Damage?
Ma Yu-hyeon didn't immediately grasp Yeon's words and asked back. To be precise, he wanted to know what kind of damage Yeon was talking about. For some reason, Yeon spoke as if he knew a great deal about the Voodoo Cult. Ma Yu-hyeon harbored suspicions that Yeon might know the cult's true nature—or rather, Do Seon-woo's true identity.
Yeon nodded and spoke. "Yeah, damage."
"What kind of damage? A single mercenary group can't do anything against the Romanica Church, whether it's combat or a battle of public opinion."
"The cult leader's power is still an unknown factor, so there's no guarantee the Romanica Church would definitely win in a fight."
Yeon said calmly. From the way he phrased it—"the cult leader's power is still unknown"—it seemed Yeon didn't have precise knowledge about the Voodoo Cult or its leader, Do Seon-woo. Ma Yu-hyeon felt relieved. After all, he had to be the only one who knew about the Voodoo Cult and Do Seon-woo.
Tap. After a moment's thought, Yeon made his next move and continued. "The biggest problem is that this incident will severely tarnish the Trinita Holy Knight Order's image, regardless of the cult leader's power."
"Yeah, probably. Mercenaries are human, after all, unlike magic beasts or demon species. No matter how you spin it, there's room for it to be seen as 'murder.'"
"Even if the Holy Knights lose to the cult leader in battle, that's a problem. The public's trust in the order's strength would vanish."
Ma Yu-hyeon couldn't respond to Yeon's words or move his piece. He just crossed his arms and glared at the chessboard. The position was growing increasingly unfavorable as time passed. It was always like this. Playing chess with Yeon never felt fiercely competitive. You just went with the flow of the game, and suddenly defeat was staring you in the face. Yeon always fought that way.
With a faint smile, Yeon continued. "The mercenary group is made up of the poor and the marginalized banding together. It's ultimately a coalition born of desperation. The Papal Office should have exploited that angle. Instead of outright suppression."
"So, you're saying showing mercy would be better than suppression?"
"That's what I would've done. Besides, now's not the time to mess with the mercenaries anyway."
"Is that so? I think eliminating mercenaries as quickly as possible is best. Giving them any benefits might backfire with public backlash, so suppression is the only option."
"The leader of this mercenary group they're suppressing, Yuk Eun-hyeong, has thick support among the locals. Simple suppression would cost more than it gains."
Clack. As Yeon moved his piece, he gently flicked Ma Yu-hyeon's with his finger, toppling it. Ma Yu-hyeon's responses were growing shorter. Yeon picked up the fallen piece and set it aside outside the board, continuing. "Anyway, His Holiness gets too hasty whenever the Voodoo Cult is involved. In my view, Satanists, corporations, and groups like the 'Crows' are far more dangerous."
"Hmm... That's because you haven't—"
Seen that bastard yourself.
Tap. Ma Yu-hyeon swallowed his trailing words and moved his piece. A brief silence fell.
Yeon alternated glances between the chessboard and Ma Yu-hyeon before speaking. "...Well, on second thought, maybe the cult leader won't show up. Would he really come? Thinking about it again, probably not."
"He won't?"
"Logically speaking, abandoning one mercenary group and biding time for the next is the right call. It's best for the cult leader himself and the Voodoo Cult as a whole."
"Suppose the cult leader does appear at the suppression site. What if the Holy Knights barely win after heavy sacrifices? That could swing things in the Romanica Church's favor."
"Hmm."
Tap. Yeon moved. The game was already decided by then. So Ma Yu-hyeon moved without hesitation.
Yeon continued. "It might get interesting, but... it won't flow entirely in the Romanica Church's favor."
"Why? Sympathy from the Holy Knights' sacrifices would definitely turn public outrage against the Voodoo Cult."
"The Voodoo Cult starts from a position with nothing to lose, even under public criticism. Killing a cleric wouldn't change much. At most, it'd just remind people of their existence."
"......"
"Meanwhile, the Papal Office has to fight not just criticism, but public fear. How well they manage that fear will be their real challenge."
"......"
"Whether the cult leader shows or not, whether they win the fight or not. It's a bad move either way."
Tap.
"Checkmate. Want me to take it back a move?" Yeon said as he made his final play.
Ma Yu-hyeon glared at the board. But even one move back wouldn't save him. He shook his head. "Nah, I hate when you go easy on me."
"Ah, right. Sorry."
"Can't win even once. Feels like we've played hundreds of games."
"Haha... Chess is all I'm good at. But you've improved a lot."
"Improved? Still miles behind you." Ma Yu-hyeon stood, stretching. "Good talking with you after so long. I'll hit you up later—let's meet again then."
