Firepower Is Generally Right
The information war each nation waged over the so-called Seoul Mage—whose default response had become open-channel engagement—proved remarkably effective.
In particular, South Korea’s open-handed release of information, together with the quiet seeds of a research consortium for basic magical understanding, had been sown across the globe without most people even noticing.
Against that backdrop, America’s decision to disclose the intelligence asset it had received from the Seoul Mage—code-named Iron Codex—came as something of a surprise.
Let the spy agencies keep their alien-related shootouts and hacks for the movies and novels. In the real world, under the guiding spirit of “Humanity is fucked if we don’t work together,” the domains of cooperation and concealment were carefully separated.
“—and so it will not be released to the public. We will relay it unofficially through the research consortium and diplomatic channels.”
Hosted by the Institute for Advanced Study, the operation took place in an empty stretch of Nevada desert. On the Mage’s advice, the National Guard provided firepower while state police stood ready with tranquilizers.
“The Iron Codex has been prepositioned. We will open it with a robot.”
Multiple live-feed cameras, microphones, and instruments covering every electromagnetic band were already in place. An EOD robot with multi-jointed arms whirred forward on its motors, targeting the hasp beneath the keyhole where a chain locked the steel book cover.
Whiiiiirrr—
“Cutting the chain.”
Kreeeeeeng!!!
The grinder on the robot’s arm fought valiantly, yet the chain refused even a scratch. The cutting disc itself was ground down instead.
“Ugh… no choice. I’ll have to open it myself…”
In the end the research director, who had been leaning into the camera, approached with a bolt cutter in hand.
“…It’s enormous up close. Cutting now.”
Kak! Kak!
Far from severing the chain or lock, the cutter’s blades bent. Stunned by the absurd durability, the director finally hurled the tool onto the desert floor.
“Goddamn it!”
Thud!
“…Sigh. Gotta find another way.”
Muttering to himself, he lowered his head—and only then spotted the key dangling from the side of the book.
“…Son of a bitch. Found the key.”
They could not afford further delay. Glancing back, the director flushed crimson at the sight of National Guard soldiers barely suppressing their laughter at his earlier antics.
He inserted the key into the hole set in the steel spine.
“Opening.”
Click-clack!
A smooth turn produced a clear, pure chime of metal on metal.
Charr-rr-rrk!
The chain vanished at high speed into the holes along the spine. Startled, the director toppled backward.
Beeeep!! Beeeep!!
Beep-beep!
Every crude observation device designed from the information Yuria had supplied began screaming warnings at once: mana overload, unknown energy detected within the local space, and more.
Greeeek… grik…
The director who had been lying on the ground rose. Only now the sounds he made were no longer human.
The director—or rather, the thing that had been the director—stretched a hand toward the book still lying on the sand. The only thoughts left filling its brain were open the book and welcome Him.
Kigrrrrrk… kigik-kigik-kigik…!
Because Yuria had taken appropriate precautions, nothing truly catastrophic occurred when the book opened. A person breaking was unfortunate, of course, but at least no Outer God or equivalent entity was summoned. By Yuria’s standards, that did not count as a big deal.
Clack!
The hasp released. The heavy iron cover, almost too massive for one person to lift, swung open.
Kiiing!
At three in the afternoon local time, the Nevada desert plunged into pitch-black night. A colossal blue moon rose overhead.
“What the hell?”
“What is this…?”
“Command, Command? Damn it—comms are down!”
Visibly rattled, the soldiers gripped their weapons and prepared for the worst. The police hauled tranquilizer guns and rifles from patrol-car trunks.
The director, staring up at the blackened sky, spread both arms wide while emitting those grotesque noises. He bent backward at the waist as though the heavens themselves meant to embrace him—like some limbo dancer—and his eyes had already turned solid black.
Kiririk! Kiguk-kiguk-kiguk!
The metallic scraping that seemed meant to be laughter made the troops and officers hesitate to approach. A visceral revulsion—or perhaps a deeper, primordial terror—already held them in its grip.
