Voodoo Doesn't Work
Voodoo spells weren't getting through. That left me no choice but to rely on Loa powers. The ones I could use right now were Bosu's preservation power, which I'd been relying on so far, and Marinette's power, which I'd used to burn the ropes binding Kang Ji-a. Adding any other Loa powers on top would overload my body, so for the moment, these two were all I had.
[Tired. Offering. Lacking. Can't.]
But Marinette wasn't in great shape. I hadn't offered her any sacrifices lately—a retaliation for her betrayal and siding with Han Su-yeop. But that had backfired. The moment I'd used her power while passing through the Ark's gates, her strength had already hit rock bottom.
[Me? Bosu is in top condition.]
Bosu, on the other hand, was in fine form. So I needed to maximize his power. But first, the darkness was a problem, and second, the unidentified liquid covering the floor was even worse. That squelching sound with every step of the taxidermy dolls? That was because of this liquid. One big move, and I could slip and fall—just like Kang Ji-a had while fleeing.
Squelch, squelch, squelch.
Meanwhile, the taxidermy dolls were slowly closing in on me. Their steps weren't fast, but advancing in formation like they were coiling around me was plenty threatening.
But I hadn't come here to fight in the first place. I'd only come to rescue Kang Ji-a. No need to drag out an unfavorable battle. Postpone the fight for later and escape now—that was the smart play.
Decision made, I started edging toward the exit, careful not to slip.
Thwack!
Something slammed into the back of my head. I'd never been hit by a car, but this had to be what it felt like—brutal impact. A ringing filled my skull, and my vision spun wildly.
Through the hazy blur, I saw the pervert doubled over in hysterical laughter, clutching his gut. And a grotesque bird-like taxidermy doll soaring through the air. That thing must've struck my head.
"You think I'd just let you run? If I lose you too, it's my head on the block. You're not leaving. Be a good material and give up nice and easy. Easier for both of us, right?"
"......Ugh."
I tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Was it the pain, or just exhaustion? Couldn't tell. The taxidermy dolls kept squelching closer.
"Grraaah......"
I tried to stand. Even that simple act dragged a ragged groan from my throat.
Splat!
Failed. Standing wasn't child's play anymore. A quick touch to the back of my head came away slick. Blood coated my palm. I could feel it streaming from my scalp.
By the time it trickled down my neck, my strength ebbed away, limbs turning ice-cold. I was dying.
Not some epiphany—just gut instinct. My whole body throbbed like hell. Every inch screamed in protest. The dolls were right on top of me now. The six-armed one cocked three fists at once.
Boom!
I rolled aside. Concrete dust scattered from where its fists pulverized the floor. Without Bosu's power forcing my body to move, I'd be dead.
The thought sent chills down my spine.
[My power's exceeding your limits. Keep it up, and you'll die.]
"F-Fine...... Tha, t's......"
[This isn't an illusion. You'll really die this time.]
Bosu's warning. But no time to think—the next attack crashed in.
Pfsh!
"Hngh......!"
The headless, eight-legged spider doll kicked me. My solar plexus burned hot, then turned deathly cold. Sharp pain like a knife stab. Breath caught in my throat.
"Don't die yet. Taxidermy is way more fun with live ones—"
[Your vessel can't contain my full power. If you'd trained more—]
"Raise your hand if you're about to die. I'll stop then—"
[But if you really want—]
The pervert's and Bosu's voices alternated, pounding my skull. Their words sailed straight through my ears without sticking. Somehow, I staggered to my feet and unleashed voodoo magic. I cast restoration spells on my bleeding head and ruptured guts.
The wounds healed, but the pain lingered. My barely standing legs trembled violently.
"See? Voodooists are the best. Tough as cockroaches, those eternal underground pals. Hahaha!"
The pervert smirked at me with a sleazy grin. I raised my hand.
He blinked in confusion. "Oh, about to die? Should I stop? Nah, surrendering that quick—"
Crack!
I twisted the taxidermy doll's neck with my raised hand. The six-armed one's head lolled like a rubber band.
Splat.
Its body crumpled to the floor with a wet thud.
"Shut up, you noisy bastard......"
The pervert talked too damn much. That slobbery tone drilled into my head, worsening the migraine. Yeo Min-seo flashed in my mind. She loved distracting me with pointless chatter during spars too.
