Daddy is too Strong-Chapter 298

A new arcade machine had been installed in front of Changshin Supermarket.

These days, with most people playing games on their smartphones, arcade machines were gradually disappearing from supermarkets. However, Kim Ok-Soon still regularly switched the games outside her store so that the young children living in the villa complex could always have something to gather around.

The newest addition was a game called King of Fighters. Although it was an older title, the series still remained popular.

On a peaceful weekend morning, with no backlog of work and plenty of free time, Do-Jun was thinking about dropping by the Core and stopped by the supermarket.

“Good morning,” he greeted as he entered.

“Oh, it’s the young man from 301! You’re looking more handsome by the day.” Kim Ok-Soon greeted in response.

He knew it was just a polite gesture, but it still felt good to get a compliment from a kind neighbor. Since her hospital stay, Kim Ok-Soon had grown warmer toward Do-Jun. It was only natural, given that he had saved her life.

“You changed the arcade machine again,” Do-Jun commented.

“Hoho, of course. The kids should have something fun to play with. Actually, the villa’s women’s association chipped in for half of it. Wasn’t that kind of them?”

Although it was only 9 AM, children from the villa had already gathered, excitedly playing the new game. Unlike arcades in the city, which charged 300 won per play, the supermarket’s machine only cost 100. That might have been why it was so popular.

Do-Jun could hear the children chatting away.

“Think those guys will come again today?”

“They’ll be here later. They come every day.”

“True...”

***

The fourteenth floor of the Core was a clear opening. There were no distinct structures, only steep cliffs surrounding the area, with strange inscriptions carved sporadically into the rock that looked like murals, as if meant to record something.

Descending another five hundred meters, floating bull-like monsters roamed the sky.

“Should I take care of them, Master?” Karsiel asked.

“No, they don’t seem aggressive, so we can leave them be,” Do-Jun replied.

Karsiel extinguished the fireballs she had been preparing in her hands.

Apophis, which had been circling nearby, suddenly swooped down with a sharp whoosh. After spending so much time cooped up at home, it seemed excited to be back in the Core, freely floating through the sky.

Mooo.

The creatures called Rote let out deep bellows that sounded exactly like cows as they floated through the air.

However, Do-Jun’s attention was on the inscriptions rather than the Rote. They weren’t written in the Core’s common language. Even when he tried using his Interpreter, a message appeared: Unable to translate.

Apophis explained its findings.

—There’s no doubt. This is the language of demons.

“The demons’ language?”

—Yeah. King Solomon created it.

“Hm.”

Apophis had mentioned Solomon’s Seventy-Two Demons once before. Since it was an artifact created by Solomon, it made sense that it could understand the inscriptions.

—This...

Apophis hovered in place for a long time, scanning the writings before finally returning to Do-Jun’s side.

It was comical to see a tiny garden shovel, the kind one would find in a stationery store, floating in midair, but Do-Jun refrained from commenting.

Then, a sudden ripple distorted the space below, like heat shimmering off the ground. Do-Jun instantly sensed that someone had entered the fourteenth floor. Karsiel also seemed to notice, her body tensing as she scanned her surroundings, though she couldn’t pinpoint the intruder’s exact location.

There was something there, transparent and invisible to the eye, yet undeniably present. A formless entity was drawing near.

Do-Jun immediately recognized it to be Baal.

“So, you are the King of Earth,” Baal remarked. There was no hostility in his voice.

It was a stark contrast to the other demons of Solomon that Do-Jun had encountered before. His power felt roughly on par with Imfelheim’s. Baal hovered in midair, his presence aligning with Do-Jun’s eye level. Although unseen, they were undoubtedly facing each other.

“King of Earth, I have risked much to come here and meet you,” Baal said. His voice echoed across the fourteenth floor—a low, solemn tone filled with conviction.

Karsiel remained on high alert, wary of the invisible presence, while Apophis seemed to have realized that it was Baal.

“Let me ask you something,” Do-Jun said. “Why are you hiding?”

“I am not hiding. I am a true demon, one without form—” Before he could finish, Do-Jun flicked his fingers.

With a loud shattering noise, the air itself fractured like a pane of glass. At the same time, Baal was slammed into the cliffside. Coughing up black blood, his true form was finally revealed—a demon with jet-black skin.

Wheezing, Baal steadied himself and floated back up, stopping five meters away from Do-Jun.

Karsiel squinted at the figure before her, then turned to Apophis, lowering her voice. “So, it was all an act?”

—Seems like it.

Baal overheard their whispered conversation and flushed visibly. Humiliation and embarrassment washed over him. He had heard from Imfelheim that the King of Earth was immensely powerful, but he had never imagined he could nullify his Invisible skill so easily. The sheer disgrace of it doubled.

Do-Jun sighed. “So, why did you come to see me?”

“I... I have come to make a request.”

“A request?”

Baal took a deep breath before saying, “Kill Solomon. If you can, that is.”

