The World’s Greatest is Dead - Chapter 53

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Heavenly Supreme Has Died – Episode 053
“Who are you?”
A familiar voice and manner of speech.
In fact, it was the exact same scene as last time.
So blindingly white that I couldn’t even discern direction.
As if snow had fallen endlessly, the whiteness that filled my surroundings was dazzling to the eyes.
In my hand, just like before, I held a sword.
And.
‘That bastard.’
The Young Man of Wol-an staring at me. The youth with that peculiar demeanor was the same one I’d seen before.
Not only did he appear out of nowhere, but he was the one who killed me.
Yet.
‘Again?’
Just like in the previous dream, he appeared again. In exactly the same manner as before.
“I asked who you are.”
Even the words were identical to last time. It was the same then, and it’s the same now.
It felt as though everything was repeating.
“It seems you have no intention of answering. But that’s fine.”
Yes, exactly like that.
“….”
Upon realizing this, chills ran down my spine.
What this meant was that he was repeating the actions from the dream I had before.
Which meant the next words would be.
‘After all, you’re my enemy.’
“After all, you’re my enemy.”
And that was it.
‘And then surely…!’
Schwick—!
Along with a chilling sound, my vision crumbled once more.
Just like before, my neck was severed and my sight faded into darkness.
As my body and head grew further apart and my consciousness grew distant, I felt a strange sense of relief within my mind.
‘I’ll wake up.’
Though I would meet death once again, if only I could escape this damnable dream, nothing else mattered.
That’s what I thought.
“Who are you?”
‘…What?’
My eyes widened at the voice that reached me the moment I regained consciousness.
I frantically wrapped my hands around my neck.
My severed neck had already reattached itself.
‘What is this…?’
I was clearly just dead moments ago.
‘Why is this happening?’
How did things come to this?
I couldn’t comprehend it. It wasn’t as if I had merely awakened from a dream.
“He asked what I was.”
Was I experiencing the same situation I had just endured once more?
I stared ahead, unable to conceal my trembling eyes.
The Young Man of Wol-an gazing at me was identical to our first meeting. As though the events of moments ago had never occurred.
‘What is this….’
What in the world was happening?
“It seems you have no intention of answering. But that matters little.”
An overwhelming sense of déjà vu flooded through my body.
It was alien and chilling.
“You’ll be an enemy regardless.”
Slice—!
My throat was severed once more.
“…Cough…hack….”
I staggered, gasping for breath. My body had been restored as if I had never died.
“What are you?”
I heard the same words again.
That figure from Wol-an, now cold and lifeless, stared at me.
At that callous yet rough demeanor, I bit my lip.
“I asked what you were.”
To a question I had already heard countless times, I wiped my mouth and shouted back.
“You answer first. What are you doing, you….”
In that instant, my vision blurred.
“What are you?”
“….”
“I asked what you were.”
Suddenly, I was back at the beginning. Then I understood. I had died again.
This time, I hadn’t even noticed my own death.
“Huff… huff….”
Something had changed in this repetition. I was still dying, but something was different.
“What good would knowing do me.”
I spoke with a different tone than before.
“….”
Then the young man’s behavior shifted once more.
“That’s true, isn’t it.”
He nodded as though he had come to understand something.
It was a different response than before.
The problem is.
“That’s not what matters.”
Scrape.
No matter what, the outcome doesn’t change.
“What are you?”
“…X… Eight….”
I staggered and collapsed to my knees. What is this? What does he want from me?
What could he possibly want that would drive me into this hell?
The situation didn’t change after that.
Scrape.
My throat was cut.
Scrape—!
Cut again, and again.
When it had happened more than ten times, nearly twenty.
“What are you?”
“….”
That’s when I realized it.
Perhaps on the first day I didn’t know, but now it seemed he had no intention of letting me go.
Successive deaths exhausted and ravaged my spirit.
What should I do?
I rolled my eyes. Simultaneously, my thoughts spun rapidly.
What was the breakthrough in this place?
What exactly was Yeongmong hoping for?
Amid the terror of death, I agonized over it again and again.
“….”
A sudden thought struck me, and my eyes grew cold.
