35
Chapter 35
The world was shattered.
The concept of common sense was nothing more than an illusion, long since torn to shreds by the prejudices of countless people. The talk of mystical studies that Mr. Anderson had so excitedly shared was quickly shredded as well.
After the brief storm had passed, each person chewed over their thoughts and reached a conclusion.
Pastor Park Yo-han stroked the cover of his Bible, his voice heavy with an unmistakable bitterness.
"In the end, I just don't know if any of this is true..."
Though he was a man who called the Pope the Antichrist and proclaimed that salvation existed only within the church, his faith was absolute. There was only one reason why such a man would dabble in things like numerology and astrology.
The pastor removed his glasses and let out a deep sigh.
"Baek Jemin. I am afraid. I fear this power wasn't given by the Lord, but by beings intending to insult humanity. I fear it's a build-up by a wicked enemy to deceive and frustrate us."
Pastor Park Yo-han was revealing his terror.
He feared that magic was not a power granted for the sake of humanity, but rather a tool for a deeper despair. The reality of having to rely on a power with an unclear origin seemed to have led to a paranoid level of vigilance.
To the pastor, magic was not an opportunity or a strength, but a trap.
His exploration was nothing more than a debate to prove that it was, indeed, a trap.
On the other hand, Hamza rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head.
"Those who settle for fear of wrath provoke wrath. Submission to Allah's will. Even if His will is our end, it is a human's duty to obey."
This guy was religious in the strangest ways, considering he loved grilling pork belly and gulping down soju.
Hamza spoke with a sincerity that contrasted with his worldly nature. He argued that since God had determined our end and granted this power in the meantime, we should accept it and use it willingly. Since it was already decided, there was no point in fighting it, so we should just live as we are.
Meanwhile, Lee Se-jun shrugged and narrowed his eyes.
"What's so weird about it? Are you going to give up magic? I can't. I won't give it up, no matter the price."
Having learned about the true efficacy of Heart Line magic, Lee Se-jun had also joined the pro-magic camp.
He was strangely lacking in actual usefulness, yet he never missed a chance to praise magic. He had completely changed once he realized it could provide a stronger body, better health, and even suppress aging.
Furthermore, there was one more point that caught Lee Se-jun's attention.
"And let's say we succeed in removing the mist or the monsters. Then what's left for this country? Do we all starve to death looking at 10 million monsters and a devastated Seoul? This country is ruined. Even if we survive, what can we do against neighbors like the USA, China, Japan, or Russia?"
"..."
"Even if Jemin is a nutjob, he's not wrong. Korea as a magic powerhouse! Whether we understand it or not, we must be able to use magic. It's the only way for 40 million Koreans to survive. Though... I don't think it has anything to do with this occult stuff."
Shin Na-in didn't speak at length or use his usual pedantic tone.
Instead, he simply crossed his arms, nodded, and smiled.
"Questing or researching is human arrogance. Simply using what God gave us. That is the right way."
All that was left were myself and Monk Cheong-hwi.
Monk Cheong-hwi kept his hands pressed together in prayer, glanced at me, and let the corners of his lips curl up slightly.
"Donor Baek, what do you think of the ritual Mr. Anderson suggested? If you intend to proceed, I shall help you."
Right now, the Supreme Mages seemed to have different opinions, but they were converging on one point.
They didn't place much value on the mystical studies Mr. Anderson had bragged about. However, there were two exceptions.
Me, whose eyes were sparkling, tempted by a sliver of possibility, and Monk Cheong-hwi, who watched quietly with a mysteriously meaningful smile.
I suddenly remembered the words of Monk Won-haeng, whom I had met in Seoul.
He had mentioned that he had moved away from the traditional Seon Order, which emphasizes meditation and training, to take a greater interest in the practice systems of Esoteric Buddhism.
"Since there's a slim chance, I should try. It's magic, so there might be some connection to mysticism."
Lee Se-jun shrugged and lost interest, while Hamza twisted his eyebrows and nodded slowly.
Shin Na-in seemed indifferent, and only Pastor Park Yo-han let out a worried sigh.
"Just don't do anything foolish."
That was how we spent our time.
I intentionally avoided taking on any perilous missions that would require the Alteration-type trio to move together. This was because my mind was entirely focused on the ritual. Until now, the study of magic had only been possible in one way.
By diving into the mist, hunting monsters indiscriminately, and accidentally discovering traces and clues.
But what if it were possible using existing knowledge?
