Basar Wish-5
On my way out of the Worship Hall, I checked Kang Ji-a's text one more time. It had to be a code revealing the address of the Satanists' hideout—and also her location. Keeping my eyes fixed on the message on the screen, I pressed on steadily.
First things first: Basar. What did that mean? Basar meant "flesh" in Hebrew. Flesh? No, pondering the literal meaning of Basar was pointless. What I needed to figure out was why Kang Ji-a had sent me that specific word.
"...Basar Shopping Mall."
There was no way she'd twisted the meaning for no reason. Intuitively, the simplest explanation made the most sense: she was at Basar Shopping Mall, so she'd sent "Basar."
Next up: Somang. Basar Shopping Mall was divided into two buildings—Hope Hall and Wish Hall. So Kang Ji-a had to be in the Basar Shopping Mall Wish Hall.
Now for the final riddle: the "-5." I headed straight for Basar Shopping Mall's Wish Hall. Unlike Hope Hall, which was packed with restaurants, Wish Hall was full of academies. The ground floors had gyms and divine power training centers, B1 had PC bangs and noraebangs, and everything below B2 was parking.
"......"
Then it hit me like a bolt of lightning. The "-5" in Kang Ji-a's message meant the floor level—B5.
But I ran into a problem. Basar Shopping Mall's Wish Hall only went down to B4. There was no B5.
My racing mind ground to a halt in an instant.
Legba:Go to B4 first.
Legba's voice echoed in my head. Without time to think or question, I followed his lead and took the elevator down to B4. It was pure instinct.
The parking lot that finally came into view was eerily empty.
Legba:Think back to how we hid the Worship Hall. Their method won't be much different from ours.
I dashed frantically around the parking lot, mulling over Legba's advice. The Voodoo Cult's Worship Hall was concealed through a somewhat convoluted setup: from the surface to the basement, then back up to the surface, and down to the basement again. Three locks along the way ensured no one but me, my uncle, and Kang Ji-a could invade it.
Except for one spot. The passage used by congregants for regular services had lax security. You just had to find the hidden door from the building's lowest level.
The Satanists' hideout surely had a similar loosely guarded passage for their followers.
"...Found it."
After running around for what felt like ages, I spotted the door. It was slathered in white paint to look like a wall at first glance, but there was an "X" marked in marker on the hinge area. Either the Satanists or Kang Ji-a had left that sign.
Click.
I groped for an invisible handle and pulled, but the door wouldn't budge. It seemed locked from the inside. No keyhole in sight—either it didn't exist, or I just couldn't see it.
"Bosu."
Without hesitation, I invoked Bosu's power. Strength surged through me, along with a flicker of rage—one of the side effects of using Bosu, emotional agitation. My heartbeat thundered deep in my chest.
Kwang!
I ripped the entire door off its hinges. They flew off with a deafening crash. Beyond lay pitch-black darkness.
What if it was a trap? But right now, I couldn't afford to care. If I got hurt, I'd just heal with a restoration spell.
Legba:You'll catch a cold. Might even pass out, like before.
Before. That meant six years ago, shortly after my father's death. Using restoration spells on myself would let me move right away, but the bill would come due later. It was like eating my own flesh to stave off hunger and sucking my own blood to quench thirst.
But it didn't matter. I plunged into the darkness.
At first, I couldn't see a thing, but as I walked, the path's outline emerged. My eyes were adjusting.
At the end of the darkness loomed another door. This one had multiple locks inside and out, and it was thick. It screamed "keep out."
Kwang!
But a single kick from me shattered it effortlessly. With Bosu's superhuman strength, rusty chains and locks were child's play.
Beyond the firmly shut door lay stairs. Red lights hung from the ceiling, bathing the whole staircase in bloodlike crimson. The lighting was dim but not blinding—just enough.
"L-Legion commander? I thought you were going to school today, so how are you back so soon...?"
As I descended, someone spoke in a terrified voice. The light was faint, and half his face was shrouded in a robe, so I couldn't make out his expression. But from the voice, I knew he was male.
I glanced around. The dimly lit basement was packed with people. But few were moving. Most stood frozen in the same pose, the same expression—like corpses.
A sour chemical smell wafted over.
Legba:Taxidermy dolls.
Only then did I realize what the motionless figures were. They were all taxidermy dolls. People frozen on the boundary between death and life.
Revulsion washed over me. My empty stomach churned like acid was rising. My throat burned and soured.
"No, you're not the legion commander... you fucking intruder!"
After standing there a while, the man cursed and charged at me. He'd finally realized I wasn't the "legion commander"—just an uninvited guest.
But if it was human, there was nothing to fear.
Splat.
Faint spell. He inhaled the mist and face-planted, twitching faintly. The same sticky, squelching sound I'd heard in my dream.
I stepped forward casually. Kang Ji-a had to be somewhere here. I was certain. Baron Samedi's prophecy and my gut instinct.
In that blood-red, eerie-lit space, I walked endlessly in search of her. Each step squelched.
The image of Kang Ji-a as a monster chasing me in my dream flashed and faded. Baron Samedi had declared it an inevitable future.
