Gong No-sa Is Coming [2]
Everyone knows this feeling. That moment when you realize, Wait — this is a dream? — and yet the dream refuses to end.
Gong No-sa was living through it right now.
Please! Please! Don't leave me behind!
Unfolding within the dream was the memory of the day his entire life had been torn apart at the roots — the memory of his younger self weeping, and of a master who walked away without so much as a glance back.
Master!
Snatch.
"It shall not be."
"There is no place for you now but here."
As the child tried to chase after her, the Taoists of the Mosan sect seized him by the arms. He thrashed and kicked, but a child's strength could never shake them off.
Why! Why are you abandoning me, Master!
To Gong No-sa, she had never been merely a master. She had been his mother, his friend, the benefactor who had taught him how to live at all. For her to abandon him meant nothing less than the loss of his reason to exist.
"......"
And then, at that anguished cry, the master's feet came to a stop for the very first time as she descended the mountain path.
Without turning around, she spoke.
"Because you are not the one."
"...What?"
"You are not the one I seek, which means you are of no further use to me."
That single sentence was a death sentence. She was the one who had given Gong No-sa a reason to keep living. If she declared him unnecessary, then he truly became a being this world had no need of.
But without so much as a glance at the boy frozen in shock, she resumed her steps, and that was the end of it.
Gong No-sa screamed after her retreating back, weeping tears of blood.
Hwaryong Jinin!!!
His master never looked back. Only the cry of the child named Gong-a — Empty Child — echoed, desolate, down the mountainside of the Mosan sect.
"Hahk!"
Gong No-sa jolted upright as if flung out of the bed itself.
"......"
He stared blankly into the middle distance, replaying the dream. A nightmare. A vicious one at that.
"Ah......"
Having thought that far, he looked down at his own hands. Small, white hands twitched their fingers back at him. Not the weathered old man's hands he showed the world — but his true ones. Apparently the nightmare had been severe enough to peel away the shadow skin woven by his Ghost Shadow Concealment Sorcery.
"...Tsk."
As if he were some three-year-old tyke, flailing over a bad dream.
Gong No-sa wove the shadow skin anew. A shadow rose from beneath his feet, wrapped itself around his body, and reshaped itself into the form of an old man. The shadow skins he could craft numbered in the dozens beyond this one — which was precisely why not a soul had ever discovered his true identity.
And then—
"Mm!?"
His expression twisted. He bolted from his room and rushed down into the basement of the 'mansion.' There, having burned through nearly every curse and hex Gong No-sa had layered upon it, the Fire-Tipped Spear was on the verge of breaking free.
"...Not so fast!"
The moment his hands wove a seal, a storm of curses crashed down upon the spear.
Fwoooosh—! Vmmmmm—! Zeeeeng—!
In moments, the countless spells had bound the spear once more. Watching it struggle, Gong No-sa curved his lips into a warped smile. It was already the hundredth-something attempt at escape like this, and each time he'd been shaken awake his condition had bottomed out — and yet, he smiled anyway.
"I never let anyone take what is mine."
The Fire-Tipped Spear flared up in a tantrum of flame. But unraveling the sorcery of Gong No-sa — a supreme-grade among supreme-grades — was beyond it. Unless a master stood beside it who could draw out its true power...
FWOOSH!
The spear roared out its flames again, as if protesting its injustice.
Unhand me, you monster. I have a master waiting for me. I must be there to push the phoenix's back the moment it takes flight!
But none of the spear's will reached Gong No-sa. He simply stared, entranced, at the flames so like his master's own, and murmured:
"Yes... never again will it be taken from me."
For that, every preparation was complete.
Leaving the resealed Fire-Tipped Spear behind, Gong No-sa made for the adjoining room — a kind of monitoring room, one entire wall lined floor to ceiling with screens. When he sent out his message, icons bloomed across every monitor, each with a handle displayed beneath it.
