After Saving The Universe A Thousand Times: Chapter 15

Chapter 15: All Gods’ Descent 15

How could Dong Jin possibly be unaware of just how powerful Lei Ming truly was?

In his midnight dreams, when the universe shattered with a deafening roar, the boundless crimson that spread across the void was forever etched into his mind.

It was the very embodiment of an unreachable might for humans and the ultimate point of the evolutionary chain he had always yearned for.

So Dong Jin didn’t feel that Lei Ming was exaggerating in the least.

Even though he and Lei Ming were locked in a nearly unbreakable rivalry, Dong Jin was sure that, if he uttered the four characters “Tepesta” at this moment, this God of Night and Drama would respond to him, elevating him to become the strongest under the night.

At that point, without sacrificing even a moment of his life, Kale would no longer stand a chance against him.

But here and now, Dong Jin chose silence.

In the endless quiet, Lei Ming, who was waiting for Dong Jin to call his true name, gradually realized something.

No longer sizing up Kai’s vulnerable points or planning his demise, Lei Ming lowered his dark golden eyes, his gaze shifting unpredictably as he looked back at Dong Jin and said:

“What? You’re not going to refuse me, are you? Little… Butter…fly…”

The familiar nickname, delivered in that same intimidating tone, did not frighten Dong Jin in the slightest. Instead, he couldn’t help but curl his lips in a smile.

Because it reminded him of his first encounter with Lei Ming in his dream.

Back then, as a judge, Lei Ming had finally noticed him, this intruder. During their first meeting, this god had mocked him, saying he was like a moth drawn to flame, utterly oblivious to his own impending doom.

After Dong Jin succeeded in clearing the trial twenty times, thirty times, hundreds upon hundreds of times, Lei Ming seemed to realize that his limited vocabulary of insults wasn’t sufficient to get the better of him. He stopped using those contemptuous names and, during one midnight when he accidentally caught sight of Dong Jin’s unguarded eyes, he let out a low sneer and said:

“What’s this? Could your original form be a butterfly? Even changing colors, I see?”

Since then, “Little Butterfly” replaced “Moth” as his new nickname.

Though Dong Jin knew that Lei Ming hadn’t been the least bit kind whether he called him a “moth” or a “butterfly,” he unexpectedly didn’t mind either name.

Because the change in nicknames represented his countless victories, symbolizing that he, with his human form, had forced this god to concede and compromise time and again.

A thousand midnights ago, when he had nothing, he could still stake his life to leave this god helpless.

A thousand midnights later, now that he had seized fate by the throat and stood upon the stage of the Divine Selection, could he not dare to stake his life again to win his freedom?

— He could. 

— It was just a life-for-life gamble; of course, he dared.

With that thought, Dong Jin smiled and raised his dagger, its tip pointed directly at the hanging moon.

In that moment, he no longer considered the price of speaking a god’s true name, nor pondered the hidden intentions behind Lei Ming’s sudden words. For he had already decided to burn his life and engage Kale in a fight to the death.

Even if, in the end, he truly exhausted his life and perished here, he would not utter a single word.

This night, he would tell the entire universe — from a nobody to the pinnacle of his kind, humanity itself was already an inspiration.

No need for a superhuman body, no need for abilities beyond the ordinary. With nothing but sheer courage, even the weakest mortal could become a god.

At the instant Dong Jin’s dagger pointed to the moon, it began to rain in Genesis City.

Among the trillions of simultaneous instances, only in this city, at this precise moment, did it begin to rain with a darkness beyond fate.

— It was the God of Night in turmoil.

Amid endless torrents of rain and resounding thunder, Lei Ming gazed intently—deeply, profoundly—at Dong Jin.

In the beginning, he had once remarked that Dong Jin was as weak as a moth.

At first, the term was nothing more than a subtle mockery, a malicious taunt. Yet the further things went, the more Lei Ming felt Dong Jin truly resembled a moth.

