Chapter 614: Yi Sun-sin and Joseon

The God of Death.

They were the god who governed causality.

As the king who ruled Hell, they could hear the stories spoken by souls.

And for some reason, there were many voices that did not want one particular person to die.

—I have only one wish after death. Please let him come here a little later.

—Fighting at the General’s side was the finest moment of my life.

—It is all right if I cannot reincarnate. Please, bring him here later.

Their voices sounded like petitions written for a single person.

It was as though millions had gathered before the God of Death’s palace, bowing low and begging them to grant their request.

‘What kind of person could inspire this?’

The God of Death could not understand.

‘How can a mere human be loved more than the gods themselves?’

What was the name of the man for whom millions of souls begged, submitting petition after petition asking that he be brought to Hell as late as possible?

Yi Sun-sin.

However.

Just as fate could not be defied, this was not something the God of Death could simply make happen because they wished it.

Nor could it happen merely because millions of souls desired it.

[The King of Stories’ death approaches.]

The God of Death learned that the great being who had lived for centuries was nearing death.

It was nothing unusual.

No matter how brilliant someone had been in their youth, all things withered before time.

For a man who had lived out his natural span, becoming a handful of dust was not particularly surprising.

The God of Death merely looked forward to meeting him—the man whose remaining life of roughly two years was burning down, and who had been loved by so many.

But then something the God of Death had not expected happened.

[The King of Stories is growing distant from death.]

“What?”

The announcement that death was moving away from him startled the God of Death.

It was not as though such cases had never existed.

But it had been so long since they had encountered one that they were taken aback.

“Why?”

The petitions of millions.

Was it because they wished for him to live as long as possible?

No.

As long as the God of Death existed, and as long as fate existed, their wishes could not alter it.

There was only one reason.

The man who had once let go of the thread of life had decided to live.

The God of Death could not understand, and they soon began to investigate one thing after another.

[Hyunsoo.]

‘This man again?’

He was interesting.

Cerberus, still crossing a rainbow bridge of its own in order to meet him, came to mind.

So did the old man driven by the single-minded desire to become his Guardian Deity.

But this was a slightly different matter from either of them.

Story Island.

For the first time, a name had begun to take root on that small island with a history stretching back thousands of years.

Joseon.

‘The land of morning?’

Or perhaps...

‘The land where morning comes first.’

Both meanings were probably correct.

And the God of Death became curious about Joseon.

No, about Story Island, which had originally possessed no name at all.

‘What kind of past did this Story Island have?’

Before the nation called Joseon was born.

The people who had lived there long before that.

They were dead now, yet they still begged for Yi Sun-sin to be brought to them as late as possible. Naturally, the God of Death’s curiosity was stirred.

The God of Death was a true god.

They decided to look into the memories of Story Island, the King of Stories, and the people who had lived there.

Those memories passed by in an instant, like scenes flickering through a lantern.

The nameless Story Island had once been inhabited by people called Easterners, people such as Yi Sun-sin and Hyunsoo.

Many of the men wore their hair in braids.

The women beat their laundry by the streams.

The past of Story Island that flashed before the God of Death seemed utterly unremarkable, showing nothing more than the ordinary lives of common people.

Women carrying grimy children in their arms walked along the road.

One old man sat idly by, puffing on a long pipe.

Others sold wild greens in the marketplace.

In one sense, it was peaceful. In another, simply ordinary.

Just as the God of Death thought so—

BWOOOOOOO—!!

Those who sought to take everything from them appeared.

From dozens of ships surrounding the small Story Island, enemy soldiers poured ashore without end and cut down the people without mercy.

The people of that tiny island, who had possessed nothing from the start, died in vain.

A small nation.

An insignificant nation.

A powerless nation.

It was a perfect example of what became of the weak.

“...Hmm.”

It was boring.

The God of Death assumed that this insignificant island—this insignificant country—was simply being invaded in a story as common as any other.

After all, the invasion of powerless nations was so common that it was almost tedious.

Then several hundred cavalrymen appeared, intending to trample the fleeing women and children beneath their hooves.

“HYAH!”

“HYAH!”

“HAHAHAHA!”

“Look at them run!”

At that very moment—

WHIRRRR—

THUNK—!!!

An arrow shot with the precision of a Divine Archer pierced the enemy commanders between the eyes from afar.

Exactly five arrows.

THUNK—

THUNK—

THUNK—

THUNK—

THUNK—!

The cavalry, having lost five men, turned toward the direction the arrows had come from.

There stood a broad-framed boy of perhaps seventeen, holding a rusted, worn sword.

The boy was the young Yi Sun-sin.

Alone, he blocked the road and annihilated several hundred cavalrymen.

Was this merely the beginning of another familiar hero’s tale?

As that thought crossed the God of Death’s mind, their mouth began to go dry.

The poor, powerless people who had lived on that small island rose up after the seventeen-year-old boy.

“We’ll learn how to fight, too.”

“We’ll defend it together!”

The old men with pipes and the women learned archery from him.

Even the children learned swordsmanship from him.

Everywhere across the small island, everyone fought.

Was this Yi Sun-sin’s heroic tale?

No.

The God of Death realized it was the heroic tale of Yi Sun-sin and the people who had lived alongside him.

The story of that island and its King of Stories continued.

It was magnificent.

And it was cruel.

The battles Yi Sun-sin had begun at seventeen continued more than a hundred times over several decades.

One year. Two years. Three years. Four years.

He kept fighting, to the point where it was hard to believe he had ever possessed a life of his own.

