"The Blasphemous must be punished…"
These words echoed in Atom's head as he walked through the storm.
He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a savior. Just a man trying to live.
Maybe this is what it is, he thought. People believe what they're told to believe. Even when the truth is right in front of them… they'll ignore it—unless they choose to see it.
He clenched his fist. That's the power of influence…and I have none. So even if I try to change something, it's useless.
He looked up at the mountain in the distance.
Still…I'll keep moving forward. Until I show them what they need to see.
Few minutes later, Atom had reached the castle courtroom. He slipped through the cracks of shadow and pillars, moving like a ghost. His footsteps made no sound.
I don't want to waste my time fighting them.
Inside, the grand courtroom — once shattered by the King's wrath — was repairing itself. Stone by stone, the pieces slid back into place, glowing faintly with divine energy.
Atom crouched behind one of the massive pillars, eyes narrowed.
He could feel the presence of something powerful.
Note: "God's Command" A mantra that could bend anything to its user's will. Living or non-living, all obeyed.
There was no resistance. No freedom.
"The Regeneration Mantra…"
Atom whispered under his breath.
Same as the wall. No doubt—it's the God's Command.
He moved silently between the pillars, his steps light as air, hiding within the shadows. The courtroom was empty, yet his senses stayed sharp — too quiet often meant danger.
If they see me… they'll attack. And I don't want to fight them.
Not now.
As he crept forward, his eyes caught a glimmer. A massive golden dish standing at the center of the hall. The sight made his chest tighten. He stopped breathing for a moment.
He knew what it meant.
That object wasn't just decoration. It was the vessel of power.
The soldiers burst into the courtroom, their footsteps echoing across the marble floor. They began searching every corner, their torches cutting through the darkness.
In the far corner, hidden in the shadows, Atom pressed himself against the wall — silent, still.
A soldier came too close.
Before the man could react, Atom's hand clamped over his mouth.
I don't want to fight them… I just need to find a way out.
But the soldier struggled, kicking and thrashing in panic. Atom sighed, realizing he had no choice.
He released him — and in the same breath, grabbed the soldier's sword.
The moment the man turned to shout—
Atom threw the sword.
"He's here!" someone yelled.
Atom's voice echoed through the chamber, calm yet terrifying.
"Lord Almighty:"
The soldiers froze. Their eyes widened as they saw the sword in midair — glowing, trembling with power.
They knew what was coming.
"Everyone… RUN!"
"Sihur."
The sword expanded instantly, growing massive and jagged as it tore through the room. Before they could escape —
The golden dish began to hum.
"ZZZZZZZZZ!"
The blast of divine energy blew through the ranks, and Atom used the chaos to disappear.
Its vibration grew louder and louder until the walls quaked. The soldiers' thin blades began to tremble and stretch, twisting unnaturally like molten metal.
"COVER YOUR EARS!" someone screamed.
The sound turned the entire castle into an instrument — a monstrous hymn of steel and destruction.
The walls sang. The air screamed.
And Atom ran.
Atom stumbled through the shattered hallway, his hands clamped over his ears. Blood streamed from his nose and ears, dripping onto the marble floor as he pushed forward.
Behind him, the Courtroom was collapsing — the ground splitting into two, light flickering, and then vanishing only to return in violent bursts.
The vibrations cut through the air like blades, slicing into walls, armor, and flesh alike. Screams echoed, then faded beneath the roar of divine resonance.
In this Godless World, where he was called the Blasphemous, he kept moving — step by step, bleeding and broken, chasing a purpose only he understood.
The humans had forgotten what the world once was.
Outside, beneath the heavy rain, the Minister of War stood still, his armor drenched and his eyes distant. The lightning reflected his sorrow as he remembered Atom's last look — not hatred, but defiance.
"When I first heard of the Blasphemous…" he muttered, voice trembling. "I knew this would happen. And I—"
He paused, his voice breaking under the thunder.
"No… no one could do anything to him."
Nineteen years ago...
I was twelve when an oracle shook the world.
Just another child, playing in the dust — until that day.
A voice echoed across nations, a voice that no one could unhear.
"A boy will be born.
He will descend and lift the world upon his shoulders…
and make God live again."
The day that prophecy spread, the world trembled.
People wept. Kings prayed. And even the heavens went silent.
I didn't understand it back then. I didn't know why people were afraid.
But now—standing here, I can feel it deep inside my heart.
That fear.
That name they whisper in terror.
The Blasphemous.
The hall trembled as Atom sprinted through it, blood still dripping down his face. The torches flickered, bending with his motion.
Then. He stopped.
Someone was standing at the end of the hall.
A shadowed figure, silent… motionless.
And when Atom's eyes adjusted — his breath froze.
"What…?"
His voice cracked.
"…It's… me?"
The figure smiled faintly, raising its hand — the same hand as his, the same scar on the wrist.
The echo of the oracle still haunted the air.
"He will lift the world upon his shoulders…"
Atom's heart pounded — a pulse echoing louder than the storm outside.
Without a thought, he reached into his pocket, grabbed the tiny stones, and flung them forward.
"Lord Almighty: Sihur!"
The stones shot upward, expanding into massive boulders mid-air — a storm of rock crashing toward the figure ahead.
But the man didn't flinch.
He simply smiled.
A faint, crooked smile that felt too familiar.
A chill ran down Atom's spine.
The figure tilted his head. And then—he vanished.
The next instant, a flash of steel cut through the air.
Clang!
Atom barely blocked in time, sparks bursting between their blades.
The impact sent him sliding backward.
They moved like reflections caught in chaos — each swing, each parry, perfectly mirrored.
Atom attacked high — his opponent blocked low.
He slashed right — the other deflected left.
Their footwork, their breathing, even their eyes—identical.
For the first time in his life, Atom was being pushed back.
His instincts screamed danger.
His hands trembled under the force of every strike.
And when their blades locked again, the copy leaned closer.
The smile returned — sharper this time.
A smile born not from victory, but from truth.
Atom lunged forward with a swift kick—
But the other him caught it effortlessly.
Clang!
The air cracked with tension.
Atom twisted his body mid-air, spinning his leg to break free and flipping behind him. With a surge of strength, he grabbed his double by the arm and slammed him onto the marble floor.
Dust scattered.
Atom backed away, eyes sharp, breathing heavy.
"Grandpa… is this the same person you talked about?"
For a fleeting second, his mind drifted back—
—to that quiet night when he was a child, sitting by the fire.
His grandfather, wrapped in a great black cloak—the same cloak Atom wore now—had spoken in that deep, echoing voice.
Atom straightened his trembling hands, pressing them together as if in prayer. The storm outside howled, as if listening.
He exhaled slowly, picked up his sword, and whispered—
"So… this was true."
Across the hall, his other self rose from the ground. That faint, mocking smile still carved into his face.
His eyes—bleeding a deep crimson now.
He raised his sword, mirroring Atom's stance perfectly, then lowered it into the posture of a hunter.
The two stood, reflections in flesh and blood—
One praying for salvation,
The other smiling like the devil who'd already won.
"He will lift the world upon his shoulders…"
There was more to that prophecy?
What if… there were two of him?