Fragments of the Sorcery World (2)
A crackle! A sharp sensation pierced his mind. It was just like the moment an old TV finally tuned into a channel. The static hissed away, and a new world overlaid his vision.
A massive bridge stretched between the cliffs. Translucent, flowing with a faint blue glow like a swarm of tens of thousands of fireflies. The examinees who had started first were crossing it in a line like ants.
"Whoa..."
Do-gyeol felt a rush of euphoria. The thrill of glimpsing a fragment of the jujul world—one he'd likely never have known otherwise—coursed through his entire body like electricity.
Do-gyeol stepped forward without hesitation. Tap tap. Testing the path just in case, it felt firmer than asphalt. Walking on it was easy—leisurely enough to take in the scenery.
Below his feet: the dizzying forest and clouds. Above: a sky exploding in every color. 'This is the jujul world.'
It dwarfed anything from his abandoned building adventures or haunted spot hunts. His heart pounded—not with fear, but pure anticipation.
As Do-gyeol grinned and broke into a sprint, the proctor watching him twitched an eyebrow faintly.
'Hoo.'
He'd pegged Do-gyeol as a total normie, even prepping a memory wipe spell. But...
'Opened his Yeong-an in that short time?'
The proctor narrowed his eyes and muttered low. "Didn't think it was possible. Guess the invitation wasn't sent by mistake."
Of course, that was it. This was an academy for monsters. Way too early to make a fuss over just seeing the path.
By the time he crossed the main gate into the academy proper, dozens of kids were already gathered.
"Man, thought I was gonna die."
"Dude, did you see? Someone was straight-up flying."
"Baek Seo-rin was no joke either."
"She made it too? This year's freshmen are insane."
They clustered in groups, swapping tales of their exploits.
'Not even a glance my way.'
Made sense—he'd barely scraped by right at the one-hour cutoff. No one had time for a near-flunkout.
He smirked at the chat. Invisible or solitary—whatever. He'd survived. That was enough.
But that thought didn't last.
"Hey. So what the hell are you guys?"
He'd wondered from the start. Those popcorn-munching figures in the corner of his vision.
"You guys owe me thanks. You got your show—where's the 'thank you~'?"
"Fine, keep it secret then."
He didn't pry further. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. And if they meant harm, they wouldn't have helped from the jump.
Then, a heavy drum boomed.
Dong—! Dong—!
The chattering kids shut up instantly. The massive bronze doors slid open, and a different proctor stepped out.
"Everyone, move to the second exam site. Follow me."
Inside the doors: a scene like a historical drama set. Elegant hanok buildings, stone pagodas etched with bizarre patterns.
But no time to gawk—they were herded straight to the wide Yeonmu-jang.
Dead center: dozens of desks in neat rows.
"Sit."
On each: an inkstone with red ink, a stiff brush, five blank bujeok sheets.
"Second trial: basic incantation manifestation."
The proctor held up a brush from the podium. "The inkstone holds Jusa Ink, ground cinnabar. It holds yeong-ryeok, so even you beginners can manifest spells if your intent is clear."
He dipped the brush and stroked the air. A red trail lingered, impossibly.
"You can draw in the air like this, but the bujeok before you is the easiest base for holding yeong-ryeok."
He set the brush down. "Task is simple: imprint the image of fire on a bujeok. Form doesn't matter. But when activated, actual flames must be visible."
30 minutes. Submit your best of five bujeok for a power demo. That was the exam.
"Begin."
Brushes scratched everywhere at once.
'Imprint fire? How?'
He grabbed his brush and stared around blankly. The vibe was intense.
Kang Hak caught his eye first. Bold strokes on one bujeok—then he tossed the brush aside. Ignored the other four with pure arrogance.
"Done. Can I demo now?"
Kang Hak snatched the still-wet bujeok and flung it. A massive fireball erupted.
"Whoa..."
"Sets the tone right off the bat."
"Baek Seo-rin can do that level?"
"Different league."