—Stumbling forward, like a moth drawn to a flame, charging into darkness without hesitation.

—If that isn’t like a moth, then what is?

Even after he found himself strangely captivated by Dong Jin’s unique eyes and started calling him “little butterfly,” he still felt this little lunatic’s death-seeking fervor was no different from a moth rushing to the fire.

Until today. Until this very moment.

From the moon’s vantage, Lei Ming silently looked down at Dong Jin, who raised his dagger high in a gesture of refusal.

He suddenly realized that long ago, in those thousand midnights—and in those Daytime hours outside the midnight he had never known, had never participated in—that moth had already extinguished the flame with resolute determination, and in the fire’s embers had been reborn as a butterfly, boldly stirring up a storm.

In that instant, Dong Jin unleashed not only a storm in his heart but a tempest that swept across the entire universe.

*Thump.*  

*Thump, thump, thump.*

With Lei Ming’s heartbeat quickening from slow to fast, this God of Night and Drama resonated with Dong Jin for the second time, entirely without warning.

This time, however, the resonance was many times stronger than before—so strong, in fact, that Dong Jin himself noticed it even as he rotated his wrist, reversed his dagger grip, and charged toward Kale.

For in that instant of resonance, the rate at which his lifespan burned had suddenly halved.

Clearly, the god who resonated with him was now paying the other half of the price to sustain the “Eye of Truth” in its overclocked state.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell on these thoughts.

Dong Jin quickly regained his focus, continuing his flurry of strikes without pause.

Unlike before, there was no trace of technique in his every strike—simply pure, diagonal slashes and direct stabs. Yet these simple attacks seemed effortless, with a natural fluidity that belied their simplicity.

As the dagger occasionally caught flashes of lightning, Kale’s once-dim golden eyes appeared to grow brighter, matching the thunderous glow.

This was different.

Entirely different.

Though it was the same person, the intensity of his onslaught had transformed within a second. Even though Kale had drawn his dagger, switching from using the blunt side to the blade, he still struggled to withstand Dong Jin’s sudden barrage.

In every moment, with every stroke and spin, Kale saw an artistry taken to its utmost limit.

Even Kale couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

Dong Jin replied with a hint of meaning, “Do you hear the thunder around us? Perhaps tonight, the thunder roars for me…”

This answer only deepened Kale’s confusion, leaving his doubts to grow ever thicker.

The battle continued. In a fleeting moment, Kale instinctively glanced at Dong Jin.

From the first moment he saw Dong Jin today, a fire had ignited within him—the fire of the hunt.

When the torrential rain struck, there was a fleeting moment when Kale almost mistook it for wine instead. Otherwise, why would each passing second cause the flame in his heart to flare up as if doused with spirits, intensifying instead of fading?

Unfortunately, no matter how strong the flames or how fierce his killing intent, tonight’s hunt was destined to end in his defeat.

In a mere three minutes, the once composed supernatural being was already battered and bruised.

Blood surged down, winding along the textured deep-red suit, yet the severely injured Kale simply shrugged off his rain- and blood-soaked jacket, laughing as though unfazed by the pain or the approach of death.

“The night before last, Wuli came to visit me, but I didn’t let him in.”

“He lingered outside, droning on for ages, until finally, he could hold back no longer and asked me why I saw you differently. Wuli didn’t get an answer that night because I didn’t know it myself. But now, I understand.”

Dong Jin hadn’t expected Kale to still be in the mood for such idle chatter at this point. While Kale was willing to watch him stack buffs, Dong Jin was never one to play by the rules.

Though he held an overwhelming advantage now, Dong Jin knew it was only temporary.

The resonance with Lei Ming could end at any moment, and his life could be extinguished at any time; he couldn’t afford to stop and waste time on conversation. But continuing in a deadlock was no solution either.

With a quick shift in strategy, Dong Jin subtly altered the direction of his attacks, discreetly driving Kale toward the edge of the rooftop.

