Tower Of God: Life As Hoaqin

About 160 years ago — one of Ashul Edwaru's other residences, somewhere in the gray mountain range

Clang—

Clang—

Clang—

Like any forge, the sound of hammering never ceased in Ashul Edwaru's workshop.

In heat so intense even Rankers would struggle to endure it, Ashul swung his hammer steadily without shedding a single drop of sweat. The furnace and forge burned with flames comparable to those of the Yeon Family, and the materials laid out around him were all among the rarest and most expensive in the Tower.

Clang—

Clang—

…Stop.

Suddenly, the hammering that had seemed destined to continue for centuries came to an abrupt halt.

Ashul set the hammer down. The heat gradually subsided, and the furnace lid closed. Only after the overwhelming flames had calmed did he turn toward the presence standing behind him.

Clad in white garments with a blue outer robe stood a great swordsman—Arie Hon.

"It has been a while, Ashul."

"…It has indeed, Hon."

From their carefree adventurer days to the present—where Hon had changed, for better or worse, into the head of a Great Family—the two had known each other well.

Hon looked genuinely pleased to see an old friend again.

Ashul, as always, remained expressionless.

Hon smirked lightly and pointed at the object Ashul had been hammering.

"You're still striking that thing, even though you have no intention of refining it."

"Though I no longer create things… it seems I still need to hammer something to feel at ease."

Ashul briefly brushed the object he had been striking, then looked back at Hon.

"So. What brings you here?"

Hon smiled.

"I'd like you to forge a sword. I am well aware you no longer craft weapons… but indulge this request."

Ashul closed his eyelids.

There were not many in the Tower who could refuse one of the Ten Family Heads. Ashul was among those few.

Even so, refusing an old friend was not easy.

"…What is this sword for?"

If Hon himself had come personally to ask, it would not be for an ordinary purpose. Hon already possessed the greatest weapons in the Tower; this blade would not be for himself.

Hon's answer, however, was unexpected.

"It is for my child."

"…?"

Ashul stared at him blankly with eyes that showed only white.

Hon scratched his cheek and grinned.

"Unexpected?"

"For a child? Your armory overflows with blades already."

Direct descendants had long since accumulated enough weapons to fill entire vaults. In the distant past, when the family was small, they commissioned weapons as needed. That was no longer the case.

"Those blades will not do. I want one made by someone of your caliber. As you know, a weapon should be granted only to one worthy of wielding it."

"Indeed."

"In other words, one who has the qualifications deserves a weapon befitting their stature."

"…What exactly did you give birth to?"

Hon laughed lightly.

"I'm not sure myself. What that child is, exactly. But I do know this—I find the child interesting."

"…And you'll forget them in a few years."

"Perhaps," Hon chuckled. "But if what I saw is true, that child will one day stand before me again. They are different from the others. So shouldn't their weapon be different as well?"

Ashul did not respond.

After several silent minutes, he rose and picked up the hammer again.

He had ceased all crafting after creating the 13 Months.

Yet now, curiosity stirred.

Never before had Hon shown such interest in one of his children. And to say he did not fully understand his own offspring—that was stranger still.

And coincidentally…

Ashul possessed materials too valuable to discard.

The blacksmith within him stirred once more.

"Do you have any particular requirements for the weapon?"

"It would be good if it contained a soul."

"You mean an ignition weapon?"

"Not exactly. The child's soul seems… fragile."

"Then it must be made to sustain that soul merely by being carried."

"Precisely."

Ashul considered.

He had souls stored in his workshop—but they were insufficient. If he was to create something again, it would be with the utmost performance.

A mere stored soul would not suffice.

I suppose I must use that.

Already, millions of blueprints formed within his mind.

Hon recognized that silence for what it was.

"Send word when it is done. I appreciate the favor."

Hon departed.

Ashul remained standing in silence for a long time.

Then—

His design was complete.

He stoked the forge, reignited the furnace, and went deep into storage to retrieve the core materials.

Special materials and molten metal left over from forging the "13" weapons long ago.

Dust covered the materials; the metal had cooled and hardened. But in the hands of the Tower's greatest blacksmith, they soon returned to their former state.

He reheated the metal. Prepared every material perfectly. Sketched the outline of the blade.

It would be a sword—for an Arie descendant.

White in color.

The blade this long. The hilt this length. This detail here. That proportion there.

The Tower's greatest blacksmith began hammering once more.

The flames. The hammer strikes. The roar of the forge.

They were no longer meaningless sounds.

They were the birth cry of a masterpiece.

…

…

…

Four years later.

"…It has been a long time since I have sweat."

Wiping a few drops from his brow with a rough hand, Ashul lifted the completed blade with tongs.