[DragonOfShanghai]
[ZoroastersStar]
[YeouidoSpiritSociety]
[DeadMan]
Indicators that each party had entered the voice-talk channel. These were the blades Gong No-sa had gathered through Deva, all of them aimed at Kim Do-sa.
Every last one of them reputed to be top A-grade or quasi-Special.
And yet, in truth, it had all begun as a simple brokerage site for commissions between psychics — and in Deva's earliest days, the most frequently brokered requests of all had been assassinations. A psychic's kill left no evidence; it transcended every axiom of modern forensic investigation. Thanks to that, murder had been the easiest money a psychic could make.
Gong No-sa was a Deva executive — and a founding member.
"I'll skip the pleasantries and get straight to business."
He pulled up a photograph of Kim Do-sa on the screen.
"Kim Do-sa. Real name, Kim Yi-yeon. Age, twenty-two. Height, 181 centimeters, and—"
Having recited the man's entire dossier, Gong No-sa spoke coldly.
"Kill him. I don't care what means or methods you use."
"Twenty billion won. Clean money, paid in a single lump sum."
"Kindly refrain from questions unrelated to the commission."
"It's true. But the only reason he managed to exorcise Seire at all was a Special-grade dharma treasure. And he no longer has it in his possession."
"I'm under no obligation to explain that far."
"The sooner the better. Kill him, cut off his head and bring it back as proof, and I'll add another ten billion on top."
"Wow, so this is your place, Yi-yeon..."
Yoon Soo-ah looked around my cramped one-room apartment like a tourist at a landmark.
"First time seeing a studio apartment? What's with the rubbernecking?"
"Yes, it's my first time."
"......"
Right, this girl is Baek Gong-ju's granddaughter, isn't she. And Baek Gong-ju, being one of only two Special-grades in Korea, would naturally be rolling in family money. Tsk. This is embarrassing — I need to move out fast.
Truth be told, I'd saved up plenty through the streams and commissions. I'd burned through a good chunk of it on Nikola's Hyper-Radio Communication plans and buying out Ha-ram's hideout, but even after all that, I had enough set aside for a proper place in Seoul. I just hadn't had the time until now — that was the only reason I was still holed up in this shoebox.
I really need to move as soon as possible.
Yoon Soo-ah was, in effect, a protective talisman the Paranormal Administration Bureau had attached to me. A walking warning sign that read: touching this man means antagonizing the Bureau — and, by extension, the government of the Republic of Korea. Which meant that for as long as my position remained precarious, she would be staying by my side. The problem was that nobody knew when — or if — that position would stabilize. In other words, this cohabitation might last a good deal longer than I'd anticipated.
"It's cramped, but bear with it just for today. We're moving to a big place right away."
"Oh — no, you really don't have to do that on my account—!"
"No, I was planning to move anyway. It's fine."
"I'm really not uncomfortable at all..."
I'm the one who's uncomfortable. You're telling me you're not? You just said you've never even been inside a studio before — this tiny place, and with a man living in it, and you're fine?"
"Well... you're Ji-woo, Yi-yeon."
"Ah... yeah, okay, I get your point."
I'd spent an entire week caring for a blind Yoon Soo-ah in that corner alley of Namja-gol. Needless to say, there was nothing left for either of us to see that we hadn't already seen. At this point, if she started acting all prim and proper around me, that would be the stranger thing.
"Anyway, you've had a long day, so let's turn in. You take the bed."
"Ah — yes, thank you."
And so, showers finished, we both settled in. Yoon Soo-ah on the bed, me on the floor. It was still winter, but with the boiler cranked to full blast and a thick pad laid out, it wasn't particularly cold.
"Killing the lights."
"Yes, goodnight!"
In the darkness, Yoon Soo-ah's faint breathing carried clearly from beside me. She hadn't fallen asleep yet — her breathing still rose and fell unevenly. Was I nervous, you ask, alone in a room with a woman?
