High above the world, in a stretch of open sky with nothing but a small gate and a solitary pavilion, clouds drifted lazily in the warm breath of spring. A faint haze wrapped around the pavilion as if reluctant to leave.
“I heard you declined the latest investment proposal as well,” the old gentleman said quietly.
Soundlessly, he lifted his teacup and sipped the freshly brewed tea. Steam rose gently from the rim.
Across from him sat a massive warrior, his broad frame unmoving as he studied the Go board.
His gaze never left the stones. “Did I not say that I would begin winding things down?”
Each syllable he uttered carried with it a faint, cloudlike mist. Strangely, his voice was at times distant, as though echoing from the horizon, and at others intimate, as if spoken right beside the ear.
The old man lowered his head slightly. “Are we to revisit that subject again?”
Click.
A cold Go stone brushed his fingertips. Feeling its chill, he chose his stone and gathered his thoughts, carefully selecting his words. “They say the corners and sides bring profit, while the center builds influence.”
His white stone settled into the upper-right corner of the board. A modest first move, claiming an unoccupied corner to secure territory.
The simplicity of it steadied his heart. “You know as well as I do that the corners are the most important part of the board.”
In Go, the corners and edges were efficient since they yielded territory quickly. The implication was clear that in any contest, securing tangible gains first was the wisest course.
“You are advising me to secure profit,” the warrior said at last, lifting his gaze.
In that brief glance lay the full weight of his towering presence. An ordinary mortal would have buckled beneath it, legs trembling and spine slick with sweat. However, the white-haired elder had weathered countless storms. The gaze of a veteran general was not enough to deter him.
“Heavenly King,” the old man continued with quiet resolve, “the world still needs its ruler.”
“A ruler...” the Heavenly King repeated.
The old man pressed on, believing he had found a hold. However, the king did not yield.
“And is that not you?” he countered calmly.
The old man’s eyes widened. The King could not be ensnared, nor swayed by eloquence. He had lived too long to be tempted by honeyed words.
Click.
The Heavenly King rolled a black stone between his fingers. “It is Go we are speaking of.”
“Yes.”
“It has changed much since it was first created.”
Black and white stones clashed across the board. The being who had first devised this ancient game had once been the king’s closest friend. Of that, the old man was well aware. However, that being had long since departed. He waited in silence, sensing that the king’s musings were not without purpose.
“Tell me, why do you think the corners are so important?” the king asked suddenly.
“The corners?” The question was unexpected, but not difficult. “Because they allow one to build territory most efficiently, with the fewest stones.”
The corners touched the edges of the board. Territory formed fastest there, slower along the sides, and slowest in the center. It was only natural to prioritize what led most quickly to victory.
“These days, people play only speed Go,” the king said quietly.
The old man’s hand paused before placing his next white stone.
“What I’m trying to say is people these days fight only to win. They play only for the outcome.”
The words hung heavy in the air. Was there, then, such a thing as a battle meant to lose? The old man noticed the faint downturn of the king’s mouth.
“I will take my leave now,” the king said at last.
“You remain in fine health. Why do you keep speaking as though departing?”
“It has been too long. I have been forcing myself against the natural flow of the cycle.”
“And yet—”
The old man stopped himself.
Click.
“Check,” the king said calmly.
Perhaps the old man did not press further since the outcome had been settled from the start.
“... It seems I was too busy talking,” he admitted with a wry smile.
He wasn’t surprised that he failed to achieve his aim. A tiger with broken fangs could snap its leash and flee, but it would always find another way. Had the king not once cultivated barren land, built a home for a million employees, and established the laws of the world?
The old man rose. “I will visit you again soon.”
“Do not trouble yourself.” The king chuckled softly. “I intend to endure for another ten years at least.”
“Ten years...” the old man murmured. “A short time indeed.”
He stood, retrieving the neatly folded coat from his seat.
“Will ten years be enough to put your affairs in order?” the old man asked lightly.
“I have lived this long. What more is there to arrange?”
“If not that, then what are those ten years for?” he pressed.
The king’s reply came easily. “There is a child I have been watching.”
