The battlefield was silent.
A silence so vast, so absolute, that it felt unnatural.
The sky, once shrouded in black storm clouds, was now clear—eerily clear—revealing the two moons of Murim, casting their silver glow upon the desolation below. The air reeked of blood, burnt flesh, and death. Countless corpses littered the ruined land—demons, warriors, and beasts alike—all casualties of the greatest war Murim had ever known.
At the heart of the carnage stood Izuku Arashi.
His once-pristine white robes were now dyed crimson, torn in countless places. His body bore deep wounds—gashes from demonic claws, burns from hellfire, and punctures from spears that had barely missed his vitals. His left arm hung useless at his side, broken. His right hand gripped the shattered remains of his Heavenly Severance Blade, its once-magnificent edge reduced to jagged shards.
And before him… lay the corpse of the Demon King.
The ruler of the abyss, the embodiment of calamity, had fallen—his massive, horned body reduced to a grotesque ruin, his golden blood pooling beneath him like molten metal. The last of the Demon King's heartbeats echoed across the battlefield before fading into nothingness.
The war was over.
Izuku should have felt relief.
But he didn't.
A suffocating pressure filled the air. The killing intent of thousands.
Slowly, he lifted his golden eyes—and saw them.
His allies. His sworn brothers. His sect. His comrades, whom he had fought alongside for decades. They stood encircling him, their weapons drawn, their expressions cold and unreadable.
And in the front stood the ones who mattered most.
Namgoong Jisoo, the patriarch of the Namgoong Clan, who once swore an oath of brotherhood with him.
Woon Seolhyun, the saintess of the Woon Heavenly Sect, who had once prayed for his safety.
Baek Joon-ho, Dokgo Ryujin, Jin Seung-ho. Warriors he had bled with, fought with, trusted with his life.
And then—Ayaka Arashi.
His wife.
Beside her, their son, Haruto Arashi.
Izuku's vision blurred for a moment—not from exhaustion, not from pain, but from something far worse.
"Why?" His voice was hoarse, yet steady.
A beat of silence. Then, Ayaka stepped forward, her expression impassive.
"Because you've become too strong."
The words struck harder than any blade.
"Balance must be maintained, Izuku."
It was Namgoong Jisoo who spoke this time, his tone carrying a cold finality. "You are no longer a man. You are a force beyond control. If we allow you to live, Murim will never know peace."
Izuku let out a slow, steady breath. He understood now.
The war had ended. The external threat was gone. And now, the true predators had turned their fangs inward—toward him.
They feared him.
They didn't need a hero anymore. They needed a scapegoat.
Izuku's grip on his shattered sword tightened. "So that's it."
No further words were spoken.
The first spear came from behind.
It drove through his abdomen, its barbed tip erupting from his stomach in a spray of blood. Izuku gritted his teeth but did not fall.
Then came the second blade—piercing through his shoulder.
A third, a fourth.
Slowly, his own comrades began cutting him down.
Blades carved through his flesh. Spears impaled him from every direction. Arrows rained upon him, embedding deep into his arms, legs, and chest. Blood spilled from his lips, yet he did not fall.
Even on the verge of death—Izuku Arashi stood.
His golden eyes burned, unyielding. His body trembled, not in fear, but in sheer refusal to die.
Then—the sky split open.
A booming voice, vast and godlike, echoed across the heavens.
"IZUKU ARASHI."
The heavens themselves had spoken.
"YOU HAVE DEFIED BALANCE. YOU HAVE BECOME AN EXISTENCE THAT CANNOT BE ALLOWED."
From the shattered sky, golden chains of divine lightning descended—shackling his limbs, coiling around his neck, locking him in place.
And then—Heaven's Judgment descended.
A massive pillar of golden lightning crashed down upon him, obliterating the battlefield in an explosion of divine power. The ground cracked, the sky trembled, and everything was consumed in an ocean of light.
Izuku felt his soul itself being scorched.
And yet—he still fought.
Summoning the last embers of his strength, he let out a defiant roar. His body burned, his very existence being erased, yet he pushed forward. Shackled by the heavens, wounded by demons and men alike, abandoned by all—Izuku Arashi still refused to kneel.
His body ignited with golden flames—his soul burning away as he reached out.
Toward the gods. Toward the betrayers. Toward everything that had tried to break him.
His fingers stretched toward the heavens—
And then—
Everything turned to darkness.
To Be Continued in Chapter 2 – Judgment of the Heavens