I followed Kwangcheol around, tearing off all those worthless limbs one by one.
It wasn’t out of spite.
Well, to be exact, I did cut off his wings out of anger.
They were just too damn noisy.
But the arms and legs?
That wasn’t the same.
I was definitely planning to punish him, to really put him in his place.
‘But if that were the reason, I would have silenced his mouth first, wouldn’t I?’
I wouldn’t have gone after his limbs for no reason.
And as for the fact that Kwangcheol had turned an incredible number of humans into mere specks in the lake…well.
Humans kill each other all the time.
If he had taken prayers from them, it might’ve been a different story.
But since he hadn’t, I didn’t really care about holding him accountable for killing humans.
Mna had always said that wars should be left to run their course freely.
I don’t know if that’s right or not, but Mna is the highest of the high priests, so if he says it’s right, then it probably is.
“It might sound ridiculous, but…”
“Listen.”
“I did it with good intentions.”
“It wasn’t about punishing a bad guy.”
“If that was how I felt, I would’ve just given up on all of this and laid down a long time ago.”
“So don’t look so miserable, Kwangcheol.”
Pat-pat-pat.
His giant eyes met mine.
And behind his massive head, I finally saw a shape I was more familiar with.
That’s right.
Now this is how Kwangcheol is supposed to look.
Just a moment ago, his freakishly long limbs had made him look—
Well, like if you took a T-Rex and gave it back legs the same size as its front ones.
That’s the kind of shape he had.
It was so bizarre that I couldn’t help but think of those limbs as the root of all evil.
Yeah.
That’s why I cut them all off.
Now, for some reason, the limbless Kwangcheol had collapsed onto the ground like a squid drying up on land.
But it’s not like he’s completely helpless now or anything.
Anyway, since he’s back to his proper form, I figured he’d stop being the loudest thing in the area and finally calm down.
But then—
“Not yet… it’s not over yet…”
Nope.
He’s not calming down.
‘Why is he still screaming instead of sending out his will properly?’
‘Did I not train him enough?’
I narrowed my eyes at him.
No matter how many times I told him to speak through his will, all he did was let tears trickle down his face.
‘Weird.’
Those steaming tears of his don’t seem fake.
He looks genuinely devastated.
‘He knows how to send out his will, so why isn’t he doing it?’
‘Jeez.’
This isn’t like Kang Hana at all.
She can’t even understand will, while this guy just can’t send it out.
‘For all his massive size, how is it that the two of them together barely make up a single snake’s worth of communication?’
“But you know…”
“Not yet… I’m not done yet…!!”
‘Why is he this miserable?’
I mean, Kwangcheols are always kind of sorrowful creatures, but this is excessive.
Now that I think about it, he hasn’t even tried to run away.
He’s just been lying there, crying.
‘Is he embarrassed that I cut off all six of his limbs so easily?’
‘But that was only natural, given that he was fighting me.’
‘Hmm.’
A really strange, impossible thought just crossed my mind.
‘There’s no way, right?’
‘I mean…’
‘He can still fly without his wings, right?’
‘And he can still walk without his legs… right?’
…Right?
Come on.
It’s not like he’s some common beast.
He’s a Kwangcheol.
No matter how much he got wrecked and barely held himself together with his heart, a celestial flame is still a celestial flame.
‘A Kwangcheol that can’t move just because he lost his limbs?’
‘That’s as absurd as a priest who can’t understand will.’
‘Wait.’
‘These days, priests can’t understand will.’
‘So…’
‘What if these days, Kwangcheols can’t walk without their limbs?’
That ridiculous logic made me frown.
I glanced to the side.
There they were—his severed limbs, slowly turning golden brown as they sank into the molten metal.
They really did look like dinosaur legs.
It reminded me of the old T-Rex days.
‘If he really can’t move without those pathetic limbs…’
‘Then, yeah, I guess I do feel a little bad about it.’
‘Maybe if he promises to stay quiet, I should put them back on…?’
I was just starting to soften when—
“I won’t let this slide…”
“I…”
“It can’t end like this…!!”
Kwangcheol’s eyes flashed, and inside his body, the rings began to spin.
With a sharp, sizzling sound.
“I’ll break at least one feather… shatter at least one scale before I go…!!!”
‘Oh.’
‘Guess I worried for nothing.’
The traitor serpent raised its flames.
Even as the rings spiraled toward the point of no return, it kept them spinning without hesitation.
The heat, as if scorching his very heart, spread throughout his body, seeping through the severed ends of his limbs.
The agony of being cooked alive.
Yet, the traitor serpent didn’t care.
It was over anyway.
***
From the moment I was abandoned, left with only my torso, I was already nothing more than a corpse.
‘If that was the case…’
‘Then I would burn everything in my last moments.’
‘I would leave an unforgettable wound on that unprecedented being.’
I fixated on its weak spot, the exposed inverse scale beneath its jaw.
The traitor serpent gathered heat.
“That’s not how you use celestial flame…”
The small, white creature muttered something, but I didn’t care.
The traitor serpent unleashed an unparalleled inferno.