The fear of death had long invaded my body, but I had already grown familiar with death itself.
People always die. Yet knowing that is not the end, I have always proceeded as usual.
Rather than collapse, I found a way forward.
“It seems you have no intention of answering. But that’s fine.”
Clang—!
This time, instead of a scraping sound, a sharper, harsher noise rang out.
“Hm?”
He wore a puzzled expression. I had blocked his strike.
Crack—!
“Ugh!”
Pain exploded through me. My arm seemed to have broken from the block.
The blade wavered. It descended slowly because of my broken arm.
In that moment.
The sword flew straight at my eyes.
“What are you?”
“….”
I had returned to the beginning.
So I died after all? I see. I died again this time. I managed to block it just once. And yet I still fell to death.
“Huuuuh….”
I exhaled deeply, as if expelling everything that had been trapped inside.
“I asked what you were.”
How many times had I heard the same words? I couldn’t say. I hadn’t bothered to count.
Any number I’d counted before was meaningless anyway.
This moment marks the first time.
Staggering, I grasped my forehead and whispered quietly.
“…Left. And from top to bottom… blocking it would be pointless.”
“It seems you have no intention of answering. But that’s fine.”
At the sound, I lowered my head.
휘이이익—!!!!
A violent wind grazed past overhead.
“Hm?”
A puzzled reaction. Hearing it, I thrust the sword I was holding forward.
My target was the instep.
Thunk-!!
The blade’s tip pierced the ground. I had aimed for the instep, but my target was already gone from that spot.
Crack.
I heard something shatter.
“What are you?”
Hearing the words, I nodded.
It seemed my head was what had shattered.
“Discard.”
I immediately erased the plan. Targeting the instep was out of the question.
‘Then what should I do?’
Now it was the second attempt.
Merely the second attempt.
How many times would I repeat this?
Was there a fixed number? Or would it continue until the end?
And when would that end come?
‘Hmm.’
I didn’t know. I didn’t know, but I understood.
‘They won’t let me wake up easily anyway.’
Even if I managed to wake up, they wouldn’t stop their games.
If they did, it would mean they wanted something from me.
‘Is that it?’
Is this the one who grasped my stance?
Something he desires from me.
“….”
I raised my sword. This is absolutely infuriating. I wonder if even nightmares could be this wretched.
“It seems you have no intention of answering. But that’s fine.”
Fortunately, if it’s repetition, things change.
As always.
“…Phew.”
I was confident in my ability to memorize.

* * *
Seventeen.
“What are you?”
The number of times I definitively abandoned the choice to block his sword.
If I blocked, something would shatter or be severed, rendering it unusable.
Then should I try dodging instead?
“What are you?”
Forty-one.
I abandoned the option of dodging.
Thinking thus, I attempted the technique.
And so, eighty-two.
*Screech—Whoosh!*
I succeeded not merely in blocking his stance, but in deflecting it.
The sword energy shoots skyward along the blade’s surface.
*Sting!* Pain coursed through my forearm and even my shoulder, but it didn’t break.
It was a success.
Only.
*Scrape—!*
I couldn’t block the second strike.
“What are you?”
One hundred and forty-two.
I found the method.
*Whoosh—!*
I gathered my energy and held it in my eyes. The blooming of Wol-an that the old man mentioned. Using this, I finally found a way.
It also helped in deflecting the first strike.
‘I can see it.’
What was the true efficacy of Wol-an again?
Surely the old man had said something about it that night.
‘It doesn’t end with merely seeing the sword’s path.’
‘If you only see it, you’re too late. Reacting after seeing is the most foolish and lazy thing one can do.’
So I asked what he meant, and Yoo Cheon-gil replied.
‘It is not about seeing, but sensing.’
‘Therefore, your body must always be faster than your eyes.’
I understood his words.
Certainly.
‘Seeing and reacting is too slow.’
Already sluggish, and trying to think before moving made it hopeless.
That’s why it took me longer.
“Amusing.”
Seven hundred and sixty-two.
He had added a new comment.
I had evaded his second strike.
It was the number of times it took my body to adapt to the world that Wolrang revealed.
Not seeing and moving, but sensing and moving.
It was a method that truly didn’t suit me.