This prophecy would be his first failure. I'd make sure of it.
*
I found Kang Ji-a about three minutes later. Or maybe thirty—I couldn't tell. Those three minutes felt longer than any in my life.
"I-I told you not to come today—!"
"Quiet."
Kang Ji-a's face twisted when she saw me. Her scream was near hysterical. Ignoring her, I reattached her severed arm with a mid-level restoration spell.
Who the hell was she to order the cult leader around?
A wave of exhaustion hit me, like all my strength drained out. But it was an illusion. Or at least, it was easier to think of it that way for now.
"Oh! It's been ages since I saw Voodoo magic. Who'd have thought any Voodooists were left."
The man before me spoke. He'd probably been the one to cut off her arm. His face was masked in human skin, hiding his expression. His dried, dead grin of a voice dripped with infuriating leisure.
"The ties between Voodoo and Satanism run deep. If we go back in history—"
"Might get a little hot."
Whoosh!
I cut him off and invoked Marinette's power. Careful not to burn her skin, I incinerated the ropes binding her.
"Cult Leader."
"You know the way out, right? Go."
Kang Ji-a hesitated, not following orders.
"There's the appointment ceremony today—"
"...Go."
"Ah, yes sir."
She backed away with mock surprise, glanced around warily for a moment, then scurried toward the door I'd come through.
Skipping the ceremony meant I couldn't become the Charity Holy Mark holder. I'd chosen to save her over that.
No regrets. She was worth ten times any Holy Mark. She was indispensable to the Voodoo Cult now.
"...Hahaha. You think this is your living room?"
Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch.
The freak gestured, and a taxidermy doll standing like a statue in the corner lurched into motion. Arms outstretched, it charged madly at Kang Ji-a. Each step squelched ominously.
He sneered and continued. "You can't just leave because you want to. Not from here."
"Ah, eek...!"
Kang Ji-a screamed shrilly at the approaching doll, freezing mid-escape. She could've gotten away clean, but shock had paralyzed her.
I drew a spell circle. Mid-level recreation: Dawn Sword.
Purple Voodoo magic coalesced into a short dagger. Grand name aside, it was a ritual knife for skinning animals. Not ideal for combat, but perfect for piercing hide.
I hurled it at the doll charging her—right between the eyes, at the glabella.
Pfuk!
Empowered by Bosu, there was no missing. It struck dead center, halting the doll momentarily.
Kang Ji-a seized the chance, forcing her trembling legs to carry her away.
"Kyaa!"
Splat!
"S-Sorry!"
She slipped and fell while fleeing, apologized to me, then bolted again. No idea what for, but she escaped. That was enough.
"...Phew."
Her figure finally vanished. I let out a sigh of relief—but it was too soon.
"Ah..."
The freak in the face skin groaned in dismay, his voice trembling.
"Ha, haha... One material got away. N-No problem. Still got one left."
He was talking about me, grinning shakily. He saw me not as a person, but as taxidermy fodder.
"You're pretty skilled with Voodoo magic. Ha, hahaha. You call attaching skin 'restoration,' right?"
Taxidermy dolls gathered around him, their grotesque footsteps squelching unpleasantly. They varied wildly: legs replaced by arms, arms by legs; three heads or just heads; headless centipede-like masses of torsos.
Revolting. Not just their forms, but the lives they'd snuffed out to make them. The thought made me want to vomit.
"That'd make taxidermy a breeze—no need for sutures, just spells. Voodooists could whip these up easy, so why don't they? Can't grasp this profound art, huh?"
"......"
I silently unleashed Voodoo magic. Two spell circles. Done in seconds.
"Come to think of it, rip out your eyes and fingers, leave you only able to restore—that'd be perfect. You'd be a restoration machine. 'Restoration Machine'—ooh, rolls off the tongue—!"
Hiss...
Mist billowed from the circles. Not restoration or recreation, but an illusion spell—a fusion of Nightmare and Faint.
The freak inhaled it and staggered, losing his balance.
Humans were way easier than beasts. No need for Loa powers and drawn-out fights—just one spell to drop them.
Thud.
He collapsed. His shoulders twitched in futile resistance. Meaningless without innate tolerance. No escaping spells otherwise.
The dolls around him just stood there. No leader to command them now.
I turned toward where Kang Ji-a had gone.
"...O-oh, ah, ha, that head-spinning, drug-like... spells have that charm. Haven't felt it since way back... feels so good."
A voice from behind. The leisure and calm were gone, but that mocking tone lingered. He should've been lost to nightmares, yet he gripped his shaking legs and slowly rose.
Unexpected. I needed cool analysis, but shock hit first.
The spell hadn't worked. Even executives with superior resistance crumpled to my spells. But not this freak.
Did I draw it wrong? Power drained? Pointless questions. Key fact: my spell failed on him.
"Arms and legs can be chopped. Bring the body intact, kids."
He waved dismissively. Black ooze poured from his fingertips—he was drawing a black magic circle to command the dolls.
Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch.
Dozens of those sticky, ominous footsteps closed in slowly but surely.
