How dare you—!”

Being called a fraud infuriated the red-hooded man. The cultists grew more vicious.

“If you were just scamming fools for money like proper frauds, I’d have left you alone. But human sacrifice? Sorry, I can’t overlook that. Not once I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“You blasphemous traitor! By the decree of the Immortal Holy Serpent, kill him! Kill him!!”

With that roar, the cultists charged.

They were only four or five meters away—just a few steps.

But—

“!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Without warning, as if time itself froze, the cultists’ bodies stiffened mid-charge.

“Guh!”
“Grrkh!”

Then, one by one, they dropped their weapons and collapsed.

The air was filled with Sion’s murderous intent.
The true immortal brought death to the false immortals who dared invoke it.

That night, Sion slaughtered the entire leadership of the Holy Serpent Cult—including the cult leader—and rescued the women and children meant for sacrifice.

He spared the ordinary cultists.
Without their “Pope” and the so-called “Four Pillars,” the cult was sure to crumble.
If someone tried to rebuild it, that was no concern of his.

“Tch. Another worthless fake.”

He clicked his tongue as he left Exon through a pre-planned escape route.

Most legends and mysteries he’d chased since Stella’s death had been disappointments like this cult.

Occasionally, he’d encountered something “real,” but none were connected to returning to his original world.

The magicians were all frauds.
Even the most powerful religions were no help—just more cults like the Holy Serpent worshippers.

There has to be something real out there. A true god, or something close.

Otherwise, how could he explain his own existence—summoned from another world and made immortal?

That hope kept him going.

One day, he would find the answer.

“Now… what’s left?”

Riding his horse, Blackie, Sion pulled out a notebook and a map.
The world’s maps were crude, so over 40 years, he’d painstakingly made his own.

It wasn’t perfectly accurate, but by this world’s standards, his map was priceless.

He marked Exon’s location and jotted a note in Korean. Then he looked over the map again.

“Hmm?”

His brows furrowed slightly.

“Only three left…?”

After decades of investigation, only three legendary places remained:

“Elthis Island, the Northern Great Snow Mountains, and the Dragon Wastes.”

These were the most ancient and famous mysteries in the world.

He’d left them for last—not because they were unimportant, but because they were hard to reach.

Elthis Island lay somewhere in a vast inland sea. No one who went there ever returned. Some claimed they had, but Sion’s “polite” questioning quickly exposed their lies.

The Northern Great Snow Mountains and the Dragon Wastes were on land, but no easier to access.

No roads. Extreme danger. You couldn’t go without preparation and resolve.

That was why he’d left them for the end.

But now, the time had come.

“Hm. Elthis Island should be last.”

It required buying or building a ship and hiring a crew, which would draw attention. Too troublesome.

“The Snow Mountains…”

Reachable in summer, but now it was autumn. By the time he arrived, it’d be deep winter—not wise.

“That leaves only one.”

The Dragon Wastes.

A vast, barren land taking up a quarter of the map.

Unlike the other two, some explorers had returned—but they claimed the land held nothing. Just endless desert and wilderness.

Still, some kept going, driven by rumors of people who’d seen a dragon.

“Looks like I don’t have a choice.”

It was far, dangerous, and uncertain—but it was time.

He might spend months or years wandering and find nothing again.
But he would go. He had to see for himself.

And so, Sion set off toward one of his last three faint hopes.

Fourteen months later…

Sion met a dragon.

(To be continued)