Transcendence (2)
Baek Seol-yeon told me that Han Myung-hun's residence had originally been unknown. As one of his former students who had once received his teachings, she wanted to visit him, but the government kept feeding her the same line. They claimed that after surviving the mass suicide incident, the deputy director had suffered severe mana poisoning, becoming a vegetable, and was still receiving treatment at a university hospital for the aftereffects. But modern medicine couldn't cure mana poisoning. Symptomatic treatment might be possible, but fundamentally removing the mana—the root cause of the addiction—was still impossible. And the aftereffects weren't something human technology could dare to treat.
They were lying to Baek Seol-yeon, who knew that full well. But no matter how dissatisfied she was, there was little an individual could do against the government.
So she waited for the right moment. A moment like this. I think this opportunity was given to me by my master.
That was what she'd said in the car. Baek Seol-yeon was a patient elite, quietly sharpening her blade while biding her time. And finally, with a stroke of luck, she had risen to the position of director. Only then could she confirm her master's whereabouts—from the Nutube channel to his residence.
"……"
In the end, the state of her master, whom she'd finally tracked down, was wretched. Baek Seol-yeon's somber expression didn't lift. She mechanically cleaned up her master's squalid dwelling while talking with me.
"What an incredible person."
Ordinary humans could hold far less total mana in their bodies than elves, for reasons still unknown—it was just the way of the world. Yet Han Myung-hun's saliva was now leaking spatial mana. Ever heard of diabetes, the chronic disease? Most people might not know the exact mechanism, but everyone knows the urine of sufferers turns sweet. That was exactly Han Myung-hun's condition. His body's spatial mana had overflowed to the point of seeping out with his bodily fluids.
It was only natural he'd become a vegetable. Human mana addicts didn't live long. They couldn't endure the intense mental stimulation from the mana in their bodies, succumbing to agony by suicide or falling into a vegetative state. But Han Myung-hun hadn't. And it wasn't ordinary mana—it was spatial mana. His brain had rotted, driving him mad, but somehow he clung to life without dying.
"Kuugh! Kkeuuk!"
The madman moved his hands as if trying to tell me something, but he no longer had the cognitive capacity to convey intent. I still didn't know what had happened back then, but I could guess why he'd been the sole survivor.
"……"
I quietly flipped through the notebook stained with his bodily fluids containing spatial mana. It seemed he'd used his own secretions laced with spatial mana to somehow communicate his message—a kind of secret letter, decipherable only by someone skilled in handling spatial mana.
Right there, I focused my mind to uncover what Han Myung-hun had left behind. But he was too far gone, and many parts had degraded over time; properly reading it right now seemed impossible. It would take time.
"Baek Seol-yeon."
I looked up. Beyond the madman's contortions, I saw her. Meeting her eyes, I said,
"I'll take responsibility for revealing what your master was desperately trying to tell the world, even in pain no different from death."
I suspected the full truth of this incident was probably embedded in the madman's notes as well. Baek Seol-yeon gazed at me and gave a faint smile for a moment. She still needed more time.
"Mind if I head inside first?"
I asked her. It wasn't because I'd developed a deep fondness for Baek Seol-yeon or pitied Han Myung-hun. Pure curiosity. What was the nature of the record this madman had endured death to leave for the world? Weren't you curious too?
"Ah, well... Thank you. I hope it turns out that way."
Her response was delayed. Without waiting for more, I stepped out of the house.
That evening, a text message brought news of former Deputy Director Han Myung-hun's death. It had been a while since I'd wrestled so fiercely with the question marks in my head.
After receiving Han Myung-hun's notebook, I spent 48 grueling hours poring over it, and one conclusion emerged. Complete decryption was nearly impossible. And it wasn't due to my lack of skill. The information was too badly damaged.
"Too many gaps scattered throughout."
Sitting at my desk with the notebook open, I used mana to painstakingly read the contents. But there were quite a few blank spots here and there. His mind had gradually crumbled. By the time we met him, he probably lacked the capacity to leave more secretions with information.
Bodily fluids dry up and rot. The mana within them slowly evaporates too. With just this notebook, learning everything he wanted to convey was impossible. But that didn't mean there were no ways forward.
People who go to such lengths usually don't leave their traces in one place only. Especially someone like Han Myung-hun, who knew what was coming and had a sharp mind. The Archmage of Omniscience, Kenis, now poured all his efforts in.
Tak-tak-tak!
Now it was time for Galchang ranker Yang Jia to step up. I connected to the internet right away.
These days, learning AI models handle data searches, but I believe living fingers outperform them. They might be fast, but they lack emotion. They just blindly follow floating text online. That's not fully utilizing the internet.
Could an AI perfectly translate and deliver scattered slang and codes from specific communities? I doubt it. Plus, I knew another internet expert like myself.
Ring-ring— Ring-ring—
A familiar voice soon came through the phone.
"Ah, Teacher. What's up?"
Chen Zuiyuan. Or should I call him Huwaluma Miko in the internet world?
"Need to find something."
"Something to find?"
When he asked, I got straight to the point.
"Know a guy named Han Myung-hun?"
"Yes."
He knew him. He continued,
"The mass suicide survivor, right? His whereabouts after were mysterious."
He didn't know much beyond that. But it was enough. Combining specific words I'd found in the notebook, we could trace his path.
"Want to investigate his movements after. Can you help? Keywords: spatial mana, shamanism, Gate, awakening, transcendence."
Huwaluma Miko responded immediately. I heard a chair creak and keys clacking over the phone.
"I'll help. Let's search whatever we can."
Success—solid ally joined the search party. First, I checked the bizarre channel Baek Seol-yeon had mentioned. The most recent video was uploaded 6 months ago. Probably lost the capacity for even weird uploads after that.
I played the video. It consisted solely of dark red flames, purple paint, and three tangled gold threads. An unseen man kept pouring paint to extinguish the fire, while gold threads dangled precariously from the ceiling, inches from the flames. No proper sounds—just the crackling of fierce flames. The man pouring paint didn't even breathe audibly, just endlessly dumping it. Unfathomable intent. Not even clear if he'd shot it himself. Fixed at 360p quality, with a watermark intact. Eleven minutes long.
Resting my chin, I watched the full 11 minutes without speeding up.
Han Myung-hun wouldn't leave such a weird video for nothing.
Crackle! Crackle-crackle!
The flames roared on. The mysterious man kept dousing with purple paint, but the fire showed no sign of dying.
"……Hmm."
I switched the video to picture-in-picture in the corner and checked other channel videos. Thumbnails were mostly uniform: direct copies from Revelation chapter 1 of the Bible. Some highlighted specific verses, especially the last one most frequently.
"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last, the Almighty."
I couldn't grasp the meaning. Video contents were just static screens matching thumbnails, occasionally laced with eerie sounds presumed from Han Myung-hun.
Drag— Draaag—
I kept scrolling. Finally reached the channel's first video.
"……This?"
The first video had the exact same title and thumbnail as the last one he'd uploaded. The PiP video in the corner was nearing its end. 10:22.
I paused around then.
"……"
The man dousing the flames with purple paint was gone. Flames surged high, the fire infused with purple shifting color from the center. Simultaneously, the precarious gold threads fell from the ceiling into the blaze. In the inferno, the threads caught vertically somewhere, their shape vaguely humanoid.
That was when it happened.
Bzzz— A text from Chen Zuiyuan—he'd found something.