The old man froze, his hand pausing midway as he lifted his fedora. Though aged by countless aeons, the Heavenly King remained the highest being beneath the highest sky. He was also the last of the four pillars that upheld the world. Such a being was watching someone. =
“I think I will remain to see that child fulfill his purpose,” said the king.
Moreover, it was a purpose worth fulfilling.
“I wonder what sort of fortunate child has captured your attention,” the old man said.
For the first time in a long while, his heart gave a sharp throb. Heat stirred low in his stomach. A premonition, almost prophetic in its unease, rippled through him.
“There is such a child,” the king said.
The old man lowered his hat over his eyes, waiting for the answer.
“It’s the child who returned an old friend’s possession to me.”
***
Once, there had been something called hope.
“If it’s you, you might survive this.”
It was hope that if it were him, he could protect his people, raise them up, and somehow endure.
“Kuk...”
“Will we meet again?”
“We will.”
He remembered the man who had stood bathed in red from head to toe, swinging a moonlit blade akin to a vengeful spirit beneath the night sky.
“I’ll be stronger next time.”
“Just don’t die.”
They had grown stronger through endless battles, fight after fight after fight. In a world so steeped in the stench of blood that they no longer even noticed it, they had achieved a leap forward that would never come again.
“Keuuugh!”
“Jun!”
What did any of it mean?
“I’m sorry....”
One by one, the comrades who had shared life and death with him had fallen. All hope had drained away, he could no longer even pretend to say, “We can do this.”
[A gift has arrived from Employee Jun!]
[Would you like to check it?]
Thud.
Saito knew exactly what the dreadful box floating before him represented.
His belongings.
It was a final gift containing everything Jun had left behind. Overwhelmed by guilt at failing to protect his subordinate, Saito could not bring himself to open it.
He still had his reward left...
Saito knew Jun had saved the reward from his previous trial, yet he had chosen this instead. Rather than endure endless suffering for a sliver of recovery, Jun had chosen the meager peace of death.
You bastard...
They had tried to survive, but more terrifying than the ferocious monsters was the absence of hope. No one could say things like, “Tomorrow will be better than today,” or “This exhausting war will end someday” anymore.
Therefore, Saito rose, sword in hand.
“Assimilate Clones,” he muttered through clenched teeth.
[Clones have been dispelled.]
[Dispersed energy is converging.]
The clones he had scattered in his desperate bid to live vanished. Following that, the energy that had been spread thin rushed back into his every joint.
“Kieeek! Kieeeeeek!”
The monsters kept coming as if they hadn’t devoured countless comrades already.
“Darkness.”
He dissolved into the air. In an instant, he disappeared, and the world lost its color.
Thud!
Concealing his presence, Saito tore across a monochrome Shibuya as though ripping it apart. He charged at the creatures that melted asphalt with filthy saliva, trampled collapsed stations with blade-like claws, and shredded broken billboards with iron fangs.
Then, he butchered them with his blade tearing through hides as tough as stone. “Kill.”
The cries of the few survivors echoed behind him.
“S-Saito!”
“It’s too dangerous alone!”
“We have to retreat first!”
However, where could they possibly run? Even if they fled this battlefield, there was nowhere left to go. Was this even a battle? It was already clear that their true enemy was not the wretched creatures dying before them.
[You have defeated the Giant Mountain Bat.]
[You have earned 2,000 Welfare Points.]
Their true enemy was that unseen, untouchable system. In that moment, both bitter laughter and tears of blood welled up inside him.
Swooosh!
Then, at the same time, a claw raked across the back of his neck.
[Caution!]
[Spinal infection has been detected.]
[Excessive blood has been lost.]
[Immediately cease combat and—]
He traded his bone for the enemy’s flesh.
[You have defeated the Giant Mountain Bat.]
[You have earned 2,000 Welfare Points.]
[You have defeated the Giant Mountain Bat.]
[You have earned 2,000 Welfare Points.]
Claws tore chunks from his thigh and fangs shredded his shoulder. Then, a horn punched clean through his abdomen.
“Saito! It’s too dangerous! Please, stop!”
His mind went blank. Once he abandoned hope, the road to death began to look like the only path to life.
