Chapter 142: The Power of Gear

[Translator – Aren]

Just a few months ago, I was the kind of guy who sat in front of his computer until late at night and stayed there to greet the morning sun.

Me, Baek Jemin.

I was your typical unemployed bum, forcing my sleepy eyes open, stacking several crushed energy drink cans beside the keyboard, and listlessly clicking away with the mouse. Back then, I congratulated myself for finally making up for all the times I couldn’t play around as much as I wanted, but now I understand why I did it.

I hated the thought of tomorrow coming.

I was afraid another day would arrive without me making any progress or accomplishing anything, so I tried to cling to the dying remains of today. Lately, I'd been looking back at myself like this and feeling ashamed. All that time, I’d lived like a corpse that just happened to be breathing.

What mattered wasn’t my environment, but what was inside of me.

I didn’t even miss that unemployed-bum lifestyle of clicking away just to get a small dopamine hit anymore. So what if monsters came pouring out, people dropped dead, and civilians who couldn’t learn magic whined and complained?

While everyone else sobbed and bawled their eyes out, I alone was climbing the staircase of growth. That thrill of monsters and other wizards coming to test my level like strict examiners, all so I could confirm whether I’d truly grown!!

And if I killed those monsters and wizards, they even provided all kinds of benefits so I could directly see and feel my own growth!

South Korea in 2028 was a land of opportunity no one could ever have imagined. Every moment was spent eating, sleeping, shitting, waking up, and honing my abilities and skills. I didn’t want to waste that opportunity, so I tried to focus even harder.

Normally, I would’ve watched, listened, felt, and remembered everything one at a time, but I’d been spending my time so productively that I barely had any space left in my mind for what was happening around me.

June 4th.

Two people from the American occult advisory council Anderson Makenford belonged to came to visit.

One was Professor Preston-ssi, an elderly professor whose hair had thinned a little. The other was Thomas Salton-ssi, who had the well-fed look of a wealthy man. Greeting them were me, Supreme among the supreme, and the pastor, who went weak in the knees at the sight of rich people.

Anderson-ssi mediated our first meeting and introduced us to one another.

"Preston-ssi is a professor of folklore. He hasn’t learned Korean, but he’s long had an interest in Hermeticism and pursued independent research into it. He’s also highly skilled at interpreting symbols and even creates his own icons to distribute among our members.”

Professor Preston was clean-shaven and, despite not knowing any Korean, smiled warmly with his eyes and gave us a slight bow.

"Thomas Salton-ssi works in finance. To be more precise…you might call him a fund manager who hedges the various risks that unavoidably arise in a person’s life!”

"Greetings."

Thomas Salton reached into empty air and mimed taking off a hat. Judging by the hearty laugh he gave us afterward, he seemed to be the sort who lived life quite cheerfully.

The moment the pastor came face-to-face with people who looked rich and influential, his mouth split into a huge grin and practically started bowing nonstop.

"Mister Salton. Professor Preston. Naisu tu miit yuu."

"Pastor, you really love money way too much."

"Nothing is more foolish than a pastor not taking care of their money flow. It’s fine as long as the means and the ends don’t get reversed.”

Even while confronted by my sharp grumbling, the pastor remained steadfast in his faith.

Anyway, the reason they had come was clear. They wanted to investigate Alteration-type magic and determine the effects of various relics believed to possess powerful abilities.

Dogma-type wizards weren't exactly free enough to experiment with things like this, so they had withdrawn with great reluctance. Instead, people who studied the occult academically had stepped forward.

The pastor had only tagged along because he was worried about leaving me alone, and now he was over there sucking up to them.

Still, in a world without the real thing, the fakes become the real thing.

People who had spent their lives immersed in mysticism put their heads together, recited bizarre incantations, and pulled out all kinds of symbols as the verification process continued. Most of it amounted to little more than attempts to satisfy their own intellectual curiosity, but it produced useful results for me as well.

First of all, we established the precise effect of the True-Body Sarira, said to have been left behind by the Buddha.

I thought it reduced the backlash of magic, but it was far more powerful than that.

"At this rate, people are going to start racing each other for the remains of saints.”

Anderson Makenford-ssi, displaying a rare glint of greed instead of scholarly curiosity, examined the prayer beads wound around my left arm. Old Professor Preston-ssi was busy scribbling something into the notebook he had brought, while Thomas Salton-ssi rested his plump chin on one hand and sank into deep thought.

The effect justified that reaction.

Because the scene I was seeing and hearing right now was from the future.

My brain watched their lips move, figured out what they were saying, then arbitrarily added their voices and reproduced the sound as well. Instead of AI dubbing, my brain was doing the dubbing on its own.

The problem was that my Ears-branch magic had gotten stronger too, so I couldn’t tell whether this was my brain dubbing things or an actual vision of the future.

It was perfect for driving someone insane. If I ever started seeing either future visions or past memories more often than the present, my entire sense of time would probably collapse.

I had to set a limit.

Feeling that down to my bones, I decided to deactivate the magic.

Eyes-branch, Stage 1 [Cognitive Expansion] 100%.