Every time the scenes of battle flashed past like a lantern show, he grew older.

And he continued to fight for Story Island.

Even after every person who had lived to defend that island had died amid the invasions of Great Archdemons and other enemies.

“I miss them all.”

He quietly guarded the island alone.

“...”

The God of Death, who had initially found the story boring, now trembled, astonished and moved by it.

The first reason was those unremarkable people who had defended the island with him.

The second was the name Yi Sun-sin, the man who had silently protected that place for centuries.

It must have been tedious.

It must have been agonizing.

There must have been countless moments when he wanted to flee.

In fact, Yi Sun-sin had been tempted by innumerable people throughout those flickering memories.

They would give him gold and silver.

They would give him the most beautiful woman in the world.

They would give him anything he desired.

If he took just one step back, they would grant him wealth and glory.

Yet every time, the man the God of Death saw in those memories stood before the people of that small island and led them from the front.

The God of Death could not understand.

‘Why?’

Why did he keep trying to protect that island, which had originally possessed no name but was now called Joseon?

Had his duty not ended already?

Had he not done enough?

The God of Death thought so.

‘I cannot leave it at this...’

Unable to endure their curiosity, the God of Death decided to visit Joseon.

Naturally, ordinary people could not see their translucent form.

‘So this is Joseon...’

As the God of Death looked around, they saw a Joseon being written anew.

“This is how you hold it when you fire.”

Yi Sun-sin.

He was teaching children how to shoot a bow.

The only difference from the past was the race of the people.

He had built a foothold in the Joseon that had once collapsed. He was teaching its people martial skills, struggling once again to defend it.

And the God of Death was special.

Because they were the God of Death, they could see what ordinary people could not.

Souls.

“...”

Standing behind the King of Stories, the God of Death saw millions of people who had been protected by him over the course of his life.

“All right, let’s shoot once more.”

As he taught the children and smiled brightly, the millions behind him looked upon him with smiles of their own.

Most of them wore old, ragged clothes.

And the God of Death recognized them.

The woman from the memories.

The old man who had puffed on a pipe.

The children who had run and played.

They could not truly help the King of Stories. They were no more than souls.

Yet they seemed to want to protect him.

Yes.

They were the ones who had submitted those petitions.

They possessed no power, yet they seemed like Yi Sun-sin’s Guardian Deities.

Yes.

Everyone Yi Sun-sin had protected remained at his side.

SHHHHHH—

But they were only phantom-like beings.

SNAP—!

Unable to touch Yi Sun-sin, they saluted him before scattering away.

And then.

The God of Death possessed the authority to let those who had lived the most beautiful and noble lives reincarnate in their next life as whatever they desired.

Even with their authority, only one person could receive such a blessing.

It was a power granted solely to the God of Death.

The God of Death made their decision.

‘Yes. For Yi Sun-sin, allowing him to live the life he desires would not be a waste at all.’

A man who had lived so nobly to protect someone else possessed more than enough right to receive it.

That evening.

The God of Death appeared in Yi Sun-sin’s dream.

And for the first time, the God of Death and Yi Sun-sin met face-to-face.

“I will let you reincarnate. As whatever you desire.”

“...”

Yi Sun-sin wore a puzzled expression.

Reincarnation?

Then, with an expression that conveyed nothing but acknowledgment for all he had endured, the God of Death spoke.

“You may become anything. You may be reborn as the king of a powerful nation, or as the child of the wealthiest family in the world. If you wish, I can even let you be born as a Great Archdemon. Yes, this is a gift for the man who has lived the noblest life in the world. Congratulations. Your reincarnation will be more splendid and more beautiful than anything else.”

That was right.

This was the reward for the greatest life this world would never see again.

If he were born again, he would enjoy wealth and glory greater than anyone else’s.

“Now, tell me. What do you want to be reborn as?”

Never before had the God of Death awaited someone’s answer with such anticipation.

His life had been Hell.

His country had been an even crueler Hell.

So the God of Death looked forward to the happy life he would finally live.

And then.

In the dream, Yi Sun-sin and the God of Death stood together before the shore.

SHHHHHH—

After a long silence, Yi Sun-sin finally spoke.

“If I am born again...”

He turned around and took in his Joseon.

“Let me be born in Joseon again.”

“What...?”

The God of Death could not understand.

It was a nation like Hell.

A weak nation. A pitiful nation.

Yi Sun-sin could have lived a much happier life, so the God of Death shook their head.

“Those wretched children, those ragged women, that powerless nation—they demand nothing but impossible battles and sacrifices from you! As you have already experienced, this weak land will forever demand reckless fighting from you, and it will be unable to give you anything in return... So why?”

Yi Sun-sin smiled for the first time.

“That is precisely why.”

He looked at his Joseon.

“Because it is a small and powerless nation, I must protect it despite all its shortcomings.”

As he looked out at the sea, he smiled.

“Because everyone says they are small and insignificant, I must be the one to stop them. When they must flee, I must be the one to open a path for them.”

That was why.

Once again.

“Even if I am reborn, I will protect Joseon.”

Once again.

“Even if I am born a hundred times...”

For his entire life.

“I will protect Joseon.”

Yi Sun-sin smiled brightly, and only then did the God of Death understand his heart.

[The God of Death intervenes in your reincarnation.]

Yes.

He would continue to protect it.

[Even after you are reborn, you will be Yi Sun-sin of Joseon.]

His country, Joseon.

Applied the record’s fixed Yi Sun-sin, King of Stories, Story Island, Joseon, and God of Death terminology.