What if I didn't have to rely solely on drops, but could challenge it whenever and however I wanted?
I was not someone who viewed magic as so trivial that I would ignore that sliver of possibility.
Instead, I volunteered for scouting missions using my eye-type magic to scrape together Military Notes. I couldn't earn dozens at once like I would on dangerous missions, but it was enough to order the items needed for the ritual.
Though First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi at the military gear shop frowned.
"You want adult material... for repetitive hand exercises to achieve mental stability and spiritual peace?"
"Yes. You know, for the post-nut clarity..."
"I'm not saying no. But can't you just repeat firearm disassembly and assembly? What if you're too tired from that and just fall asleep?"
"Ah."
Firearm disassembly and assembly. That's a good idea.
Of course, I still ordered one piece of adult material for 3 Military Notes. It wasn't for me to watch, but because I thought I could make a profit by renting it out.
To do that, I had to personally verify if the quality was satisfactory for the customers.
I didn't actually spend any of my precious essence.
And so, time passed once more.
March 20, 2028, 5:56 PM.
I checked the time through the cracked screen of my phone. On the portal sites, where government censorship and control had begun in earnest, only relatively hopeful articles were posted.
[US Senate reaches agreement to resume Korea-US trade... A dramatic achievement.]
[CEO Anderson Macenford, friendly to Korea, speaks again... 'The Seoul unrest is a threat to an ally that cannot be overlooked. It is especially meaningful as my grandfather fought in the Korean War.']
It was finally time to prepare.
Around the time everyone headed to the cafeteria for dinner, Monk Cheong-hwi slowly approached from a distance, adjusting his robes. He still wore his usual kind smile, but today, a hint of personal joy was evident.
"Let us go, Donor Baek."
***
Mr. Anderson Macenford was a decent man.
That is, excluding the part where he rambles on because his passion for magic is just too much.
He'd even given me his number through a colonel, telling me to contact him if I wanted to perform the ritual. Seeing as he'd sent all sorts of supplies through Pyeongtaek Port once Monk Cheong-hwi and I decided to prepare for it, his enthusiasm was clear.
Monk Cheong-hwi's assistance was invaluable here; he guided me through various things since I'm completely clueless when it comes to occult rituals.
"To receive a mysterious and auspicious energy, you must first empty the vessel that is your physical body. Even in the Eucharist of the Great Brahma of Christianity, there was a rule of fasting before receiving the host, which is the body of God. Until the ritual is complete, you may drink water, but you must not put any food in your mouth."
Fasting.
Emptying the body to accept the mystery.
Not stopping there, I had to take a thorough shower to wash away every speck of dust and hair, centering my mind so that no other energies would disrupt the ritual. Monk Cheong-hwi added a warning that since I was a beginner and not a master, I had to be even more cautious.
With that, we gathered our supplies and headed to the ritual site we had scouted.
It was usually the workshop for checking firearm conditions, but I managed to borrow it by using the free rental of adult material as bait.
I set down the lighting I'd brought instead of a lantern, and first, I tidied up the workshop with Monk Cheong-hwi. Only then did I read Mr. Anderson's letter and count the necessary items for the ritual.
"Dragon's Blood Incense?"
The letter included a helpful explanation.
[Dragon's Blood...]
The moment I saw the first word in English, I folded the letter neatly. What on earth does Mr. Anderson think of me, considering I struggle even with Korean? I was just about to use an AI translator on my phone.
Just then, Monk Cheong-hwi carefully picked up the letter, unfolded it, and began to read.
"It says it's the red sap of a certain tree. He mentions it's a specialty of a mystical organization extracted directly from the original source on Socotra Island, not South America, so we can trust it. He also says it might not be very spicy for Koreans, but this should be enough."
"Should I sprinkle some chili powder on it?"
"Since it's red, spicy, and intense, it should be suitable for a ritual seeking resonance with Mars. However, you must not sprinkle too much and ruin the scent of the Dragon's Blood Incense."
For a moment, thoughts of tear gas or chemical warfare training flashed through my mind, but I stopped myself.
It might be spicy and intense, but I didn't think I'd have the mental fortitude left to actually perform the ritual. I even wondered if I could wear a gas mask during the process. Since it was my first time, I figured there was no need to be too eccentric, even if I was skeptical.
After confirming the unfamiliar item known as Dragon's Blood Incense, we immediately began the preparations for the ritual.
Of course, we didn't start right away.
