Splish-Splash
The clerics' approaching footsteps—splish, splash—rang with an ominous clarity. Even through the downpour, the sound drilled into my ears undampened. The fingers they jabbed toward us looked ready to skewer our bodies any second, brimming with menace.
I didn't think to fight or flee. I was just afraid.
When we'd raided the Satanists' hideout to rescue Kang Ji-a, I'd seen hordes of those taxidermy dolls. But they hadn't scared me. They were mere mockeries—dead men's skins stitched together to mimic the living. Their grotesque forms stirred disgust, sure, but never true terror.
"Why the hell did you break the glass?"
"I can't understand it. This is why kids these days..."
"Of all people, a Florence kid? Florence again?"
"All Florence brats are the same—no manners. Every asshole I hate came from Florence."
But these people closing in on me now? They were unmistakably human. Just moments ago, they'd been chatting, laughing like normal. Now, Satanist black magic had stripped their reason and filled them with hate. That hate made them hurl insults at each other, swing fists with murderous fury. And in the end, those fingers turned on us.
Their vague hatred sharpened into something concrete. Disgust mingled with fear. They scattered in hate, then clustered again in it. Watching them move on pure rage, I started wondering: what makes me any different?
[Don't worry. Mere Satanist black magic can't touch the prophet.]
Legba's voice cut in. He was right. Backed by dozens of Loa, I couldn't fall to their spells even if I tried. But the fear clung sharp as ever. Unconsciously, I stepped back.
Thud. My heel caught on something. I glanced down—Seong Ha-yeon, huddled and shivering violently. She was small to begin with; curled up like that, she looked tiny. But Damballa's downpour had soaked her through.
Seeing her snapped me back. "..."
It was me who'd grabbed Seong Ha-yeon when she'd tried to bolt. I'd figured the Purification Clan could dismantle the black magic circle. Up till now, her constant offers to help despite my refusals had annoyed me. But this time, I had clearly asked for her aid. I owed her that much.
This wasn't the time to cower in fear. We had to stop the black magic from spreading further. The Satanists wanted the leaking mana to infect the whole village, sowing regional chaos. Hell, even my fear might be part of their plan.
I couldn't let things play out as they wanted. No, I refused to.
First step: get Seong Ha-yeon to dismantle the black magic. But the situation was dire—clerics swarming to beat us down. Priority one: buy her time to cast Purification Blessing.
"..." If I covered her, and she slipped in her blessing to break the spell? It could work. No—it would work, if we stuck to our roles.
Spells were out. No guarantee they'd pierce fully deranged minds, and with Seong Ha-yeon here, Purification Clan immunity made it impossible anyway. Knocking her out with Faint Spell for a sneaky cast? No dice.
I glanced up. The moon was waxing toward full—a near-perfect crescent. It'd be full in two days... maybe three. Without a full moon, that Loa's power was off-limits.
[I, Sobo, swore loyalty to the prophet! How about testing it now?]
Sobo was a no-go. The ground was flooded from Damballa's rain. Lightning might fry the possessed clerics—and me, if I wasn't careful. Seong Ha-yeon went without saying; Purification Clan blocked impurities, not electrocution.
Bosu? Nah, too much water—slippery, risk of tripping in melee. Too many variables.
Granbwa? Out. The Vatican labeled that Taebaek Mountain incident "Voodoo provocation." In this climate, plant powers would draw suspicion. No CCTV in the alley, but the paladin vehicles had dashcams.
I needed something to buy Seong Ha-yeon drawing time without killing, without suspicion...
There was one.
"Bade."
Whooooosh...
Wind howled. It funneled through the narrow alley and open windows like a trumpet blast. Ankle-deep rainwater rippled into waves.
Splash! Half the wave crashed against a utility pole and vanished. Wind blew again. Waves surged higher. Splash! They collided. Waves grew monstrous. Wind-whipped rainwater became a tsunami.
"You, why the glass—"
KRAAASH!
A muttering cleric swinging a fist got swept away by the onrushing surge. One by one, two, three, four more tumbled in.
Sploosh! They sprawled, kicking up sprays. Droplets scattered wildly, speckling my face. I wiped them roughly with my palm.
Crisis averted—for now. The clerics hung back, spooked by the wave's fury. Next: snap Seong Ha-yeon out of it.
Pat, pat.
"Ugh, ah..."
I shook the water from my hands onto her. She finally looked up, somewhat lucid. Grabbing her arm, I yanked her up and pointed at the sprawled woman.
"Finish what you were doing while I buy time."
"Y-yes, ugh, y-yes...!"
She wiped water from her mouth and stammered a reply. Divine power streamed from her, fingertips dancing in the air. It coalesced, but the blessing circle was still crude—barely worthy of the name.
"You weren't content breaking the glass..."
