It was a night with no starlight, only a single bright moon lighting the sky.
Yoo Young-min, on his way to the mercenaries' barracks, noticed someone blocking his path.
‘Who’s that? Do they need something from me?’
The area where the mercenaries stayed was designated as a separate zone, and Yoo Young-min was passing right through that path.
The fact that someone was standing there meant they clearly had a purpose.
Judging by their aura, they had to be a Divine Spirit, and quite a high-level one at that.
‘I don't recall ever crossing paths with or making any connection to a Divine Spirit of that caliber while doing mercenary work.’
Mercenary work was generally regarded as a dirty job.
In the mixed realms, there was a widespread view that mercenaries were low-class, unruly people with a disregard for order. To be fair, many of those in the trade weren’t exactly clean-cut.
If you wanted to do something more polished and respectable, becoming a fixer was a better fit, and Yoo Young-min’s disposition leaned more towards that line of work. Nevertheless, he had chosen to be a mercenary.
A mercenary’s freewheeling lifestyle was more suited to his task of retrieving the Fragments.
‘Even though I’m known as the Mercenary King, only a few lords, or maybe a Divine Spirit of an ordinary Holy Lord at best, would pay me any attention. But I don’t think a being of this caliber would have any reason to.’
Maybe they were waiting for someone else and it was just coincidence.
Yoo Young-min made a polite nod to the stranger and moved to walk past them.
“Could you wait for a moment?”
The voice calling him made him stop.
As he thought—this person really was waiting for him.
With a look of mixed doubt and curiosity, Yoo Young-min examined the person before him.
‘Nice outfit.’
The noble’s uniform, styled in shades of black and gray and draped with a black cloak, exuded a refined aura. The adornments dangling here and there demonstrated exactly what it meant to carry the dignity of a noble. �
Since the person themselves was a handsome, middle-aged man, the look suited him even more.
What stood out most was the elegant beard.
‘I wanted to grow one like that myself.’
Since he had shaved to meet Yu-hyun, his upper lip and chin felt strangely bare when he touched them.
The man before him looked exactly like the ideal Yoo Young-min envisioned for himself as he aged.
‘Now that I think about it...’
He hadn’t paid much attention before, but on closer inspection, the man’s face looked familiar.
He was one of the Divine Spirits who had entered the meeting room with Yu-hyun that day.
If he remembered correctly, his name was Mephistopheles.
‘One of the seven lords of the Great Army of Pandemonium.’
He was even one of those responsible for one of the Seven Deadly Sins.
As Yoo Young-min recalled his identity, he involuntarily swallowed hard.
“Do you have some business with me?”
Since the man had called out to him, he asked, but inside, he was desperately trying to figure out why a Divine Spirit as prominent as Mephistopheles would want to speak with him.
Mephisto smiled gently, as if he could sense Yoo Young-min’s anxiety.
“Please don’t worry so much. I won’t harm you.”
“Oh, um. Alright.”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mephistopheles, one of the seven lords of the Great Army of Pandemonium.”
“I’m mercenary Yoo Young-min.”
“I already know that. You’re known as the only mercenary to hold the title of ‘king’ in the notoriously chaotic and unorganized world of mercenaries. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
“No, I’m not that significant...”
Yoo Young-min gave a modest reply, but he felt good inside. He never expected a first-generation Divine Spirit of the Great Army to recognize him, let alone praise him so highly.
Considering the person who said it, it was more praise than he deserved, which made him feel a bit uncomfortable.
“So, Mephisto, is there something specific you’d like to say to me?”
“Yes. That’s why I’ve been waiting here in this path.”
“You were waiting for me...”
“Please, take this.”
“Pardon?”
Mephisto suddenly held out his hand, and Yoo Young-min instinctively accepted what was offered.
The small, cold object in his palm made Yoo Young-min narrow his eyes.
“This is... a bullet?”
What Mephistopheles handed him was a small bullet—not a large-caliber one, but a small-caliber type used in pistols.
“Why would you give me this...?”
“You’ll need it in the upcoming Great War.”
“For me?”
“Yes. My purpose in seeking you out was simply to give you this. How you use it, and when, I’ll leave entirely to your discretion.”
“Oh! Wait a moment!”