First, under Monk Cheong-hwi's supervision, I turned off my smartphone, blocked out the surrounding noise, and entered a meditative state of concentration. Only after some time had passed did Monk Cheong-hwi take out his phone to check the time.
"9:40 PM. The hour of Mars. Let us begin the preparations for the ritual."
Salt water.
"Since ancient times, salt has been a symbol of purification, used to drive away evil spirits and prevent decay."
Next was the meteoric iron, the core catalyst for this ritual.
It was iron from a meteorite, and the fact that Mr. Anderson gave away something that sounded so expensive showed his passion for magic. Holding the piece of iron—which was smaller than my palm but likely more expensive than my entire body—I washed it in the salt water.
"Won't this cause iron oxide? Iron rusts when it touches water."
"We will use it for the ritual before that happens, so there is no problem. Just leave it soaked in the salt water for a moment."
Listening to Monk Cheong-hwi's answer, I set the meteoric iron down in the salt water.
I started to think this man was a bit strange, but in a world where magic exists and monsters pop up, I figured nothing was too strange.
More than anything, I needed someone strange right now.
I needed someone who could guide me with eccentric logic in this mad world, rather than someone ordinary and sensible who would be of no help.
Next was the red cloth.
I spread the red cloth in the center of the room and patted it down until it was perfectly flat. I then placed the candles I'd prepared to secure the cloth, following Monk Cheong-hwi's strong advice to position them at the ends of the lines forming a grid.
"In the distant past, candlelight was humanity's only light in the dark. Thus, there was a belief that it protected us from the sinister and wicked beings lurking in the shadows. It also symbolizes the light of truth that illuminates a dark world."
As he spoke, Monk Cheong-hwi handed me a ruler and chalk to draw the grid.
"Now, draw the grid without any shaking."
"Yes, sir."
But of all things, it was a tape measure.
I had to bustle around the red cloth, carefully drawing with the chalk along the flexible tape. It would have been much easier with a rigid ruler; I wondered why he'd brought a tape measure.
Monk Cheong-hwi replied as if he understood my frustration.
"There are no rigid rulers left in the unit."
My life is just so damn miserable.
Fortunately, one thing I could brag about was my ability to draw a perfect circle without a compass. A neat, square grid was meticulously drawn onto the red cloth, with candles placed at every corner.
Click click.
Monk Cheong-hwi used a lighter to start lighting the candles, and I pulled out a spool of red thread from my supplies in the center.
"Let us weave the candles together with the red thread over the grid."
The red thread overlapped the white chalk marks on the red cloth.
"I'll prepare the incense burner. I'll bring the Dragon's Blood Incense and a tiny bit of chili powder."
The lid of the silver incense burner opened, and the Dragon's Blood resin mixed with the chili powder. I saw the charcoal-like wood be slightly dampened to hold the heat.
Then, it reached 11:00 PM.
The moment he checked the time, Monk Cheong-hwi turned off his phone again and looked down at me.
"Now, let us disassemble and reassemble the gun you brought."
"Do I have to use a new one?"
The AR-15. I was worried I might break the gun I'd spent 50 Military Notes on without even firing a single shot.
But Monk Cheong-hwi shook his head firmly.
"You could just scrub and purify it with salt water, like we did with the meteoric iron."
"I'll just use the new one."
"I will assist you with a mantra, so you must concentrate your mind as well. The success or failure of such a ritual depends entirely on the concentration of the practitioner."
I simply agreed.
I knelt down, placed the AR-15 in front of the ritual site, and began to disassemble and reassemble it.
Even as I did, I remained profoundly skeptical.
The preparations seemed professional enough, but could this really increase my Alteration-type Magic? What if magic was a system that had absolutely nothing to do with the occult?
Wouldn't it be far better to just dive into the mist and hope for a drop?
These distracting thoughts naturally slowed my hands.
After several dozen minutes had passed, I heard the voice of Monk Cheong-hwi, who had been watching in silence.
"Do you find it meaningless?"
"What?"
"Attempts to find the truth. Attempts to illuminate ignorance."
Monk Cheong-hwi gave a hollow laugh and bowed his head with his hands pressed together, then continued in a voice that had become even calmer.
"Everything depends on how a person perceives and feels, so it is only natural that a thousand different perspectives emerge from a single sight. We accept only what we see and feel as truth because we believe only in our senses; it is only when we realize that even our senses cannot be trusted that we finally ask what the truth is."
I had the illusion that an eerie chill was drifting through the ritual space.
It felt as if the surrounding temperature had dropped by about five degrees.