Yet there was no alternative.
I adapt. That was always my only choice.
I let the first pass through.
I evade the second.
Then he says it’s amusing.
And.
He adjusted his stance.
A familiar posture.
But it was identical to the stance I had seen before.
‘Wolrang?’
A sword technique that ignites the moon with the blade.
Cheonwol Sword Dance, First Form.
Wolrang.
He was about to unleash it.
‘What is this? Where should I evade to—’
Whoosh—!
“What are you?”
“….”
Hmm, I see.
I burst into laughter.
‘This is damnably difficult.’
I really wanted to quit.
Should I change my approach from the start?
It’s a shame to waste what I’ve memorized, but it seemed necessary.
Three thousand five hundred and two.
‘No, that’s not it.’
I was back to square one. I’d pushed through to the third attempt using various methods, but no matter how many times I circled back, I returned to the beginning.
‘This isn’t efficient.’
Especially the other approaches—unlike my initial strategy, they offered poor value for the effort.
Of course, that didn’t mean those attempts were entirely useless.
‘There’s something odd here.’
I’d discovered a habit of his. Since our fights never lasted long, it was difficult to spot, but there was definitely something strange.
‘His wrist becomes unstable when he swings his sword.’
I’d say it wasn’t properly fixed? I could sense something bothering him.
Wondering if I’d misread it, I verified through nearly two hundred attempts.
‘Hmm.’
I stroked my neck.
Was this the second time I’d died so many times?
In my past life, it happened once after encountering a malevolent spirit with twisted karma, but this was my first time in this life.
‘This is becoming troubling.’
I was reaching my mental limit.
The goosebumps rising on my skin and my increasingly erratic heartbeat told me so.
“…Hmm.”
“What are you?”
“I’m curious about something.”
I posed the question. I’d done this several times before, so I knew what to expect.
“What is it?”
He answered my question. This meant he wasn’t some strange entity that merely repeated itself.
“Why do you use it that way?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Wolrang. Is there a specific reason you use it like that?”
“….”
I was genuinely curious. The Wolrang he wielded was different from what I knew.
No, it was different from what I understood it to be.
The same went for Seom Seong-gyeong—something about it felt subtly off.
“From what I’ve heard, if you’re going to use it, you should do it decisively….”
“I see.”
He cut off my words.
“So you’re from Cheonwol Gate. I suspected as much when I saw Wol-an, but that’s what it was.”
“…Huh?”
Hearing his words, I tilted my head.
“Bastards worth chewing up.”
Murderous intent erupted from him.
And then.
Screech—!
“What are you?”
I had to sacrifice one attempt.
“….”
A sensitive area I shouldn’t provoke. I factored this variable into my calculations and moved again.

* * *
Three thousand seven hundred and four.
‘This is definitely strange.’
As I analyzed Wolrang repeatedly, my conviction grew stronger.
‘What is it?’
Why does he use it that way?
To the eye, it’s far faster, more precise, more refined.
The fundamental swordplay that Seom Seong-gyeong wielded? That’s what it appears to be, but.
‘Is that foundation actually correct?’
I couldn’t understand it.
The Wolrang that Yoo Cheon-gil had displayed through my own body, and the way I copied it—they were different somehow.
How to describe it.
‘It has no roots.’
It felt hollow.
I questioned whether it was right to call such mad swordplay weak, yet.
To my perception, it clearly was.
Compared to clean, refined swordwork, what Yoo Cheon-gil displayed was sharp and rough.
Was it merely that difference? It didn’t seem so.
I wanted to understand. For some reason, I did.
Thus, four thousand and fifty-two.
‘…I see.’
I was beginning to understand why I felt uncomfortable with that sword.
The reason being.
‘I’m merely copying it.’
Yoo Cheon-gil had said.
The significance of Cheonwol Gate was to make the moon rise as it is through the sword.
But.
‘That sword isn’t drawing or making the moon rise.’
It was merely copying.
That’s what made it uncomfortable.
‘Why?’
Why should I be uncomfortable with it? I know nothing of Cheonwol Gate, let alone this sword.
‘I’m just forcing it.’
Yet I was uncomfortable that he was merely copying the moon.
