The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live A Normal Life [EN]: Chapter 520

This attack was a trick. It looked like a real attack, but it was meant to fool the enemy.

While Roman Dmitry made it look like he was attacking Yeongdeungpo, the forces from Incheon were actually heading towards Geumcheon-gu.

Lee Tae-sung asked, “Are you sure this will be alright?”

When Roman Dmitry announced he would attack Yeongdeungpo alone, everyone except Park Min-woo was worried. This was understandable.

Kim Jung-tae was very careful and had put all of Seoul’s forces in Yeongdeungpo. Attacking there meant fighting Seoul head-on.

Of course, they trusted Roman Dmitry.

However, they thought it was too risky and didn’t see why it was necessary to make things so difficult.

Park Min-woo smiled and said, “Many of you are probably wondering why I swore loyalty to Roman Dmitry. It’s true that I admire his sense of justice, but it’s also because of my inherited abilities. I know what Roman Dmitry is truly capable of.”

A little while ago, Park Min-woo was disappointed when Roman Dmitry left alone.

He wanted to fight alongside Roman Dmitry. He was sad when he was told to move with the main unit.

Then, he listened closely to Lee Tae-sung’s words.

Lee Tae-sung and others didn’t understand Roman Dmitry’s plan. Park Min-woo noticed this. He felt special because he believed he knew the real reason behind Roman Dmitry’s actions.

That’s why Park Min-woo spoke so easily.

“You can’t even imagine what Roman Dmitry has overcome,” Park Min-woo said. “The Central Government? That’s nothing! He faced enemies much stronger. He built an army from nothing and conquered the world. It was unbelievable. When the world was collapsing, Roman Dmitry showed his true power and defeated all the enemies. So, the Central Government is no problem. Even if the whole world attacked him, Roman Dmitry could handle it alone. Ah, of course, I’m not talking about the Roman Dmitry you see now, but the Roman Dmitry I know from my visions of the past.”

“So, Roman Dmitry is also an inheritor?” someone asked.

“That’s right,” Park Min-woo replied.

People’s eyes widened.

Roman Dmitry was an inheritor?

This was the first time they had heard this.

It seemed believable.

Just like Dmitry’s ability users shared memories, Roman Dmitry must have had a special past.

Also, people said the White-Clothed Magician was an inheritor.

Because Park Min-woo was known for his honesty, the people of Incheon believed him.

They didn’t know the truth.

The enemy of Roman Dmitry that Park Min-woo talked about was actually Emperor Alexander, who was even more powerful than the Central Government.

Having faced him directly, Park Min-woo was sure of it.

The Central Government? China? America?

He laughed at the thought. Even when he used 9-circle magic and summoned demons, Roman Dmitry had never shown his full power.

It didn’t matter how many enemies a being with that much power had. He was sure they would all be defeated in less than a day.

Park Min-woo was happy to be on Roman Dmitry’s side, not his enemy.

“You stupid fools. You don’t know how great it is to be on the Heavenly Demon’s side!”

He stopped himself from saying more.

Park Min-woo said firmly, “Roman Dmitry will never be defeated, so we just need to focus on our mission.”

“Understood,” they replied.

In the distance, the skyline of Geumcheon-gu appeared. Even from afar, they could see the dark smoke rising, a grim banner against the sky. As they got closer, the sounds of battle reached them – the roars of monsters and the desperate cries of humans. Geumcheon-gu was still trapped in a nightmare.

It was the last day of Red Time.

Three monster waves appeared near Seoul.

One of them was in Geumcheon-gu. Jo Dal-soo, who had been staying in Yeongdeungpo, hurried back to Geumcheon-gu.

He had been living through hellish days ever since.

He had been fighting hard every day. After the Chinese reinforcements arrived, he finally saw hope.

“Attack! Defeat the monsters and eliminate the monster wave!” Jo Dal-soo shouted.

Finally, they found the source of the monster wave.

If they could defeat the monsters and stop the wave, Geumcheon-gu would be safe again.

Jo Dal-soo commanded the troops on the battlefield in his own way.

He was just shouting loudly from a safe distance, but he thought of himself as a great general.

“This is my chance,” he thought. “If I stop the monster wave, the President will notice me again.”

Roman Dmitry had ruined his life.

Because he had made a mistake, Kim Jung-tae had tried to use Jo Dal-soo as a scapegoat.

Fortunately, he had survived when Roman Dmitry started a rebellion. But since he had been abandoned once, he was afraid it would happen again.

Jo Dal-soo went to China and brought back Chinese aid.

He thought that wasn’t enough, so he came to the battlefield to prove himself.

Victory was close.

He shouted even louder.

He was getting excited when suddenly…

“Fire Rain.”

