Quetzalcoatl—a demonic creature, genetically engineered from a blend of multiple genos. According to Lee Yeonho, it was ant to transcend every boundary of possibility.
The beast radiated violence the mont it was born, but not even its creator could predict how it would behave. A creation, by its very nature, cannot obey a creator it doesn’t recognize—and certainly not when it knows nothing of the world it’s been thrust into.
Lee Yeonho understood this, but he had catastrophically little ti to study it. The mont incubation was successful, the leader of Umbra allowed himself a breath of relief.
A lone doctor had assisted in its creation—a specialist of rare caliber, nearly impossible to find in today’s world.
Upon release, the serpent tested its strength on everything around it. As it devoured the world, it developed the ability to sll.
But when Minho’s axes slashed its body, it felt sothing new—pain. That sensation made it flee. It ran from the one who had beco the embodint of agony.
Quetzalcoatl was still an infant, adapting to its environnt. It slithered toward the densest scent of prey. With each life consud, it experienced surges of emotion—violent, primal feelings that awakened its regenerative capabilities.
Umbra’s forces pursued it, cloaked in shadow. Lee Yeonho was disappointed by the chaotic outco, but his followers were under strict orders to protect the serpent.
The plan had always depended on instinct—on how the beast would respond to the world. And Lee Yeonho understood now: true domination would take ti.
anwhile, swarms of helicopters and drones closed in on the monstrosity. Their warheads were prid to strike the worm’s gullet the mont it left the Green Zone.
The military held their fire, waiting for it to cross the boundary.
The entire world was watching via livestream. Ordinary citizens struggled to comprehend how such an abomination could appear in the heart of South Korea’s safest district.
While the internet buzzed with theories and speculation, civilians in the Orange Zone huddled in their hos, praying the creature wouldn’t reach them.
"We’re broadcasting live from the sky," said a trembling voice from the chopper. "As you can see, we’re flying over one of the most terrifying monsters this world has ever seen. Where did it co from? How do the hunters plan to stop it? Please stay tuned for ongoing coverage."
Not long after, The Thing crossed into the Orange Zone. Imdiately, military helicopters opened fire, unleashing a barrage from above.
Though its chitinous hide endured the explosions, the incendiary residue left by the missiles scorched its flesh, sending the serpent writhing and thrashing across the ground.
The barrage ca in controlled waves, with a clear directive: minimize civilian casualties and avoid turning the district into a graveyard.
The creature coiled, swallowing people whole and knocking down buildings with eerie precision—as though it were choosing what to destroy next.
Eventually, amid flas and bullets, the beast regenerated enough to flee—crossing into the Red Zone.
There, the drones and helicopters halted. No one dared follow it into a region shrouded in crimson haze and ash.
Once a bustling tropolis, the Red Zone was now inhabited solely by naless demons. Collapsed buildings stretched across the landscape, a monunt to unchecked chaos.
No human dared venture there—not even to reclaim the more salvageable parts of the Orange Zone.
And so, Quetzalcoatl escaped, leaving deep scars etched into the earth.
That day, nearly two thousand people died—and that was only the confird count. Cleanup crews combed the city, gathering corpses and debris.
The barrier between the Green and Orange Zones was compromised. Hundreds of frightened residents fled through the gap, forcing soldiers and police to intervene before a possible outbreak of the demonic flu.
The citizens of safe Seoul boiled with anger and fear. Many lost faith in the governnt, overwheld by the horrifying news.
No words could console them. People cared only about their survival.
I sat alone on the steps of the Association, staring blankly at the cracked pavent, consud by thoughts.
The truth? Ordinary people don’t care about our sacrifices. They only notice the damage. Every soldier knows this deep down. That’s why so few were happy to see return.
They looked at with cold, sharp eyes. Not because I was a traitor—but because they believed I’d be the one to take all the glory.
And I understood. Ever since that day I killed Zeno in front of civilians, they applauded not because I had contributed to victory—but because they thought they had narrowly escaped death.
These people didn’t care about the outco of the war. They just didn’t want bullets punching through their rooftops.
And that... that began to truly irritate .
Jisun, Reina, Chanwook, and Sora were taken to the hospital. Chanwook’s condition was critical, and it took a team of the nation’s best surgeons to stabilize him.