To keep his intentions hidden, he even added in a sardonic jab, “Isn’t Wuli’s corpse right here? If you have an answer, it’s not too late to tell him now.”

Kale’s smile only grew deeper at those words.

When Dong Jin had him cornered at the left front of the rooftop, one more step from falling off, Kale abruptly seemed to hit an invisible wall, his entire body frozen at the edge, unable to move even an inch beyond.

Dong Jin wasn’t surprised—everyone knew supernatural beings were trapped within the hotel.

He hadn’t pushed Kale to the edge to make him fall but rather to pin him against the right angle of the invisible wall, limiting his ability to retreat.

With his goal achieved, Dong Jin once again raised his dagger to swipe at Kale’s throat. When Kale turned his head to grasp Dong Jin’s right wrist, Dong Jin flicked his wrist, tossing the dagger beyond the transparent wall.

In the next instant, as the dagger looped back to Kale’s left side, Dong Jin swiftly reached out his left hand to catch it from outside the wall and delivered the final strike to Kale’s neck from behind. 

Because the dagger was thrown beyond the wall, Kale couldn’t intercept it beforehand; trapped in the corner, he couldn’t even turn to see the angle from which the dagger came.

So with that strike, he had no way to avoid it.

Since he couldn’t avoid it…at the very instant Dong Jin drove his final blow, Kale yanked down on the hand gripping Dong Jin’s wrist, causing him to momentarily lose balance. The dagger that should have pierced Kale’s throat shifted downward and instead impaled his heart.

Since he couldn’t avoid it, Kale chose a death he preferred—just like when he knowingly allowed Dong Jin to corner him into a dead end. Realizing he couldn’t fend off the attacks, Kale had intentionally positioned himself in the moonlit left front corner.

Dong Jin couldn’t be sure if the heart was a fatal spot for a supernatural being, so, lacking any restraint, he prepared to strike again.

However, just as he readied to slice Kale’s throat, Kale, who had anticipated his intentions, raised his hand in a mock surrender and said helplessly:

“Spare me, will you? I just want to keep my windpipe intact to say a few last words. You seem interested in the ‘Door’; give me a few more minutes, and I can tell you a secret about it before I die.”

The first to react wasn’t Dong Jin, but Lei Ming within their resonance.

A low, humorless chuckle sounded from the god, and with that, the resonance abruptly broke.

The flow of Kale’s blood and Lei Ming’s dismissive response both confirmed Kale’s sincerity. Considering that Kale only had two or three minutes left, Dong Jin ultimately stepped back, stopping his life-draining attack to quietly await Kale’s end.

“You’re human, aren’t you?” This was Kale’s first statement.

With that sigh, a red line slowly appeared on Kale’s chest, partially obscured by his shirt and blood.

“You’re actually human…you really are.”

As Kale spoke, the line spread from his chest to the back of his neck, then symmetrically extended to all his limbs.

“Wuli asked a foolish question. Instead of asking why I see you differently, the better question is, why wouldn’t I be drawn to you?”

The lines, like an intricate brand spreading across his body, turned from simple to elaborate, while Kale continued:

“Some people marvel at solar and lunar eclipses.”

“Some are awestruck by endless mountains or the raging sea.”

“And when I look at you, it’s as if I’m witnessing humanity’s brilliance itself. With just one look, I felt an irresistible attraction.”

At this point, Kale suddenly chuckled, “Is it a dying illusion, or has your fevered passion for victory infected me too? Though it’s raining, my blood feels like it’s boiling, hot enough to ignite me.”

Dong Jin had assumed this last statement was just a casual remark.

But as those red lines crept from Kale’s neck and silently spread across his forehead, Dong Jin, his vision blurred by the pounding rain, finally caught a glimpse and immediately sensed something was wrong.

—When had these lines appeared on Kale’s body?

—And what purpose did they serve?

Damn it! One should never be soft-hearted, nor fall for any tempting bait.

If he ever let himself get swayed by someone’s “last words” again, may he dream of Lei Ming every night!

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