Compressing the fire, condensing it further, pushing it to the limit.
At this point, it wasn’t even fire anymore—it was more like a concentrated beam.
—Crack, crack, KABOOM!
The flames struck the unknown being’s neck, scattering upon impact and slicing through the molten prison.
With this level of firepower…
Even the strongest water serpents, the ones with flawless cores, would be left crippled forever.
That was the power I had gained as the price of betrayal.
“…This can’t be happening.”
That was why.
That was why the traitor serpent couldn’t believe what it was seeing.
“Ow. That stung a little.”
Beyond the small hands dusting off the ash…
That inverse scale—was completely unharmed.
Not a single wound.
‘How could such an attack, taken head-on without even a hint of defense, fail to draw even a single drop of blood?’
The traitor serpent couldn’t accept it.
“This can’t be…!!”
It made no sense.
That thing, which looked like a mere hatchling of a water serpent, was an absurdity.
The fact that such a being mingled with lowly land beasts.
The fact that it had even bothered to send a warning through its will before simply breaking through.
Not a single thing about it made sense.
It was almost enough to make me wonder if this had all been an elaborate trap just to lure me in.
But no—that wasn’t possible.
A being of that level had no reason to deceive someone like me.
It was nothing more than a cruel coincidence, and I could only rage at the world for it.
“Aaaaaahhh…!!!”
There was no turning back now.
The shattered fragments of my core spun at an uncontrollable speed, grinding me down entirely.
It wasn’t sharp.
It wasn’t piercing.
It was just… unbearably hot.
At last, the traitor serpent was completely engulfed in flames.
“That’s not how you use celestial flame, I told you…”
Kwangcheol was killing himself.
Unbelievable.
I told him to listen to my will…
Kwangcheol wasn’t always like this.
He should have known better than anyone how reckless this was.
‘Why did he do it?’
‘…Well.’
‘Who cares.’
My throat still stung from when he grazed it, snapping me out of my exhaustion.
‘If it were my little snake burning in those flames, I might care.’
‘But this insolent Kwangcheol?’
‘Not so much.’
‘If I just leave him for a bit longer, he’ll quiet down on his own.’
—Ssssshhh…
There was one small… tiny problem with that.
—KYAAAAAAA!!!!
Kwangcheol was in excruciating pain, thrashing wildly.
Yeah.
Thrashing.
His massive body, completely consumed by the celestial flame’s heat, flailed violently.
It hurt so much that he slammed his head against the walls, spewing breath attacks in every direction, completely ignoring me.
This is bad.
At this rate, no human-made structure could withstand the damage.
I took a quick look around.
‘If the entire building had been reinforced like this room, maybe it would’ve held.’
But most of it was just a mix of stone and metal.
The building was enormous, but not enough.
In no time, everything except this room and the one I woke up in would collapse.
In fact, half of it was already crumbling.
***
—Rumble.
Crash.
Between the nausea from Kwangcheol’s attack and the pounding headache from the collapsing structure…
Ugh.
I feel like throwing up.
“Gyaa…”
I collapsed onto the floor.
Whatever.
There’s no one here but Kwangcheol anyway.
Dignity as a god?
That’s a luxury for when I’m not exhausted.
Who’s going to judge me?
What kind of follower has the right to complain when even their god is struggling?
I’m throwing up.
Anyway, Kwangcheol won’t die easily—not until those flames burn out completely.
Might as well shut him up while I’m at it.
—Fwoooosh.
The celestial flame buried in my gut flared up, as if waiting for this moment.
Alright.
Now’s the time.
Even if I hold back the power, if I unleash all five breaths, it won’t just be Kwangcheol that goes quiet.
I should settle for just one breath’s worth.
I let my will shape the celestial flame, loading it into my throat.
“Gyaaah.”
And I let it out.
Boom.
The traitor serpent couldn’t comprehend anything anymore.
Even through the searing pain, its mind was still a chaotic mess.
It had to take more.
Burn more.
Until the rings were satisfied.
There was no room for any other thoughts.
As always.
This wasn’t why I had betrayed my kin.
‘Was this the end?’
Shackled by the rings, unable to fulfill my ambition?
The traitor serpent closed its eyes in loneliness.
And then—
A miracle touched me.
My tangled, chaotic mind turned stark white.
Only now did the traitor serpent realize.
The fact that I had forgotten was absurd.
‘If I hadn’t shattered my core, I never would have forgotten.’
‘Water serpent?’
‘What water serpent?’
‘Unprecedented being?’
‘What unprecedented being?’
Now that the wretched chains of the rings had been severed, I could finally send my will to that one.
The one I had only remembered as a vague, ancient existence—’whom I should have never forgotten.’
The one who awakened me from my shackles.
Believing this to be my final moment, the traitor serpent left its will behind.
No need for pretentious words now.
“I’m sorryyy… I didn’t recognize youuuu…”
And for the first time in an eternity, the traitor serpent called out the title it had long forgotten.
“MI….”
A warmth spread through me.
‘If I had known this wasn’t my final moment…’
I’ would’ve tried to sound cooler.’
But that was a thought for much, much later.