Slash
Slash. He drew a dagger and sliced his own palm. Blood poured from the wound, dripping into the Blessing Circle. The circle erupted in radiant light, gradually losing its form only to shed it like a skin and rebirth itself anew. The light from the circle swept away the demonic energy filling the barn. The thick miasma, so dense it obscured everything, was slowly purified by his Blessing Circle. Even the black magic circle near the tower of corpses ground to a halt.
It was a sight bordering on the miraculous—majestic and beautiful. The teachers watched in stunned awe, mouths agape.
"...What is that? How does it even...?"
Ha Ye-jin stared at the Blessing Circle, desperately trying to analyze it, but no matter how she scrutinized it, she came up empty. It was beyond anything her knowledge could grasp—a pinnacle far above her level.
While Ha Ye-jin gawked in a daze, the man who had drawn it remained utterly composed.
"The miasma will be purified within ten minutes. Holy Knight teachers, monitor the concentration. Once it drops below the threshold, enter and dismantle the tower."
"Understood, Senior. About identifying the victims—"
"Is that even a question? Identify them while dismantling the tower."
"Yes, sir!"
Kim Bok-dong snapped to attention with a salute, his posture ramrod straight, discipline etched into every line.
"That wraps things up here. Next... the Holy Training Ground. Where's that?"
"Yes, Senior. May I guide you?"
"Lead on."
Kim Bok-dong marched ahead with precise steps, escorting him to the Holy Training Ground. He followed with a somewhat arrogant stride. Kim Bok-dong was a bishop-level cleric in the church hierarchy, but before Seong Yu-da—the former cardinal and inquisitor—he couldn't even lift his head.
Meanwhile, the healing priestess trailing Seong Yu-da nervously chewed her nails. Ha Ye-jin shot her a puzzled look.
"What's wrong?"
"S-Seong Yu-da-nim's hand is injured."
"He'll handle it himself, won't he?"
"B-But still..."
The priestess's eyes were locked on the gash in Seong Yu-da's palm. Many healing priestesses had obsessive-compulsive tendencies. The mere sight of a wound triggered an irresistible urge to heal it—an occupational hazard.
"Ugh... I can't take it. If we leave it like this, I won't sleep tonight."
Unable to bear it, the priestess approached Seong Yu-da.
"Seong Yu-da-nim, that's a deep cut. If you need healing, I can—"
"I'm fine. Stay back."
As she channeled divine power and closed in, Seong Yu-da blocked her with a contemptuous grimace. She hesitated, flustered, but her anxiety won out, and she advanced again.
"If we don't heal it now, the bleeding will—"
Thud.
The priestess drawing the healing circle collapsed mid-sentence. Her eyes rolled back, foam bubbling from her mouth.
"I told you not to come closer."
Seong Yu-da wrinkled his nose in disgust, eyeing the fallen priestess. Ha Ye-jin rushed over in alarm, checking her condition. She was out cold.
Ha Ye-jin glared up at Seong Yu-da with icy eyes.
"What did you just do?"
"I did nothing. Residual miasma on my clothes poisoned her. That's why I warned her. Priests are all the same..."
Priests are all the same?
"You should've said that from the start—!"
"Senior. If it's miasma poisoning, may I ask how to treat it?"
Just as furious Ha Ye-jin opened her mouth, Kim Bok-dong cut her off. He was at full attention, a professional smile plastered on his face—one that didn't quite fit.
"...It's diluted, so she'll wake on her own in half a day. If you're worried, cast a recovery enhancement blessing."
"Understood, Senior. May I relay that to the other teachers and continue guiding you?"
"Stop asking every little thing. It's annoying."
"Yes, sir."
Kim Bok-dong passed Seong Yu-da's words to the other teachers: She'd been poisoned by residual miasma on his clothes. Diluted stuff—she'd recover in half a day, no worries. Take her to the infirmary and put her to bed.
As the teachers carried the priestess away, Kim Bok-dong whispered to Ha Ye-jin. She scowled, clearly offended.
"...Why me?"
"I'll explain later. Just do it."
Ha Ye-jin nodded reluctantly. Kim Bok-dong handed off the fainted priestess to the others and resumed guiding.