It wasn’t even amusing.
‘Am I exhausted?’
My mind had grown so weary it was beginning to fracture.
To fall into such pointless emotional indulgence—truly pathetic.
‘Damn it.’
Emotional games were the most useless thing of all. I had learned this bitterly in my past life, yet here I was again.
‘I have a long way to go before I mature.’
The thought amused me, and I laughed.
In that instant, I raised my sword at a diagonal angle.
Screech! Crash—!
The blade’s flat surface scraped across and shot upward.
I no longer needed to memorize this. It was time carved deep into my body.
“Hmm?”
Before any response came, I grasped the flat of the diagonally-held sword with both hands. The blade’s tip angled slightly downward.
I held my breath and channeled all my strength into the muscles of my left arm.
콰드득—!!!!
The descending sword slid along the flat surface and fell to the ground.
I had deflected it again.
“Heh.”
I heard its labored breath. Originally, I wouldn’t have heard it, but from the late three-thousandth repetition onward, this reaction had been added.
A different response to the same movement—did that mean my technique had changed?
I didn’t delve too deeply into it.
After all, knowing wouldn’t change anything.
“Interesting.”
It bent its waist. Was it Wolrang again this time?
As always, it was about to unfurl its sword.
“…What is it?”
This time, it looked at me with widened eyes. A reaction I had never seen before.
It couldn’t be helped.
“No, it’s nothing special.”
I was also bent at the waist, mirroring its stance.
“…Just. I was irritated and did it without thinking.”
Looking at that sword made my blood boil.
So I wanted to show it.
“Do you know? Our old man said something.”
I tensed my hands. The energy dwelling in my body flowed into the sword.
“Your swords are fakes.”
“…”
“Completely defective.”
I spoke with a smile.
Then.
“That’s a fair point.”
He laughed as well. Viciously, at that.
His stance shifted.
Even if I tried to anticipate it, the moment I noticed, his blade would already be flying toward my throat.
My sword hadn’t even been drawn yet.
How could he wield such a heavy blade so effortlessly?
“Hah.”
I needed time to draw my sword.
So I resorted to a technique.
Whoooosh!
“…!”
He faltered. Light erupted from my body.
“This is…!”
Moonlight, as it was called.
I’d wondered what use there was in emitting light from my body, but I found a purpose for it here.
Clang!
The gripped blade revealed itself to the world.
Strength gathered in my lower body, a sensation of pushing lightly with the soles of my feet.
My breathing was not constant—flowing gently, then surging with intensity.
My waist anchored my center while remaining impossibly light, my energy flowing fluidly with each swing.
After that incident at the Snack Warehouse, Yoo Cheon-gil had said to me.
“Isn’t it inconvenient, memorizing and using each movement like that?”
I wanted to ask him in return.
“How is it possible to use a technique without thinking about all the processes involved in a single movement?”
I couldn’t understand that either.
How could one use a technique without knowing the meaning embedded in each element?
“If that were the case, you shouldn’t have shown me in the first place.”
Why show me so much when you possessed me, then complain about it?
That old man was truly incorrigible.
Whoosh.
“Hah!”
The pause was brief.
He cast Wolrang once more.
The moon rose gradually.
And mine did as well.
His moon was enormous.
It was incomparably stronger than my crude energy.
What kind of brute force was this?
Did I really attempt this thinking I could overcome such a thing?
The thought flickered through my mind.
The blade did not stop.
Because I had already done this before.
Watched the old man use my body to shatter another Wolrang.
Crash—!
“…Ha!”
His composure shattered.
His great moon crumbled against my small moon.
“You should have put more force into your wrist.”
I laughed at his now-hollow upper body.
Then I thrust the blade forward.
Screeeech—!!
The blade tore through empty air.
Through nothing but empty air.
“….”
I remained frozen in my stance, staring ahead.
The man who had been there just moments before had vanished without a trace.
As I furrowed my brow at the sight.
“Haha—”
A rough voice echoed from behind me.
I turned around.
In the still-white expanse, the old man with blue eyes stood with his arms crossed.
It was Yoo Cheon-gil.
“This monster of a man.”
He looked at me with a terrifying smile.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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