It was only when I noticed my breath frosting in the air that I realized it wasn't an illusion.
"As above, so below. The Buddha is within me, and the divine already dwells within me. Since there is no private distinction between sentient beings and the Buddha, this is why one practices to attain Buddhahood in this very body. If we do not seek it in this life while awaiting the next, how could we ever escape the endless cycle of samsara?"
Suddenly, the fluorescent light in the room flickered.
The precarious light flickered once more and then vanished with a pfft. In its place, the candles placed at each intersection of the red cloth's grid began to sway.
"Magic is essentially a form of ascetic practice. It was another system of meditation and training, much like that discussed in Buddhism. Just as Taoists cultivate their inner elixir to transcend the world and advocate for effortless action, the occultists of the West hoped to reach the realm of the Great Brahma, who created the world, by studying numbers and transforming matter through alchemy. Wealth and glory were never the goals, but merely by-products of the practice, yet look at the magic of today."
The red threads layered over the grid began to shimmer.
I couldn't tell if it was an optical illusion or not. At some point, I had looked away from Monk Cheong-hwi and was too busy feeling a single bead of cold sweat trickling down my neck.
"They do not question, nor do they explore. They desire power without wanting to understand it, and they claim to desire the truth without attempting to obtain it. To those who crave magic, it is nothing more than a trick to turn lead into gold or a means of slaughter to throw fireballs and kill enemies."
At that moment, a hand was placed on my shoulder.
"But Donor Baek, you are different."
Monk Cheong-hwi spoke while leaning slightly over my back, his hand still resting on my shoulder.
He said this while we looked down at the ritual site together.
"You are captivated by magic itself. Of course, you are not without worldly anxieties, but a steadfast desire to overcome even those anxieties has been carved into your soul."
Then, Monk Cheong-hwi spoke about each member of the Supreme Mages.
Pastor Park Yo-han would likely cling to his faith even if it meant ignoring the truth.
Lee Se-jun would use magic as a tool to maintain his loyalty to his country.
Shin Na-in would misinterpret magic through a lens of warped fanaticism.
Hamza had no will to refine his magic any further.
"Donor Baek, magic may be the last opportunity given to you, who lamented the possibility that an omnipotent power could vanish within a nuclear fireball. You can either grasp the mystery revealed to the world, or turn away and settle for reality."
"..."
"Unlike the mystics outside, this is a sincerity and a decision that only you, who have walked directly through the hell where monsters roam, can possess."
My hands were no longer assembling the firearm.
Instead, I was fidgeting with the Bolt Carrier Group, feeling the characteristic touch of metal warmed by body heat.
"What will you do?"
Squeeze.
I gripped the Bolt Carrier Group and thought.
For a moment, the words Pastor Park Yo-han had spoken when founding our organization, Aphorism, came to mind.
That it would end before our faith broke. That we would become the fear before fear subdued us.
We are the madness that opposes madness, the absurdity that opposes absurdity.
We march into hell before hell seeps in.
Only then did I open my mouth.
"Pastor Park seems to have noticed something a while ago. I guess that's why he feels he's someone destined for hell."
Monk Cheong-hwi let out a bitter smile and did not deny it.
I slowly set down the warmed Bolt Carrier Group and recalled past events.
The evacuation train that crashed at Suwon Station, and the outpouring of Amalgams and Predatory Spines. The Priest monster and the Geulmun Bosal monster that were resurrected. The events occurring in Seoul, the first blockade line, and the Teratoma that launched mental attacks while disguised as a human baby.
We were already in a flameless hell.
If so, why fear it, even if this were an express ticket to hell?
Besides, I wasn't even a Christian.
By their logic, non-believers go to hell anyway, so why hesitate?
"Let's begin."
***
March 21, 2028, 4:53 AM.
It was the hour of Mars before sunrise, as Monk Cheong-hwi had taught me.
I washed my face with cold water, then took out the meteoric iron that had been soaking in salt water and carefully wiped it clean.
Then, I placed it in the center cell of the 5x5 magic square, right in the middle of the ritual site.
Exactly as Monk Cheong-hwi had guided me.
"I will light the incense."
Smoke leaked from the incense burner, and a sweet, heavy scent spread. The finish was slightly pungent, like cinnamon or cloves, with a hint of chili powder mixed in.
Then, the incense smoke began to flow as if it were seeping toward the red cloth with the drawn grid.
After several dozen minutes, the smoke from the incense burner lingered over the ritual site like a cloud. It was just like the mist.