Ha Ye-jin glared daggers at Seong Yu-da's back, her face twisted in displeasure.
'Don't butt in?'
She'd heard that plenty as a student—and even as an adult—but never thought she'd hear it as a teacher. Her blood boiled; she wanted to scream at him. But she held back. Kim Bok-dong's face had been more serious than she'd ever seen.
"Senior, here we are."
They'd arrived at the Holy Training Ground. Seong Yu-da glanced around and frowned.
"Students are here."
"Ah, yes. This period is practical training..."
Kim Bok-dong trailed off awkwardly. Charity, Kindness, and Patience Class students filled the grounds. So Do-jin was explaining the rules in a weary voice to the crowd.
"The Blessing Circle you wanted drawn—is this for the practical?"
Seong Yu-da fixed Kim Bok-dong with a sharp glare. Sweat beaded on Kim Bok-dong's brow as he stammered.
"We'll use it for practicals too, but with the recent incidents, I thought we needed to train the teachers and guards..."
"So you called me here for something as trivial as 'just' practicals and training."
Seong Yu-da's face was now a rigid mask. Kim Bok-dong felt his heart skip, vertigo hitting him. He scrambled for an excuse, eyes darting.
"A-And! I thought it might be a good lesson for your daughter too. Maybe she'd gain some insight analyzing your Blessing Circle..."
"Hm."
Seong Yu-da stared down coldly for a long moment, then nodded with a satisfied smile.
"Not a bad idea. Haven't had much chance to teach her since she entered the dorms."
Seong Yu-da flicked divine power from his fingertips. It formed a Blessing Circle instantly, expanding into a massive Fusion Blessing Circle of dozens—recovery, healing, damage reduction... Ha Ye-jin tried to analyze it, but its sheer scale and complexity daunted her.
"That should do. I'm off."
Seong Yu-da deployed the circle and strode out without a backward glance. Kim Bok-dong hurried after.
"I'll see you out."
"No need. I memorized the way coming."
Seong Yu-da brushed him off curtly. As Kim Bok-dong nodded and turned to leave, Ha Ye-jin scurried after Seong Yu-da, face full of dissatisfaction.
"Seong Yu-da-nim. Eden Hill is infested with miasma too. It needs purification."
Seong Yu-da slowly lowered his stiffly raised head to peer down at her.
"I was asked to purify the 'source' of the miasma and deploy a Blessing Circle at the Holy Training Ground. No one asked me to purify the hill."
"But there's still so much left. If we don't, it'll affect the students—"
"Do I have any obligation to?"
Seong Yu-da's eyes bored into her—empty, flat voids reflecting nothing. Ha Ye-jin swallowed hard, forcing her lips apart.
"A-As a cleric, it's obvious."
"I'm no longer a cleric. I retired. You clerics handle the hill."
Seong Yu-da showed no guilt or responsibility—just blank indifference. Ha Ye-jin trembled with rage but had no retort. He had retired; he wasn't a cleric anymore.
Seong Yu-da continued, eyeing her like vermin.
"And I'm no tool for purifying your miasma."
"..."
"Besides, I'm not in a position to take orders from you. If anything, I should be giving them. Know your place— Gah!"
Thud.
Seong Yu-da let out a sharp yelp. Ha Ye-jin, who had been biting her lip in silence, looked up. Seong Yu-da lay sprawled on the dirt, a male student fidgeting in front of him with a startled expression.
"What the hell."
"Ah, sorry. I was rushing to class and didn't see you. Need a hand up?"
The student extended a hand. He was close—close enough that residual miasma should've knocked him out. Yet he grinned casually, as if immune.
"...No. If you're late, hurry up."
"Man, I'm really sorry. Anyway, I'll go."
The student bowed lightly—not very apologetic—and dashed into the Holy Training Ground. Ha Ye-jin stared blankly at the familiar back, then snapped to.
"Hey, Do Seon-woo! How many times have I told you not to be late—!"
"That student's name... Do Seon-woo?"
Seong Yu-da approached Ha Ye-jin swiftly as she yelled. She flinched back two steps—wary of the miasma.
