Even Cultists Are Just People

The cultists in their purple robes climbed the cliff face.

Measuring instruments of every kind clutched in their hands, they stepped lightly through the empty air, bounding upward with the ease of air-walking. Their light-foot technique was so polished that each stride launched them several meters at a time, as if springs had been fitted to the soles of their feet.

Halfway up, the canyon was a spectacle.

It was morning still, the hour when sunlight had not yet reached the depths. Below, the night fog lingered low and soft, not yet burned away. The cliffs themselves had been gouged into deep inverted trapezoids, running in a nearly straight line that bent only slightly — like a river channel carved between mountains. There was no water at the bottom, only fog drifting like a slow current. Sunlight cut across the gorge on a diagonal, lighting the upper faces of the rock in a gentle glow.

"Truly a fine landscape, brothers and sisters."

"Indeed it is, Leader."

The man they called Leader was the client who had hired Gong Ryun. He led this little band.

Four robed figures followed behind him — five in all. Heights differed by a little, but every one of them wore the same robe, faces hidden, a perfect uniformity of silhouette.

The Leader spoke to each of them in turn.

"Swordsmanship Expert. What do you make of it?"

"How shall I put it… There is a bleak energy here. Something whetted sharp, like a blade."

"As expected of our Swordsmanship Expert — even the metaphors come out martial."

The Swordsmanship Expert was an elderly woman with a thoroughly hoarse voice.

"Promotional Ambassador. Let us begin with a basic survey. If you would."

That high-pitched man was the one they called Promotional Ambassador.

"Zealous Martial-God Believer. Please assist the Promotional Ambassador with the equipment."

"Praise the Martial God! Of course! And by the way — this magnificent natural vista! That we can even witness such a thing is truly the glory of the Martial God!"

The one who looked like a young woman was the Zealous Martial-God Believer.

"Conch Shell Administrator. Report the current situation to the Conch Shell."

"Yes, Leader."

The husky-voiced woman known as the Conch Shell Administrator fished from her robes a purple conch shell the size of a human head. She raised it and began to speak.

"Magic Conch Shell. Hello. May I deliver a status report?"

A voice issued from the shell.

"Ah. Leader. It seems the Conch Shell is busy at the moment."

"Nothing to be done, then. We will try again later."

The Leader clapped his hands sharply to gather their attention.

"All right, everyone. Think of today as a mere first look. You cannot fill your belly with a single spoonful, as they say. Let us work hard and be of great service to the Order! Cultists — fighting!"

"Yes, Leader!"

And so the cultists began their survey in an atmosphere warm and familial as any household.

At that same hour, down at the floor of the canyon, Gong Ryun was resting in the driver's seat of the car.

He sat reclined at his ease. With nothing in particular to do, he simply took in the scenery.

Why was it? This canyon felt bleak.

The wind that rose from time to time sounded almost like sobbing. The rocks jutting from the cliff faces looked oddly pointed and sharp. Even the sparse vines were vicious things, bristling with thorns. The thin fog only made it worse.

After a while, though, even that gloom softened a little. The sun climbed higher and the fog began to lift. At least it was no longer dark, and so the place looked less damply sinister.

By then Gong Ryun had cracked open a canned drink and was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Honestly. Is there this little to do?

Drive a bit on the way there, drive a bit on the way back — and the rest of the time, just rest. It was almost decadent. Was this what it felt like to earn money through illegal work?

Then a sound transmission drifted down from above.

—Driver! Might we ask a favor?

The client, surveying from the heights, was speaking to him. The distance was too great for ordinary voice, so he had resorted to sound transmission.

—There is a black case in the car trunk! Could you bring it up for us? It is measuring equipment!

Gong Ryun was thoroughly stuck. What was he supposed to do?

He could neither air-walk nor use light-foot technique, and so he could not climb up there. Worse, he could not even say so. Gong Ryun could not send sound transmissions — he could catch them, faintly, but he could not transmit anything back.

With no options at all, he simply sat still until the puzzled client came down himself.

The client descended, laughing with open good humor.

"Hahaha! So that was it, Driver!"

"…What was, exactly?"

"Your firm declaration that you will perform no overtime beyond what is specified in the contract! Truly a most reasonable stance! That is what matters! The protection of the employee's rights! If one does not defend one's own rights, no one else will!"

The client spoke with the kindliness of a man who understood everything.

"No, no — that is not it. I cannot use light-foot technique. I cannot air-walk either, so I cannot climb up."

"…Pardon? You cannot… use light-foot technique?"

"That is correct."

"S-such a thing… Then why did you not simply tell me you could not come up…"

"Ah. I cannot use sound transmission either. So I had no way to speak to you."

"Such—!!!"

The client trembled as if some great emotion had seized him.

"Khuh…! So you carry such a burden… Ah-huhu…!"

"…Pardon?"

"To live with a physical inconvenience… it is truly hard to go on…!"

"Uh… I would not go that far…"

"Do not worry, Driver! I understand completely!"

"It is not what you are thinking—"

"My daughter is disabled."

"…What?"

The client wiped the corners of his eyes with his hand and went on.

