The Reverse Staff's Will
After coming down from the rooftop to the chapel, I headed straight to my room. I locked the door. Then I pulled out the staff I'd tucked into my robes. It was still emitting light, and though fainter now, mist continued to seep from it. The mist was so thick and acrid it looked black rather than purple. The spell contained within the staff was still active. For whatever reason, the spell lingering and operating inside it had no effect on me. But what it might do to anyone else was anyone's guess.
Restoration healed wounds, so reverse restoration created them. No, if it stopped at just creating wounds, that would be lucky. It might even disintegrate someone entirely. If I used reverse restoration on my uncle, Kang Ji-a, or Ha Su-yeong, they'd vanish without a trace.
I gripped the staff tightly with my trembling hands. I tried to manipulate the voodoo magic embedded within it and even slammed it against the floor. But the spell wouldn't stop.
"Why won't it stop...!"
It was frustrating. Terrifying. The spell's mist kept spreading through the room. I'd grown complacent because it was just a spell. Voodoo magic, spells—they'd always been things I could control perfectly. With a flick of my finger, both bent to my will. But this ancient spell, the reverse spell cast through the staff, was different. It wouldn't stop at my command. As primal and wild as it was, it didn't yield to human hands.
Cold sweat dripped onto the floor.
[Don't worry.]
Legba spoke then. His voice was gentler than usual, almost soothing.
[Wait, and it will stop. That's the nature of what you're holding.]
Legba continued his explanation. The Poteau Mitan was a staff used in rituals. Ancient voodoo priests—the Hun-gang and Mambo—would faint during ceremonies or, in severe cases, lose their lives. Even cult leaders and prophets met tragic ends while handling the Poteau Mitan. It was an object no unqualified person could ever control. To stop it, Legba said, all I could do was wait until it stopped on its own.
I stared at the staff. It was still spewing light and mist.
[Those who seek to control it cannot. Only those who do not try can wield it.]
I felt a twinge of doubt.
"But earlier... didn't I control it?"
I'd infused the staff with voodoo magic and used restoration. Though it had backfired into reverse restoration against my intent, it was still restoration at its core—proof of partial control. If I couldn't control it at all, it might have triggered hallucination or recreation instead.
[It means you have the qualifications too.]
"......"
[Do well. To achieve your goal, you must master it.]
True to its epithet, the Reverse Staff was a finicky thing. I glanced at it again. The light and mist that had been pouring endlessly had ceased. It wasn't me—it had stopped itself. As Legba said, to reach my goal, I had to control the staff. Mastering reverse voodoo was the only way to cure Jeong Yun-ah. That's why I'd desperately sought it out in the first place.
But how? The staff resisted control when I sought it, yet yielded only when I let go. Holding that mindset, though, was itself an attempt at control. I had no idea what to do.
[The time will come.]
Legba spoke reassuringly, as if telling me not to fret. I nodded. I'd need to devote myself to research for a while. Whether that would let me wield the staff was another question. And I'd probably cough up blood often during it—not occasionally, but frequently. Still, quitting wasn't an option.
I gripped the staff anew. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt a faint vibration from it. Perhaps it was responding to my resolve.
[No, that's your phone vibrating.]
"Ah."
Only then did I realize the vibration came from my pocket, not the staff. I checked my messages. There was one from an unknown number.
"......What the hell?"
It was a sudden summons.
*
A scorching desert. On barren land no one dared tread, dark red blood splattered across dazzling white sand under the relentless sun. Amid the searing heat and ceaseless sandstorms stood eight corpses, two men, and one woman. One man had blue eyes, the other brown.
Stab.
The blue-eyed man jabbed his finger into the brown-eyed man's temple. His elongated nail pierced the skull. Blood poured from the man's nose and mouth as his eyes rolled back. The blue-eyed man sliced open the fallen man's gut with his long, sharp nail.
"Inferior. Pathetically so. Mind and body alike."
Splat, splat.