He called out urgently to Mephisto, who was already turning away with his cloak billowing, but Mephisto’s body faded into smoke.
Yoo Young-min stared blankly at the bullet in his hand.
“What am I supposed to do with this, all of a sudden?”
* * *
“Did you finish your business?”
“Hm.”
“I know. Just a joke. The reason I’m siding with the alliance is... because this is the right thing to do.”
“Do you mean Logos’ intentions aren’t right?”
“Blood might be thicker than water, but no matter how I look at it, I can’t support or overlook this. Destroying the universe and starting anew? This isn’t the first time, either—it’s been repeated countless times. The fact that this cycle has happened so many times is what’s strange.”
So he stood against his father’s will.
And perhaps, he thought, it was this very realization that had led the so-called “traitor” Praytion to act the way he did.
“So, you really met Praytion, didn’t you? That traitor...?”
“That's why I called you.”
“Looks like you’ve got some nerve. Didn’t I give you that coin and tell you to use it if you met him?”
“You said to use it if it was dangerous. At first, I was going to, but after meeting and talking with him, I didn’t feel the need. So I didn’t use it.”
“...So he told you something. What did Praytion say to you?”
“I think it’d be best if you two met and spoke directly.”
“What? Is he here? Where?”
Oello barely finished his question when a strong wind suddenly picked up. In the midst of the gusts was a dark, ominous aura.
An instinctual feeling of discomfort that any living being would sense.
Suppressing that feeling, Yoo Young-min waited for the presence to fully materialize.
Soon, dark and murky energy gathered near the two and began to take shape.
A man with a soft, scholarly face wearing glasses and voluminous academic robes.
Recognizing him, Oello’s eyes widened.
“You...!”
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
The king of an untold story, the one known as the traitor—Praytion.
Seeing Oello, he waved awkwardly with a smile.
“Should I call you Oello hyung?”
“You bastard, Praytion...”
Oello stomped toward Praytion. Praytion stood still, watching him approach, with a thin bead of cold sweat tracing down his face. That alone was proof of Oello’s intense fury.
Golden energy of rage was so intense it warped the space around him.
“Um, Oello? You’re not... that angry, right?”
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Grit your teeth.”
Without further warning, a golden fist struck Praytion’s cheek.
* * *
“That’s just harsh. We’re brothers, and the first thing you do upon meeting is punch me. And I was wearing glasses, too.”
“You should be grateful I didn’t kill you right here.”
Despite saying that, Oello hadn’t laid another hand on Praytion after that punch. He was holding back his anger, because he knew that if he went further, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from killing him.
If they’d met before he knew about Logos’ past actions, he would’ve torn him apart like a beast without greeting him. But after learning the truth about Logos’ history, Oello’s perspective had changed, if only slightly.
“So, Praytion. You wanted to meet me?”
“Well, you’re the only one among us who’s reasonable enough to talk to.”
“Hyung.”
“What?”
“Just call me hyung, you brat.”
Praytion was taken aback by the unexpectedly affectionate term from Oello. He looked dazed, and Oello glared at him.
“You don’t like it?”
“Oh, uh? No, it’s just... surprising that you forgave me.”
“I’m not forgiving you yet. Even if you had your reasons, you left on your own and went into hiding. Do you know how long I wasted trying to track you down?”
As if recalling that frustration, Oello clenched his fists tightly.
“Sorry about that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“...I thought everyone else just blindly followed Logos. I couldn’t trust anyone.”
“...”
Oello had no rebuttal for that. Praytion’s reasoning was sound. If he were in Praytion’s shoes, he might have made the same choice.
It didn’t stop him from feeling irritated, though. He understood Praytion’s situation, but that didn’t make the resentment he’d built up over the years vanish so easily.
Sensing the moment, Yoo Young-min intervened to mediate.
“I won’t stop you from fighting, but please remember that we’re short on time.”
“You’re the one who brought us together; is that something you should be saying?”
“Well, since this could be the last chance, you might as well settle things.”
Moreover, Yoo Young-min added,
“Just as we’re gathering the kings of the stories here, there’s no guarantee they aren’t doing the same elsewhere.”
The weight of those words made Oello and Praytion’s expressions harden.
There were five story kings in total.
With the two gathered here, there were still three remaining.
And no one could deny the truth: those three served Logos.