* * *

Screeech! Roar!

Grade 1 monsters surrounded them, roaring ferociously.

These creatures, called Kashikok, resembled boars and had a habit of moving in herds.

Among grade 1 monsters, they were particularly formidable.

Watching the Kashikok snort and ready themselves to charge, Seohwa glanced at Kang Yigeon.

Kang Yigeon, arms crossed, asked coolly:

“Is your ego weapon a sword?”

“Hm… not exactly.”

“A bow?”

“Not quite…”

“A gun, then?”

“Definitely not firearms.”

Screeech!

Flinching at the Kashikok’s roar, Seohwa didn’t hide behind Kang Yigeon, nor did he step closer.

He always maintained a careful distance from him.

The closest they ever got was when Seohwa sat in the passenger seat of Kang Yigeon’s car.

“Are you seriously just going to watch?”

“This time, I need to confirm your ego weapon.”

“…Fine. Take a good look.”

Seohwa stretched out his hand.

The air around it rippled, and soon, a thin, white rod materialized in his grasp.

About two handspans long, the rod had an elegant curve etched along its surface.

At its tip was a small orb, 5 centimeters in diameter, cradled by petal-like metallic decorations.

The translucent orb shimmered like crystal, its interior swirling with a mesmerizing violet glow, like a miniature universe.

Kang Yigeon recognized it immediately.

Its rarity and unique name made it unmistakable.

“A magic wand.”

“Excuse me, Kang Yigeon. Could you call it a wand, please?”

“System records refer to it as a magic wand.”

“Ugh. Why does the system do this? They call staffs ‘staffs,’ not ‘magic sticks.’ So why call wands ‘magic wands’? Anyway, all Mage-trait Hunters call it a wand. You know the North American Mage union protested to standardize the term? After that, the World Hunter Association agreed to use ‘wand.’ So ‘magic wand’ is now a forbidden term.”

“I’ve never heard such a thing.”

“Oh, timeline confusion. Anyway, there’s no such thing as a magic wand. This is a wand.”

Slender, pale fingers gripped the wand effortlessly.

Despite being an S-rank Hunter who had survived countless battlefields, Seohwa’s hands had surprisingly few calluses.

Most magic users, who wielded staffs or wands from a distance, tended to have hands as refined as his.

Kang Yigeon had always assumed that Seohwa used a wand, but he hadn’t connected it to an Ego Weapon.

After all, every Ego Weapon he had seen so far had been a weapon designed for physical combat.

“Its proper name is the Serpent Constellation Wand. Cool, right?”

“The Serpent Constellation Wand, huh.”

“The Serpent Constellation Wand is just getting started. Hold your breath.”

Seohwa waved the wand, and from its small orb radiated beams of light that swirled in shades of purple, black, green, and white, spreading outward like a deadly mist.

It was a mesmerizing sight, both magical and mysterious, but the mist was infused with lethal poison.

In mere seconds, the swarm of Kashicok creatures surrounding them collapsed one by one.

It hadn’t even taken a second for complete annihilation.

Seohwa gave a small flick of his wand, reabsorbing the poisonous mist.

The violet glow was drawn back into the orb.

As the enigmatic haze vanished, Kang Yigeon felt an odd pang of regret.

“What skill was that?”

“It’s not a skill, nor a natural ability. It’s the power of this Ego Weapon.”

Kang Yigeon would have liked to witness Seohwa’s skills, but even just confirming the wand’s unique abilities was a significant gain.

“This color is truly beautiful, isn’t it?”

Seohwa tapped the orb lightly with his finger, and the glow, resembling a miniature universe, gathered around his touch as if responding.

As Kang Yigeon stared at it in silence, Seohwa added softly.

“When the light hits it just right, it reminds me of your eye color, Kang Yigeon. Probably the most beautiful shade in the universe.”

‘Our Hunter Kang has the most beautiful color in the universe in his eyes.’

Kang Yigeon suddenly felt dizzy, a splitting headache following close behind. He hurriedly retrieved a medicine bottle from his pocket.

Seohwa watched with concern as Kang Yigeon swallowed two pills.

The first time Kang Yigeon had taken medicine in front of Seohwa, Seohwa had been visibly shocked.

His eyes and mouth had gone wide as if he’d just heard someone prophesy, “The world will end in three years when a level-six dungeon appears.”

He had even dropped his phone.

“Kang Yigeon, what are those pills?”

“Anti-anxiety medication.”

“Why are you taking psychiatric drugs? You’ve never been like this before.”