I waited in that state for a moment.
While a thrill of ecstasy surged up my spine, I looked at the red cloth beyond the disassembled firearm and twitched my fingers. The doubt of whether this would actually work still hadn't vanished.
However, thanks to Monk Cheong-hwi, who watched calmly, my agitation did not grow more than necessary.
Meditation and preparation continued for about an hour.
I took out the final item, the combat knife, and prepared to slice my right palm.
March 21, 2028, 6:33 AM.
Beep-beep-.
Monk Cheong-hwi, checking his phone at the sound of the small alarm, spoke.
"Cut your palm to draw blood, and while bleeding, grip the prepared meteoric iron. I will tell you the mantra, so just repeat after me."
"Mantra..."
"66 to create 7. 55 to complete 66. Two pairs of five fingers dreaming of 55."
"66 to create 7."
6:34 AM.
The sun began to rise.
I sliced my right palm with the combat knife.
Suddenly, the mist created by the incense smoke extinguished three candles. The melted wax and burnt wicks vanished into the misty cloud.
"55 to complete 66."
I reached out before the sensation of stinging could hit me.
The piece of iron, felt through the blood, was cold.
The blood flowing from the wound mixed with the meteoric iron, giving off a thick, metallic scent.
Then, all the candles went out.
It was at this moment that I felt the piece of iron shrinking.
But I had to recite the mantra, so I did.
"Two pairs of five fingers dreaming of 55."
With the final mantra, the hand that had been gripping the iron closed into a fist.
The piece of iron was no longer in my hand.
Instead, my fingers were pressing firmly against my bleeding palm.
At that moment, a flash of intuition hit me.
I looked at the grid drawn on the red cloth beyond the misty incense smoke. Suddenly, my mind was forcibly altered. Knowledge I had never heard of flooded the mind of Baek Jemin, a man who struggled even with a single language.
The ritual was a success.
No matter how talentless or lowly a person might be, simply performing this ritual granted them eligibility.
The moment I realized that the qualification to reach a higher mystery and greater power depended on will rather than talent.
I reached Hand Line Stage 2.
The veins in my left hand, pulsing along with my heartbeat, felt hot. It felt as if this left hand, which had been shot and burned, was finally vomiting out all the delayed after-effects.
Fortunately, it wasn't enough to make me moan, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.
I gripped my left hand and knelt there for a while, sobbing my eyes out. It was only natural, since I'd realized that when things hurt like hell, sobbing is the best remedy.
"Hehehe... hehehe... hehehe..."
Even as I cried from the pain, the opportunistic thrill of getting Hand Line Stage 2 for free made me laugh.
I was simply delighted that there was a way to pursue higher stages without fighting monsters. The euphoria of knowing this was a system reachable through human intellect, rather than some incomprehensible knowledge, was immense.
At that moment, overwhelmed with the joy of no longer wandering in the dark and finally being able to peek at the answer key.
My mind suddenly turned cold.
"Monk?"
When I looked around, every trace of another person had vanished.
I belatedly stood up, opened the workshop door, and scanned the outside. I saw soldiers beginning to move through the hallways as the sun rose. I ran up to them and asked, but they just blinked and shook their heads.
"No. I haven't seen the monk."
"I haven't either..."
Aside from their look of annoyance, they seemed to have genuinely not seen him.
Pastor Park Yo-han, who had come searching after hearing the commotion, asked urgently without even bothering to fix his slipping glasses.
"The bald monk vanished? Right after he helped your ritual and it seemed to work?"
"He disappeared while I was sobbing in pain."
"Where did he go? Did he say anything? I mean, where the hell would that monk go once he left this place!"
"That's not what's important right now, Pastor."
Seeing my serious expression, the pastor gulped and looked around with a grave face.
Only after realizing no one was around did the pastor ask cautiously.
"Baek Jemin. Do you know something?"
"There's something you need to see, Pastor."
"What? What is it?"
I led the pastor to the workshop where the ritual had been performed.
A few candles with only wax left, clouds of scented incense smoke, a clattering silver incense burner, a combat knife stained with my blood, and an unassembled AR-15...
"This is..."
I looked back at the pastor and spoke the most important part with a very serious face.
"He vanished, but we have to clean this up together. If we leave it like this, the soldiers will swear at us. For the sake of the Supreme Mages' image, how about you, as our leader, help me clean this up?"
Dammit.
You expect me to clean all this up alone? Not a chance.
I am absolutely not cleaning this alone.
End