Like a Moth to a Flame
Song Gwang-sik, the Chusal Daeju of the Namgung Clan.
Currently observing Ilyang from a distance under his disguise as Jang Geoi, the Bright Moon Sword's reaction was swift.
'I've caught the tail of the Mansi Sect!'
This was a monumental achievement.
He immediately dispatched a message to the Namgung Clan.
Fortunately, a Namgung branch office was not very far from here.
"What should we do?"
"About what?"
"Shouldn't we intervene?"
"Just the two of us?"
"Those guys are going to die."
The Chusal Squad's Vice-Leader, Na Han-il, could not hide his pity as he watched the fleeing vagabonds from afar.
Song Gwang-sik let out a dry chuckle at his subordinate's expression.
It was a cold, hollow sound.
"If they die, it can't be helped."
If they interfered now, the Mansi Sect might pack up their operations and vanish entirely.
'We can't let that happen.'
It was unfortunate, but it was better for the vagabonds to be captured and killed here.
Or so he thought.
But then, the situation began to take an unexpected turn.
"Huh?"
Though they neither expected nor desired it, the four fleeing vagabonds each possessed a decent trick up their sleeves.
Throwing everything they had into the fight, they pulled off the unthinkable.
They actually managed to escape the Mansi Sect's puppet.
"...Well, that's a surprise."
"Indeed, sir."
Leaving the burning puppet behind, the vagabonds gritted their teeth and sprinted, finally reaching the main road and shaking off their pursuers.
"...It hurts... Si-woo hurts so much... Sister! Sister, where are you..."
Even as it crumbled into charcoal, the wooden puppet flailed its severed arm, presenting a deeply grotesque and unsettling sight.
"...How long until the experts from the branch office arrive?"
"We sent word via messenger eagle, so they should be here in about two days."
"That's too late."
Song Gwang-sik, the Bright Moon Sword, felt a deep pang of frustration.
Things were getting complicated.
It might sound cold-blooded, but it would have been better if the vagabonds had been captured by that bizarre puppet.
But now that they had successfully escaped...
'The Mansi Sect bastards will pack up and run again.'
If they did, all their efforts would go down the drain.
He had to prepare for the worst-case scenario.
Song Gwang-sik scratched the back of his head in irritation, looking at his Vice-Leader, Na Han-il, with a hollow expression.
"Is our retreat path secured?"
"Yes. I've already deployed our men."
"...Since things have turned out this way, tell them to be ready to intervene at a moment's notice."
"Understood."
This was becoming a massive headache.
He had no intention of getting directly involved.
He wanted to delay their intervention until the absolute last second.
'But we have to hold them here somehow.'
Should he scatter the Thousand-Mile Tracking Scent now?
But relying solely on that had backfired more than once.
Yet, intervening directly would skyrocket the danger level.
He estimated that the Mansi Sect expert currently stationed here was at least a Squad Leader-level master.
Otherwise, why would they openly return to a base that had already been ransacked by the Cheonhyeol Sect?
'How many Blood Jiangshis have they mobilized?'
There was no way to tell.
The burning puppet before them was only at the level of a peak master, which was manageable.
But if there were two or more Blood Jiangshis...
To hell with the mission; fleeing would be the only logical choice.
'No, wait. Should we retreat right now?'
Retreat, when they finally had the enemy's tail in their grasp?
Give up just like this?
Song Gwang-sik's mind was a tangled mess of conflicting thoughts.
Then, a sudden thought struck him.
His mind drifted to the boy they were originally supposed to monitor—Ilyang.
'What on earth was that kid thinking, coming back here?'
At first, Song Gwang-sik had suspected Ilyang was in league with the Mansi Sect.
But what happened?
The boy had let himself be kidnapped by the Mansi Sect's lackeys without putting up a fight.
From that point on, nothing had gone according to expectations.
'What a pain. I need to know if he's an ally or an enemy.'
