Wanted Man (5)

Mages. Those who relentlessly train to explore the truths of the world and master the pinnacle of magic. Mages have existed in every era, and their numbers have never dwindled. Shamans possessed by yokai, witches wielding bizarre curses—despite all these rivals, mages always held the top spot.

"Magic shall surpass all." The dying words of Merlin, known as the first and greatest mage. Mages took these as their pride and continued their research in the mobile fortress he left behind. The fortress of the skies, the heart of all magic. The Ma Tower, home to countless mages, was an impregnable bastion. It had weathered countless invasions without ever being breached. Or at least, it had been...

"Hoho, this is quite embarrassing."

Eldritch, the Ma Tower's chancellor and the era's strongest mage, let out a hollow laugh. The fortress that had stood unbreached for thousands of years had been pierced today, of all days. And it had to happen on his watch as chancellor. A headache was already brewing.

"What's the damage report?"

"We're still assessing, but here's what we know so far."

He wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest, but as chancellor, that wasn't an option. He listened to the report from Hans, his disciple and capable graduate student.

"670 golems destroyed, guard chimeras killed, and over 3,000 facilities damaged."

"Hoho, any casualties?"

"That's..."

Hesitation in the report meant something big had gone down. A bunch of students dead? But there were no bodies in sight.

"Professor Rohan has passed away."

"What..."

Rohan, one of the Ma Tower's professors and a Saga-rank mage. A master of multi-casting with vast mana reserves, one of the tower's top powerhouses. He'd been left in charge while Eldritch and the other professors were abroad.

He must have met his end blocking the intruder.

"A tragedy."

"Indeed, a profound loss."

As Eldritch chatted with Hans, his mind was elsewhere—specifically on the intruder. Rohan's death was barely a blip for him; honestly, it was a bit convenient.

Rohan wasn't exactly a saint. He bullied ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his underlings—a common trait among cranky mages—but he often crossed the line. Rumors swirled of forbidden magic research and secret human experiments. Eldritch had been planning to oust him from the magic world soon...

"This is problematic."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, my boy."

Rohan's death itself wasn't an issue, but him being Ma Tower faculty was. As chancellor, Eldritch had to avenge his fallen. The problem? The target was no ordinary foe.

The lingering aura on-site was anything but normal. An Outlier-level energy no human could mimic. The professors were ranting about demon apostles or devil minions, but Eldritch saw it differently.

The divine presence was crystal clear. Nothing short of a direct descent or avatar could explain it. The other professors apparently hadn't noticed.

"We need a wanted order out immediately!"

"Request cooperation from the Management Bureau and Shaman Association!"

"War! No more war—wait, war once more!"

The professors had lost all reason. True to form for these geezers, they valued honor and face over life itself. Try telling them Rohan might have had faults or a god intervened—they'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ignore it and scream for war anyway.

"Hoho."

And when push came to shove, he'd be the one on the front lines. Eldritch could only muster a resigned smile at the chaos unfolding before him.

How long had I been out? It felt like only a few hours, but I couldn't be sure. My body felt strangely invigorated, like I'd overslept way past work hours.

"Mm..."

I glanced around. It was the motel room I'd been crashing in for weeks, but something was off from my usual setup. The unpacked bags were different, and the vibe was... lighter. My room had always felt a bit grimier.

"No phone, huh."

I wanted to check the time, but no dice. Of course—my clothes had been changed entirely. Hard to transport someone soaked in blood otherwise. I'd let that slide.

"Mr. Kim, quit messing around and come out."

"Heh heh... Busted?"

I sensed Kim Gwa-jang from the bathroom. If he'd been serious about hiding, even his presence would vanish. This was just playful nonsense. He emerged with that creepy chuckle and signature sly grin.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"What... do you mean...? Anything wrong...?"

"Where do I even start?"

Kim Gwa-jang looked anything but normal. His outfit matched what I'd seen before passing out: witch hat, robe, long skirt. It didn't look that weird on a guy, but it'd suit a woman better.

I'd given up puzzling that out. The real issue wasn't clothes. He was slathered head to toe in purple goo, wielding a massive ladle like a weapon. And smoke—unidentified smoke—was billowing from the bathroom.

"What the heck are you doing?"

"Brewing medicine..."

He pointed to a corner as he spoke. Piles of potion bottles and bandages came into view, bloodstained from treating me, no doubt. My pristine condition was all thanks to him.

"I owe you big time. Seriously, thank you."

"No biggie... Colleagues gotta help each other..."

His innocent grin as he chuckled "heh heh" melted away any urge to pry. Questions burned in my mind, but whatever. He'd spill when the time was right.

"..."

"..."

The room fell silent after that. I stared blankly at the ceiling while Kim Gwa-jang fiddled furiously with his phone. Right—I had been looking for mine too.

"Where's my smartphone?"

"Oh, here..."

I took it from him. Three days since the Ma Tower raid. The instant I saw the time, work stress hit me—guess I really was a company man.

"You even covered for me?"

"V..."

I'd planned to text an excuse for being late, but there was already a message from Nam Bu-jang. Something about appreciating my hard work amid the chaos, rest up, get well soon. Kim Gwa-jang had called in sick leave for me.

"..."

Well, there went my reason for grabbing the phone. Staring off with him right there felt awkward, though. If I didn't look busy, he'd pull some prank. And right now? That'd lead to something weird. So I gripped the phone tighter on purpose.

I'd recently gotten hooked on scrolling galleries. Zero nutritional value, but the dopamine rush as time melted away was unreal. Even concept posts flew by.

"Let's see..."

I headed to the Mages Gallery with that in mind—and froze at the hellscape before me.

A few days ago, the gallery had been pristine. Sure, some trolls lurked, but badges swiftly banned them to keep order. Now? It looked like post-apocalypse humanity. The end of the gallery as we knew it.

They should've been running troll sweeps. No sign of them. I checked notices, fearing the worst.

Ah, so that's it. With the badge admins gone, the trolls who'd been lurking finally went wild.

As the culprit, I felt kinda...

If it bugged them, they should've played it smart. Their fault for getting in my way. Proof? The trolls were still happily shitposting, limbs intact. Courage is a virtue; recklessness is just stupidity.

"Oh."

As I browsed the pre-apocalypse chaos, a catchy title popped up. Wanted poster... probably about me. Heart pounding a bit, I clicked.

There it was, my massive wanted poster. I'd expected it, but seeing it hit different—pretty shocking, honestly.