Childhood Friend of the Zenith-Chapter 672: My Name Is... (6)

My life was like a long, unending tunnel.

No light, no visibility, and no turning back—it was a path so far gone that even contemplating retreat was futile.

Yet moving forward held no promise of an end, no hope of finding anything waiting.

I walked. And walked.

When I stumbled and fell, I got up and kept walking.

When fear of the dark gripped me and my body trembled uncontrollably, I forced myself to endure and moved forward again.

That was how I lived.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I existed.

I asked myself, and I answered myself.

Why did I do it?

Because someone had to. Because there was no one else.

But to my answer, I always countered with another question.

Was it really something I had to do?

Could I truly justify my actions as being necessary, as having some greater purpose or conviction?

‘...’

I couldn’t answer.

Because deep down, I already knew.

I had no such purpose. No grand ideals drove me forward.

When had I ever dreamed of righteousness?

I never had. Not once.

I neither possessed nor sought such ideals.

So then, what was my cause? What had I lived for?

I couldn’t withstand the tide that swept me away.

That was my excuse.

I told myself it was inevitable.

That I did the best I could under the circumstances.

That it was a matter of survival.

But when asked again, the answer was clear.

‘No.’

It was all self-justification.

I never had to enter the tunnel in the first place.

I walked into it of my own volition.

Why?

Because there was nowhere else to run.

Once inside, I endlessly sought the one who had pushed me in.

I needed someone to blame.

When I trembled in the darkness, when I wandered aimlessly without hope, even when I collapsed in exhaustion and despair, I looked for someone to blame.

But I knew.

Deep down, I knew.

There was no one to blame.

Yet I refused to admit it. I desperately needed someone to hold accountable.

That was my life.

A life spent fleeing into a tunnel, only to be consumed by the darkness when I failed to reach the end.

A life that scurried away and died, like an insect crushed in the shadows.

Then, I regressed.

I never thought of it as a miracle.

I had never hoped for it, so the thought of welcoming it seemed ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) almost blasphemous.

I simply lived because I had been given the chance.

This time, I decided I’d live a different life—a quiet one, hidden away in some remote mountain, unnoticed by the world.

That was the plan.

But—

‘It didn’t go that way.’

Life, as always, refused to go as planned.

The storm I couldn’t stop swept me up again.

By the time I opened my eyes, I found myself at the eye of the hurricane.

‘Was it never something I could avoid?’

Was this “fate” something no mere human could hope to overcome?

Was I always destined to be caught in its turmoil?

If so, then what should I do?

What could I do?

‘What are you agonizing over?’

A voice echoed within me.

‘Just make it so it doesn’t happen.’

If I couldn’t avoid being swept away, then I had to make the storm weaker.

Or better yet, stop the storm entirely.

That’s all I needed to do.

Ssssshhhhh!

Heat surged within me.

The boiling emotions bled into my vision.

My body brimmed with Qi.

Ahead of me was a harbinger—a precursor to the storm.

If left unchecked, it would grow into a tempest that would engulf not just me but the entire world.

I had to consume it before it could blow.

Before it became a greater catastrophe, I had to deal with it now.

For what reason?

To take the place of the Divine Sword.

To save the world.

‘Save the world?’

...

...

Save the world? Me?

Crunch!

Bang!

The trajectory of Greed veered sharply, crashing into a nearby tree instead of Cheonma.

Ssshhhhh...

The scattered remnants of Greed dissolved into mist, unable to deliver a direct impact.

I stood there, frozen, my gaze locked on Cheonma.

“Hah... Hah...”

My breaths came ragged, heat spilling into each exhale.

My body burned with emotions that threatened to consume me.

“Hah... Hah...”

I took deep breaths, pressing a hand to my forehead.

Something was wrong.

The thought of “saving the world” had frozen me in place.

“Hah... Hah...”

My ragged breathing filled the silence as I tried to calm my racing mind.

‘Me? Save the world?’

It was too absurd a reason to even consider.

‘Who am I to save anything?’

The justification rang hollow.

‘I don’t have the right.’

The tension drained from my hand, and my grip loosened.

“...Hah... Hah...”

I had forgotten the purpose I set for myself after regressing.

‘To live quietly. To run away.’

That was my goal.

To escape the consequences of my actions and hide from what was to come.

I had resolved to live silently, unseen.

But as things became tangled and complicated, my perspective shifted.

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With things to protect, I thought to stop the bloodshed.

And so I acted.

I convinced myself to do whatever it took, to kill without hesitation.

Those who deserved death, I turned into demonic pawns.

Most were tools to be used and discarded.

It was justified by their guilt, by the fact that they needed to die.

But I knew better.

It wasn’t right.

I had long since cast away regret, buried guilt beneath the ground.

Yet I prepared for this, ignoring the implications.

Was this truly for the world?

‘Maybe.’

