The Harvest of Fools
The warrior had the appearance of a perfectly trained specimen. His muscles swelled impressively, thick veins stood out along his powerful arms, and he carried a wooden sword that carried the faint scent of citron wood. Yet there was something oddly off about his features, as if he were not entirely Korean.
“Hmph. Did you cross the sea by ship, or is it mixed blood?”
The man offered no reply to Jinseong’s question. Instead, he gripped the wooden sword with both hands and assumed a stance. His eyes gleamed with murderous intent, locked squarely on Jinseong, while a faint bluish light began to gather along the blade.
“Oh. So it’s not ki, but Mana.”
It was not the colorless natural energy known as ki, but the violent power called Mana. Unlike ki, Mana offered lower training efficiency, yet it possessed the advantage of growing by stealing strength from others. It was also the primary energy source used in sorcery that combined with Taboo.
Jinseong’s eyes sparkled with sudden interest upon seeing the warrior wield a power tied to sorcery. The man flinched visibly at that gaze, then bit down hard on his lip until it bled.
“You… you disgusting sorcerer monk.”
His speech was markedly different from that of a native Korean. It was clumsy Korean laced with a Japanese accent, and the expressions he used were ones rarely heard in Korea.
“Hmph. Sorcerer monk, you say?”
The warrior’s neck bulged with veins as he shouted.
“Just what reason could you possibly have for doing something like this!”
His face, twisted with raw injustice, was thick with both rage and sorrow. Yet Jinseong simply asked in return.
“Does the reason matter?”
Attacking and being attacked—what importance could the reason hold? An attack could come without any reason at all, and one could launch an attack for no reason whatsoever. It was no different from bugs swarming toward a campfire while one was simply trying to rest. Annoying and irritating, certainly, but nothing particularly special.
“I’m far more interested in that Mana of yours. Do you manifest your swordsmanship through Mana? Or does your martial art contain elements of sorcery?”
Was there reinforcement of Mana through Taboo? How efficient was energy absorption via Mana? Was there any difference between Mana manifested through martial arts and Mana manifested through sorcery? And if the difference was negligible, could one practice both sorcery and martial arts simultaneously using Mana as the energy source?
Jinseong continued firing questions at the warrior, who was barely keeping himself upright. The man’s teeth ground audibly.
And as he asked, Jinseong slowly—ever so slowly—began to straighten his back. His bent legs extended into a straight line. The deathly pale skin, white as plaster, gradually regained a hint of vitality. Cracks like a spiderweb spread across the glossy surface of his armor. The severely hunched back, which had protruded like a hump, slowly drew inward. By the time the hunchback had transformed into an ordinary man, Jinseong posed his final question.
“As a hostage, as an object of trade—do you hold any value?”
The warrior’s face twisted violently at the question. He spat out two words like venom.
“Die, you bastard!”
The Mana within the wooden sword vibrated violently, resonating with the warrior’s emotions and radiating killing intent.
The warrior took a powerful step forward and charged at Jinseong.
“Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”
He raised the wooden sword high overhead as if announcing the coming downward strike. The grotesque battle cry combined with his explosive sprint created a truly menacing sight.
Jinseong watched the warrior rush forward with the clear intent of splitting him vertically in two.
“Hūm.”
He activated the Shrinking Ground technique.
A warrior is strong.
A warrior who has reached a high realm can slice a tank in half with an ordinary blade and shatter even the sturdiest magical barriers created by mages as easily as glass. Moreover, their reaction speed and muscles, trained to the absolute limit, allow them to slice time itself into fragments, granting explosive bursts of power in short engagements. On top of that, their well-honed bodies enable them to endure prolonged battles without difficulty. They are, without exaggeration, true combat specialists.
Yes. Warriors are strong.
Merely in close quarters.
“Om gam ganapataye namaha.”
There is nothing more foolish than pitting one’s weakness against the opponent’s strength. Warriors excel at close range, while sorcerers dominate from afar.
“Like attracts like. Cat’s-eye stone resembles a cat’s eye, therefore they shall resemble each other.”
Thus, Jinseong wisely chose to strike the opponent’s weakness with his own strength. After all, there is no more entertaining fight than one where he strikes freely while the opponent can only endure helplessly.
He cast a spell that linked the cat’s-eye stone with the eyes of the decapitated cat, allowing him to see through its severed head.
“Where are you! You cowardly sorcerer monk! Show yourself at once!”
