Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Learning Magic (3)
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The pottery class worked like this: you shaped the clay yourself, and the workshop handled the firing before delivering the finished product straight to your door.
At least that was something.
Since I'd molded it with my own hands, they ought to count it as mine.
Yohan spent the wait for delivery holed up in the library, reading books.
Not just killing time—he was gathering intel.
[Cthulhu Mythos – Complete Works of Lovecraft]
Nothing related to the Cthulhu Mythos had shown up in what he'd read so far, but the first page of Mysteries of Insects specifically name-dropped Abdul Alhazred, and the book's author had supposedly learned magic in Damascus, a spot tied to all that lore.
Seemed smart to bone up on the background.
But what surprised him a bit while flipping through this short story collection...
'Cthulhu Mythos, my ass. Cthulhu himself gets beaned by a steamship and that's the last we see of him!'
Okay, sure, a full-tilt ramming from a steamship hurts.
I stub my pinky toe on the bed frame and I'm down for the count. Gotta cut the guy some slack.
So don't think like this:
No, fuck! How does Cthulhu, the mightiest of the Great Old Ones, get taken out by a goddamn steamship?! (×)
Think like this:
Damn, a full-charged steamship ram really packs a punch. (○)
Of course, that's just a joke. Looking at the actual story...
The steamship charge stopped Cthulhu's resurrection but didn't do any real damage.
The cops raided the cultists mid-ritual, so the revival was botched.
He got summoned as this incomplete blob, then the ship punches through his head, and he's yanked back to R'lyeh.
...Gotta say, seeing it that way? Real power's in the long arm of the law. Cops are badass.
Man, I figured it was straight cosmic horror, but there's a surprising ode to humanity in there.
That brave Norwegian sailor.
His crew goes mad and drops dead at the sight of the half-formed Cthulhu. He's half-mad himself.
But he realizes running's not an option. Whether instinct or sheer guts, he knows this monster can't be left alone.
So he steels himself for death, cranks the steamship to full speed, dodges the tentacles, and slams right into it. Killer scene.
...And honestly?
More than the outer gods or Great Old Ones stuff...
He preferred stories like the one where the narrator ducks into this rundown house to escape the rain and chats with a cannibalistic old man obsessed with a creepy book full of illustrations of people being slaughtered and butchered.
Or Herbert West—Reanimator, where the narrator—Herbert's med school buddy—watches him tinker with corpses for his reanimation experiments.
Those shorts had barely any direct Cthulhu ties, but they hit his tastes harder and were way more fun.
Not saying the monster stories sucked or anything. Pure personal preference.
Cosmic beings from beyond, unknowable terror—whenever that stuff pops up, the descriptions drag on forever. Way too bloated.
Not crisp enough.
He closed the book and stood. Glancing out the window, the sun was setting.
In the end, intel-gathering turned into pure reading enjoyment.
Still, he did pick up one thing: the Cthulhu Mythos was fiction.
A shared universe cooked up by Lovecraft and a bunch of other writers.
He eyed Mysteries of Insects in his bag.
So why the hell was Abdul Alhazred—a character from that fiction—namedropped in a grimoire written no later than 1272?
Was he a real historical figure after all? Or was Mysteries of Insects part of the mythos too?
Or... was it all real?
"........."
He mulled it over for a sec, then dropped it.
No point wasting time on unanswerable crap.
Best to cut it off there.
What mattered was real magic power existed, and he'd gotten tangled in it.
If he was gonna speculate with his subculture junkie brain...
The story itself had gained power, probably.
Magic... energy wrapped in mythos skin?
"...Hah."
He snorted at his own nonsense, slotted the book back on the shelf, and left the library.
Enough dumb fantasies. Time to head home.
Today was Wednesday—the day the finished pottery bowl got delivered.
Should be there by now.
Right, Wednesday. Day of Mercury.
Sunrise today at 6:45 a.m.
Setting the day of Mercury from 7 a.m...
Mercury's hour under the moon hits 9 p.m.
Get home, eat dinner, prep, and go.
He had the materials ready, and the planetary day and hour lined up perfect.
Finally time to test some real magic.
That said, this magic experiment wasn't anything epic.
Plan was to whip up some holy water—the kind that assists with spells from the book.
Wondered how it differed from church holy water, but the book called it "the water of magic."
He held the book open in one hand, reviewing the steps as he read.
First step for magical water, holy water: On the day and hour of Mercury, prepare clear, cold water and pour it into a vessel.
Tough in medieval times, but easy nowadays.
He poured water from a chilled bottled water into the bowl.
Second: Grip enough salt to fill one hand. Don't squeeze too tight.
Then, holding the salt, chant the incantation from the book.
"Chebaot, Messiah, Emmanuel, Elohim Gibor, Yahweh. God who created truth and life." "Bless and consecrate this salt. And grant aid and protection for the rites I shall perform henceforth."
⟨ Holy Water Rite ⟩
Sprinkle the salt from your hand over the water in the vessel.
Now watch the salt dissolve and chant the final prayer.
And that's it.
'Incantation-heavy. Gotta practice pronunciation so I don't botch it later.'
Such were his thoughts as he waited for something special to happen.
You know, sparkles, holy glow, divine aura flowing out, that kinda thing.
".........?"
But nothing happened.
He squinted down at the holy water in the pottery bowl.
'This... just saltwater?'
No, push on. Time for the aspergillum next.
That's why he'd picked evening for this.
An aspergillum is a holy water sprinkler made from plants or branches.
Use it to splash the holy water.
Best is mugwort. If not, lavender, mint, fennel, mouse-ear, rosemary—any herbs work.
Making one's super simple. No chants needed.
But has to be done on Mercury's hour under the moon, hence evening.
He pulled out the mugwort he'd bought from the florist ahead of time, wrapped the stem to make a handle.
Dip it in the holy water, shake once.
Aspergillum complete.
Ta-da~ Holy water and aspergillum set, done.
"Haa..."
Who knew if it was legit. He sighed, chucked the beat-up grimoire onto the desk.
Clang—
Reality crashed in hard. He flopped onto the bed.
"...What the hell am I even doing."
"Gya?"
Figuring he was done, Grizzly uncurled from his corner and rubbed his head against Yohan's hand.
"Giii~."
Good boy waited, now gimme snack. Yohan stroked Grizzly's head and gently pushed him away.
"No. You ate dinner already. That's fake hunger."
"Giii..."
"Damn it."
Maybe 'cause he'd gone without treats as a kid himself, he hated skimping on food.
"Haa..."
No helping it. He got up and checked the fridge.
'Gotta hit the store for more meat and milk tomorrow.'
Other magic tools would cost more too. Spending was piling up lately.
Money was the real issue, always.
After sorting Grizzly's snack, he crashed back on the bed and scrolled sites and apps for short-term gigs.
...Anything decent?
Then one post caught his eye.
[Urgently hiring for same-day night security gig.]
Nothing weird on the surface, but the preferences were odd.
Gutsy types welcome... especially if you don't believe in ghosts.
That screamed red flag. A warning for anyone in the know.
He sat up in bed and glanced at the holy water and aspergillum haphazardly left in the kitchen.
Checked the night security post again.
Then flicked his eyes back to the holy water.
"...Wanna give it a test run?"