It was forged from platinum—the sub-species ore of gold, the most perfect and resilient metal in the Tower—along with countless rare materials harmonized flawlessly.

A red gem symbolizing the sun adorned it without overwhelming the design.

Even in the darkened forge, long after the flames had died down, the blade emitted a pure white radiance on its own.

The work was complete.

Ashul gazed at it.

It did not reflect light—it produced it.

As though refusing to allow night to fall.

In that moment, Ashul Edwaru gave it a name.

"Baekya (White Night). That shall be your name."

Shhhhh—

At once, Baekya's glow intensified.

Wrapped in white shinsu, a faint pale form began to emerge from the blade.

A ghostlike, white presence.

The soul of Baekya.

It stared silently at its creator.

Ashul understood that the special materials he had used were functioning perfectly.

"…In a way, you might be the fourteenth youngest."

.....

Back in the present.

"…That sword."

Ashul suddenly pointed at Baekya at my waist.

"…Yes?"

"My work."

So I had been right.

While I was still processing, he continued:

"About 160 years ago… I forged it at your father's request."

"…!"

"I wondered where it had gone."

"So it was you. Yes… you are Hon's child."

"…My father has many children besides me."

Ashul responded calmly, "Does your father think so as well?"

"...…."

The aftertaste of those words was bitter. I quickly pushed the feeling aside and brought up my original purpose.

Ashul Edwaru listened silently to my long explanation, his pupil-less white eyes fixed on me the entire time.

"—So, my father told me to seek you out… can you fix it?"

When I finished, he finally spoke.

"So this is what he meant when he said your soul was fragile. You endured this long thanks to your body, your shinsu affinity, and Baekya. It seems your father also intervened."

"However, since you have now found me, you no longer need to fear the agony of your soul being torn apart. Your father must have foreseen this and sent you to me. In the end, it seems I am destined to help you."

The atmosphere turned more positive than I had expected. The tension left my face, and a faint smile formed.

"So… you can help me?"

"I will help you. If fate dictates that I assist you, there is no need to stubbornly delay it. However, if you ask whether I can do it immediately, that requires some thought."

"…?"

"I have a prior commitment."

"Ah…"

The reinforcement of the seven sealed swords that bound the monster.

Wait.

Cheonhwa had said the village had already recovered all the swords except Narmada.

And Narmada was with me.

That meant they had all seven now, didn't they?

I smiled and drew out Narmada, showing it to him.

"Then it shouldn't take long. I brought the last one."

"…What are you talking about?"

"…What?"

His next words were completely unexpected.

"Even including the blade you brought, there are only three. Four are not in the village."

"That's impossible. Cheonhwa said they recovered six—"

"Tch. It seems you were deceived and brought back a fake story. The only ones in this village are Krishna and Brahma, held by a Regular and a Ranker. You have Narmada. But Karna, Astra, Agnea, and Arjuna are not here."

"…!"

.....

"…Anyway, that's how it is. It may take longer than expected, but considering we originally anticipated two hundred years, this wait is nothing."

Through the Pocket, Hwarang showed a troubled expression at Hoaquin's summary.

"That may be true… but how do you plan to retrieve the remaining swords?"

"…For now, it might be best to talk with Cheonhwa later."

"Agreed. She's not here at the moment. She ran to the Hong Family estate to hear a full explanation about what happened to the village. So… are we staying here for now?"

"Seems like it. Does this village have a hotel? It's fairly large."

"Not sure. We'll have to look—"

Whoosh—

"…?"

A stone suddenly flew toward Hwarang.

Startled, he turned toward its source.

A young boy stood there, glaring at him and the others.

"Kid, where did you learn such manners—"

"You're from the Ten Families, right?! You're with the ones trying to steal our land!"

The boy's unnecessarily loud voice drew the attention of nearby adults who had been busy protesting among themselves. People watching from windows also turned their gazes toward Hwarang's group.

"What? Those are Ten Family members!"

"Now even the Ten Families are targeting our village?!"

"Get out! Outsiders!"

The villagers' looks were hostile.

Some approached as if ready to draw weapons at any moment.

Luf grimaced.

"…I don't think there's a hotel. With the atmosphere like this, we won't even get a room at an inn."

He was right.

The hostility escalated—stones began flying.

They deflected them with shinsu, but it was impossible to feel good about such treatment.

Maschenny narrowed her eyes, irritation building.

"…Should I just call the army and have them sweep this place with cannons?"

"N-No, that wouldn't be a good idea, Noona…"

The mood had turned dangerous—spears and shinsu blasts might follow next.

Luf panicked at the sight of Maschenny reaching for her Pocket to contact Zahard's army and tried to calm her. Asensio and Yura looked ready to charge the villagers, but Hwarang restrained them.