Release.

My vision spun.

Then I heard Anderson-ssi say the exact same thing.

"At this rate, people are going to start racing each other for the remains of saints.”

I quietly stared at the prayer beads in my left hand, rolling one particular bead between my fingers. One made of smooth, glass-like stone.

The effect of the True-Body Sarira said to have come fromJogyesa Temple was [Tongue-branch, Stage 1 Substitution].

More precisely, when using low-level magic at around Stage 1, I could use it at 100% without any backlash at all. When using higher-stage magic, it reduced the backlash to some degree.

We also tested whether that effect varied depending on the individual wizard’s aptitude.

It had absorbed all of Eyes-branch, Stage 1 [Cognitive Expansion] 100% backlash, but what about Heart-branch magic?

Heart-branch, Stage 1 at 100% was [Endurance Enhancement], which was so subtle that its backlash couldn’t be immediately confirmed, so we set it aside.

Instead, we tested Stage 2 [Physical Enhancement] first.

"Swish, Swiwiwiiish!"

I flailed around really damn fast, after which my stomach immediately gowled with hunger.

Naturally, since I’d kicked the floor around 500 times in 1 minute, my legs trembled.

Still, my vision darkened slightly like I was going intohypoglycemic shock, and my stomach reacted before anything else. There was definitely an aptitude issue there as well.

It reduced it by 30%, maybe 40%, I guess?

Even so, being able to activate Eyes-branch, Stage 1, at 100% with absolutely no backlash was an incredible effect. Anderson-ssi’s expression turned serious as he flicked his index finger, clearly showing his interest.

"Mister Baek. Just now, you said something like ‘swish, swish.’ Is that some kind of incantation for mental enhancement?”

"Mister Anderson, that was just… Never mind. Yes. It’s Baek Jemin’s own sort of incantation, I suppose.”

With a sigh from the pastor, the experiments continued.

It was a bit disappointing to find out that not every True-Body Sarira had that kind of effect.

Of the 3 True-Body Sarira said to be Buddha’s relics, only 1 considered truly credible possessed that effect.

The other 2 weren’t nearly as powerful. Instead, they were identified to grant [Mental Resistance].

When they stayed near the True-Body Sarira, Anderson-ssi and his friends felt only slight dizziness when they looked at magic symbols. Since we couldn’t tell whether that was thanks to the True-Body Sarira or simply their own aptitude, we ran a test.

Professor Preston designed an experiment based on the fact that Buddhist Dogma-type magic involved mental recovery and proved the True-Body Sarira’s effect by going out into the hallway without it and immediately starting to retch the moment he looked at a magic symbol.

"Uugh, blegh…”

The sound of someone throwing up wasn’t all that different just because they came from across the ocean.

Watching the bodyguards disguised as civilian volunteers take care of Professor Preston, I silently thanked the old professor for proving it in my place.

June 5th.

That day, Shin Nain joined us along with the pastor.

"I’d already been wondering why the pastor comes along all the time, but why are you here now, Shin Nain?”

"I was inspired by the pastor’s words that a true Christian must be capable of turning even goats into sheep, so I followed him.”

"Fucking hell."

Of course, Shin Nain wasn’t the only new face.

Beside Anderson-ssi and his friends was a doctor in civilian clothes wearing a Red Cross armband, sorting through medications with hollow, sunken eyes. Anderson-ssi pointed at him and gave a thumbs-up.

"This here is Dr. Lee. He’s an Asian American medical professional who volunteered after seeing the situation on the blockade line. We only managed to get him to come after promising broader medical supplies.”

Dr. Lee inspected the disposable syringes, then looked at me, frowned hard, and clicked his tongue.

"Mr. Baek. No drug misuse. That's not negotiable."

The only thing I understood from that was “Mister Baek."

Rather than enduring the backlash from Ears-branch magic just to figure out what he meant, it was time to make use of our handy translator wizard.

"Shin Nain. What’d he say?”

"He says not to shoot up drugs. Baek Jemin-ssi, seriously, learn some English. What’s your TOEIC score?”

"700."

"With your English? Don’t lie. No matter how bad TOEIC has gotten at distinguishing ability, it hasn’t fallen that far.”

"I never took the test, so isn’t saying I got 700 basically the same as being good at English?”

"Haah……”

Shin Nain let out a sigh, put on his headset, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Baek Jemin. We call that a 0."

"I never took the test, so no one can say I got a 0. If I say I got 700, then I got 700.”

"Hah. Fine. Baek Jemin-ssi, the English genius who scored 700 without ever taking the TOEIC, is absolutely right. Happy? If you’re done with your bullshit, let's get on with the experiment.”

Even the pastor was looking at me like I was some kind of lowly insect.

That little incident aside, the reason Dr. Lee was gathering disposable syringes and all kinds of medicine bottles was because we had an important experiment to conduct.

With Anderson, Thomas, Preston, and Dr. Lee observing, we were going to determine how the Upright Tongue-branch, Stage 3 [Information Alteration], I had awakened, could actually be used.

