Goooooh—
At that instant, Yohan felt an intangible groan, one that no human hearing could perceive. Unable to withstand the comet-like surge of purification driving into the core, monsters peeled away and fell in droves. Sparks like welding embers dripped from the blazing light in Yohan’s eyes.
Yohan’s energy and the core’s energy mingled and radiated, flooding the space in nauseating black-and-white waves. Each time Yohan’s light drove in like a wedge, black ichor from the flood spilled from the core. The chaos behind him grew worse, but all Yohan could hear was the voiceless scream of the Abyss’s core. The core throbbed irregularly, writhing.
In that moment, Yohan instinctively knew: he was the Abyss’s sickness, its poison, its natural enemy.
“Nothing... more than this....”
A cold voice slipped from him, so foreign it didn’t feel like his own. Like Yakrin’s rage, fierce enmity toward the thing before him surged from the depths of his being. In a rapturous fervor, he thrust every bit of light he held into his enemy, forcing it in however he could. Something hot trickled from his nose, but he didn’t notice.
The great core cracked and warped with a sound like tearing stone. Deadliest toxin of all seeped in, delivering irreversible damage. More power poured from Yohan’s body, an impossible amount considering how much he had already spent protecting his team.
Then, suddenly, he wondered—where was all this energy coming from? Just then, a faint voice barely brushed his ears.
“Yohan... stop, no more....”
Lee Chanha was clutching his ankle with desperate force, as though to crush it. Only then did Yohan wrench his gaze away and /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ glance back. In that instant, he met a multitude of crimson eyes staring at him with greedy hunger. Crack, splinter—! The sound of the core fracturing rang out. Blood gushed from Yohan’s mouth. Dizzy, unable to stay upright, he still clung to the spear buried in the core.
“Just a little more...”
He panted raggedly, drained of color, while blood poured from his nose and mouth. Drenched in adrenaline, Yohan only now realized he had pushed far beyond his limits. The power he had been pouring out all along was his life force itself. His hand gripping the spear trembled violently.
Really, just a little more—
But then, from the ground, quivering flesh surged up to engulf him. Centipedes, monstrous birds, living ice—all of them clawed toward Yohan’s blood spilling down onto the floor. They licked greedily, then bared their teeth.
A voiceless pulse shook his mind.
This way, inside, hunger... inside, deeper inside, ceaselessly, starving, inside, inside, lonely, down, down, down....
Fragmented thoughts streamed into his head. Thunder rumbled. But it wasn’t Hyunmook’s thunder.
Yohan lifted his head—the ceiling above the Abyss’s heart was collapsing. The nest of evil, preserved solid through immeasurable ages, crumbled. In desperation, sensing mortal danger, it lashed out, ready to sacrifice anything for survival.
Before that happened, Yohan turned back, determined to destroy the core even if it killed him. But the fleshy growth climbing from Chanha’s body had wound up his torso, crushing the hand holding the spear.
“No...!”
With a shrill cry, Yohan’s fingers slipped. The spear fell away. The moment the light was severed, the Abyss’s core seized the chance. With a cracking snap, it fled into the mass of monsters, into the falling debris.
As Yohan despaired, the ceiling gave way, and a cascade rained down. Eternal stones—unchanging lights, like meteors—poured in overwhelming quantity, filling the Abyss’s heart. Yohan could only stare blankly upward as shadow fell across his head.
Then he realized the presence he both knew and feared. His comrades screamed, crawling toward his blood with ravenous hunger. Their madness was crushed beneath a terror greater still. As Yohan stared dumbly upward, Hyunmook’s fathomless darkness swallowed them all.
* * *
Yohan drifted in an ambiguous state, not knowing if he had lost consciousness or barely clung to it. He first noticed his sight.
‘I can’t see anything...!’
His eyes were open, yet all around was pitch black, as if he had gone blind. Next, he realized the absence of touch. Flailing, he discovered there was nothing beneath his feet. Third, the absence of weight—gravity itself was gone, leaving him without up or down. Nothing brushed his fingertips. Lastly, he noticed the absence of sound. Panic seized him, and he screamed. Yet nothing reached his ears.
It was as though he had been hurled into empty, non-existent void. He screamed and screamed until suddenly he froze. Before his eyes floated a faintly glowing speck. Only belatedly did Yohan realize—it was his tear.
Regaining a shred of composure, he pulled his flailing hands close. He touched his damp face, then felt along his body. All four limbs were intact. Confirming his own existence brought a sliver of clarity.
‘What happened again?’
They had entered the Abyss’s heart to attack the core. He had driven his spear into it, but before it could be destroyed, everything collapsed—his teammates’ minds and wills, the Abyss’s center, and himself.
And lastly, that black, unfathomable, terrifying thing—Hyunmook had swallowed them all in shadow.
‘So this place... is inside Hyunmook?’
Could this really be the inside of a living person? Yohan slowly looked around, but saw nothing—only infinite emptiness. He couldn’t believe such a space belonged to anyone.
If that were all, it wouldn’t be so terrifying. But he felt eyes upon him—some strange gaze, as if deeply satisfied.
‘I’m scared....’
The failed raid didn’t even matter compared to this fear. His body trembled uncontrollably. He cried out, but with no sound, his own sobs frightened him more. He wanted to release purification, but he had squeezed himself dry at the Abyss’s core. All he had left were the tiny beads of tears he shed. Their faint glow barely revealed his fingertips.
“Hyunmook hyung...” Yohan cried desperately. He prayed that the eyes watching him belonged to Hyunmook, wept his name again and again, until he cried himself raw. His tears floated like fireflies when something touched his back.
The tip of some enormous finger, or a soft and gentle breath, or perhaps the tenderest flesh—it wrapped around his waist and shoulders. Yohan froze stiff at the inhuman strangeness within something that was unmistakably human.
Still nothing reached his ears. Yet he felt as though something kind soothed him, calling his name. An unfamiliar but strangely familiar tenderness stroked him. His body, drifting like a child cast into space, finally grew heavy again and slowly sank downward.
This time, his feet touched something. Not ground, not earth, but firm enough to stand upon. The stability gave him strength. He stumbled forward two steps before collapsing. He remembered how the monsters swallowed by Hyunmook’s shadows never reappeared. Likely Hyunmook’s will, but still terrifying. Suddenly, Yohan realized—he could hear his own ragged breath. He made sounds—“Ah, ah”—just to be sure.
“Hyunmook hyung... thank you for saving me....”
Yohan whispered his thanks in a trembling voice as he groped at what wrapped him. What was it? Smooth and soft, like skin—or like entrails. He couldn’t tell what part of a body it was.
His body trembled, but not only from fear. His mind grew foggy, his strength failing as if he had run at full sprint all day.
“I’m... thirsty....”
Leaning against the soft embrace encasing him, Yohan half-collapsed and murmured. Since sinking down here, thirst and hunger had gnawed at him. His eyelids drooped, his body slackened. Cold sweat seeped out without cause. Gasping for breath, he suddenly flinched.
“Huh?”
Something moist touched his lips. His parched mouth grew damp. Startled, Yohan reached out with his hand. Moisture, abundant, traced slowly across his mouth.