From far away came the warrior’s thunderous roar. Through the low vantage point of the spell, Jinseong saw the corridor he had just been standing in. The hallway was littered with headless corpses. The warrior staggered about, blood dripping from his mouth, swinging his wooden sword in a frenzy. Convinced that Jinseong had hidden himself somewhere using sorcery, the man refused to lower his guard and continued bellowing at the top of his lungs.
On the opposite side of the warrior stood a muscular man with a completely vacant expression, as if his soul had been stolen. Jinseong looked at him and began chanting a curse.
“Roots and stems are originally connected. Even when seeds are sown, they belong to a single lineage. Though they may appear separate, their causality remains intricately intertwined.”
Along with the incantation, the sorcery transcended space and began to move. The ashes of the hair that had earlier burrowed into the man’s stomach reformed into a single thread. That thread fused with the Toxoplasma already inside the man’s body, wriggling like a snake—or a long, slender worm—swimming across the surface of his skin.
The sight resembled a serpent made of shadow twisting beneath the flesh. It was eerie enough to send chills down anyone’s spine. Unfortunately, the only one witnessing this grotesque scene was Jinseong.
The man had lost his mind to the hallucinations created by the Toxoplasma, and the warrior was too preoccupied with guarding against Jinseong to pay any attention to the motionless figure standing on the opposite side of the corridor.
Within that strange indifference, the shadow serpent reached the man’s face.
Jinseong asked a question.
“Fool. Ignorant one. Have you come to realize and believe in the truth?”
Though the sound could not reach him, the question was transmitted through the worm that had burrowed into his body. The shadow serpent forcibly moved the lips of the man who had lost his thoughts, forming four characters.
“I believe.”
The moment those words left his mouth, the sorcery Jinseong had planted in the man earlier detonated.
The sorcery that had been dormant inside the man erupted violently.
Sweat.
The droplets of sweat the man had shed were dotted with tiny white grains. At first glance they looked like salt left behind as sweat dried, but these grains appeared on every part of his body where he had perspired, growing larger and larger. Then, with a sound too high for human ears to perceive, they split open and burst apart. From within emerged countless insects.
Winged creatures. They resembled mayflies at first glance, yet they were extremely small. Every time their wings fluttered, they produced a piercing sound that stabbed at the ears. In unison, they flew toward the corridor ceiling, gathering into a swarm that formed a black mist.
“From sweat, insects shall be born.”
The moment he activated the sorcery he had planted in its dormant state, Jinseong felt his life force drain away. His vitality was consumed in proportion to the number of insects created. However, since the spell’s only purpose was to generate insects, the cost ended at his skin turning dry and rough and his hair becoming brittle.
Merely creating insects.
Yet depending on the situation, those insects could display the utmost effectiveness. For example, when simply waiting would eventually kill the opponent, there was nothing more efficient than summoning a swarm of insects to buy time. Moreover, it was the perfect way to force the enemy into a hellish dilemma.
If the opponent decided to ignore the swarm thinking it was merely a stalling tactic, Jinseong could simply imbue the insects with lethal sorcery.
‘It would have been perfect if I had obtained protozoa like malaria in advance.’
Unfortunately, he still could not grant them lethal power. To use the sorcery that would grant the killing force he desired, specific materials were required—materials that could only be obtained by traveling to remote, isolated regions.
Therefore, Jinseong chose another method to subdue the warrior.
“Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth.”
The moment Jinseong chanted the curse, a white powder burst forth from the decapitated cat’s body like spores, filling the entire corridor. The white dust naturally entered the warrior’s respiratory system and began to dye his lungs pure white.
The warrior panicked when the corridor turned white and tried to escape outside, but the swarm of winged insects executed a brilliant disruption operation. They flew into the man’s eyes, nose, and mouth, covered his vision, and blocked the corridor walls, doors, and windows, buying precious time.
Eventually, the warrior fell to his knees on the floor.
“So he wasn’t a particularly strong warrior after all. Tsk tsk. A true warrior could endure three full days and nights even after being infected by all manner of diseases and sorcery.”
Jinseong quietly observed the scene through the cat’s eyes. He watched as the warrior, unable to breathe properly because the mold had dyed his entire lungs white, gasped desperately for air. He watched the man’s muscles convulse, his eyes roll back. He continued watching, without pause, until the warrior finally collapsed to the floor and lost consciousness.