Satanists and Yeo Min-seo had one thing in common: they both pissed me off. Though Satanists were leagues worse.
I strode toward the pervert. Targeting the dolls was stupid. Go for the one controlling them—that was smart.
"Whoa!"
He gawked in admiration. I ignored him and kept walking. But no matter how much I advanced, the distance didn't shrink—it widened.
Crack!
Something kicked my side mid-stride. The spider doll's attack.
"Ooh, that looks painful."
The pervert mocked. I groaned and tumbled across the floor. Ribs cracked this time. Blood surged up my throat.
Breathing hurt. Lungs filling with blood—I could feel it. Would restoration fix it? Short-term yes, but long-term worried me.
This wasn't about passing out anymore. I could actually die. Hell, was worrying about later even make sense right now? Death loomed right in front of me.
Dwelling on the future when survival hung by a thread was idiotic.
Splish.
Then, the box I'd tucked away on my way out spilled onto the floor. Plain, crude wood—no decorations. My father's relic.
I strained to lift my left hand. The ring on my pinky was still there, thankfully.
[Now.]
A voice. Marinette's? Bosu's? Or maybe Legba or Baron Samedi. The repeated shocks and all-over pain made it hard to tell.
Didn't matter who. No chance later to open the box. Too late once I barely clung to life via the "Lion's Contract." No telling what Baron Samedi would claim as payment.
Click.
I fitted the box onto the ring.
Creeeak......
An ominous sound, and the lid popped open. Voodoo mist seeped out—faint and thin, like when the gem first shattered upon wearing the ring.
The mist snaked into my nose, then swallowed my consciousness.
*
What I saw: a mirror, and Father. I combed my hair. Father in the mirror did the same.
I was peeking into Father's memory. Seeing Father through his eyes, via the mirror.
And a forgotten memory resurfaced.
I'd opened the box, and the mist from it was showing me this illusion. Nothing new there.
"Uh, this feels weirder than I thought. Big trouble, big trouble."
I spoke. Father in the mirror echoed me. Both I and mirror-Father looked awkward as hell.
Father, cheeks flushing, averted his gaze before finally staring straight into the mirror and parting his firm lips.
"Hey, Seon-woo. By the time you see this, I'll be gone!"
His tone was ridiculously cheerful despite the words.
"Obviously. I made this box to leave behind as a memento...... Anyway, how's Jin-seong these days? Stop him if he starts yapping about investments. He's hopeless with money. No luck there."
Uncle lost a fortune on stocks last time.
My reply stayed in my thoughts, not reaching Father. I wasn't inside his memory—I was just spying on the one he'd left.
"Oh, right—I told Jin-seong to help with your school fees. How's school? You didn't drop out, did you?"
I hesitated at his question. Hadn't been there long enough to have an answer.
Unlike Father's expectations, I'd opened this as a minor, not even an adult yet.
"High school memories last a lifetime, from experience. Friends...... not forever, but they stick around a while. Hope you had a fun school life. Ah, that's not what I meant to say."
Father rubbed his face dry. His freshly combed hair mussed up.
"Haa......"
A sigh. Complicated regret plain on his face. First time seeing Father sigh.
"Right. Your grandfather was skilled in recreation spells. Not overwhelmingly powerful output-wise, but he knew how to control it. Might help you—keep it in mind."
I noted it down. No idea why the sudden rundown on Grandpa, but if it helped...
"Yeah, that should do it. And......"
Father's lips twitched like he was hesitating. His eyes trembled faintly. Some mix of fear and anxiety clouded his face, but I couldn't pinpoint it.
Couldn't read Father's emotions.
"Sorry for going ahead. I'll be waiting, so you...... live as long and easy as you can. Come find me late."
Forced brightness in his voice. My heart stuttered, a sharp pang in my chest. Might meet him way too soon.
Felt like I could see him any second now.
Father wryly wiped his mouth with his palm, like holding back tears. But his eyes stayed bone-dry.
"Ah, not dying yet, but doing this already......"
"Hey, mister!"
A sharp voice cracked the back of his head. Father turned. In the mirror, Mother stormed toward him, furious strides. 'Mister' was her not-so-nicknamish nickname for him.
"What time is it? Hurry up and get out!"
"Jeez. Trying to get sentimental for once, and you interrupt."
