Chapter 134: The Collapse of the Underworld
Their footsteps echoed over cracked tile and faded asphalt, weaving through streets that didn't follow logic or memory but somehow still felt like they could have. The signs were bent at odd angles, their text slipping between Korean and a script that didn't belong to any language Jin knew. The air was dry and motionless, like the city had exhaled once and forgotten to breathe again.
They moved in silence. Not from fear. From instinct.
The city didn't hum with life—it pulsed. Not in any sound or motion, but in how the buildings leaned slightly in their direction. How the lamp posts curved overhead. How some shop doors had no handles, and others had too many.
Jisoo passed an alley and stopped. A flash—just a flicker—of someone standing at the far end. A woman in an apron, blinking at her with wide eyes. Then gone.
She didn't say anything. Just kept walking.
Yujin slipped ahead, claws half-formed at her sides, moving low and quiet over the rooftops. She didn't speak either. She didn't need to. She could feel the weight of being watched—but not from a fixed point. It was everywhere. The buildings had eyes. The air had memory.
Jin kept to the center.
The katana was still strapped across his back, motionless, but he could feel the hum of it under his skin. Muramasa. The weapon had changed when he'd ascended it—but so had he.
And this city didn't just test what he carried. It tested what carried him.
He passed a bus stop with three seated figures. All were blurry. None turned to face him. But one looked like a man he'd worked with before the world ended. The other two were smaller. Children.
He didn't slow.
The shadows stretched longer with each step.