"Why make our lives hell? What did we do...?"
"You're the ones in the wrong..."
The swept clerics—and the lucky dodgers—glared fiercer, hatred deepening. I glanced at Seong Ha-yeon. Circle unfinished. At this rate, it'd take ages.
Seong Yu-da dismantled black magic in seconds, mana purged... No. I shook off the distraction. Comparing her to him changed nothing. She was Seong Ha-yeon here—not Seong Yu-da.
Needed more time. But those dashcams nagged me. Too many eyes for free Loa powers.
"...In the name of the Father, the Son..."
So, time to fake a miracle recreation. Step by step, Florence-style. Not Romanica, but I remembered every lesson verbatim. Couldn't pull off the real thing, but mimicry? Easy.
"And the Ho—"
[Left shoulder first.]
Right—slipped my mind in the chaos. Legba nagged. No biggie; my gods didn't damn for wrong order.
"...Spirit."
I finished the Holy Mark, clasped hands in mock prayer. Then, via Mighty Strength Blessing, I dispersed power through my body. Light bloomed from fingertips to arms to full frame—like the real deal.
Then, I thrust out my hand.
Shwaaaa...
It started small. Pooled rainwater swirled like a vortex. Approaching clerics stumbled.
Squelch, squelch. Their steps grew heavy, mired.
First wind. Plip-plop, plip... Vortex rose. Scattered droplets pelted pavement, punching holes in puddles only for rain to refill. Clerics staggered, caught in the spin.
Squelch! A paladin toppled. Two priests tripped over his arm.
Second wind. Shhhrrrr—! Rain-laced gust merged with water. All clerics around us tumbled into the maelstrom.
Puddles scattered and reformed. They collided, screaming—but the gale's roar muffled them.
Third wind. ———! Screams vanished. Water and wind spiraled them skyward, unending. It pierced the clouds—a pillar propping heaven from earth.
Fourth wind. The uncontrollable gale swallowed even me. I merged with it, rising slow in the storm's eye from Bade's power. Clerics tangled and scattered in the geyser, long unconscious.
Seong Ha-yeon mercifully spared, but output was overkill.
[Gale always strikes four times!]
Bade seemed thrilled.
*
Memories resurfaced; somehow, she nearly finished the Purification Blessing circle. One final stroke left.
There, her fingertip froze. Panicked eyes darted side to side.
"..."
The last stroke wouldn't come. One wrong line, and no dismantling the black magic. Drawing blood? Scary enough, but she couldn't even psych herself up. Just holding the glass shard choked her, spun her head.
———!!
Then the gale hit. Clerics scattered by wind and water. The waterspout claimed even Do Seon-woo, the miracle's caster.
"Ah, ah..."
Seong Ha-yeon gasped. Blinding wind and waves kept her eyes screwed shut; no clue what brewed in the storm.
Dread crept in.
"Wh-what do I do? What now, ah..."
Inexperienced clerics sometimes perished in their own miracles—arrogant fools overreaching, punished by God. Do Seon-woo knew; he'd puked blood from an uncontainable miracle before, hospitalized.
Death had brushed him then. He knew the backlash best. Yet he strode into the gale, face serene—resigned to die.
To save the clerics from black magic. To buy her time.
He'd recreated a miracle far beyond him. Even if it tore him apart.
Recalling his final look as the storm took him, Seong Ha-yeon stared at her incomplete circle. Her glass-gripping hand trembled.
"..."
Do Seon-woo burned his life to save them—while she just hesitated. Failure-free, she'd deemed herself a genius. Unrivaled clerical talent.
Lies. Fear of failure kept her from trying. That's why no failures.
Really, she was a coward dreading one stroke, one drop of blood.
What made me so superior all this time...?
Days drunk on superiority flashed by.
Do Seon-woo trusted her. Believed she'd purify while he stalled.
But his faith was too much. Her vessel too small.
"...Sorry."
Her tiny voice drowned in the gale's roar—an apology for the unfinished circle. Resolve before the final stroke.
Shwick!
She slashed the last line by guesswork. Then gashed her palm on the glass.
Deeper than expected, but fine. Crimson blood welled.
Blood-soaked circle glowed—brighter, purer than standard blessings.
Light devoured darkness, coiling the black magic on the woman's nape. Pitch void mingled, fused—then light expelled it.
Black tears cleared. Black foam stopped. Tears ceased.
Clouds parted, rain halted. Storm died.
The cloud-piercing geyser faded. Gentle breeze sighed.
Wind-tossed clerics drifted down like feathers. All unconscious.
Save one. At their center, a man landed lightly from the wind, consciousness intact. He met Seong Ha-yeon's eyes.
"Well done."
His voice was warm. At least, that's how she heard it.
(To be continued next time)