Do-Jun blinked. That was certainly unexpected.

From what he understood, Solomon no longer existed in this world, and wasn’t Baal a demon created by Solomon?

“Tell me why.”

“I am bound to Solomon. My body is simply a vessel for Solomon’s reincarnation. That has been my fate since I was born. If Solomon takes over my body, my soul will be discarded and absorbed by him. I will endure eternal torment. A fate worse than death.”

Most souls, upon death, traveled to the seventh floor of the Core, where Yeomra resided. There, they got a chance to reincarnate. But if a soul was absorbed, that opportunity was stripped away completely.

“I see.”

“The inscriptions on this floor are part of the summoning ritual to awaken Solomon. Once the Throne of Dimensions opens, the ritual will activate. I often come here to check on it. King of Earth, that was how I discovered that you were also here today,” Baal explained.

If Baal was telling the truth, then these inscriptions were designed to bring Solomon back.

Do-Jun scanned the wall again, then expanded his senses to observe Baal. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the split second before the Throne of Dimensions opened would be his only chance to rescue Cecilia.

“Have you ever met Solomon?” Do-Jun asked.

“No. But his existence is branded into my mind, shackling me like chains. If I had to guess, Solomon’s power is equal to or greater than that of the Overlord. You should be careful. I’ve heard from Imfelheim that you are stronger than the Overlord, but....” Baal trailed off.

Stronger than Overlord or even beyond? There was no guarantee Baal’s knowledge was accurate. If Solomon truly surpassed the Overlord, then to what extent? Do-Jun decided to take note of it.

Karsiel muttered under her breath, “So, does that mean Solomon could one-hit Lord Izaas too...?”

“Huh?” Baal turned his head sharply toward Karsiel. Had he misheard?

He rubbed his ears, then hesitantly asked, “What... did you just say?”

“I was wondering if Solomon’s power was enough to defeat Lord Izaas with one attack like our master did,” Karsiel answered matter-of-factly.

Baal turned to Do-Jun, staring at him as if he were insane.

He had assumed Do-Jun was only slightly stronger than the Overlord, strong enough to win after a hard-fought battle. That alone was astonishing. But to defeat someone like Izaas with a single strike? That would mean Do-Jun was multiple times stronger than the Overlord. That was impossible. No, it should have been impossible.

He stared at Do-Jun, flabbergasted, mouth agape.

***

They didn’t spend much time on the fourteenth floor of the Core. Arriving shortly after 9 AM, they stayed for about four hours. By the time they got back home, it was nearly 1 PM, close to lunchtime.

On Saturdays, Yoon-Hee often went to train at the Academy, so lunch was usually either ordered in or cooked at home. Do-Jun debated what to do today.

As Do-Jun was looking through the refrigerator, Yong-Yong came sprinting into the kitchen.

“Maaasteeer!”

“Hm?”

Clamped in his mouth were three delivery flyers, which he promptly spread out before Do-Jun. They were for fried chicken, pizza, and Chinese food. His tail wagged eagerly.

Scratching his head, Do-Jun scanned the flyers. Now that he thought about it, they had been eating homemade meals all week.

“Should we order in?” he asked.

***

Four bowls of jjajangmyeon, a large plate of sweet-and-sour pork, and two plates of fried dumplings were completely devoured.

After finishing the meal, Do-Jun thoroughly washed the dishes and left them by the front door for the restaurant to pick up later. He then sank into the couch and picked up the newspaper he hadn’t read that morning.

Nearby, a small garden shovel lay motionless until it wobbled slightly. Apophis rolled lazily across the couch. Meeting Baal and hearing about Solomon had shocked it at first, but now, it didn’t bother it at all. No, in fact, it felt at ease.

Maybe it was because it was certain Solomon’s power wouldn’t even compare to Do-Jun’s.

Apophis sighed.

—So peaceful...

He had no choice but to admit it now that it had come to enjoy peace.

Do-Jun smirked and unfolded his newspaper. He was greeted by the distinct scent of ink and the soothing rustle of the crisp pages turning.

Beyond the balcony, the distant laughter of children playing outside... no, not children.

“You wanna go?!”

“Yeah! No more holding back!”

“Time for you to taste my ultimate technique, lizard!”

Do-Jun recognized those voices. He tilted his head slightly and glanced toward the supermarket.

As expected, Kiriel and Hakase were seated in front of the newly installed King of Fighters arcade machine. Stacks of 100-won coins were neatly piled beside them, and they were feeding them into the machine one by one.

The character selection screen popped up. Soon, the game started, and the two furiously spun the joystick and mashed the buttons in a ruthless battle.

Before long, the children playing at the playground outside the store began gathering behind them, watching the match unfold with rapt attention.

Do-Jun chuckled and returned to his newspaper.

A gentle breeze drifted in through the slightly open balcony door, making the curtains sway. It was an utterly ordinary Saturday, a peaceful afternoon.