What is it you desire? (1)
A darkness so thick one could not tell one direction from another.
“Hooo…….”
Only the low sound of breathing echoed on and on again.
How much time had passed?
Who knows. There was no way to tell.
His senses, honed to their very limit, would not readily grant him even the refuge of sleep. All he could do was suppress and rein in the nerves stretched taut, as if they might snap at any moment.
“Hooo.”
Every time he breathed in, the thick, fishy stench of blood clung to him like glue.
Whose blood was it? Someone who died yesterday? Or someone who died the day before? That, too, he could not know. He could no longer even remember when the smell of blood had first seeped into this body and stopped fading away.
He was sick of it.
This endless cycle, the fact that he could not even close his eyes unless he held a sword in his hand, and… and all of this.
Would it ever end? No, was there even such a thing as an end?
In the space consumed by deep darkness, even an ashen sneer warped and scattered. The only thing left was the sound of breathing.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, and exhale again.
That repetitive sound, continuing on and on until it was utterly loathsome.
At that moment. A dazzling light pierced the complete darkness. A pure white line appeared, cleaving the darkness wide open.
“Geomjon!”
The face of the one who rushed in, flinging the tent flap aside, was shadowed with a terror that was a scream in itself.
In that instant, before he could even hide it, a dry laugh slipped out.
Was it not laughable? A world where one had to be startled by and afraid of light. Had he gone mad? Or had the world gone mad?
“Geomjon! Geomjon! It’s c-coming. I-It is coming! Th-That thing…”
Without even knowing what he himself was saying, he was rambling incoherently, but in any case, his urgency came across with flawless clarity.
“G-Geomjon.”
Listening to that voice, filled with unparalleled desperation, he thought.
What is this man hoping for?
If he was so afraid, he need only run away. He need only close his eyes, cover his ears, and flee, so why was he here, wailing and pleading?
Because he was foolish? Or else…
“I know.”
As if by habit, he let out a faint snort. Yes, what difference was there? He, too, was in the same position.
‘Running away is a privilege reserved for those with easy hearts.’
Those who bear burdens cannot even flee. The things they have taken upon themselves clung endlessly to their ankles and dragged them down.
He tightened his grip on the sword.
His wounded body screamed, and every bone in him seemed to howl, but Geomjon forced himself up in the end. Swallowing down the thick taste of blood that continued to linger in his mouth, he brushed past the man before him and stepped out of the worn tent.
It was dazzling.
Even though evening was approaching and only a faint light shone upon the world, even that made his eyes ache.
The earth was barren and desolate. All that could be seen was the ashen grey sky, the ochre earth, and… the remains of things that had once been human.
In the past, he had thought that a place called hell would be a little more vivid than this, a little more turbulent.
But now his thoughts had changed.
If hell truly existed, it would surely look not much different from this place. There could hardly be another sight more capable of driving a person mad than this.
Those who could not overcome their fear and screamed in terror were nothing. There were just as many who collapsed at the end of despair and laughed like lunatics, or tore at their own faces and bodies, unable to do anything else.
Was it not truly comical?
Parting his dried lips, he let out a faded voice.
“What is the situation?”
The man, who had been staring blankly at Geomjon as if overwhelmed, snapped back to his senses and answered.
“A-A report came in that traces of it were found one li away. The direction is…”
“This place, I suppose.”
“Yes.”
Geomjon slowly nodded. Of course it would be. That thing roamed in search of people. However.
“Only one li…”
It seemed even the beggar bastards had died off in too great of a number. To think they had failed to detect its trail before it approached this close.
“Wh-What should we do, Geomjon?”
“Why ask?”
Geomjon’s eyes sank darkly.
“Tell them to run. As always. Anywhere, as far as they possibly can.”
“Then what about the meeting point?”
“The higher-ups will deal with that.”
“But, Geomjon. If we do that…”
In that instant, Geomjon turned to look at the one speaking. As their gazes met, the man trailed off and immediately bowed his head.
