Descent Of The Demon Master [EN]: Chapter 2056

Who will be the victor?

Well….

Kang Jin-ho now felt that such things no longer mattered.

Perhaps it was a betrayal of Wiggins, but he didn’t particularly feel that way. Even Wiggins would understand Kang Jin-ho.

To be precise….

He was no longer interested in the changes that the outcome of this fight would bring. He was merely curious to see which of these two, who were fighting with everything they had, could prove themselves more.

And that was probably the same for the two of them.

Perhaps right now, the only thing on their minds was defeating their opponent.

Somehow, he felt like laughing.

They had risked so much to stand here. Before they stood there, their minds must have been incredibly complex.

What each of them carried.

What each of them had to gain.

What they had sacrificed and given up for this moment.

What they would gain and lose through this fight.

But as they exchanged blows and desperately fought, those things lost their meaning. All that remained was the primal desire and urge to defeat their opponent.

Yes.

In the end, martial artists are….

Just people who can’t grow up, no matter how old they get.

People learn how to lose as they age.

Some realize they aren’t as smart as they thought, and some realize that the dreams they wanted to achieve are impossible.

Lofty dreams and lofty ideals.

Those high ideals that everyone once held are chipped away and dulled by the wall of reality.

And before they know it….

‘They learn how to lose without it hurting too much.’

They come to accept it.

They learn to give up, using the words ‘it can’t be helped’ like an anesthetic.

Yes.

That’s what it means to grow up.

Is it bad?

Well.

‘It’s not a bad thing.’

No, it’s actually wise. How can it be bad to pursue one’s own happiness by not getting hurt, not suffering, and adapting to reality?

It’s not those people who are bad, but those who can’t do that who are foolish.

Overwhelming martial power.

What good is it to gain that power?

Are those here now happier or more joyful than those who live ordinary lives?

Absolutely not.

The more one holds, the more responsibility one has. Those here have obtained what they wanted, but they are only half-complete, having lost everything that ordinary people desire.

But….

Kang Jin-ho raised his head and looked at the two of them.

Those who can never grow up. Those who have spent their entire lives in a childish fight to prove who is stronger.

‘So….’

Kang Jin-ho curled up the corners of his lips.

‘They can’t afford to lose anymore. Right?’

If they don’t win, nothing will remain.

No matter how much they try to package themselves, no matter how much they create their own cause, no matter how much they say they are different.

In reality, it’s just a stubbornness of not wanting to lose, dressed up in a plausible way.

Kang Jin-ho chuckled softly.

A childish battle of pride. He had to watch with his own eyes where the end of that childishness would lead.

“Hoo.”

Wiggins took a deep breath, low and slow.

‘It’s not easy, as expected.’

He had prepared to the best of his ability, but his opponent was still strong. His scenario had already gone awry a long time ago.

He couldn’t understand it at all.

How could someone become so strong by living in such a way?

Wiggins raised his gaze and looked at Baek Yeonhong, who was approaching him.

A terrible sight.

The scars he had left on Baek Yeonhong’s body were clearly etched. A body torn to shreds, unrecognizable, and arms that had turned into a black mass.

Hair disheveled.

Looking at his appearance alone, the word ‘miserable’ was more than fitting.

But….

Strangely, as Wiggins looked at him, he thought that his opponent was elegant.

It was strange.

Wiggins didn’t believe in things he couldn’t see. He only believed in what he could confirm with his senses. Yet, Baek Yeonhong’s appearance now was enough to give him a feeling of ‘transcendence.’ Like a steadily flowing river.

He now understood what they were saying.

What did such a disheveled appearance matter? As long as the essence within remained undisturbed.

He could understand it because he had pushed himself to the limit. What they were pursuing, where they were trying to reach in their lives.

‘No. Not yet.’

He hadn’t yet pushed himself to the limit. There were still things left for him. Even if it was something of irreplaceable value to him.

‘Understood, Lord.’

Wiggins smiled faintly.

To fill, one must empty. What that meant.

At least, that’s how it felt to him. There were things that could only be obtained by pouring everything out until it was completely empty.

So….

Crack.

Wiggins, taking out all the remaining batteries from the subspace, gave a pale smile.

The world was getting further and further away, leaving only him and Baek Yeonhong.

‘It’s terrifying.’

Baek Yeonhong’s eyes narrowed further as he looked at Wiggins.

He could feel a chilling focus from Wiggins, who was glaring at him. Perhaps, in Wiggins’ world right now, only he and himself existed.

Everything else would cease to exist.

What filled Baek Yeonhong at this moment was a kind of respect. Respect for the weakling who stood in his way.

‘His martial prowess is nothing, but as a person, he is incomparable.’

He had been given three chances. It was thanks to those three chances that he could stand before this man now. If they had to face each other with an equal chance, he would have been nothing more than an insect compared to Wiggins.