Suddenly, streaks of fire tore through the sky. The ‘Fire Rain’ fell like burning tears, exploding on impact and engulfing soldiers in flames.

The soldiers of Geumcheon-gu screamed. Jo Dal-soo looked around, confused.

“What is this?” he asked. “Magic? Did a monster that uses magic appear?”

He looked around, but he couldn’t see any such monster.

Then, he saw a group of humans in the distance.

It was Park Min-woo and his group.

“Those crazy bastards,” Jo Dal-soo muttered.

Roman Dmitry was using his forces well.

He attacked Yeongdeungpo himself, but he sent the forces from Incheon to Geumcheon-gu, which was still in danger.

He didn’t want to destroy Geumcheon-gu completely.

He was using one group to control another. Geumcheon-gu was already fighting monsters.

What would happen if Baek Il and Park Min-woo used magic from a distance on those who couldn’t move their forces easily? They would be helpless.

He didn’t care if it was cowardly. To win the war, Roman Dmitry thought it was important to attack the enemy in other places besides Yeongdeungpo.

Jo Dal-soo was in trouble.

He had to fight back, but he couldn’t deal with Park Min-woo while also fighting monsters.

“Save me!” a soldier cried.

“Kraaah!” a monster roared.

The soldiers were dying, and the monsters were attacking aggressively.

“Damn it,” Jo Dal-soo cursed.

Commander Jo Dal-soo bit his lip, his teeth grinding together. *This is it,* he thought, *there’s no other choice.* Even with more Chinese soldiers coming, we’ll lose if we keep fighting like this. ‘The main Chinese army is in Yeongdeungpo,’ he shouted to his officers. ‘We have to pull back and ask for their help!’

He didn’t know… Yeongdeungpo. The name echoed in his mind, a place of supposed safety. But a terrible thought struck him. *Had something happened there?* Then, the awful truth hit him like a punch. Yeongdeungpo was gone. He had heard rumors, but refused to believe them. Now, looking at the panicked faces of his soldiers, he knew it was true. Despair turned to urgency. Jo Dal-soo roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. ‘Retreat! Fall back! We will regroup and fight again!’

* * *

Time blurred. It felt like hours had passed in this nightmare, but had it really been that long? Someone whispered, “Thirty minutes?” No. Jo Dal-soo checked his watch, his hand shaking. Impossible. Barely fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of pure destruction. Yeongdeungpo Square was no longer a square. It was a slaughterhouse. Blood soaked the stones, turning them dark and slick. The air was thick with the smell of iron and death. Everywhere he looked, there were bodies. Soldiers lay twisted and broken, their faces frozen in terror. One soldier, his eyes wide with shock, stumbled backwards, pointing a trembling finger. “…A m-monster!” he choked out.

“‘Don’t come closer!'” someone screamed, but the warning was lost in the rising tide of fear. The soldiers faltered, their charge broken. It was like hitting a wall. They had rushed forward, confident in their numbers, sure they could drown him in bodies. But Roman Dmitry moved like a whirlwind of death. Swords flashed, and men fell. Not just fell, but were *destroyed*. They had thought they could tire him out, wear him down. They were wrong. Horribly wrong. Corpses littered the ground, a gruesome carpet of the fallen. And among them, the bodies of their best. Thunderstorm, the man who could call lightning from the sky? His head was simply gone, as if erased. Specter, the killer who haunted their nightmares? His body was a mangled mess, limbs ripped away like a child tearing apart a doll. These were not weaklings. They were legends in Seoul, feared and respected. Yet, against Roman Dmitry, they were nothing more than ordinary soldiers, meeting the same brutal end.

They were utterly broken. Defeated not just in body, but in spirit. Crimson blood, dark and thick, dripped from Roman Dmitry’s sword, each drop a testament to his deadly skill. He was more than just strong; he was unstoppable. Looking back, it was obvious. A single man walking into the heart of their stronghold – it wasn’t bravery, it was certainty. He *knew* he would win. Roman Dmitry’s voice, calm and clear amidst the screams and dying groans, cut through the air. ‘President Kim Jung-tae,’ he said, his voice carrying across the square. ‘End this pointless slaughter. Come out and face me. Do you think you can tire me out? That your soldiers are just numbers to be thrown away? No matter how many you send, the result will be the same. I will kill every enemy I have marked. The battle is already decided. Why waste more lives when you have already lost?’ He flicked his wrist, and a spray of blood flew from his blade. The polished steel of his sword shone in the dim light, untouched, deadly. He looked at the terrified faces around him, his breathing steady, not even a hint of strain. ‘Run if you wish,’ he said, his voice low and dangerous. ‘But know this: you cannot escape me.’