“U-Understood, Geomjon. I apologize.”
At least on this battlefield, Geomjon’s words were absolute. No, even the word absolute fell endlessly short. Because here and now, this man was the only thing holding the line.
“If you have time to chatter, move. I won’t be able to hold out for long.”
“Yes!”
The man, who had bowed low to the ground, shot away like the wind. Geomjon did not so much as spare him a glance. He merely stared in silence at the empty air before him.
An ashen sky and an ochre earth. Two worlds met along a single line. At the end of the horizon, sharp as though cut by a blade, something alien was moving.
Black, or red, and at times not even that, merely…
At that movement, something blooming at the center of the horizon spread in an instant. Ravenously, ferociously, as though it would devour the whole world.
At last, gazing at the black storm raging as though it might reach the edge of the sky, Geomjon gripped his sword.
No, in truth, he did not grasp it. He clung to it.
Because if he did not hold a sword – if that thing most familiar to his hands, the oldest companion he had, was not with him – then he could not even dare face that sight.
The black storm swallowed everything. Even the earth and the sky themselves seemed as though they were being dragged into it whole.
What words in this world could ever fully express that sight? If one had to name it, perhaps… one would have to call it living despair.
Crack.
His grip on the sword tightened of its own accord.
Yes. He was afraid.
To say he was not afraid would be a lie. Whenever he faced that sight, a terror that crushed and tore at his soul swallowed him whole.
No matter how hard he gathered his wits and clenched his teeth, nothing changed. Even a resolve firmer than Mount Tai, even a will honed keen as a blade, was shredded like paper before that despair.
All that remained was a tattered shell, and the coward within, unable to bring himself to flee, forced to face reality.
“Hooo.”
By now the storm had grown so vast it filled his entire field of vision, raging as though it would tear his body to pieces, yet Geomjon’s gaze was fixed on one place alone.
Within the raging storm. Amid all chaos boiling and seething, a snow-white figure walked alone in stillness.
Was it not absurd?
Everything was so brutally horrific, and yet only the one who had brought about this entire scene was so tranquil. As though he alone stood apart from this world.
But Geomjon could not be so. The moment he faced that white shadow, his entire being began to shake.
He could not tell whether what shook him was hatred, fear, or something else entirely.
Only that he was afraid. So terribly afraid that he wanted to shut his eyes at once.
“So… I suppose I’m not in my right mind either.”
A smile, twisted beyond all shape and form, was drawn across his face.
How many times had it been now? Charging towards that place.
It was something no one could possibly do unless they were mad. Something no one could even attempt unless they desperately wished for death.
But what of it?
Madness welled up in Geomjon’s eyes.
“In any case… everyone has already gone mad.”
Chung Myung took a step towards the snow-white shadow.
He advanced. Towards death.
He advanced. In order to survive.
The raging storm of qi shook the hem of his robes and sent his long hair surging upward.
Taking another step, he muttered to himself.
“That is why I stand here.”
Because he knew retreat would bring him closer to the end than advancing. He gritted his teeth and faced despair. Even as his hands trembled with dread, even as fear squeezed his heart tight, he stared it down with eyes forced wide enough to bleed.
“Yes. That is how I am.”
But he could not know.
No matter how many times he faced it, no matter how many times he resisted, to the very end, he could not know.
“Then what about you?”
Geomjon aimed the tip of his sword at the snow-white shadow.
It clearly existed before his eyes. A calamity in the shape of a human.
But in Chung Myung’s eyes, nothing could be seen there. All he could see was an immense void.
“Why are you there?”
His nemesis, and the nightmare of the world.
He drew near.
As always, reflecting the world in his empty pupils, bearing a presence that did not belong to the human realm.
They faced each other, and yet did not face each other.
Chung Myung looked at him, but he still did not look at Chung Myung. Perhaps he was not looking at anything at all.
The reason it was so terrifying to face that man was perhaps not solely because of his overwhelming strength.
