Falling into a trap? Who?
Falling into a trap? Who?
The two who came running up in a huff exchanged glances and asked,
"What about the ones we captured?"
"They all took their own lives... I'm sorry."
Go Yu-jin’s words drew a tsk from him. He’d half-expected it. Capturing them might cause problems in itself, so he hadn’t just used Paralyze—he’d slapped a full Hold on them. It locked their entire bodies rigid. He’d guessed they might have some suicide method built in, or a kill-switch triggered the moment they were subdued.
They’ll do anything. A troublesome bunch.
"How do you plan to handle the bodies?"
Doomsday Cultists or not, they were dead. Leaving them to rot wasn’t right. And this could blow back later. Was that why?
"I already called. The police are on their way. But I need to explain why we came here and the full context. Problem is, the government contact’s number vanished."
"Says it’s disconnected?"
Go Yu-jin nodded. The police would find evidence eventually, sooner or later. But they didn’t have time to stick around tied up here. They could detect and dispel the magic anytime—and if they clocked it the moment they entered the nest, they’d relocate for sure.
He quickly laid out the situation. Go Yu-jin listened gravely and asked,
"Can you handle it alone?"
"More than enough. I let him go on purpose."
He had no idea how many Korean Doomsday Cultists could match him, but he was certain it was none—save maybe one or two. He knew his own power cold.
"Don’t get hurt... Come back safe, okay?"
Her genuine worry touched him. He forced a stiff smile for Go Yu-jin, startling her and An So-mi. An So-mi’s voice pierced his ears.
"Whoa, he can make that face?"
Go Yu-jin stifled a pfft of laughter at An So-mi’s remark, elbowing her to shut up.
Was I that weird?
"You’re busy. Go. We’ll handle the rest."
"Sorry. I’ll be back."
He activated the tracking spell and tailed at a steady distance. After about an hour, the mark stopped at one spot, then moved again—clueless to the tag. The pursuit went smoothly. They looped around Seoul before veering sharply toward Yeouido.
Yeouido, huh...
Yeouido had become a nexus of power. During the Gate catastrophe, its wide Han River banks and defenses turned it into a fortress. Those facilities still served as government shelters for emergencies. Gates broke often, and emergency burst types—exploding within an hour of spawning—hit high frequency. War’s legacy: ugly scars on the cityscape, but they endured.
Yeouido’s facilities aren’t like before. Mostly state-run now. They’ve holed up there?
Some clung to land with sheer clout. Most were politicians or awakeners in bed with them, lording over it all. Religious figures numbered among them too—maybe some tied to the cult.
No wonder they were hard to find. Or folks knew but couldn’t touch them...
But they’d attacked him. Self-defense. Post-cataclysm, it was a key legal shield. Powerhouses evaded normal laws, so the regime’s first banner: no punishment for true self-defense. Early debates raged on proof, but mind-reading awakeners settled it. Society dodged raw might-makes-right, though innocents still suffered. Corrupt truth-tellers in power’s pocket weren’t rare.
Hire black mages. If a truth-sworn awakener lied for the elite, they became the victim too. Chain reaction, but it worked—black mages stepped in, resolving cases. Now most awakeners didn’t dare lie. Wrongdoing meant payback, heroes or not. Victims judged.
And now, as a victim, he was off to judge the Doomsday Cult.
That’s why they warned me off. If it’d been just Yu-jin or So-mi on a cheap job, who knows what they’d have done.
Everyone together prompted talk. They acted on their terms; now he’d act on his.
Found you.
It slipped into a spot, moving stealthily—no more circling. Indoors now. He checked his phone map, pinpointed the hideout, and tsked.
A religious site?
Pre-cataclysm mega-church, peak prosperity. Politician ties galore; still backed elites, propped by them. Power hub.
Didn’t peg this place for cult links... Gotta dig deep.
Touching them lightly wouldn’t end it. He pulled out a new spell to scout.
Mega Polymorph.
He released mana stealthily, shaped the form, drew it inward, imprinting from inside out. Needle pricks started, then twisting agony and crushing pressure. Familiar, though. He endured calmly, completing it, shifting unseen.
Non-black mages can’t sense soul states.
Even black mages needed high rank. He morphed to soul form and infiltrated.
Is death like this?
Freely drifting felt oddly serene. Unlike true souls, he kept full power—no domination risk. Unless a hidden arch-black mage lurked, but unlikely. He slipped into the facility. Gaudy opulence screamed hoarded wealth.
Relics everywhere. Billions wouldn’t cover this.
Resplendent fell short. National treasures belonged in museums or heroes’ hands. Fakes? He checked close— all real. But odd: known items lacked signature traits. Duplicates?
All of them like that?
Mind-bending. If true, the cult’s meaning shifted. Uncover how first—but intel now, clean later.
He neared the expected spot. Then—
Bang!
Screams echoed. A familiar bellow followed.
"You worthless shit. Can’t handle one and cause this mess?"
"My apologies."
"Cops are swarming the site. And you let the kids die, slink back alone?"
"...He surged suddenly. No counter."
He ghosted toward the voices. No black mages inside. Round table: he scanned the faces.
All big names. And the loudmouth... this place’s overseer.
‘Shepherd’ in name, peddling himself as god. Cult-within-a-cult. Shocking in the leadership. The rest? He nearly gasped.
Heavy hitters from politics and business. This deep-rooted?
Explained the cult’s persistence here.
Then the head seat spoke.
"Enough. He tried. Natural disasters happen."
"Tch, why tangle with a black mage scrub?"
"No choice in the moment, right?"
"Gate interiors yield real gains."
Intriguing. Gains from what work inside Gates?
Mystery begged answers. Watch the meeting; truth would emerge. As it unfolded, his verdict on their lives hardened to extremes.