Following the murmurs, he spotted a girl with glossy long black hair. She filled all five bujeok with elegant, delicate strokes like playing piano.
"I'll submit this one."
She selected one and wafted it like a fan. Whoosh. Not red flames, but eerie blue-glowing fire rose—cold and chilling, not hot.
"Whoa, that's wild."
Awe slipped out naturally. Then a chat line hit.
He snapped to, staring at his desk. Right—his turn.
Dunked the brush in ink. Wrote 'Fire (火)' boldly on a bujeok. Gripped it like the others and yelled.
"Hah!"
Nothing.
'Not like this?'
Others grunted too, but their bujeok at least singed or smoked. Tiny sparks even.
He bit his lip. Gripped the brush tighter. Once more. Focused hard. Imagined the sun's blaze!
Scribble scribble. Tried flames, tried sun—same result. Just ink smell.
"Time's up! Set brushes down."
30 minutes flew cruelly. Proctors circled for demos.
His turn. Held up his prettiest sun drawing.
"Hup!" No reaction. Toss it like others? Flap flap. Floated weakly, fell. No smoke, no fire.
"..."
The proctor checked silently and moved on. No laughs even. Not worth mocking—utterly ignored.
All demos done.
"Move out! Third exam at the underground auditorium in the main building."
Kids rose and filed out. He dawdled deliberately—not despair, but a weird stubborn spark.
'How the hell do you do it?'
Kang Hak's explosive blaze, Baek Seo-rin's mystic blue fire. After seeing magic like that, he couldn't just walk away. Curiosity burned too hot.
'I wanna try it too!'
Not pathetic—pure desire. Unfair everyone else could but him. And the phenomenon itself was too damn cool.
Yeonmu-jang emptied. Quiet before cleanup crew. He fiddled with spare bujeok.
"Nah, I just wanna try that once."
"Never happened, you psycho."
"Yes!"
"Cut the crap, just tell me the method."
"Did that. Even drew the sun."
One thought from the debate: 'No brush needed?'
He clutched the bujeok tighter. Closed his eyes. 'Flames have no form. The form I give becomes fire.'
Fierce red... nah, not enough. Something writhing, alive. Then—a game monster flashed: bursting from a calm lake, red scales flashing, roaring apocalypse!
'Red Rathalos!'
Overwhelming majesty, destructive crimson. Rage-like energy devouring all.
'Imprint.'
Heart thumped. Grip tightened. Then—
Vrrr—!
Vibration in his palm. Like clutching a live creature thrashing.
"...Ngh!"
Hot surge from his chest—not warm, but lava scorching his veins.
Saw the frantic warning too late. Bujeok scorched his hand. Instinctively flung it skyward.
BOOM!!
Soundless explosion. Black smoke from the bujeok ignited crimson instantly.
But no mere fire burst out.
Vague red mist solidified into a crimson dragon head with razor fins.
Grrrrrooooaaar—!
Low vibration shook the Yeonmu-jang—not sound, but jujul wave. The dragon surged skyward, rage-filled eyes scanning. Its pressure floored him speechless.
Breathtaking spectacle. But fleeting.
Fizzle.
The massive form scattered like illusion. Left: charred bujeok ash and acrid smoke.
"Cough, cough..."
He hacked, inhaling fumes. Heart racing, fingers tingling.
'What... was that?'
Still staring blankly at the sky. Red afterimage lingered. Their worried tips fell on deaf ears.
Conviction hit: he belonged in this world.
"Whoa... shit."
A grin crept out. Failure? Forgotten long ago. Thrill electrified him.
I did it. On a scale those geniuses couldn't touch.
Meanwhile, in the Yeonmu-jang's dark corner—thought empty—eyes had watched it all.
Spotted the lone kid post-exit, figured tantrum at worst. But this?
He approached slowly, fingering the black ash on the floor. Still scorching—not normal fire, but residue of hyper-compressed yeong-ryeok spell burst.
Silent, he stared where the kid vanished.