The purpose seemed noble enough.

But—

‘Do I truly believe that?’

Was this really for the world?

The thought chilled me.

‘When did I become so twisted?’

The realization suffocated me.

I already knew—I didn’t care about saving the world.

Not even a little.

That’s just an extra.

‘Why should I care if this world falls apart?’

When did I start thinking as if I were some kind of hero?

Something felt off.

The burning heat in my head began to cool.

My eyes gradually returned to normal.

And that’s when I saw her.

Drip—.

Cheonma stood there, bleeding, her gaze fixed on me.

Her sorrowful eyes, blood trailing from the corners of her lips, caught my attention.

Those eyes irritated me.

Was it because they reminded me of someone? The resemblance made them even more annoying.

Still, a question surfaced from within.

‘That bleeding woman...’

Is she truly the calamity I think she is?

‘If not a calamity, then what is she?’

I steadied my thoughts.

I was only hesitating because she looked so much like Wi Seol-ah.

Yes, that had to be it.

A way to kill Cheonma.

No—hope that I could kill her.

My Greed could devour even Cheonma’s power. I was certain of it.

If that was the case, I should charge at her right now and end it.

“Why didn’t you dodge?”

But instead, I found myself asking her a question.

“...”

“You could’ve dodged. Why didn’t you?”

Her barrier had shattered.

As a result, Cheonma was struck by my Flame Prison. But it was something she could’ve easily avoided.

And yet, she didn’t.

It wasn’t just this time. She had been dragged into unnecessary situations and taken all my attacks without retaliating.

“Even just now—you let yourself get hit again, didn’t you?”

Greed lunged toward her barrier.

She had to see it.

Greed could destroy her barrier entirely.

Ssss.

Her cracked barrier began to regenerate.

It could be broken, but completely erasing it seemed impossible.

Even so, the fact that opportunities could arise didn’t change.

Yet instead of dodging Greed, she stood still, watching it come.

“Why didn’t you dodge? Did you think you could win without it?”

“...”

“Answer me. What are you thinking—”

“You looked like you wanted it this way.”

“What?”

Her calm response took me by surprise.

“You seemed uncomfortable. You looked like you wanted this. So I let it happen.”

“What are you talking about? Answer properly—”

“Isn’t that it?”

She tilted her head, and the words I was about to say froze in my throat.

But only for a moment.

“So, what? You’re planning to die just because I want to kill you?”

If she let me hit her because I wanted to,

If she allowed herself to be dragged along because I pulled her,

Then, does this mean that since I’m trying to kill her, she plans to let me kill her?

To that unspoken question, Cheonma answered without hesitation.

“You wouldn’t have killed me.”

Her quiet confidence made me grind my teeth.

“Don’t give me that crap. Then what was all this? Child’s play?”

Hadn’t I been desperately trying to kill her?

How could she speak with such frustrating certainty?

“You wouldn’t have done it.”

“Why are you so sure of that?”

“I don’t know. I just feel that way. Besides...”

Cheonma wiped the last traces of blood from her lips with her sleeve.

“My sister told me not to fight recklessly.”

“...Ha.”

Fwoosh—!

Flames ignited at my fingertips.

I compressed and rotated them, forming the Sacred Spear.

This time, it contained far more energy than before.

The limits of what I could control and compress.

Thirty percent of my total energy.

Compared to the ten percent I used in the last Sacred Spear, this one was three times stronger.

“You think I won’t kill you?”

What nonsense. The person standing before me is Cheonma.

No matter how different her appearance and demeanor are from my memories,

She remains the one who caused rivers of blood in my previous life.

And now, with her in front of me, you’re telling me I won’t kill her?

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

I aimed the completed Sacred Spear at her.

“If you’re not going to resist, then just stay still. It’ll be easier that way.”

Don’t let her appearance fool you.

“I’m going to kill you here and now.”

“...”

Even after my declaration, Cheonma didn’t react.

She simply stared at me with those violet eyes.

Always the same reaction.

“Fine. Let’s see if you won’t dodge until the end—”

“No.”

I froze.

As I was about to shift my stance, her voice stopped me in my tracks.

No?

“What do you mean, ‘no’ all of a sudden?”

“I’m not ‘you.’”

What kind of nonsense is that?

I frowned, my expression tightening.

“My name is... not something like ‘you’...”

But before she could finish, she closed her mouth.

Her expressionless face showed a trace of frustration.

‘A name?’

Cheonma’s name.

Earlier, Gu Heebi had called her something like Yeon. Was that what she meant?

But did she even have a name?

She called herself Cheonma and had never mentioned anything else.

“What’s your name?”

“...”

I asked, but she stayed silent.

If she denied it, then surely she must have a name.

Then.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

Cheonma bit her lip in frustration and said,

“...What was my name?”

And then, she looked at me, asking as if I would know.