Hizumi Mikage had been declared missing. That hit harder than I expected. Without her, sothing inside felt... out of place.
She had been officially labeled a demon. But how? How had she lived so long near the Association? How had no one noticed?
It felt orchestrated—like she was destined to fall, so they could paint with her cris.
In the midst of all this, Kang Yeonghee made a public statent:
"Yes, I was the one who released Lee Ki-hyun. And no—it wasn’t because I idolize demons. This man is one of humanity’s strongest protectors. That’s not opinion—it’s fact. Ask any other S-rank hunter. I am the daughter of the Director of the Association, and I trust him. It’s ti the leadership started trusting him, too."
When the panic died down, the Association Council convened an ergency trial. Every officer and official who could attend was present.
They would judge not just —but Yeonghee as well.
One of the highest judges in the country presided personally, overseeing the democratic vote.
"Ahem. With all parties present, I hereby open the trial of Lee Ki-hyun and Kang Yeonghee. Representatives, please present your case."
I sat at the center of the chamber, Yeonghee beside . I glanced at her—and was stunned by how serene she looked. How could she remain so calm?
A parliantarian rose, adjusting his glasses before speaking.
"It’s good to see you, Mr. Ki-hyun. This ti, we sincerely hope our voices are heard. For months, we have raised concerns about this man’s suspicious nature. After recent events—witnessed by hundreds—we no longer speak in hypotheticals. Lee Ki-hyun was publicly declared a demon by the Association itself."
I rembered why. They had shot —and I regenerated. Of course they would assu I wasn’t human. No ordinary person could survive that.
"And now that we have irrefutable proof, the logical course of action is clear: Lee Ki-hyun must be classified as a Category One threat and executed. In light of the Quetzalcoatl incident, we’ve also co to realize that demon prisons are obsolete. They delay punishnt. They allow monsters to breathe. What if he escapes again?"
The room shifted. Whispers echoed. So nodded grimly.
"Finally, let us not forget the actions of Kang Yeonghee. She violated the law by releasing a declared threat back into the public. Her decision undermined the system we swore to uphold."
He sat. The crowd applauded—so nervously, others fervently.
"Thank you for your testimony," the judge nodded. "Now, we invite Sashi Heiwa, representative of the Seoul Association, to speak."
Sashi rose with poise, holding a slim folder in her hand.
"Thank you. And I apologize in advance—because I must wholly disagree with the parliantarian’s statent. Yes, the case of Lee Ki-hyun is troubling. Yes, we stumbled into our own trap. But this man has declared, ti and again, his allegiance to humanity. He was raised among us. By all known data, he is human."
The room split. So eyes softened. Others hardened.
"The incident where he grew wings—that was not an act of rebellion. It was self-defense. A reaction to a sudden threat. And yesterday, when the Association building ca under attack, he fought to protect the people. His demonic traits may, in fact, help us finally understand our enemy. That knowledge could save lives."
I knew what that ant. The Association wanted to study .
A sharp voice interrupted:
"You can’t trust demons! Everyone here knows that!"
"Please don’t interrupt," Sashi said coolly. "You’ll have your turn."
"I have nothing more to say. It’s obvious—he’s a danger! And you want to ta him?!"
"Yes. I want to ta a demon."
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
"If Lee Ki-hyun is willing to work with us, we stand a better chance of winning this war. He has no loyalty to demons—he’s killed them with his own hands. Knowledge is power. And the truth... may set us free."
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to her. Even Vincent Hwan looked stunned.
"That is all," she said, and sat back down.
The judge’s voice echoed once more:
"Thank you, Miss Heiwa. In that case, I now ask General Vincent Hwan, commander of the Korean Ard Forces, to deliver his statent."
Hwan sat quietly for a mont, visibly conflicted. For a long ti, he had wrestled with the question: Which side of this conflict truly serves the nation? Even now, his thoughts were haunted by what he had witnessed during the Nightwatch — by my actions.
He stood on the edge of a chasm, faced with two paths: leap from one sinking ship to another, or follow the spark of idealism Sashi had dared to voice.
He knew — deep down — that the old system was bound to collapse. And with it, the fear that had been guiding their hands for decades.
He didn’t necessarily trust . But if he clung to tradition, if he chose the path of rigid conservatism...
...He might regret it for the rest of his life. Regret that he hadn’t taken a chance — not once more.
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