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Chapter 9
I really thought I was going to die.
Ssshhiiiik—!
Just as the flames were about to engulf him, a dagger came flying straight toward Lee Cheoeum.
At first, he thought, That arsonist bastard wants to make sure I die, so now he’s throwing knives too?
But—
Kwaaak!
The dagger struck his helmet, pinning a large cloak to him. The next instant, the cloak spread wide and covered his entire body.
Fwooosh!
The fire swept past, roaring over him. His body slammed into the ground under the shockwave.
…And yet, Lee Cheoeum didn’t burn.
“Holy—! I almost committed murder myself!”
The culprit behind the inferno, Go Hwarang, stumbled into view, clutching his chest.
He’d let loose his firestorm thinking the area had already been evacuated. Only when he saw a dark-helmed figure wandering around did he realize—too late—that someone had been left behind.
“Hey! Are you alive in there?”
Go Hwarang sprinted over to the fallen stranger.
The dagger—more accurately, his weapon known as the Great Spoked Wheel—had only sunk into the surface of the helmet, pinning the cloak in place. Beneath it, the man’s body was untouched by flame.
<Item Information>
Name: Cloak of the Thirteenth King
Description: Woven from the shadow of the day when the sundial’s mark retreated ten degrees. Strongly resists all fire. Fire may illuminate the darkness, but the darkness does not comprehend it.
Grade: A
+
Thanks to the cloak’s flame-resistant properties, Lee Cheoeum had been spared.
‘Good. That’s a relief.’
Go Hwarang let out a shaky sigh of relief—
“Go Hwarang, Branch Leader.”
The gleam of polished Oxford shoes stepped into his vision.
Even among rivals, misfortune was only amusing if it wasn’t fatal.
“Haaah…”
Straightening from his crouch, Go Hwarang’s eyes traveled upward. A young man, clad head to toe in black like a mourner, stood before him.
“Yuseongu.”
One of only four S-class Apostles in Korea. The Branch Leader of <Burim>.
He was a man as lofty as the cosmic authority he wielded—the unclaimed heavens, the stars beyond human grasp. His poker face almost never faltered…
Yet now his expression was rigid, cold.
“The Regression… has already advanced quite far.”
And across the bridge of his nose, the W-shaped constellation of Cassiopeia was glowing.
A rare sign that Yuseongu’s emotions were stirring.
Normally, Go Hwarang would have cracked a joke—Nice mood lighting, you should sell that—but there was no room for levity. Both men’s gazes turned grimly toward the source of the disaster.
Up to B-class regressions, only the directly responsible branch—and nearby branches within a certain distance—were obligated to respond.
But once it reached A-class, classified as a national disaster, the rules changed.
The Five Great Branches of Apostles, Korea’s leading forces, were required to intervene—no exceptions.
“<Haya>’s main force is tied up in another trial, so they won’t make it until the end. <Chellachal> is stuck in the Mediterranean; only their Branch Leader is barely making it here. <Ganabi> will come, but they won’t be much help.”
Which meant—
“In the end, <Burim> and <Galmel> will have to handle this ourselves.”
Go Hwarang, head of <Galmel>, pushed back his fringe with one hand.
“The ‘Reverence’ will end soon. We need to move in.”
At his blunt declaration, Yuseongu spoke quietly.
“Shall we… form a Covenant?”
Go Hwarang turned toward him.
It wasn’t about demanding help. Both <Burim> and <Galmel> had no choice but to fight. Holding back now would only brand them traitors.
So what Yuseongu was after had to be…
“Want me to say nice things about you in the interviews after this?”
If Go Hwarang, as a participating Branch Leader, vouched that <Burim> had done its best, it would help soften the public backlash.
Yuseongu’s faint smile said he’d hit the mark.
“Of course, if you want something in return, say it.”
Go Hwarang stroked his chin. There was no deep conflict between their branches right now. And getting a small favor owed later wasn’t a bad deal.
“Next time, give me equivalent help when I ask.”
Then, flipping his spoked weapon around, Go Hwarang pressed the butt against Yuseongu’s chest.
“[This is the sign of the covenant between you and me.]”
[Someone has requested a Covenant with you.]
“I promise not to speak against <Burim> or you in public regarding this Regression. In return, you will provide me similar assistance in the future.”
As Go Hwarang intoned the words, Yuseongu met his crimson eyes.
This man—thuggish in appearance, but sharper and quicker than most realized. Who knew how he would leverage this debt later?
“…I accept.”
It wasn’t an offer Yuseongu could refuse.
[A Covenant has been established.]
[Your soul is lightly bound to another’s.]
The faint sense of shackles lingered in the air. Go Hwarang shuddered irritably.
“Well then…”
He glanced back at the black-helmed stranger.
‘Can’t just leave him here to get killed.’
But he didn’t have the time to escort the man either.
“…Tch.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped the unconscious figure in his cloak. The enchantments would protect him from most harm.
Still, he grimaced. That cloak had never left his side since his Awakening.
“Clothes are less important than lives, damn it…”
He’d already notified the authorities to pick up the civilian. He could retrieve the cloak later.
Securing the figure amidst the rubble, Go Hwarang gripped his twin spoked wheels like swords.
“Let’s go.”
Fwooosh!
Flames surged along his blades.
Yuseongu spared one last glance at the cloaked man, then rose into the air to follow.
The two dazzling figures vanished into the maw of the Regression—
And in their absence…
…Ssshhk.
Lee Cheoeum cracked his eyes open.
Half a day later, once the Grave of 185,000 Regression had finally been quelled—
“Damn… cursed psychic calamity.”
Go Hwarang, battered and bruised, dragged his feet along.
The sky that had been blue at the start was now steeped in darkness.
As an A-class Apostle, he could help suppress an S-class trial with support. Yuseongu alone could manage it too.
Together, they should have finished quickly.
But—
‘It still took half a day. Not until <Ganabi> and <Haya> reinforced us did we finally succeed.’
The minimal casualties were fortunate, yet unease gnawed at him.
The Regression had bound them in “Words of Pride” the moment they stepped in, paralyzing them like prey before a predator.
That much they could endure. But when the waves of “Reverence” came, escalating to the absolute domination of “Extreme Reverence”, there had been no resisting.
‘If even Yuseongu or I had fallen under it, things would have spiraled out of control.’
Instead, they were forced into a drawn-out war of attrition. Time devoured, minds strained to breaking.
“…I won’t forget this debt. I’ll take my leave first.”
Yuseongu had vanished in a hurry, chasing the lost window of public favor.
Go Hwarang almost laughed imagining his face—but the memory of what he’d seen strangled the mirth.
“Aaah, no, stop, save me—!”
“Ugh! Ghhhk…”
People he knew—stalwart fighters in any other battle—had crumpled into helpless children under psychic assault.
No armor in the world could shield the mind. Was there truly no way?
The thought circled endlessly in his head.
“…Tch.”
He shook it off. Better to just go home and read.
But stepping into the encampment of Apostles, his chest went cold at the words he heard.
“—You’re telling me there was no one where I said?!”
The contacts he’d called to retrieve the cloaked civilian reported nothing. They’d searched twice, even after the Regression ended. No body. No injured survivor.
Which meant—
The man had walked away.
With his cloak.
“…My cloak.”
Go Hwarang collapsed on the spot.
That cloak—his precious item, worn since his earliest days of Awakening, his constant companion—
He clutched his head in both hands.
“Goddamn it, my CLOAK—!!”
His roar echoed in vain.
