Doomsday Cult - Part 1
The world's changes were a matter of freedom. And adapting to that changed world was freedom as well. Some failed to adapt and were weeded out, while others exploited the shifting landscape to match their own capabilities or even took the lead in driving the changes. Many of those now hailed as heroes had been thrust into that complex environment—some culled, others pushing forward relentlessly.
"Interesting. So it failed?"
"Yes. 'That guy' was there."
"Tch. If it was that troublesome bastard, I'll give it a pass."
Oh Seung-woo inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at Congressman Choo Myeong-hun's words.
"To handle the core at this point, how much manpower would you need?"
"If we're forcing it, about thirty people. And we'd need at least five second-gen awakeners."
"Why is that?"
"Because that's the scale of government forces deployed."
Choo Myeong-hun knew the military planned a major deployment. But he hadn't expected such numbers already, so his puzzled reaction was understandable. Oh Seung-woo seized the moment to deliver the answer he wanted.
"He says 'that guy' requested it from government contacts. Orders came down through a direct line."
"Direct line... That damn bastard keeps screwing up my life at every turn."
"Shall I dispatch personnel?"
"No need. I don't have the spare resources right now. Let's call it quits here."
Oh Seung-woo felt relieved but didn't show it. When he asked if there were more requests, Choo Myeong-hun made one final ask.
"Put someone on that man, Geum Seong-chan."
"What should I extract?"
"Just monitor his movements. No deep involvement. And make damn sure you're never spotted."
Oh Seung-woo acknowledged and withdrew.
Meanwhile, left alone, Choo Myeong-hun unlocked a drawer and activated the artifact inside. Moments later, a small hologram shimmered into existence in the air before him. He spoke to it.
Choo Myeong-hun clicked his tongue at the counterpart cutting the transmission, staring out the window. 'Damn black mage bastards. Should've exterminated them...' His face filled with deep regret as he gazed at the sunset sky.
Today's request site was a sewer-type gate. The monsters inside were rodents and slimes. The cramped, filthy areas were dominated by rodent monsters, while larger passages near tunnels welcomed visitors with slimes. Despite appearing unremarkable, these gates were surprisingly popular.
The reason was simple. When awakeners killed monsters, they absorbed a certain amount of mana from them. Interestingly, these two weak monster types yielded surprisingly large quantities of mana. Some even argued they weren't truly weak but simply had poor compatibility with humans. After all, exploring areas with these monsters often uncovered remains of absurdly powerful ones. Occasionally, someone hit the jackpot—like finding drake remnants and raking in astronomical sums, a true lottery.
"Feels like they've swept every nook and cranny clean, right?"
As Go Yu-jin said, it seemed every monster had been meticulously cleared. Scanning the gate interior with mana yielded nothing; it felt like pros had vacuumed it up and left. Even the vital slime cores—key byproducts—were already harvested.
"Thorough job. The slime remnants and rodent corpses are a hassle, but the gate isn't huge, so I'll handle it simply."
"Making a slime blob like at Yongsan Station last time?"
"Easiest way, isn't it?"
Why complicate things when simple worked? As he lightly released mana to cast Dead Rise, an incongruous sensation hit him.
"..."
"What?"
Go Yu-jin was puzzled he wasn't casting in a spell-needed spot.
"Which awakener team handled this gate?"
"Low-tier guild. Don't know the name."
"Low-tier guild, huh."
"What's going on?"
"Follow me for now."
With that, he headed deeper into the gate. Far in, they reached a naturally collapsed wall. Puzzled, Go Yu-jin channeled mana as he stared at it. Her expression soon hardened.
"...How many died?"
"At least fifty murdered. Hard to tell without checking states, but the uniform placement screams Doomsday Cult."
The lunatics singing of world's end, offering blood sacrifices to summon absolute beings. They'd pulled off major incidents, even impossibly summoning 'demons' once. The demon race—known for bringing gates to Earth—remained shrouded in mystery. Their goals, methods for flooding Earth with gates, all unknown. Humans absorbed gate-spawned power, awakeners emerged and survived the torrent, but demons were still enigmas. Doomsday Cultists worshiped them, society's cancer.
"Cultists in that guild?"
The gate was hours from closure; core already shattered. But if these perps escaped, they'd repeat it.
"We should clean up first."
He compressed mana into the rubble, boring a person-sized hole. Inside, victims' states twisted his face. He imaged them into a mana stone for records, then used Dead Rise to assemble and raise the corpses.
"Calling their souls too harsh?"
It doubled their pain. But some might endure to expose their killers.
"Collect first, decide later."
Souls scattered far post-death. This gate took nearly a fortnight to clear; victims might predate the guild. Old deaths lost souls to stray spirits anyway. Rare ones clung with massive grudges.
He released mana narrowly for Call of Spirit—low cost, no monsters expected. Soon, a small light appeared before him.
'It came. Lucky.'
The voice pierced his mind. He responded immediately.
"I called you. To record your grievance—don't be angry."
Angry spirits backlashed mana, harming the caster. Black magic rarely came free.
— Grievance...
The soul scanned around, fixating on a corpse. It unleashed a faint, ear-straining scream of pure rage. Then it turned back.
The white soul tinged red. 'Full red or black turns it vengeful—monster-like, I'd have to destroy it. Get max info first.'
He urged it to recall its killers. He recorded the memory fragments it produced. Confirmed Doomsday Cult involvement, he told it:
"I'll avenge you, but you won't witness it. May you find freedom beyond."
Dispersing mana forcibly, the soul faded. Magic ended; backlash hit—fragments of its emotions flooded him. But he was relatively immune.
'Offering emotions to the Necronomicon helps here.' Others went mad from soul emotions' negative torrent. Not him. Just noting anger, sorrow, sadness—done.
'Would anything ever stir true empathy in me?'
He doubted it. Then, broad Dead Rise to haul all byproducts and victims outside.
"Aren't you tired?"
Go Yu-jin's gaze held myriad emotions.
"Curious what it'd take to tire me."
"Hopeless... Let's go."
Outside, corpses caused chaos. A flustered government official arrived.
"What the hell are these?"
"Hidden deep inside. Doomsday Cult victims."
"Doomsday Cult!"
He gaped, then glanced around and whispered:
"Can you hide them separately?"
'Why?' But he explained cautiously.
"No good comes from public knowledge—just noise."
"It should make noise. Why hide?"
Phones snapped photos everywhere. Watching the fidgety official, Geum Seong-chan sensed something off.
'Even for a grade-2 gate... Odd to assign an unknown low-tier guild.'
Gates assigned handlers by location. Gate managers oversaw from start to finish.
'Minimizing blame? Or involved?'
The situation reeked of rot.