He took a step forward, his sword held ready. The remaining soldiers flinched, bracing themselves for another wave of death. But then, a new voice, sharp and commanding, echoed through the square. ‘Stop!’ The command was so forceful, so unexpected, that even Roman Dmitry paused. From behind the ranks of terrified soldiers, a figure emerged. It was Kim Jung-tae. The President of South Korea. He had been watching from the shadows, and now, finally, he stepped into the light.

* * *

Kim Jung-tae stared at the scene, his face pale. Appalled wasn’t strong enough. He was horrified. He had been so sure. Luring Roman Dmitry into Yeongdeungpo, surrounded by his best troops – it had seemed like a perfect trap. Roman Dmitry would be destroyed. Instead… this. This massacre. He had watched, initially calm, even smug. But as the minutes ticked by, and the screams grew louder, a cold dread had crept into his heart. His soldiers were being slaughtered. All of them. He couldn’t let it continue. Not because he cared about them as individuals. No. They were tools. But they were *his* tools. His power. Without them, what was he? Kim Jung-tae stepped forward, but only a little. He stayed safely behind his wall of bodyguards, fear still gnawing at him. He raised his voice, shouting to be heard over the carnage. ‘Roman Dmitry! Listen to me! You can’t deny what I’ve done for South Korea! If I hadn’t taken charge, if I hadn’t built this government, do you honestly think this country would have survived the chaos? Absolutely not! It would have fallen apart!’

His voice, amplified by magic, carried far beyond the square. Ordinary people, hiding in their homes, peeked through cracks in curtains, listening with fear and fascination. Kim Jung-tae continued, his voice ringing with self-justification. ‘The people in the smaller towns, the provinces – yes, they suffered. But it was necessary! For South Korea to survive in this dangerous world, we had to make hard choices. We had to decide what was most important for the *whole* country. And we did survive, didn’t we? I took the burden, the terrible responsibility, so that South Korea could live.’ His words hung in the air. Perhaps, to some, they sounded reasonable. Maybe South Korea *had* survived because of his actions. But Roman Dmitry did not accept this idea that the ends justify the means. He cut through Kim Jung-tae’s words with cold fury. ‘If you were right,’ Roman Dmitry said, his voice like ice, ‘this war would never have begun. If the people truly supported you, I would not be here. But they don’t. This war is between you and me. Because we both exist, and we believe different things. You think you are right. I know you are wrong. This fight will only end when one of us is dead. And as long as you live, and as long as people follow your lies, I will not rest. I will not stop.’

Roman Dmitry’s words were a threat, a promise. Kim Jung-tae felt a chill run down his spine. He knew, with absolute certainty, that Roman Dmitry was right. If he didn’t kill this man, he was doomed. Fear turned to rage, desperation fueling his voice. Kim Jung-tae screamed, his voice cracking with fury and terror. ‘Bodyguards! Now! Do as I command!’ ‘Your orders, President!’ they responded, their voices grim. ‘Kill Roman Dmitry!’ Kim Jung-tae shrieked. ‘Kill him now! I don’t care what it takes! Sacrifice yourselves if you have to! Destroy that monster!’

The sound of weapons being drawn echoed in the square. *Shink*. *Shink*. *Shink*. The bodyguards moved, a wall of muscle and steel. Not just ordinary guards, but elite hunters, hundreds of them. At their head stood their captain, a giant of a man, rumored to be as strong as an S-rank hunter, though he had never officially taken the test. They raised their weapons – guns, swords, glowing energy blades – all aimed at Roman Dmitry. But Kim Jung-tae wasn’t finished. ‘Mr. Xiaolong,’ he called out, his voice regaining some of its strength. ‘I need your help.’ A figure stepped forward from the Chinese ranks. ‘Of course, President Kim,’ a voice replied, smooth and confident. Xiaolong. The Chinese hunter. Kim Jung-tae had been waiting for this moment. Xiaolong’s presence was his trump card. With Xiaolong here, he finally felt a flicker of hope. Xiaolong gestured, and the Chinese hunters around him drew their own weapons. A cold smile touched Xiaolong’s lips. His words, magically translated for everyone to understand, were laced with arrogance. ‘You are strong, I admit,’ Xiaolong said, his eyes fixed on Roman Dmitry. ‘But strength is nothing compared to the might of a nation.’ *Shreuk*. Xiaolong drew his sword, a blade that seemed to drink in the light. Confidence surged through the bodyguards. Xiaolong was here. Victory was still possible. Xiaolong pointed his sword at Roman Dmitry. ‘My name is Xiaolong,’ he announced, his voice ringing with power. ‘Remember it. It is the name of the man who will end you.’ Xiaolong. China’s S-rank hunter. The Sword Demon. A legend whispered in fear – the man who had single-handedly slaughtered ten thousand in the chaos years ago. He was here. And he was ready to fight.