He had fought against him. Countless times he had been wounded and cried out in agony. He had poured everything out, thrown everything he had into the clash with all his strength.
Even so, Geomjon still knew nothing about him.
Neither the reason for that fathomless malice, nor the purpose of that incomprehensible hostility. There was nothing he could understand.
“What is it you desire?”
Instead, the raging storm crashed down upon him as though alive. Vast and black, a grotesque malice steeped in the stench of blood.
This was why, though they faced each other, they could not truly meet. Like gears that had slipped out of alignment, no matter how they were pressed together, they would never click.
Emotionless eyes and an expressionless face. And yet, strangely, he could feel it with heartbreaking clarity. The emptiness of a soul that seemed already to have been worn away to nothing.
The fact that the source of such an incomparably powerful existence was an incomparably perfect absence of anything [부재(不在) – nonexistence] made it impossible for Geomjon to endure.
“Heavenly Demon!”
Geomjon’s sword was swung with all his might towards the dense malice that filled his sight. It was close to a howl. A resistance against something that could not be defied, a desperate struggle against an ending already decided.
Crimson flowers bloomed in wild profusion. So very fragile, and so very desperate.
❀ ❀ ❀
A bowstring drawn to its limit screamed as though it might snap at any moment.
Creeeak. Creeeak.
The scar-covered hand gripping the string could not withstand the force caught upon it and began to tremble, but even so, it held out.
A little more. Just a little, a little more…
Twiiing!
At last, the moment the string was released, the arrow shot forth, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.
The reindeer, realizing that something was flying towards it, tried to flee, but the arrow drove mercilessly into its neck.
Crunch!
“Got it!”
The reindeer leapt up on the spot and began to run away swaying, the arrow still lodged in its neck. At that, a young man wrapped head to toe in thick animal hides threw himself after the reindeer with all his might.
“Hufff, huff, huff..”
Each time he panted for breath, white vapor billowed out like smoke. The chase of a beast running to survive, and a human who had to kill that beast in order to live, continued for quite some time between trees bristling with thorn-like leaves.
And in the end.
Thud.
The reindeer, unable to hold out any longer, collapsed. The hunter climbed onto the fallen reindeer and, with a dagger drawn from inside his clothes, cut off its breath in a single stroke.
The reindeer convulsed for a moment, then soon went limp.
“Hooo!”
His breath had risen all the way to his throat, but there was no time to rest.
The hunter quickly slit open the reindeer’s belly. Through the long gash, its innards spilled out along with hot blood.
At that heat, the hunter’s face twisted slightly of its own accord.
In a land of bitter cold, even a single drop of blood, even a scrap of entrails, was precious. It was not as though he wanted to throw such valuable innards onto the ground like this. But for now, there was no other way.
Having emptied out everything inside to reduce the weight, the hunter then grabbed the reindeer by the legs and dragged it away. With neither direction nor destination decided, as though his only purpose was to get away from this place at once.
“Haaaaaaa.”
The young man, who had been moving on with sweat pouring down him, dropped the reindeer as if flinging it aside. Then, with urgent but practiced hands, this time he began to skin the reindeer.
Slice. Scrape.
He rolled up the hide he had peeled off, slung it over his shoulder and hoisted it onto his back. Still, as if he had not completely abandoned his regret, he quickly cut a handful of meat from the thigh of the now-skinned reindeer and clamped it between his teeth.
At last, he began to run without looking back.
Once again, he ran for a long while, until his chest felt ready to burst.
The roar of a great bear rang out. The young man’s sprint grew even faster.
Grrrraaaah!
Only after confirming that the roar he heard again had not grown closer did the young man collapse to the ground. The strength had gone out of his legs.
“Haa… haa. Haa…”
He breathed hard, almost in a daze. Even so, to the very end, he did not let go of the reindeer hide in his hand.
Here, where the wind blowing from the north stole away a person’s very soul. The frozen earth awaiting winter quietly froze the man’s rough breaths.
________
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