"Annoying as it is, let's endure it—for Cheonhwa's sake. We should relocate somewhere else."

Yura didn't look pleased but nodded.

"Where? The Hong Family estate doesn't sound safe either. Who do you think stirred up this atmosphere? The village elites, obviously."

"…Anyone have suggestions?" Hwarang asked.

"To the forge," Maschenny said. "I want to see Hoaquin."

"…We can't sleep in a forge. Let's return to the floating ship first. Fast enough that no one can follow."

Everyone agreed and gathered shinsu in their legs, preparing to move at speeds civilians couldn't track—

"E-Excuse me. Over here."

"…?"

They all turned.

A young girl was hiding in a shaded corner, cautiously waving at them.

"If it's okay… someone can offer you a place to stay. The location is here…"

She unfolded a map almost as large as her face and pointed at a spot.

"P-Please come!"

She ran off on short legs.

The group exchanged looks and nodded.

They quickly left the area, shaking off the angry villagers, and carefully made their way toward the marked location.

"Hyung, Noonas, it's here," Luf said, guiding them.

They arrived before a building so grand it could easily be mistaken for a noble's mansion.

At first, they thought it was indeed a wealthy household—until they saw the sign by the fence.

Yura read it and stared in disbelief.

"…An orphanage? Why is it so extravagant?"

At that moment, the door opened and a middle-aged man stepped out to greet them.

He had apparently overheard.

"An orphanage doesn't have to be poor, does it? A twist, isn't it? I rather enjoy twists. Haha."

Yura blinked, nodding reflexively.

Hwarang stepped forward.

"…Are you the one who said you could provide us with lodging?"

"…I wanted to."

When the little girl pointed at Luf as she said that, he quickly tried to hide his slightly reddened face. The tension eased, and Hwarang smiled before turning to the man.

"Thank you. But what if we really were dangerous members of the Ten Families?"

"Hahaha. I haven't grown old for nothing. I can tell you're harmless at a glance. And I'm a migrant to this village myself. I simply felt like helping you."

At the word harmless, Maschenny flinched—considering she had almost ordered the village bombarded earlier—but Hwarang tactfully ignored it.

He bowed slightly and extended his hand.

"Yeon Hwarang."

"Chaplin. I run this orphanage. I used to be a Ranker in my youth, so I made a fair amount of money. As you can see, I built this place rather extravagantly. Your accommodations won't be uncomfortable, haha."

True to his words, the interior was just as luxurious.

Hwarang, Luf, Maschenny, Yura, and Asensio walked down the corridor—meeting the boy who had thrown the stone earlier and rewarding him with a flick to the forehead—before choosing rooms they liked among the many vacant ones.

After washing away his fatigue, Hwarang toyed with his Pocket, thinking about his next move.

Maschenny said she'd go see Hoaquin.

Luf and Yura were taking naps.

Then maybe I'll take Asensio and go see Cheonhwa.

I'm curious what Hoaquin's doing too… but I'm not that clueless. Let Maschenny go alone.

Luf gets confession and engagement proposals the moment he lets his guard down.

Yura walks her own path.

And Maschenny and Hoaquin… that sickeningly sweet couple doesn't need commentary.

Thinking about himself trailing around with Asensio made Hwarang sigh internally.

This is what happens when the only relatively normal ones in the team are me and Luf.

Luf's still young. I'm the one who has to handle all these rugby balls.

Who has time to date?

.....

Ashul Edwaru's Forge

"Hand me Baekya."

"You even know the sword's name?"

"I gave it that name."

His tone was commanding, but it suited his imposing presence perfectly.

If the creator wanted the blade, there had to be a reason.

Without protest, I handed Baekya to him.

He inspected it briefly—

And before I could react, Baekya plunged deep into the roaring magma of the furnace.

"?! What are you—?!"

Before I could finish, Ashul raised a hand to stop me.

"Maintain your composure. I judged that now is the proper time."

"…?"

He glanced briefly toward the outside of the forge, then spoke.

"Those fools are blindly kicking away their own opportunity. Waiting until they gather all seven true blades would be the height of waste. So I will proceed with your matter first."

"How long will it take?"

"I cannot answer that. But it will not be finished in a day or two."

"And how exactly are you going to treat my soul—"

Thud.

Before I could finish, he stepped forward and gripped my face with one massive hand.

I stared blankly at him, face caught in his grasp.

"Enough. My forge has begun to move. Remain silent."

"..."

I had a mountain of questions, but when the master says be quiet, what can the apprentice do?

I nodded.

Fortunately, Ashul seemed willing to answer anyway.

"You have many questions. I can predict them all. Seeing is better than hearing."

At that moment, light began to glow from his pupil-less white eyes.

The light traveled like a current, down his arm and into my face.