If he was an ally, things might actually resolve quite easily.
But if he was an enemy?
'Even if all the experts from the branch office gather, we won't be guaranteed a victory.'
Unless one of the clan elders personally graced them with their presence.
Their plans were unraveling in the most unexpected ways.
Just then—
"Is this your doing?"
"...!"
A woman's voice suddenly rang out.
In an instant, every hair on Song Gwang-sik's body stood on end.
A magic circle.
What was known as a "magic circle" in the lower dimensions.
It was, in essence, an act of drawing a boundary.
When drawing a magic circle, one clearly defined the boundary between the inside and the outside, and then used the language of the world—runes—to intentionally warp the laws of reality.
'This is the absolute basic principle.'
The higher one's mastery of magic ascended, and the deeper one's understanding of the runic language grew, the more simplified and compact the magic circle became, while its destructive power only amplified.
Gauging a mage's skill by their magic circles was incredibly straightforward.
A mage's capability was judged solely by how simple they could make the circle while maximizing its output.
In the lower dimensions, Ilyang had defined this process of simplification as "compressing" the magic circle.
By that standard, the magic circle before his eyes was exceedingly crude and primitive.
'But it's a dangerous kind.'
The moment he stepped cautiously into the corridor with the children, the first thing that caught his eye was a massive, intricate magic circle drawn just outside the stone door of their cell.
He had felt it even while locked inside—the flow of mana was unstable and deeply unsettling.
Now, the reason was clear.
'This is a type of mind-control magic.'
Because the runes were so primitive, he couldn't translate them precisely, but he could perfectly read the flow of mana coursing through the entire array.
It was undoubtedly a spell that directly interfered with the mind.
Mind-control magic was strictly forbidden in the lower dimension Ilyang hailed from.
After all, it belonged to the school of black magic, which was the specialty of demons.
'They intend to manipulate the sacrifices' minds to make them offer themselves up willingly.'
The magic circle's efficacy seemed far too weak for such a feat, but this world possessed many unique drugs and poisons that Ilyang had yet to fully analyze.
With the aid of such substances, complete mind control might indeed be possible.
'However...'
Even if they could force voluntary human sacrifices, unless the recipient of the offering was on the level of a Demon King, this kind of sacrifice yielded incredibly poor returns compared to the resources invested.
'Or is it that human souls aren't valued very highly in this world?'
While Ilyang stood lost in thought staring at the magic circle, the children stood awkwardly in the corridor, hovering around him.
Growl—
The sudden sound of a rumbling stomach snapped Ilyang out of his thoughts, and he turned his head.
"Ahem! That was an involuntary reaction, completely independent of my will. C-carry on with what you were doing."
Because Ilyang had been examining the patterns on the door with such a grave expression, An Won-myeong awkwardly averted his gaze, feeling self-conscious.
Ilyang was still drenched in blood, which meant An Won-myeong was still utterly terrified of him.
"Not at all, Young Master. Escaping this place comes first."
"Right?"
"Yes, let us go."
With those words, Ilyang took the lead.
Since he had already secured his target, it seemed wiser to slip away rather than clash head-on with the Mansi Sect.
As they made their way out,
'Based on the layout of this building, the place I escaped from before seems to be the back exit.'
After a moment's deliberation, Ilyang stared toward the main entrance.
Normally, that direction would be heavily rigged with all kinds of traps.
'Let's head toward the back exit.'
This was a purely impulsive decision, but in hindsight, it proved to be an excellent choice.
'...No resistance whatsoever?'
Honestly, he had prepared himself to encounter at least a few traps or guards, but surprisingly, they reached the back exit without a single hindrance.
'What is going on?'
The children had been trembling, terrified that something would leap out of the rooms lining the corridor to attack them, but there was no sign of any threat.
'How fortunate.'
Had he been alone, he was confident he could escape regardless of the opposition.
But now, Ilyang had about eighty children tagging along as extra baggage.
