Trembling Giant (3)
This poplar forest was nicknamed the Trembling Giant. The name came from the fact that the entire forest was one single organism, its branches quivering with every gust of wind. Considering that poplars belonged to the aspen genus, it was an intuitive moniker. Korea even had the idiom "trembling like an aspen leaf."
But as we drew closer to the heart of the forest, the landscape visible to the naked eye grew eerily still. The snowflakes drifting in from outside melted away in the warm mist, and the east wind blowing through failed to push back the thick, heavy fog. It was only natural. This mist was moisture trapped by the forest's mana. To pierce that physical restraint would require an extraordinarily fierce gale.
That was also why my men's breathing had grown labored. It felt almost like wearing gas masks. Even I was starting to find breathing uncomfortable, my clothes damp, sweat beading on my forehead, and a growing sense of irritation. Sweat in the Northern Hemisphere's January, at an elevation of 2,700 meters? Perceived humidity was over 100%. It felt like mana was forcibly binding more moisture than the air could possibly hold at saturation point. Dew had already begun forming in droplets on the metal parts of my rifle.
It wasn't long before I spotted yet another symbol of devil worship.
Kyung-tae let out a heavy breath at the sight of the grotesquely mangled corpse. "These bastards... you think they're trying to make the forest see humans as prey?"
"Possibly."
"Hmm. Then this could be a check on you, hyungnim? A ploy to disrupt the code collection."
"...Who knows."
If this was aimed at me, it meant Grace already knew of her mentor's betrayal—that the Golden Age's Eye had leaked beyond the Round Table. She wasn't as rigidly dogmatic as the Round Table's zealots, so she'd likely have more open thoughts on the utility of primitive magic and how to exploit these eyes.
But was that even possible? For the insular, secretive, and downright sinister internal affairs of the Round Table Cabinet to leak to devil worshippers?
'Unless some accident blew up during their power struggles.'
It wasn't zero probability, which was frustrating. It made more sense to see this as a check on the Round Table itself, but I couldn't rule it out entirely.
"If we interrogate the ones behind this, they might know something."
I jerked my chin to resume the search.
The stars drawn by the devil worshippers were hidden in various spots. The thick, stagnant mist—even when it flowed, it twisted in closed, bizarre patterns—explained why the sheriffs hadn't found the bodies. Stagnant air meant trapped odors. First, police dogs couldn't get a fix on the scent; second, the sheriffs got spooked. No doubt they'd only patrolled the forest's outskirts, claiming it wasn't their jurisdiction and waiting for backup from higher-ups. The limits of sheriffs elected by popularity contests.
Since spotting the first symbol, I'd been leading the way. I'd equipped Kyung-tae and the others with high-end thermal imagers, but in this environment, they were useless. To get reliable thermals in these conditions, you'd need full mounted gear. At least the mist had one advantage.
'Sound doesn't carry far.'
Normal mist propagates sound farther and faster, thanks to its higher density and elasticity compared to dry air. But mana-bound mist had reduced elasticity due to its binding force. Sound waves as vibrations were less disturbed. Footsteps crunching snow, quiet conversations, even suppressed gunfire—all had reduced range here. My eyes could see that range clearly.
Thud! The friction of leather gloves.
I clenched my fist, halting the formation. Finally, living humans—devil worshippers—had been spotted.
Straight ahead, 12 o'clock, 29 meters: two of them. Probably sentries. Leaning back against a stump, they scanned left and right—no blind spots. Their front was offset about 10 degrees from mine. Around the stump, predictably, a circle made from torn human flesh. And beneath where they sat, a blood-drawn star.
Both were armed with stockless SMGs, suppressors fitted, of course. Spray-and-pray guns incapable of aimed fire. One in each hand. Waist belts sagged with ammo pouches like shaman totems.
My men and I dropped low behind a fallen log for cover.
Including the newly discovered mist property, Kyung-tae reacted with a grimace after I relayed the situation.
"Those guys actually used their heads, huh."
"Surprising?"
"A bit, yeah. Devil worshippers? I picture brains pickled in drugs, tongues full of piercings."
"..."
Coincidentally, both had piercings. Kyung-tae's "using their heads" referred to their weapon choice. With visibility this limited, they'd ditched precision shooting for sheer volume of fire. Accounting for user skill, too.
The problem: we needed them alive. Our assumed engagement was kill shots. Suppressors were likely for the patrolling sheriffs outside, but if threatened, they'd scream bloody murder to alert their distant comrades. A desperate yell would carry as a warning even through this thick mist.
Oddly, no radios on the armed ones.
"How do we take 'em down..."
Kyung-tae's mumble dripped with concern. No need to worry about distance to me—he'd have just gone, grabbed them, and knelt them before me. As always.
"Hyungnim, sorry, but can we just handle it quick ourselves?"
Still hated me taking risks.