The remnants of the brown-eyed man were tossed onto the sand. The blue-eyed man sighed at the gutted corpse, scattered entrails, and bones. No one here possessed superior physique or intellect. Of course—that's why they failed their mission. And fearing the consequences, their inferior brains cooked up rebellion.
The blue-eyed man clicked his tongue. The woman who'd been watching approached, clutching her collar.
"Honey, did the plan go wrong again?"
The man nodded.
"Yes. My fault for entrusting it to inferiors."
"I think so too. Why do they keep failing?"
"......What?"
"Oh! I just mean... maybe you should handle it personally. Sorry."
She bowed gracefully. The man sensed something off in her demeanor, a flicker of unease and anger, but he held his temper. Her beauty and sultry, sweet voice disarmed him. Looking at her face and figure made fury impossible.
"Sigh... Yeah, I should step in myself."
He felt eyes on him and looked up. A massive bird circled overhead, its pale eyes staring eerily down.
"......Gu Jun-hyeok. Back again."
The bird halted its flight and landed. It waddled across the hot sand, tilting its head before the man.
Surveying the strewn corpses, it spoke.
"A rebellion?"
Its speech was clearer now, almost identical to Gu Jun-hyeok's voice.
The man shook his head.
"No, more like suicide. Rebellion born of fear."
"Chang-sik, you suck at managing underlings."
"I managed fine. Accepting inferiors was the mistake."
The bird just stared with its pale eyes. The man sighed.
"......Fine. Why this time, Gu Jun-hyeok?"
"A warning."
The bird's eyes fixed sharply on him.
"Warning?"
"I gave you that photo. Don't touch those two."
"Right, I haven't touched those two..."
The man trailed off. Gu Jun-hyeok had warned him about two: a brown-haired woman and a black-haired man. Come to think of it, he'd glimpsed the black-haired man through a subordinate's eyes at the museum. He'd unwittingly touched someone off-limits.
But he had his say.
"......Who the hell is that guy?"
That black-haired bastard ruined everything. He wielded strange powers—not standard Romanica blessings or miracles. A finger flick to faint people, commanding giant snakes, manipulating the minds of burly black men with bizarre force. No ordinary Romanica cleric. Maybe not Romanica at all.
"Curious?"
The bird blinked, a faint black ember flickering in its pale eyes.
The man shook his head.
"......Nah. Looks like you're not telling anyway."
"Correct! I won't. I want to keep it to myself."
The man shut his mouth. Long talks with Gu Jun-hyeok were dangerous—they exposed weaknesses. Gu never slipped up, not even in Satan Cult executive meetings.
"Anyway, warning: don't touch him. For your sake."
"......What if I have no choice?"
"Try it. I did, and look at me. Fun experience, though. Haha!"
"You're insane."
The man chuckled dryly. The bird shifted its pale gaze to the woman. She watched leisurely, arms crossed. After staring, the bird spoke.
"Nice easy puppet. Must be nice."
The man and woman smiled faintly in unison. The bird's eyes flicked between them.
*
I rose early and prepared to head out. The Eastern Paladin Order had summoned me. I left the staff behind but had Damballa follow secretly. It felt safer transforming Damballa into the staff only when needed than carrying it openly.
"Cult Leader."
As I was leaving the chapel, Kang Ji-a appeared. She showed me a text from Yuk Eun-hyeong of the Gyeongsang Order.
"Yuk Eun-hyeong requests info on Romanica and certain mercenary groups. We may need to visit the Gyeongsang Order to deliver the files in person. Permission...?"
"Does it have to be in person? Phone call suffices."
"The data volume is too large for a call, and it's urgent, so USB delivery seems best."
"Fine, go ahead."
Kang Ji-a was wordier than usual, which was odd, but I approved readily. She wouldn't sneak off for a vacation in Gyeongsang. Even if she did, no big deal.
"Hey, Cult Leader!"
As I turned to leave for real, someone else called. Ha Su-yeong this time.
"Where you off to? It's the weekend—no school."
"Eastern Paladin Order."
"Ooh, take me!"
"Piss off."
I shot her down flat.
(To be continued in the next chapter)