He was strong.

That was what it meant to be strong. To risk everything, even danger, and try to obtain what one wanted at all costs.

He was incomparable to him, who had gained strength through talent and the passage of time.

‘It’s an honor.’

Such a man was trying to face him with all his might.

Then….

“I must face him with all my might as well.”

Baek Yeonhong, gripping his sword, gently stepped onto the ground.

Silence.

A stillness descended between the two.

Wiggins, staring at Baek Yeonhong with a razor-sharp focus.

And Baek Yeonhong, gently accepting Wiggins’ gaze.

Two people of vastly different temperaments were left alone in the world.

And then….

Sssst.

Baek Yeonhong was the first to move.

He gently pushed off the floor with his toes. It didn’t seem like he had moved much, but his body moved as if he had folded space. [A technique that makes it seem like the distance is shortened]

It was a realm closer to shrinking the ground than to light footwork. It was a movement that was like turning the space between them into nothingness.

Wiggins’ response was also immediate.

Without any warning, Wiggins’ body disappeared from its spot.

It was impossible to perceive with the eyes. Baek Yeonhong was too fast to follow with the senses. But Wiggins didn’t doubt for a moment that he had to move on his own.

What firmly supported his judgment was, paradoxically, his trust in Baek Yeonhong.

An unwavering belief in his opponent’s strength. That firm belief shaped his judgment with perfect accuracy.

Ssssh.

Baek Yeonhong’s sword sliced through the afterimage of the disappearing body.

Baek Yeonhong, who had swung his sword, moved like a phantom, following the power in his sword. His sword pierced again into Wiggins, who had appeared in the air.

Whoosh!

His sword completely cut through Wiggins, but he didn’t feel anything on his fingertips.

A phantom? Or? An afterimage?

It didn’t matter.

To swing his sword again and again to cut what he couldn’t reach.

There was nothing special or new about it. It was something that any martial artist with a sword would repeat.

If he couldn’t reach it, he would just keep swinging until he did.

Sssst!

Baek Yeonhong’s sword danced as it was swung.

‘Good.’

A smile bloomed on Baek Yeonhong’s lips.

Wasn’t it exciting?

The weight of the sword in his hand was exhilarating. Even the sight of his opponent, who couldn’t be cut, was enjoyable.

Everything he wanted and desired was now at the tip of his sword. And there was an opponent who could harmonize with him.

What more could a martial artist ask for?

The sword slowly swept through the air.

His opponent was incredibly fast, but paradoxically, his sword only became slower.

But….

Sssst.

His sword cut through the hem of Wiggins’ clothes for the first time.

His sword, which had lightly passed by Wiggins’ phantom that had appeared behind him as if he had known it in advance, cut through Wiggins’ chest as he reappeared.

‘It’s a shame.’

It would have been more enjoyable with a drink.

His sword began to carry even more excitement.

Even though it was an interior filled with only gray concrete, it was as if he had brought a ray of moonlight into this desolate space.

His toes touched the ground. Softly and gently.

His shoulders drew a slender curve, and his fingertips caressed the world as if sweeping it away.

And….

The tip of his sword simply drew a desolate, round moon.

Like a sumukhwa [Korean ink wash painting] painting roughly brushed by someone, more natural than delicate.

It was a strange thing.

Unnecessary things kept getting mixed into his sword, which had been so simple.

Even the action of shrugging his shoulders, the action of lightly kicking off the floor, and even the action of pointlessly cutting through the empty air.

They were just unnecessary frills that only hindered him from chasing Wiggins.

Clearly, those actions were dulling the tip of his sword.

Yet, his sword was cutting through the hem of Wiggins’ clothes more and more often.

‘What was I trying to achieve?’

It was futile.

It would have been enough to just get drunk on a drink and swing his sword to his heart’s content.

No, it wasn’t.

It didn’t matter.

‘Isn’t that right?’

His gaze met Wiggins, who had appeared in the air.

An unknown sadness washed over his heart.

‘I see.’

What he was trying to grasp was not the future of martial artists.

It would disappear.

Nowhere in the world would he be able to find someone who would swing a sword under the moon with a drink. The world that this sword, which had been passed down through countless people and finally reached him, would create would also disappear.

That’s what it means to flow.

Some things simply cannot keep up with the passage of time and must be forgotten.

What he couldn’t let go of was just that.

The regret and sorrow that he, who was called the black sheep of the sect, was the only one carrying on that sword in this age of steel.

If it was going to disappear so futilely….

Why had they passed down the sword for so long?

‘You told me not to be attached?’

Words his master had once said to him.

‘I couldn’t do it.’

He had to empty and empty again, but what he couldn’t empty was what he had considered the most insignificant.

A gentle smile appeared on Baek Yeonhong’s lips.

So warm that it didn’t seem like he could make it.