Flash—

The moment it reached me, my vision shifted completely.

It was as if my soul left my body and connected to another space entirely—like a scene from an old wizard film.

The first thing I saw—

Baekya.

[Baekya is not an ordinary ignition weapon. If I must compare… yes, it is closest to the 13 Months.]

Ashul's voice echoed throughout this space.

The scene shifted.

Baekya lay submerged deep within the furnace.

[Baekya's soul is not that of a living being. It is an artificial soul, crafted through sorcery. Just like the souls you see when you ignite the 13 Months. Though you would not understand even if I explained.]

Then—

Thirteen items appeared.

The first was silver.

The second, white.

The third, black needles.

The fourth, a green hook.

The fifth, a yellow spear.

The sixth, a radiant blade.

Then indigo. Blue. Darkness. Red. Gold. Colorless. Rainbow.

There was no need for further explanation.

They were the 13 Months.

And then—

Baekya quietly slipped into a fourteenth position.

[The Tower is a place where inexplicable phenomena are common. I took advantage of that and mixed the leftover materials from forging the 13 Months into Baekya.]

[The experiment was successful. Like the 13 Months, Baekya was given an artificial soul.]

[The ghost-like figure you encountered long ago—that was Baekya's soul, its true form.]

The spectral shape I had once seen in the infirmary after the Crown Game appeared before me again. Just as it had back then, it did nothing—only gazed at me silently.

[However, it is merely an empty shell without ego. That is precisely why it is suitable. I will merge your soul and Baekya's soul into one. A completely new soul will be born.]

[Once that happens, you will no longer collide with the limits of a fragile soul, nor suffer the agony of it being torn apart. The same applies to Baekya—it too will no longer be bound by the limits of the material plane.]

The form of Baekya before me began to change.

From its original pure white blade, it shifted—into a sword stained blood-red, into a blade of dazzling energy, into something razor-sharp and vicious, into a slender rapier meant for thrusting, into a long-handled glaive, into something even stronger—more absolute.

Fwoooosh—

I felt something pulling me in powerfully—

And then I returned to reality.

Ashul had already released my face and was watching me quietly.

"After examining you briefly… your soul is astonishingly weak. Even an ordinary Regular's soul would be stronger than yours. Without considerable assistance, you would have died long ago."

"…Haha. I've been pretty lucky with the people around me."

"That seems to be the case."

He turned his back and walked toward the furnace, staring into the magma where Baekya now lay fully submerged.

"However, every weapon is only wielded by one who is worthy."

"Do I have to take a test?"

"Yes. But I am not the one who administers it. The moment Baekya and your soul merge, the trial will begin."

He pointed a finger at me.

"You would do well to prepare yourself to accept it."

"Accept what…?"

"If you become one with Baekya, you will no longer be human. A human who shares a soul with a weapon does not exist."

"...…."

"Whether Baekya's shell devours you, or you devour Baekya's ego, or the two of you harmonize—change will come in some form. To move away from humanity is to step toward transcendence. But it is still change."

"Much like your father."

I answered him with silence.

The playfulness had long since vanished from my face. We looked at one another with absolute seriousness.

Change.

I had felt that word deeply through my father.

The data version of him I met in the Hidden Floor—and the man he is now.

They were completely different.

"Never change, boy."

I let out a quiet breath.

So that's what the God of Guardian meant?

I was choosing to fuse with Baekya for greater power. For more time. For survival.

How is that any different from the Ten Family Heads who made contracts for immortality?

Ashul's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Answer me, child of Hon. Are you prepared to accept change?"

If the Guardian truly wished for absolute stagnation—no evolution, no deviation—then I can only say… I'm sorry.

I have roughly 480 years left.

To the me of now, 480 years is far too short.

Even if extending my life means no longer being fully human—Even then—

I have no intention of becoming like the Ten Family Heads.

I raised my head and met Ashul's gaze.

"I may move away from being human… but I have no intention of losing my humanity. I will not become like my father."

Ashul studied me for a long moment before speaking.

"So. You intend to become a human monster. Neither remaining human nor discarding it entirely. Such an ambiguous conviction."

"I prefer the middle."

"In the end, the trial will decide."

I nodded.

Would living like the Ten Family Heads be enjoyable?

Not in the slightest.

If I were to become numb to my feelings for Maschenny—

That would be worse than death.

I don't even want to imagine it.

No matter how much I change—even if, as Ashul says, I cease to be human—

I want to love.

To cry.

To laugh.

To rage.

To enjoy.

I want to live as something that still feels human.

I don't want to grow distant from them.

Change may be inevitable—

But what kind of change I accept—

That is my choice.

And the change I choose… is one that does not abandon humanity.

-----------------

If you want to read more chapters advanced.

Visit my patreon: /Leonzky