"When ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she was little she suffered an accident to her dantian and fell into qi deviation… But this worthless father of hers had such pitiful martial skill that he could not even administer proper first aid… If only I had performed artificial energy circulation a little better, her limbs might have been whole…"

"Ah…"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"It was a childhood injury, so it never healed properly, and she has lived with the disability ever since… Her body can no longer use martial arts as it should… That has been the regret of my entire life… It pains me so much — how much harder must it have been for the child…"

"I see…"

"I wandered far and wide in search of some way to repair a dantian… To earn the treatment fees I took every rough job, every hard job, without discrimination… And then Heaven helped me, and I formed a connection with the Order. Now, with the Order's support, we have overcome it all. My daughter's dantian is nearly fully restored."

"You have been through a great deal."

Gong Ryun's heart tightened. The man's fatherly love struck him square in the chest.

Well. Maybe they are not such a bad cult after all. It was all prejudice.

"I am truly glad to hear it. So the Order provided medical support?"

"That is so. Our Order possesses quite specialized knowledge regarding the dantian."

"Impressive. To a martial artist, the dantian is no less than the heart."

"Exactly so. Beyond dantian treatment, the Order also holds techniques to reinforce a dantian, and to increase inner energy — temporarily or permanently."

"Oh!"

"I see that catches your interest! We are specialists in expanding one's total reservoir of inner energy! Join the Order and you may enjoy such benefits! What do you say? Will you consider joining?"

"I will think on that a little more."

"Wise of you! That is an excellent attitude! Not to be swept along by a young man's impulsiveness, but to deliberate carefully — truly important. Take all the time you need and decide as you will!"

Gong Ryun had no real intention of joining, but he filed the matter away in his mind. From what he had seen so far, the impression was not a bad one.

"I will do that. By the way — what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is the Order's name again?"

"The Order of Hernesh."

The Order of Hernesh. That was their name.

"And those purple robes — are they a uniform?"

"Something like a company suit, yes. Honestly, I do find them a little gloomy myself."

"If it is company dress, there is not much to be done."

Gong Ryun had to grant the man that one.

"Well then, I shall head back up. Please rest. Hahaha."

"Yes. Take care."

And so the client climbed skyward once more.

Come to think of it — the way they all hovered in the air for so long while carrying heavy equipment suggested considerable reserves of inner energy. The claim of dantian expertise was clearly no empty boast.

Time passed, and the cultists, having finished their measurements, came down again.

Together they unwrapped the sandwiches they had brought and held a lunch break. (They had packed one for the driver as well, so Gong Ryun got to eat free.)

Afterward they decided to survey one more site nearby, drove a few kilometers, and repeated the same process. By late afternoon the work was done, and the drive back to the city brought them into evening.

"You have worked hard today, Driver. I shall transfer the day's wages at once."

"Thank you for the prompt payment."

"What do you say — will you extend the contract and keep working with us? We would be most delighted!"

Gong Ryun thought for a moment. They were strange people, no question… but they did not seem like bad people. Strange and bad were different things. And more than anything, the client's fatherly love had moved him deeply.

Right. People are people. It is not as if they are some bizarre monsters.

In the end, after a brief deliberation, Gong Ryun answered.

"Yes. Let us extend it."

"Oh!! Excellent decision! This too is fate. Let us work hard together!"

"I look forward to it."

The other cultists welcomed him as well.

"Praise the Martial God! Truly, this meeting was foreordained."

"Should you ever wish to know more about swordsmanship, you may consult me anytime."

"The Magic Conch Shell says it approves as well."

Everyone was so welcoming that the whole mood felt rather heartwarming.

Gong Ryun decided it had been a good choice.

The pay was solid, everyone was kind, and after the first few attempts they had stopped pushing him to join — which suggested this was not such an evil organization after all. And who knew? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠They might even be able to do something about his peculiar constitution, the one that prevented his inner energy from accumulating.

Gong Ryun chose to trust his instincts.

"Well then, I will be on my way."

"Safe travels, Driver! We shall see you the morning after next!"

"Yes. Take care."

It was time to part, and Gong Ryun left the party of cultists behind.

Once Gong Ryun had gone, the cultists gathered in a circle.

"What is your assessment, Swordsmanship Expert?"

"Yes, Leader. Judging by a dantian whose inner energy is at elementary-school level, he is certain to join. How could a martial artist refuse the desire to raise his inner energy?"

"Just as I thought. There is surely some permanent physical inconvenience. Looking at that young man, I kept thinking of my daughter. We must let him experience the grace of Lord Hernesh as soon as possible. He seems a country youth who still knows nothing of the world — best to enroll him while he is still ignorant."

"Praise the Martial God! Even the Martial God rates this recruitment highly!"

"Still, better safe than sorry. Let us ask the Conch Shell. Conch Shell Administrator — inquire, if you would."

"Yes, Leader."

The Conch Shell Administrator held the shell to her ear and spoke.

"Magic Conch Shell. Shall we enroll that young man?"

As always, a dry voice issued from the shell.

"Would somewhat unethical methods be acceptable?"

"It says yes! The Conch Shell must have taken a liking to the young man too!"

The cultists grew warmly cheerful.

And so, as always, Gong Ryun's instincts betrayed him.