The Rain Idol: Diva of the Divine

Chapter 7

Crack!

One flick of a hand, and the attacker's neck snapped like a dry twig under a giant's boot. The man’s body was hurled through the studio wall, slamming into the concrete of the corridor with a thud that shook the entire building.

Genta didn't blink. He knew that wasn't Laras. Laras would never snap someone’s neck with a satisfied smirk like that. The girl standing before him now—surrounded by a golden aura that pressed down on the atmosphere until it felt as heavy as thousands of tons of water—was Goddess Lanying.

"Time for a cleanup, Human," Laras's voice sounded layered. Like two voices speaking at once—one high-pitched and cold, the other echoing from the depths of an abyss.

Two other attackers lunged forward, brandishing folding knives coated in pitch-black energy. Shin-woo, that bastard shaman, clearly wasn't playing around.

"Lanying, stop!" Genta shouted, his voice choking from the pressure of the aura that was starting to crush his lungs. "If you use her power too much, Laras's consciousness will be permanently erased! She's not a sacrifice, she's your host!"

Goddess Lanying turned her head. It tilted at an angle that was unnatural for a human. Her eyes were solid gold, without pupils. "She is weak, Genta. This world is too cruel for such a fragile soul. Let me eliminate this trash, and then I will take over this world so she never has to feel afraid again."

"Damn, that's so cliché!" Genta cursed, though his heart was racing with panic. He lunged forward, not to attack the enemies, but to grab Laras's hand. "You're a goddess, not some villain in a cheap comic book! Snap out of it!"

"Let go!" Lanying flicked her hand, releasing a wave of energy that sent Genta flying until his back slammed into the audio mixing console.

Crash!

Genta winced. His ribs felt like they’d been hit by a semi-truck. But he didn't care. He saw Laras—or whatever that thing was—starting to gather balls of pure energy in her palms, ready to blow up the entire floor of the building just to kill the two remaining enemies. If that explosion happened, it wasn't just the enemies who would die; Laras's soul would be eroded away by the uncontrollable power of the goddess.

"Great, I'm dead," Genta muttered as he pushed himself up with what little strength he had left. He reached into his pants pocket, pulling out the remaining copper coins.

The enemies were already sprawled on the floor, completely paralyzed by the pressure of Lanying's aura, which left them convulsing. But Laras remained standing there, her aura growing wilder. Her hair whipped around despite the lack of wind, and slowly, the transparent shadow of an ancient woman began to fully envelop Laras's body. The real Laras was fading, turning into a translucent silhouette.

"She's going to disappear," Genta hissed. "I'm not going to let that happen, damn it!"

Genta ran, ignoring the stabbing pain throughout his body. He didn't need a complicated spell. He needed a connection. In one swift move, he tackled Laras, holding her tight until the girl stopped in her tracks.

"Laras! If you can hear me, kick that old witch in your head out!" Genta screamed right in her face.

"Laras is no more," Lanying whispered. Her voice sounded cold, but she didn't push away Genta's embrace.

"Liar! I know her. She's the girl who cries because her diet failed even though she only ate one piece of bread. She's the girl who's scared of cats but acts tough during a concert," Genta tightened his grip, letting the searing heat of the goddess's aura burn his skin. "You can't replace her just with that oversized power of yours!"

Genta bit his finger until it bled, then pressed his thumb against Laras's forehead. An ancient Taoist seal glowed red between Laras's eyebrows.

"Soul Sealing Ritual: Bind of the Mortal Heart!"

A blinding light exploded from the point of contact. Genta felt his energy being sucked dry. It felt like being drained by a giant vacuum. The goddess's power, which had been rampant moments ago, was now forced into a spiritual cage that Genta had forged with the remnants of his life.

Laras jolted. Her hovering body slowly descended to the floor. The golden aura dimmed, gradually being pulled back into the core of Laras's soul.

"Genta..." the voice was quiet. Weak.

Genta slumped to the floor, gasping for air. His face was deathly pale, cold sweat pouring off him as if he’d just stepped out of a rainstorm. Laras fell into his arms, her body human once more—warm and trembling.

"You... you still there?" Genta chuckled weakly, even as blood dripped from his nose.

Laras looked at Genta with eyes that had returned to normal—a beautiful dark brown. Her cold hand touched Genta’s bleeding cheek. "You're so stupid. That was dangerous, you idiot."

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Let a future global star become a display piece for some old-fashioned goddess?" Genta smirked, then looked up at the wrecked studio ceiling. "We have to go. Now. If Shin-woo comes back with backup, I won't even be able to hold a bathroom door, let alone an enemy."

Laras nodded, then suddenly leaned in, resting her head on Genta's shoulder. The silence between them felt intense, a sharp contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded.

"Thank you," Laras whispered. "But... why did you do this? We've only known each other for a few days."

Genta went silent for a moment. He looked at Laras, then gave a faint smile. "Maybe because you're the only person who's made me feel alive again after all these damn curses. Or maybe because I just can't stand to see a good thing go to waste."

"You're really annoying," Laras lightly punched Genta's chest, then tightened her grip on his shirt.

"Come on, let's head to the Han River," Genta suggested, trying to stand but nearly collapsing. "We need a place with a neutral aura so my seal doesn't break."

They limped out of the destroyed studio, leaving behind the spiritual corpses still twitching on the floor. Outside, Seoul's streets were shrouded in a light drizzle, adding a dramatic touch to their stumbling footsteps.

Arriving at the quiet banks of the Han River, Genta laid Laras down on a park bench. He needed to strengthen the seal immediately. However, just as Genta was about to begin the stabilization ritual, he felt something cold pressed against his neck.

The tip of a blade.

"Turns out it's that easy to find you two," a very familiar, raspy voice sounded from behind.

Genta froze. Laras’s eyes widened.

It was Shin-woo. He stood there with torn clothes, his face full of vengeance, and behind him, ten black shadows—the assassins who had risen once again—were surrounding them.

"Is the ritual finished?" Shin-woo laughed, a sound like metal scraping against metal. "Good. Now, I just need to cut off your head, Genta, and the goddess trapped inside that girl will be mine forever."

Genta glanced at Laras, who was still weak. He had no energy left. He was completely empty.

"Laras," Genta whispered.

"Yes?"

"When I say run, run toward the water. Don't look back."

"Genta, don't—"

"RUN!"

Genta turned, trying to grab Shin-woo's hand, but a black shadow darted forward from the direction of the river, piercing through Genta's chest and throwing him far into the black, cold water.

"GENTA!" Laras screamed, her voice breaking amidst the sudden, heavy downpour.

Genta sank. As he began to lose consciousness in the water, a pale hand from the riverbed—a hand far stronger and not human—clutched his throat, pulling him deeper into the dark abyss.

On the surface, Shin-woo laughed, while Laras stood alone, surrounded by ten killers, with the curse beginning to rise again now that Genta was no longer there to hold it back.