Chapter 138
[Hidden Object “Blade of the Fallen Hero” obtained!]
[You have acquired the Hidden Object and triggered special buffs, Will of the Failed Champion and Bearer of Death’s Return.]
An overwhelming surge of power flooded through Do-Jin’s body. Every vein burned with light, his mana boiling inside him like molten gold. The buff would only last for ten seconds, but with this kind of power, he could kill Lemain in a single strike.
“Flame Pillar!”
Fire erupted beneath his feet. Even though it was his own spell, the searing heat tore through his armor, scorching his skin.
I just have to survive no matter what!
The flames devoured the tendrils wrapped around his legs, burning through the mass of living flesh until it turned to ash. His health dropped fast and blood ran down his face, but he didn’t stop. He broke free, lifted his hand, and charged another spell.
“Flame Cannon!”
The moment the spell circle lit up, he released it straight ahead. A torrent of burning mana ripped through the chamber, blasting away the wall of flesh that blocked his path.
For an instant, the world went still. The smoke parted, revealing open space between him and Lemain. That was all he needed. He kicked off the ground, pouring Psychokinesis into his legs and spine. Golden fire burst from his back as he shot forward like a bullet. He didn’t have time to aim or adjust his stance, so the strike was clumsy, brutal, and fueled by pure momentum.
Although it wasn’t elegant, the sword drove clean through Lemain’s neck. Her head fell with a dull thump. There was no dramatic screaming, no explosion of light. Lemain, who had lived for centuries without death, finally collapsed in silence.
The moment her life ended, the seventh and final Magic Circle, drawn across the imperial palace, activated. Just like the others, it responded to the birth of death, greedily devouring the fresh energy that poured out of her corpse. The walls trembled as the endless flesh began to collapse in on itself, consumed by its own creation.
Do-Jin stood among the fading embers, chest heaving, sword still glowing faintly in his hand. He watched as Lemain’s body dissolved into dust, swallowed up by the hungry magic she’d helped sustain.
Matthew appeared beside him. His ghostly face was empty, beyond sadness, beyond grief. “This is what it means...”
Do-Jin turned to look at him. The system had called him The Failed Hero, and now he finally understood why. Matthew didn’t look away from Lemain’s remains. His voice was calm, almost hollow.
“This is what the end looks like when a hero fails. Not glorious, not even tragic. Just... pathetic. Empty.” He knelt slowly, his figure flickering in the dim light. “Take a good look, Do-Jin. Not many people get to see what it looks like when someone fucks up this completely. So remember it.”
His eyes turned toward the fading light one last time. “This is the end of a hero who couldn’t save anyone.”
“You’re right. I expected something big to happen, but... That’s just it,” Do-Jin said truthfully.
Matthew chuckled under his breath, a dry, broken sound. “Now the world will start dying. You can’t see it from here, but above the capital, a massive Magic Circle has already begun devouring everything that’s still alive.”
“What about you?” Do-Jin asked quietly.
“This is what happens to me.”
Matthew reached into his own chest, where his heart would’ve been. Of course, there was nothing there. He was a ghost. What he pulled out instead was a small, pulsing core of light, his essence.
“I told you I made a deal, didn’t I? The price was me. I guess I fucked up on a cosmic scale, because apparently even after all this, I’m still worth something. They’re gonna grind me down and turn me into compensation.”
“Christ. You sure know how to make an ending feel bitter.”
“Don’t waste your pity,” Matthew said with a faint smile. “For me, this is a happy ending. Being used up is better than wandering forever through a dead world.”
Do-Jin didn’t argue. He knew the hero was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. The silence between them grew heavier, thick with the taste of ash and regret.
Then Matthew spoke again, his voice fading like a memory. “Thanks to you, I finally get to see this through.”
Do-Jin stayed quiet. The worst kind of story wasn’t the one that ended in tragedy. It was the one that never ended at all. Matthew’s tale had been frozen right before the last page, leaving him trapped, rereading the same line for a thousand years. Finally, Do-Jin had turned the last page for him.
“Rest easy,” Do-Jin said softly.
Matthew smiled one last time before crushing the glowing essence in his hand. “Use what comes from me however you want. Just don’t fail like I did.”
His body flickered, then disintegrated into light, vanishing completely. A simple, almost meaningless end. But maybe that was what made it real.
[You have granted peace to those who lost death.]
[Achievement Unlocked: The One Who Returned Death]
[You have delivered the destined end to a world that was denied it.]
[Achievement Unlocked: Restorer of Fate]
[Achievement rewards will be added to your quest completion bonus.]
As the world began its final descent into ruin, the messages flooded his vision.
[Quest Complete!]
[You have restored a twisted fate to its rightful form.]
[You have intervened in an event tied to the fall of a world.]