"You know it'd be over in a flash."
"No."
I peered through the fallen log and opaque scenery at the wretched bodies of the devil worshippers.
"The mana flow there's violently turbulent. Like they picked the spot on purpose."
"Meaning?"
"They're getting X'd in real time."
Immortal cancer cells already nested in their bodies. Mana-sucking cancers feeding on mana proliferated at otherworldly speeds in mana-rich environments.
'Must be itching like hell by now.'
One big difference between mana and radiation: mana was far more likely to mutate cells than destroy them. Proof: these Satan-spawn scratching their bodies with loaded gun muzzles. One or two more days, and they'd be severe cases. Itching was a precursor and key symptom for both solid tumors and blood cancers.
Terminal patients clawing off skin despite narcotics showed the horror. Mana cancer overlapped partially with regular cancer symptoms—verified by Round Table masters through human experiments. They'd ground hundreds of souls into mana fodder to induce one cancer patient. Originally research for etching circuits into foreign flesh. I was a beneficiary of that knowledge.
...Whether it was truly a "benefit" was debatable.
"Ha."
Kyung-tae sighed.
"Six meters is basically point-blank, seriously."
Six meters: the minimum radius my mana field guaranteed safety in this forest. Just one meter more than at The President. But given the Trembling Giant's overwhelming biomass and proportional circuit dominance, that extra meter was no small thing.
Even in this murk, naked eyes saw 10 meters. Six meters to armed foes was dangerously close—risky even against blades in a surprise clash. What Kyung-tae meant by "point-blank."
Deep in thought, I devised an idea, circulated mana through my circuit, and built a spell. A novel one pieced from clues gathered here.
Whoosh—the nearby mist rippled like waves.
"Don't panic."
I raised a hand to my men who'd seen it.
"That was me."
Kyung-tae and the other four finally relaxed, lowering muzzles.
'This could work.'
I hadn't fully grasped the mist's principles yet. But I understood enough to interfere with the forest's magic. Not pure output from me—just tweaking an existing spell. Minimal circuit strain. One unit of effort for 100 in results.
After trial-and-error failures honing the technique, I redirected the forest's power flows, making separate mist streams collide.
Straight ahead, a dense white barrier coalesced with a whoosh, then settled heavily. It worked. A small success, but exhilarating. Proof of the potential I'd hoped for.
"Here's the plan."
I explained to my men.
"What do you think?"
Approaching wouldn't be risky per my scheme. Just walk up to a point. Then some improvisation, but it'd work out.
"Uh..."
Kyung-tae looked skeptical.
"Sounds good, but you okay, hyungnim? That much power—won't strain your circuit? You're still adapting..."
"No worries. Looks big, but actual burden's light."
"If you say so."
"On your feet."
Spell already loaded in my circuit.
My rising men showed silent awe at the formed white wall. First time for magical support like this in the field.
The dense mist curtain was near-smoke opacity.
And we advanced. The waterfall-like wall flowed precisely with our steps.
Kyung-tae whispered in admiration. "Whoa, hyungnim. This is badass, for real!"
"No fuss. Get used to bigger things ahead."
We circled about 80 degrees around the enemy, approaching from the flank. 29 meters, 25, 20. Closing distance. Foes couldn't see us, nor could my men, so unavoidable tension in Kyung-tae and crew's steps.
Prey distance entered 15 meters. 14, 13...
One prey looked our way.
"What the hell?"
We ducked cover instantly. As the fisherman said during recon, fallen trunks littered the ground tripwire-style. Ancient forest.
The worshipper fixed on the opaque wall, elbowing his buddy.
"Hey, asshole. Check this out."
"What."
"Look over here, wanker."
"...Whoa! Fucking magickal."
Magick: British devil-worshippers' term for magic. Silent 'k' changed pronunciation.
Satan's acolytes staggered up, prodding the wall with guns like blind men groping air. Muzzles teased my dominance boundary.
Couldn't advance openly—impulsive scum might squeeze triggers on impulse.
Then one cautiously stepped into the barrier. I yanked it toward me.
"Whoaaa."
The bold one turned back. "You see that? See?!"
Stepped again, bolder despite tremor. Naturally, I pulled the wall once more, rippling the flow clearly.
Like a fisherman jigging for bites.
My improv thrilled and awed the prey.
"Proof the forest's aeonic power is strengthening. Magick itself! Never thought I'd witness this in life..."
Didn't suspect human hand? Knowledge gap, imagination limit. Not Grace's direct lineage—pathetic. True mages would've gone alert instantly.
Seeing their human sacrifice rite's "miracle."
Now both fully in my dominance range. I flashed hand signals to my men: takedown method, timing, post-capture actions.
Kyung-tae and crew slung rifles back, nodded.
Three, two, one. Now.
As four men surged like carnivores from cover, I dropped the wall and loaded a new spell.