"Sure, I'm always down when you call, Yu-hyeon."
Yeon smiled in response. Ma Yu-hyeon stepped onto the main road, walking amid the streaming cars, mulling over Yeon's words.
He'd said that even if the Voodoo Cult leader—Do Seon-woo—showed up at the suppression site and killed clerics, it wouldn't change much. Just remind the public of the cult's existence. No matter how the battle unfolded, it wouldn't favor the Romanica Church.
Was that true? Even knowing about the Voodoo Cult, Ma Yu-hyeon had felt terror and helplessness facing Do Seon-woo's spells and Loa powers. How could the oblivious masses stay calm encountering them?
What if that fear escalated into riots or war? If it led to war, Ma Yu-hyeon would have to scrap all his plans.
Worse, this could demoralize the Holy Knight Order. In the worst case, they might openly rebel against the Papal Office.
"...Fucking old geezer. If he's senile, just step down gracefully."
Ma Yu-hyeon scratched the back of his head, muttering. The Pope's pointless meddling was just piling on more headaches.
*
I grabbed my mask, staff, and poncho and got into my uncle's car. Nothing else to pack. I tried calling Yuk Eun-hyeong, but no answer, so I just texted: Heading there soon. Heads up.
As cult leader, I didn't need permission to visit a subordinate diocese. Prior notice was enough.
"How much longer?" I asked my uncle, staring out the window. I'd been cooped up in the worship hall so long I hadn't noticed, but outside it was pitch-black night. Checking the time, it was just past 1 a.m.
My uncle drove silently, glancing at the GPS before replying. "Three hours if we hurry. But figure five to be safe."
"Why?"
"They'll have all nearby roads locked down. We'll detour around the high-risk ones."
I nodded. With the mercenary suppression in full swing, nearby roads were surely controlled—checkpoints at minimum. Even if I was in a rush, caution was key here.
"Can I open the window?"
Suddenly, it felt suffocating. I wanted air.
"Stuffy?"
"A bit."
"Go ahead. Me too."
Uncle nodded. I cracked the window halfway and inhaled the incoming air. Breathing eased a little. I took deep breaths. My erratic heart steadied.
No other cars on the highway, so Uncle sped up. Wind whipped fiercely through the gap.
"...Night breeze is getting chilly."
Uncle muttered. I couldn't tell if it was cold or warm. His words just reminded me summer was ending.
We arrived at dawn, sky lightening but sun not yet up. Not quite morning.
Uncle parked by the East Sea coast. Roads might have checkpoints, so sea route it was.
Crash! Waves smashed dramatically against rocks. Wind was fiercer than usual today, waves towering.
Uncle scanned the sea, then looked at me worriedly. "No idea what you're planning, but weather's bad. Turn back if it feels risky—"
"It's fine. This is perfect."
I pulled the mask from Uncle's car, tucking it inside, and gripped the staff.
Uncle eyed me reluctantly but nodded. "Call when you need pickup? Or wait here?"
"I'll call. No word in two days? Assume I'm dead."
"So you'll definitely be back within two?"
"Yeah."
"...Got it. Just clean up and come back."
I nodded. "That was the plan."
"Sure, whatever."
Uncle smirked, said no goodbye, and drove off.
I liked that Uncle didn't ask dumb questions. Same for me—I never pried into his business. No need; we trusted each other to handle it.
Once he was gone, I scanned around. Remote coast, no CCTV. Still, I donned the mask and poncho to fully conceal face and build.
Then I set the staff gently on the ground.
"Damballa."
Krunch! Calling her transformed the staff into a massive serpent in an instant.
She knew why I'd come to the coast and summoned her.
Damballa bowed low before I could speak, offering her head.
[Climb on, little one. I know where you're headed.]
"Thanks."
[Hold tight, or you might fall.]
I mounted her head, gripping the scale on her forehead like a handle. Ride wasn't smooth, but careful, I wouldn't slip.
Damballa slithered across the beach into the sea and began swimming.
"Can't you go faster?"
Her pace was slower than expected. Urging her, she flicked her tongue irritably before replying.
[Waves are slowing me down.]
"Bade."
Whoosh! Calling Bade brought gale-force winds, churning the waves wilder. They swelled with the gusts, soon tsunami-sized.
Riding the massive waves, Damballa surged forward faster. I gripped tighter.
[Little one, that hurts.]
"Too loose, and I fall."
[Hmm... Fair point.]
"Just go quietly."
[Ungrateful brat.]
Splash! Damballa thrashed roughly. Seawater sprayed the poncho.