“No no no no no no no—”
“Aaaah He’s coming He brings the end no I don’t want to die yet run dig a hole dig a hole dig a hole—”
Those of especially weak will began muttering incomprehensible strings of words, only spreading the fear further.
“Weave the arrangement of life yourself bind it trim it hang it around your own neck then dig a shelter-hole for life—”
Pssht!
“Guhhh…”
The state police, pale-faced, calmly used tasers and tranquilizer darts to restrain their own colleagues.
“Fuck, what the hell is this…?!”
“My head’s about to split.”
In the end, with the director completely gone, the highest-ranking officer left—the National Guard company commander—had no choice but to issue orders.
“On-site commander’s call: destroy the Iron Codex.”
“…Yes, sir!”
The .50-caliber mounted on a Humvee and the 40 mm autocannon of an armored vehicle swung toward the book.
“Secure him!”
Once even the screeching director was fully restrained, every weapon opened fire at once.
…Or so the story went.
That was the latest intelligence an agent delivered to me while I was polishing off the refreshments in the waiting room ahead of my first official press conference.
“The forbidden book was completely destroyed?”
“Yes. They only managed to collect a little data. Because of that, not only U.S. intelligence but the research complex and related parties are asking whether any spare copies or duplicates exist.”
“Hmm… their response level was higher than I expected…”
“Earth never had books like that before.”
The agent sounded almost frustrated by the lack of information. I waved both hands hurriedly.
“No, no. They did extremely well.”
It wasn’t a lie—they had been outstanding. When I handed over the Iron Codex I had stressed the importance of heavy firepower mainly to scare them. I had already weakened and sealed the Codex so it could not kill people or pose a truly lethal threat. My hope had been that their initial response would fail just enough for them to feel the Outer Gods’ menace in their bones…
I had never expected them to destroy the Iron Codex itself. I figured they would prepare half-heartedly, maybe bring a squad machine gun at best. But leave it to America to be America, huh? All hail firepower!
“How thoroughly did they prepare?”
“They mobilized nearby Nevada forces, including two armored vehicles mounting 40 mm autocannons.”
“Whoa.”
And they had poured those 40 mm rounds into it, no less.
That forbidden book had been sealed with the highest-grade barrier: a dozen elite mages laying sealing arrays, metal-casting masters forging the cover and chains, even a cardinal performing the consecration himself. It was a shame they never fully verified the contents and that my intended purpose went unfulfilled… but I could always tell them the contents later.
I had already read it, after all. And it wasn’t anything that impressive—just a few pieces of background knowledge on the evil gods existing beyond the cosmos. What they were, where they lived, who was who, what they liked and hated…
“Ugh…”
I could only feel a mild existential crisis while simultaneously cheering for modern science.
“Regarding the research director who made contact with the book and is now unconscious—would it be possible to treat him?”
I shook my head at the agent’s question.
“Of course it can be fixed. But the medicine was only ever made in the other world, so we might need a little trial and error here.”
“…I see.”
Regret flickered across the agent’s face.
“Well, there’s only one victim this time, so I can just hand over a spare dose I have on hand.”
“You have medicine?”
I reached into subspace and pulled out a single candy glowing pink. Under the fluorescent lights it refracted light like a crystal—this was the remedy that restored a mind polluted by an evil god’s divinity.
“Naturally, I’ll leave the trade of this medicine to South Korea. Feels like we’ll get more out of it that way.”
I dropped the candy into a glass vial and stoppered it with cork. Nothing fancy—just pretty packaging.
“Yes. I’ll report to my superiors immediately.”
The agent carefully accepted the vial, whispered with another agent waiting outside the room, and passed it on. The higher-ups would probably squeeze a decent price out of it. All I had to do was collect the crumbs—funding for magical research infrastructure, or for building anti-evil-god superweapons, that sort of thing…
I spent a pleasant moment imagining myself lounging on a mountain of cash, the title of “Hero Who Saved Humanity” on my shoulders, those shoulders rising a good thirty centimeters higher—until the agent checked his watch and called to me.
“It’s almost time. Shall we go?”
“Yeah. Let’s.”
Time to face a roomful of very curious reporters.