"Y-Yeah. Why?"
"Do Seon-woo. Do Seon-woo."
Seong Yu-da nodded, gazing toward the Holy Training Ground, as if tracking the boy who'd vanished inside.
"Two in one generation... Good luck or bad?"
"Huh?"
"...Nothing. I'm going."
Seong Yu-da muttered cryptically and walked off with dignified strides. Ha Ye-jin scowled at his retreating figure.
"Talking to himself all of a sudden. Senile much?"
Her belated vent, too quiet for him to hear.
*
"Sorry. I'm late."
I apologized the moment I entered the Holy Training Ground. Using Preservation's power, I hadn't fallen too far behind, but late was late.
So Do-jin, mid-explanation, stared at me blankly.
"Reason?"
"None."
I said it boldly. What could I say? I'd been delayed by Baron Samedi's sudden 'prophecy.'
"Bathroom" wouldn't fly. Better to own it upfront.
"Right. No reason."
So Do-jin didn't snap. He nodded calmly.
"So, think I'll deduct points? Or not?"
"You will."
"Oh? Why?"
"I was late."
"Correct. Take your spot."
I joined the Charity Class ranks. He'd deduct points no matter what—why bother asking? Still, it was my fault. Maybe bumping into Seong Yu-da had soured my mood; thoughts kept turning negative, aggressive.
Meeting him was pure coincidence. Baron Samedi had appeared out of nowhere, as usual, saying "An unexpected encounter awaits today," but I hadn't dreamed it'd be him.
[Bumping into him was coincidence too?]
Legba asked. I shook my head.
Coincidence? Hell no. Spotting him while sprinting to class, I panicked. Panic turned to rage, rage to a tangle of emotions too complex for words. Like twisted lungs—every breath burned, suffocated.
So I body-checked him on purpose. Childish, but it was all I could do right now. Otherwise, I'd regret it forever.
"Damn, ballsy move. Everyone's staring. So cool."
Gu Jun-hyeok sidled up, teasing. A glance around: Kids eyed me like an alien.
"Doesn't look like admiration."
"Fair. Why were you late? Not the bathroom excuse."
"It was."
"Get creative. 'Bathroom' every time? No one's buying—"
So Do-jin hurled something. A pen. It smacked Gu Jun-hyeok's temple; he crumpled. Luckily, no sharp tip, not thrown hard—no injury.
"Gu Jun-hyeok. Quiet."
So Do-jin continued the explanation. Gu Jun-hyeok rubbed his temple, lip curling in mock injustice as he stood.
"Why me? You heard him too."
"You were louder."
"Huh. Okay."
Gu Jun-hyeok nodded agreeably. So Do-jin pressed on: Sparring, brackets—today was 1v1 matches. Unusual for Florence, which rarely did sparring.
Two reasons. One: Injury risk. Obvious for a cleric academy. Two: Efficiency. Romanica's enemies: magic beasts, demons, Satanists. Beasts and demons aren't human; even Satanists warp with infernal power. No need for PvP training—better teach beast/demon counters.
Yet here we were. Probably...
"Until now, our enemies were magic beasts and demons."
So Do-jin continued, face tinged with unease.
"Satanists blend in. You rarely cross them. Even knowing they're the source, they're invisible—no 'enemy' vibe."
He drew his sword.
"That changes now. Satanists are mobilizing. Holy War might erupt someday. You'll be crusaders."
His blade caught the light.
"Not beasts or demons—but humans. Or Satanists in human skin. You might have to cut them down."
Bingo. Recent 'Tower of Corpses' headlines had the church on edge about infiltrators.
"Today's prep: Sparring. Blessings and weapons free. Win by 'kill.'"
Wartime sim: 'Kill,' not 'subdue.' But Florence wouldn't let us die. That massive Fusion Blessing Circle glowing in the corner? Insurance—prevent injuries mid-spar. Painful, but harmless.
"No worries. No real deaths. Not even a scratch. Just hurts like hell."
"Bracket incoming. Random draw—no fairness. No complaints."
So Do-jin infused divine power into the holy relic.
Flash!
A bracket materialized before our eyes.
(To be continued)