For the first time, everything felt settled. Perhaps it had been hopeless from the beginning. He was not that man, after all.
If... If it had been him. If that man had stood here leading the people of Japan instead of me, would it have been different? Saito thought.
Crunch.
Fangs sank into the nape of his neck and his consciousness began to fade. All that remained was sticky saliva and flesh burning under corrosive acid.
Then, from somewhere beyond the darkening edges of his vision, came a voice he longed to hear. “Bolt from the Blue.”
Pzzzzt—!
Light erupted and the monsters howled as they burned. They burst apart, fragments scattering in all directions.
“You are...”
It was the end of the endless war.
***
Swoosh—!
The arrow slipped cleanly from the bowstring and pierced straight through the monster’s forehead.
[The Defense trial has been successful.]
[You have been rewarded with a point and 1,000 Welfare Points.]
“We did it!” Jung Min-Gyu cheered before immediately turning on his heel, as someone was waiting for him.
“That ended fast thanks to you,” one of his teammates said with a grin. “Your aim’s getting better and better.”
“I boosted my Strength stat a lot,” Min-Gyu replied, still catching his breath. “It’s finally starting to show. I don’t tire as easily, so I can practice more. My Archery skill’s climbing faster too.”
Today’s combat unit was in high spirits. A trial had popped up just before the end of the workday. Finishing it quickly felt like they had salvaged their entire evening. Otherwise, they would have been fighting through the night.
With that light thought in mind, Min-Gyu returned to their base and stopped short. “What’s going on? Why’s it so tense?”
The atmosphere was far more frantic than he expected. People rushed back and forth, carrying basins of water and damp towels. Then, he saw her.
“There’s Min-Gyu!”
“Min-Gyu! Min-Young is...”
His mind went blank. “M-Min-Young! Are you okay?”
His girlfriend was shivering violently, clutching her swollen belly with one hand. “... I’m cold. So cold.”
Min-Gyu, who had calmly shot an arrow through a monster’s skull moments ago, now fumbled helplessly over his words. “C-cold? How bad? Hieek? You’re burning! Wait, put on more clothes first!”
Taking a life was easy, but bringing one into the world was tens of thousands of times harder.
The truth of that struck him deep in his bones as he forced himself to think. “You got the trial reward, right? Let’s use that to recover your condition first. Okay?”
“The reward...” Even bundled in a hat, extra layers, thick socks, and an old blanket pulled over her head, Min-Young continued to tremble. “... I’ll just endure.”
“What?!”
“I can endure it.” Choosing to hold out, she asked weakly, “We still have some fever medicine left, right?”
“We do, but—”
“I’ll use my reward to raise my Stamina stat,” she said, curling onto her side, barely able to keep her eyes open under the flush of fever. “In the long run, that’s better.”
“Min-Young...”
“You saw what happened when we raised Strength after listening to him,” she continued, forcing a faint smile, “it made a real difference. Stamina will too. It’ll definitely help.”
Her voice was thin, but steady. “Can you give me some water and medicine? And maybe wipe me down with a towel.”
Min-Gyu swallowed the crushing helplessness of relying on a single fever pill and old-fashioned remedies. “Okay.”
Just then, a rough hand caught his wrist as he reached for the towel.
Thud.
“No.”
It was a voice that should not have been there. The familiar, unmistakable one that had once given them hope like a fleeting dream.
“It would be better if she avoided medication for now,” Eun-Ho said calmly.
Min-Gyu froze, lips parting in disbelief. “How are you here?”
“Our team has a very capable healer.”
“Our team?” Min-Gyu echoed faintly.
Then came another thread of hope.
“Come with us.”
A collective gasp swept through those gathered around Min-Young’s trembling form.
“That’s great, Min-Young! Go! Hurry!”
Min-Gyu had once steeled himself through tears, vowing to climb the steep uphill road before him no matter how hard it became.
“Oh, and for the record,” Eun-Ho added, glancing around at everyone, “this invitation extends to all of you.”
“Us too? W-why?”
In this world, there were those who chose to climb the hill step by step, and those who smashed it flat and said, “Walk with me.”
“We need your help.” Lee Eun-Ho stepped forward and extended his hand. “Will you come with us?”
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