He wanted to avoid any confrontation if possible, so this was a welcome turn of events.
"Oh! We're outside!"
"Whoaaaa!"
The eighty children gasped in unison, drinking in the fresh air.
Though the landscape was a desolate expanse of jagged rocks and barren mountains, An Won-myeong and the other children were simply overjoyed to be free.
Ilyang felt the same.
'Now, we just need to slip away like this and... Huh?'
Thrum—
As Ilyang was guiding the children through the rocky valley, he suddenly whipped his head around at a vibration of mana that rippled through the atmosphere.
'This is...?'
His pupils dilated, and the blood rushed through his veins.
He was certain.
This was magic.
And a large-scale spell cast by at least a mid-tier mage, at that.
A brilliant light flashed in Ilyang's eyes.
'This one is the real deal.'
'Do they call them Cultivators or Spellcasters in this world?'
The title didn't particularly matter.
Ilyang felt his head spin at the terrifying, vivid resonance that made the very air tremble.
'It's dangerous.'
'If I cross paths with them, I'll likely die.'
A wave of this magnitude was at least a 4th-circle spell.
The 4th circle was the threshold where mages broke out of their shells and truly began to forge their own paths.
Consequently, an intense, insatiable curiosity flared within him.
'How do the mages of this world perceive magic?'
'What kind of spell is that?'
'Is it worth risking my life to find out?'
His hesitation was brief.
"Young Master. If you follow that path over there, you will find a side trail used by herb gatherers. Follow it down the mountain."
"Huh? What about you? Aren't you coming with us?"
Ilyang glanced at the sniffing An Won-myeong, then fixed his gaze back toward the south as he replied.
He was too lazy to give a lengthy explanation.
So, he lied.
"There is a pursuer."
"What?! Really?! Where?! Are they over there?!"
Stark terror painted An Won-myeong's chubby face as he panicked.
The children around him also began looking around in fright.
"They are still some distance away, but someone must act as a decoy here."
"T-then..."
Ilyang did his best to plaster a solemn, tragic expression on his face.
"Do not worry about me, Young Master. Please, run."
"You..."
For a brief moment, An Won-myeong felt a surge of emotion.
But he immediately nodded with shameless resolve, his chubby face tightening.
"Right. I'm counting on you, then!"
Despite his heavy build, An Won-myeong moved faster than anyone else, shoving aside the children blocking his path as he bolted forward.
"Out of the way! Move, you brats!"
He scrambled down the dried-up creek bed Ilyang had pointed out.
A few children hesitated, looking back at Ilyang who had volunteered to be the decoy,
But when a massive explosion that anyone could feel echoed from the distance, they all screamed and scrambled down the mountain.
Once the nuisances had cleared out, Ilyang let his rigid expression melt away and stroked his lips.
"Ah, I really can't help myself."
Knowing that obvious danger lay ahead, he simply could not resist.
Ilyang was a mage.
And from the very beginning, mages were a hopeless lot, with something vital deeply broken inside their heads.
"Ahahaha!"
Feeling the mana raging wildly in the air, Ilyang felt his heart race for the first time in ages.
How could he even describe this feeling?
Inhaling the vivid scent of magic for the first time since arriving in this world, Ilyang's face flushed with ecstatic delight, looking like a teenager gripped by the fever of his first love.
'I'm practically salivating.'
Death?
Fear?
Such things meant absolutely nothing in the face of new knowledge.
The closer he drew to the source, the more he could feel the astonishingly volatile shifts in the flow of mana.
'To manipulate magic in such an unorthodox manner...'
'Just what kind of magic is this?'
Ilyang didn't care in the slightest about the danger that might befall him.
He was half-crazed, consumed entirely by the prospect of encountering a new form of magic.
If he could only lay his eyes on a new spell, his own life was a trivial price to pay.
And so, a lunatic with a screw loose charged toward his demise like a moth to a flame.