Not at all. Besides, we weren't alone.
-Grrrrrrrrooowl.
Wang Lingguan, still semi-transparent, curled himself into a ball right next to me and flopped down. Me, sleeping on the floor instead of the bed, must have struck the big guy as fascinating, because he plastered himself against my side.
You're roasting me alive, you overgrown furball...
But this much I could tolerate.
-Hmph... Still, We see no reason thou must needs bring a strange woman into the house.
Fey had manifested in a form smaller than my palm, perched at my ear and grumbling in a tiny voice. Judging by how she'd started mouthing off from the moment I'd stepped into the shower, having an outsider under this roof clearly did not sit well with her.
"Cut me some slack."
The Bureau — Baek Gong-ju, to be precise — had posted her here for my protection. The fact that she'd pressed so hard for it meant that in Baek Gong-ju's eyes, my position looked genuinely precarious.
Well... given that even the Aegis ended up like this...
I ran a fingertip over the cracked Aegis. Honestly, it left a bad taste in my mouth. A treasure rivaled only by the Fire-Tipped Spear, ruined in a single blow. Granted, it meant I'd been exposed to mortal danger — and that it had shielded me from every last bit of that danger — but a loss was a loss.
Anyway. That was enough dwelling on the past.
From here on, it was time to prepare for the future.
I took out my phone and activated the Reverse Heaven Technique. The instant I did, a crushing pressure seized my body and the world went dark. When the blackness lifted, what spread before me was a realm of nothing but an endless, transparent sheet of water — like a salt lake stretched a few hundred times beyond its bounds, without horizon or shore. Then, rising up out of the water, came a black altar wreathed in symbols from every corner of East and West.
I stepped over the symbols and stood upon the altar. Drawing out the golden narratives left behind by four men: Lü Dongbin, Solomon, Nikola, Paracelsus.
[Creation of Heaven and Earth]
[Key of Solomon]
[Project Rainbow]
[AZOTH]
I studied the four narratives with care. Even pooling the faith I'd received from Baek Gong-ju, my current cognitive capacity was only sufficient to engrave a single one of them. Using the Philosopher's Stone that had gone into crafting the Azoth would not change that arithmetic.
What do I need most, right now?
The answer came quickly. Time. More precisely, it was something not just I, but our entire world needed. Even now, at this very moment, power was pouring in through the door that led Outside. Society was still holding together — but would it keep holding?
Things are already balanced on a knife's edge.
I lowered my head. At some point, I was certain, the state's machinery would simply seize up. That had to be why the government was moving to publicly acknowledge the existence of the supernatural and anomalies — if any citizen was to keep the country's most basic functions running past the breaking point, the public would need at least a working understanding of what they were facing.
And when that thought had run its course, I made my decision.
[AZOTH]
I chose the narrative Paracelsus had left behind. The moment I chose it, the black altar heaved and shuddered — and then—
"Ugh!"
My consciousness was sucked away somewhere. When I came to, I was floating above the night sky of Seoul. More accurately, my consciousness alone had been separated and set adrift — a kind of astral projection, if you like.
And to me, in this state, it was visible.
...You've got to be kidding me...
Black particles, drifting on the air, filled all of Seoul. Like fine dust, they had already permeated every layer of the city's atmosphere. Outer Energy, seeping in through the door. Seoul was already wall-to-wall soaked in it.
So [AZOTH] was the right call after all.
Paracelsus's golden narrative, [AZOTH]. The power this narrative carried was the same as that of his beloved blade, Azoth: the conversion of every kind of sorcery and every anomalous authority into pure psychic energy. And even the power of the Outside was no exception to its reach.
In other words—
Uhyo~ lmaooooo all that Outer Energy dozens of flimsy little gates painstakingly stacked up, particle by particle — guess I'm just gonna slurp the whole thing down, my bad~!
From this moment on, every last drop of this overflowing psychic energy was mine.