"What sentiment? Just get dressed—"
"Dad."
I cut her off. Me, as a pure-eyed kid from long-forgotten days. That innocence hit me with sadness. Father felt it too. Moisture finally gathered in his eyes as he looked at kid-me.
"Dad, why're you crying?"
"Huh? Crying? When'd you see Dad cry? I'm not."
"You flick your tongue when you lie."
"......Raised a tiger cub, huh. Anyway, not crying. Something in my eye."
Father laughed it off casually. Kid-me stared, puzzled. The puzzlement faded. Kid-me's eyes gazing at Father filled with emptiness.
Blank stare. Deep, dark, sucking in light.
"You are. Right now."
Kid-me spoke. Father looked in the mirror.
"Huh?"
The mirror showed me. Not Father—current me. Through the glass, kid-me and now-me stood together.
Both staring into the mirror. Kid-me at now-me, now-me at kid-me.
Gazing at another self from a different timeline.
Kid-me: Pure smile, sparkling eyes. Flawless skin, neat hair without a speck of dust.
Now-me: Forgot how to smile, weary eyes. Dry, cracked skin, frizzy hair.
Empty gaze brimming with doubt, one tear trailing down.
"Ah."
The stark contrast between kid-me and now-me brought overwhelming sorrow. But just one tear.
I resented that single tear. Too paltry for the thick, heavy emotions surging up.
"......Seon-woo."
I wiped the tear, calling my own name. Father's voice came from my mouth.
Kid-me blinked wide-eyed in confusion.
"Make a choice you won't regret. Always."
Crack.
Father's advice—my advice. And the mirror shattered.
Cracks spread to the walls, the air, crumbling the world.
Familiar darkness seeped from the fissures, welcoming me.
Rumble—!
The world collapsed. Beautiful Mother, jovial Father hiding sorrow, innocent kid-me—all tumbled into oblivion with it.
Light vanished. Darkness flooded in.
"What was that? The box? Final weapon inside or something?"
A voice. Not Mother, Father, or kid-me. A Satanist. The pervert wearing human skin as a mask.
Sweet illusion shattered. Cold reality returned.
Agony coiled around me. Fingers quivered from the onslaught. My mouth gaped on its own.
"......Ugh......"
A grotesque, inhuman groan and drool spilled from my open mouth.
No pain-free spot on my body. Muscles torn to shreds everywhere—arms, legs, all of it.
Pain. The problem was the pain.
Bosu's power, restoration healing—pain persisted. My body refused to move amid the daze.
Couldn't even lift my head to assess. Best I could do was roll my eyes.
"Ah......"
Taxidermy dolls stared with unfocused eyes. Beyond them, the pervert cackling mockingly.
Mysterious liquid pooling on the floor. Thick, viscous darkness under dim blood-red light.
Beneath it, the open box spilling pale powder. Originally white, now yellowish from age.
"Make a choice you won't regret."
The advice Father gave me—and I gave kid-me—flashed through my mind.
A choice without regret.
Hoo.
Last desperate surge of strength. With it, I blew wind at the spilled powder.
It scattered.
"Drugs? That's your dying act—"
Whoosh!
The pervert's words cut off. Mist erupted from the powder.
The mist turned to voodoo magic, the magic to a shrine—gradually taking form.
Soon, a sinister temple radiating death's aura materialized before me.
At its center, a throne ornate with gold and bones. Someone sat upon it.
[We meet often lately. Obvious as your intent is, I'll ask for courtesy's sake.]
Baron Samedi. Loa of death.
Shadows from his silk top hat brim hid flickering red eyes like flames.
I knelt before him. No pain. Pale, yellowish powder piled on my palm—from the box.
[What brings you to summon me this time?]
Whoosh.
No need to answer. I just scattered the powder into the air.
A smile curled Baron Samedi's lips—cold, fishy, laced with death's chill.
Not just the smile. The entire temple around him screamed death.
Yet no fear. Comfortable. Familiar. Cozy.
"I offer the flesh of my ancestors to the Loa of death."
The powder's identity: bone dust of Voodoo Cult's First Cult Leader, my grandfather Do Jun-gil.
"I beseech you to twist death and perform the Inheritance Ritual."
The material for the Inheritance Ritual—and the one irreplaceable offering for Baron Samedi.
(To be continued next time)