[Reward obtained: Fragment of Myth]
The system’s voice faded, and the world around Do-Jin turned pure white, like a book finally closing after far too many pages. Do-Jin stared at the empty air in front of him, waiting for that thing to show up.
As expected, a faint light flickered into existence, almost sheepishly. “Sorry.”
It didn’t even wait for him to speak, just apologized on the spot, like it already knew how pissed off he was.
Do-Jin sighed, rubbing his forehead. “So what was that supposed to be, huh? Some kind of fucking pep talk for us?”
The Light didn’t answer right away. The entire quest had practically screamed its message from the start, and Do-Jin wasn’t dumb enough to miss it.
Matthew’s world had already fallen apart. It wasn’t just destroyed. It had decayed into something so pathetic that total annihilation felt like mercy. To “save” that world, the player had to watch what was left of the hero’s comrades, twisted, rotting, half-dead things, then kill them one by one.
The story deliberately hammered in the same idea again and again. This was what happened to players who failed to stop the end, who didn’t try hard enough to stop it. And even the ending hadn’t been cathartic.
“Don’t give me that,” Do-Jin said. “You dragged us through a goddamn tragedy just to make a point. For what? So we’d come out the other side scared enough to listen? Those poor bastards were just props in this little moral theater of yours.”
“I won’t deny the intention,” the Light said quietly. “But because of that, some were saved. And you’ve gained a power that will help you survive what’s coming.”
Do-Jin let out a dry chuckle. He knew it was right. He hated that it was right. It was like one of those poverty documentaries that made people cry just enough to open their wallets, exploitative but effective.
Haaah... I can’t even argue against that.
The thought only left a heavier pit in his chest. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.
“Let’s just finish this,” he muttered. “I’m done.”
The Light began its usual procedure, processing the rewards. It could tell from Do-Jin’s face that it had achieved its goal. There was no point in saying more.
[Fragment of Myth will manifest into the form of power that best suits you.]
As always, Do-Jin had been the first to clear the quest.
The Light tilted slightly as if it was smiling. “Tell me, Do-Jin. Would you prefer a tool or a power?”
He hesitated for a moment as he frowned. So it’s between an item and a trait or skill?
Do-Jin tried to press the Light for a more concrete explanation, but the Light showed discomfort, as though even offering choices alone had already gone too far.
Of course it does...
With a sigh, he decided, “I’ll take the ability.”
Consumable items and temporary relics were useful, but they were temporary. He’d much rather have a permanent boost in strength, no matter how small.
Might as well make a gamble here and hope it’s decent.
The Light nodded slightly. “I figured you’d pick that.”
A holographic screen flared to life above him.
[Fragment of Myth consumed. Trait “Executor of Ruin” has been created.]
[Executor of Ruin]
For 30 seconds, attacks inflict additional damage equal to 15% of total damage dealt. Reduce all enemy regeneration and healing effects by 30%. Ignores Undying-type traits.
Do-Jin’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”
The effect was borderline broken. It was the kind of trait that felt like slapping another relic-level artifact onto his build for free.
He let out a low whistle and muttered, half in disbelief, half in awe, “Now that’s what I call overpowered. If a permanent ability’s this broken, what the hell kind of power did the item have?” He hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.
This time, the Light actually answered him. “It probably would’ve been something that could trigger a miracle, just once.”
“So it could’ve caused a miracle, huh?”
That didn’t bother Do-Jin at all. If anything, he looked almost relieved. Something that disappeared after a single use didn’t suit him. A permanent, busted trait was way better.
As if the calculation was complete, the Light began to flicker. The white void around him rippled slightly, like the air itself was fading.
“I suppose that’s my cue,” the Light said softly, its voice dimming.
Before it could say more, Do-Jin spoke first. “Don’t worry so much.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t have to keep forcing motivation down our throats. I already know what it feels like to lose something that matters.”
He’d lived through it before: his real life in ruins, and then watching Lostania crumble apart, the one place he thought he could escape to. Both had left the same bitter taste.
“I’m not letting anything fall apart again. Not this time.”
The Light shimmered faintly, a warm glow spreading through it, almost like a smile. “Then I hope we meet again someday. If—”
The last word was swallowed as the world began to break apart. The white void folded in on itself, the sound of reality tearing echoing faintly before silence took over. Then, just like at the very beginning of the quest, Do-Jin’s vision flashed, and he was back where he started.
Well, I said it. I guess that means I have to follow through.
The prelude quest to the World Boss Raid was finally done, but the real fight was still ahead. In his past life, the first World Boss had turned into chaos, with guilds clashing, each one trying to grab the first kill, wiping out half their players in the process. Back then, they hadn’t understood that the scale of a World Boss demanded cooperation, not competition. This time would be different.
I’ll make them work together. I’ll pull the strings myself if I have to.
With that thought, Do-Jin logged out, already planning how to set the stage for the biggest fight of his life.
