Shadows of Heroes and the Necronomicon's Whispers
The investigation into the depths of the Necronomicon Mine concluded in just two days. It wasn't as deep as expected. Thanks to that, I found myself the center of everyone's high expectations, for a simple reason. The mine hadn't been dug very far, leading to estimates of an immense amount of mana stones buried there—too vast to predict accurately. In reality, that upper layer might be all there was, but if the depths were truly packed with mana stones, it would be a monumental discovery. Not that it was exactly a "discovery," but people wouldn't take this lightly. They'd rush in with massive infrastructure projects tied to it.
"You must have worked really hard."
I gave a curt acknowledgment to the government official's thanks, then glanced at An So-mi. She shook her head slightly. Well, yeah. Not when the official's Choo Myeong-hun. He was the real power behind the first opposition party. Despite holding no official position, his influence was immense, stemming from his fame and strength. He was one of Korea's three great heroes.
We left the site. With all eyes on it, no funny business was possible, and now troops were deployed to guard the core. From here on, mine development would ramp up in earnest for Korea's national interests. Finally reaching a spot away from prying eyes, An So-mi let out a deep sigh. "I can't handle it. Turning someone like that into an enemy? We'd never manage the fallout."
She wasn't wrong. But she wasn't entirely right either. If there was no backing down, we'd crash into it head-on. Even a hero revered as one of Korea's three greats had plenty of allies—and just as many enemies. Leaking this info to his foes would deal a solid blow. And if An So-mi feared what came next, we'd handle it with strength.
"I want to be careful too," Go Yu-jin said, echoing An So-mi. "Why fear him so much?"
"You know what kind of guy Choo Myeong-hun is, right?"
Choo Myeong-hun, one of Korea's three great heroes, known as the "Heavenly Killer"—an assassin of enemy heroes stronger against people than monsters. Feared as a devil abroad, but a hero here. Considering the powerhouses he'd slain single-handedly, he was credited with safeguarding Korea's future. He'd even declared upon entering politics that he wouldn't go on covert ops anymore, and four years had passed since he left the battlefield.
Many clung to the weight of the "hero" title, but among awakeners, he was seen as a has-been. He won't be a pushover. Strength doesn't fade that easily. Plus, he was relatively young—mid-thirties, was it? Post-cataclysm, elections favored ability over age, so old-school politicians were relics now.
"Understood."
No choice for now; we backed off. I told them I'd hold onto the data for the time being, and they nodded. Choo Myeong-hun... Hope our paths don't cross as enemies. Lots to mull over.
The first thing after returning was visiting Han Sang-gil. We'd scheduled the Necronomicon loan. The two looked at me like some weirdo, but since it was after hours and my personal time, they didn't complain. They just seemed baffled that I'd fixate on something dubbed outright "aberrant."
I arrived at Han Sang-gil's place. "It's been a while."
"Indeed it has."
Han Sang-gil was a giant among black mages—a 1st gen awakener, one of the three peaks still living. The other two were abroad, making him the pinnacle for all Korean black mages. His aptitude played a role, but so did his sharp mind and luck with vast mana reserves. A classic "necromancer," focused on destruction and summoning.
"Your aura shines bright, lad. Working with that girl lately?"
That girl meant Go Yu-jin. Talented, but a singularity—bottom-tier except for golem summoning. That's what made her famous. "Ended up in her debt somehow. The item?"
After brief greetings, I cut to the chase. He gave me an exasperated look. "Neither of us has time to waste, right?"
"Always busy, you. Planning to study the book then head off?"
"Gotta train. Don't know what it'll teach, but reviewing's basic."
"Most take that basic for granted. I did too—now I live with late regrets."
Oddly, 1st gens spanned all ages. 2nd gens were near twenty, dropping lower each generation until now, where 17 was standard for the 10th. So older awakeners were all 1st gens. Han Sang-gil had awakened at 70, a freak case with insane power. "Haven't you enjoyed plenty?"
"Plenty of older fogies out there. My age is prime."
"They say old folks just get more sentimental. Spot on."
"Don't want the Necronomicon anymore?"
"You're the one who preached promises outvalue gold."
"Hmph, that old coot's dead."
"So this old coot's undead?"
"You little—"
He flared mana in anger. It coalesced into soul form, hurtling at my head—Soul Strike. Simple pattern; a light defense spell would've sufficed. But no need to waste mana, so I countered with my own Soul Strike, clashing mid-air to cancel it. "Hah, stronger still."
"Not like before."
"You were a pain back then. Worse now."
"As I always say—"
"Don't touch, or bite?"
"Yes."
He shook his head, then reached into empty air. Subspace yawned open, spitting out a book bound in ghastly "infi" leather into his hand. "You know this book's price?"
"Always the same for me."
"Emotions matter most to humans. How long will you pay that toll?"
"War already dulled 'em beyond repair. If they have value, use 'em."
"Maybe it doesn't want your mindset. Dried-up emotions might spell trouble someday."
"Duly noted."
Finally, he handed over the Necronomicon. I took it, sat on the floor, and flipped to blank pages. The book's trait: content visible only per black mage's level. Han Sang-gil had nearly finished it; his toll was some unknown secret. "You're near the end too."
As he watched, I reached the final pages. A blank one appeared. I placed my hand, infused mana—and a grim voice echoed in my mind.Service now and then ain't bad? No reply. I clicked my tongue, swore the toll—and golden light bloomed as text filled the page. Two spells? One transformed appearances into objects. Life always left traces, but this let shapeshifting into any intangible form. Volume stayed the same, so similar-sized objects only. Modern wars were urban; this guaranteed solid performance. But underwhelming—similar spells abounded.
Beyond imagination, clearly. Trans Polymorph... Used right, unthinkable power. Black mages often sacrificed body parts; regeneration cost a toll but opened infinite possibilities. Next, Demolition Impact—pure destruction, but not area-wide. It shattered a single target's essence.
What can this do?Thought-provoking. Recalling my essence, I jolted. ...
Can it destroy awakening power itself?Dodgy reply, but info gained. I memorized the formulas, imprinted them, then stood. Emotions spent? No clue anymore. Hard to gauge what's left. I turned to Han Sang-gil; our eyes met. I handed back the book. "You know what I saw?"
"Nope. What you see differs from me."
"What I saw—"
"Enough. I don't want to lose mine hearing it."
"No guarantee you'd lose it."
"What’s worthless to you might be priceless to me. Forgetting’s a curse."
"Book done—get out," he said, shoving me toward the door. "World won’t be fun. Endure twice, thrice before acting."
I hesitated on a reply; he slammed the door. Consistent to the end, kicking folks out.