“…”

“Why… why?”

Even though he had seen it happen repeatedly since, Seohwa never seemed to get used to it.

Each time Kang Yigeon took his medication, Seohwa would look equally worried.

“In the first timeline, your mental strength was so solid that people called you the reincarnation of a Bodhisattva. Why are you like this now?”

“Stop staring at me like that.”

“I can’t help it; I’m worried. Not that you’d want my concern…”

“You’re making me want to gouge out your eyes.”

“Ah, yes. My apologies. I’ll be more mindful of my gaze.”

Seohwa quickly lowered his eyes, and Kang Yigeon asked him a question.

“What form does the Ego Weapon’s beast transformation take?”

“Oh, right. I should show you that.”

Seohwa spun the wand in a quick motion.

The white rod vanished, and in its place, a small white snake appeared on his palm.

The snake was barely two hand spans long, its diameter less than 2 cm.

Its milk-white scales were smooth and polished, and its round eyes glimmered with an enchanting violet hue.

Hiss. Hiss!

The little snake surveyed its surroundings briefly before opening its jaws wide, threatening Seohwa’s fingers.

No matter how wide it opened, it couldn’t even reach the size of Seohwa’s fingernail.

Surprised by how small it was, Kang Yigeon unconsciously took a step closer.

He had seen the beast forms of Ego Weapons before.

A South African Hunter’s spear had turned into a wildcat, an Indian Hunter’s mace into a turtle, and the short sword stored in a New York museum into an eagle.

All of them had been massive, comparable to an adult man’s upper body.

But this snake… was tiny.

An Ego Weapon the size of a finger? Honestly, it was adorable.

“It’s much smaller compared to other Ego Weapons.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why, but it’s always been small. But don’t misunderstand. The one below me isn’t this small. Even if it’s smaller than yours, it’s still respectable and something to be proud of.”

“…”

“What’s its name?”

“Do you name your… you know…?”

Kang Yigeon pressed a hand to his forehead.

“I meant the Ego Weapon.”

“Oh. It’s Pedro Purple Cheolsu Cosmos Lisa, but I just call it Baby Snake.”

“…”

As Kang Yigeon hesitated on where to start critiquing, Seohwa added.

“There was a vote for the name—Pedro, Purple, Cheolsu, Cosmos, and Lisa all tied. The fans were so passionate about it that I decided to use all the names.”

“You had fans?”

“Of course. In the first timeline, I had tons of fans. I was always ranked number one in Hunter popularity.”

“…”

“You were my most devoted fan, Kang Yigeon.”

“…”

“Did you really have to look that disgusted…?”

Seohwa smiled wryly as Kang Yigeon openly gagged.

Hisss!

Meanwhile, the small white snake was coiling itself tightly around Seohwa’s finger, trying its best to bite him.

“You don’t seem to get along with your bound item.”

“We usually get along great. Other Hunters with Ego Weapons were always jealous of how much mine adored me. It used to chirp and cuddle up to me all the time.”

“Then is this a side effect of Flight of Time? Even though it crossed the timeline with you…”

“Flight of Time only applies to me. Baby Snake isn’t affected by the skill, so it exists in this current timeline. That’s why it rejects me.”

“Does this Ego Weapon have no memory of the previous timelines?”

“None. It’s forgotten me, just like you have. Just like everyone else in this world.”

Seohwa leaned down toward the snake, his white hair spilling over like a curtain.

Gently, tenderly, he stroked the snake.

“To it, I’m just some stranger, a hateful one at that. It must be so scared and confused. Calm down. I won’t hurt you… I’m always sorry, Baby Snake.”

Hiss! Hisss!

The white snake continued its relentless attempts to intimidate him.

Kang Yigeon saw the wrinkles at Seohwa’s chin and the subtle twitch of his cheek.

His golden eyes glistened with unshed tears, as though they might fall with the slightest touch.

His trembling fingers stroked the snake as if to soothe it.

Despite knowing the cost, Seohwa had used his skill.

But seeing his own Ego Weapon reject him so completely—he couldn’t help but feel hurt.

“…”

Whenever this happened—whenever Kang Yigeon saw that wounded look in Seohwa’s eyes—his chest stirred with an inexplicable unease.

At first, he thought it was happiness.

But it wasn’t just that.

There was something else. Something indescribable, tangled with his emotions. Kang Yigeon chose to look away from it.

Normally, he would pursue a mystery relentlessly, but when it came to Seohwa, he found himself avoiding it.

* * *