The best example we could infer from was the eyeballs. Gangnam Thousand-Miles Eyes had been controlling at the end.

Those eyeballs, which appeared to have been turned into Cursed Objects, targeted me on their own like drones and blasted eyeball juice at incredible speeds. The part I’d caught was that they only started working after Thousand-Mile Eyes spoke.

If we wanted to determine the range and strength of Upright Tongue-branch, Stage 3 [Information Alteration], and just how horrific the price would be, this setup was essential.

Dr. Lee was medical personnel assigned to administer narcotic painkillers or emergency treatment immediately if anything serious happened. Some might think that stole one of Hamza’s chances to shine, but I think that ignores the patient’s perspective far too much.

We lived in an age where people refused treatment because they didn’t want a resident operating on them. What Korean would want medical treatment from Hamza, a Pakistani med student?

Hamza being a good teammate was one thing, but I wanted the best medical care available.

Thanks to that, the experiment to figure out Tongue-branch, Stage 3 [Information Alteration], went much more smoothly than I’d expected.

Because we had prepared thoroughly.

The Buddha’s awesome True-Body Sarira to reduce the backlash. Dr. Lee, ready to fill me up with narcotic painkillers the second it started hurting. The pastor’s Protestant Dogma-type magic [Redemptive Conviction], which made me want to call him totem, but he always got mad when I did, so I opted to call him Lucky Cross, and the carefully staged experiment Anderson and his friends had come up with.

With all those factors combined, the outline of [Information Alteration] began to emerge.

First Experiment.

Use [Information Alteration] on a pen that had run out of ink and make it keep writing.

Along with a pain like fish scales being carefully scraped off with a knife, the effect activated.

This time Thomas Salton took the pen and drew a dollar sign on a sheet of paper. The fountain pen, which had definitely been dry and leaving nothing but indentations on paper, began releasing black ink.

Everyone stared in amazement and disbelief.

"This is..."

"This is impossible. If what Mister Baek says is correct, then it can do this even without being used properly…Next. Let’s use it at 100% this time. We should document what changes as well.”

Second experiment.

Make the pen produce a different color instead of black ink.

Every time my tongue was being mangled in real time, every time my body involuntarily shuddered from the pain, a needle jabbed into my arm and steadied me again. Of course, I didn’t like it.

Human willpower was praised so highly, and yet even pain itself weakened once drugs started flowing through the bloodstream.

As someone who wanted at least human suffering to be absolute, the idea of relying on drugs didn’t sit well with me.

If humans couldn’t even suffer properly, then what the hell were we supposed to be proud of?

Even so, the experiment succeeded.

Reducing the backlash with the Buddha’s True-Body Sarira, pumping myself full of drugs, and activating Upright Tongue-branch, Stage 3 [Information Alteration] at 100% had paid off.

Thomas-ssi looked at the ink alternating through every color of the rainbow across the paper and laughed heartily as he drew a piece of cotton candy. Then he pretended to eat it, burst into tears, clapped like an innocent boy, and even gave me a thumbs-up.

The pastor just looked uncomfortable.

"Excuse me, Mister Anderson. Why is Mister Thomas suddenly…?”

"He is witnessing a spiritual mystery physically intervening in reality before his own eyes. How could he not be moved?”

Anderson-ssi wiped at his own tear-filled eyes with a finger, while old Professor Preston squeezed his eyes shut, his lips trembling with regret and joy. Looking at them now, these people’s love of magic was seriously something else.

The final, third experiment.

Could [Information Alteration] actually affect another person?

In fact, Upright Tongue-branch, Stage 3 [Information Alteration] at 100% wasn’t originally meant to affect other things. According to the knowledge I gained by destroying Gangnam Thousand-Miles Eyes’ remains, [Information Alteration] was used to brainwash, hypnotize, or alter the wizard themselves.

The backlash was depersonalization.

It meant feeling as though you were someone else…

Pretty hard to understand.

I wasn’t sure, but maybe because I’d been restricting the magic’s effect so far, I still couldn’t really tell.

There was a high chance that Thousand-Miles Eyes had tampered with the remains using [Information Alteration], and since it was certain his long-ranged killing curse had also been performed through [Information Alteration], I needed to find out what it actually felt like.

To do that, I needed to force a change obvious enough that other people would notice something was wrong.

The kind of change where 10 out of 10 people would look at me and think that I was somehow different.

After thinking it over, I decided what [Information Alteration] I would force onto myself.

"I’ve always been damn good at English. Native-level. I learned it properly, so I can speak it, understand it, and write it. I’m as good at English as I am at Korean. That’s what I’ll change.”

Everyone made a fuss over my perfect experimental design and showered me with admiration.

"Mister Baek’s experimental design is remarkable. The before-and-after difference will be obvious to anyone.”

"You can really tell Baek Jemin is giving this experiment everything he’s got. Good.”

"...Jemin-ssi is taking this so seriously. I’ll help verify it too.”

Even Shin Nain took off his headset and volunteered to serve as a witness for the experiment.

It felt great to be acknowledged, though I had no idea why part of me felt so damn irritated. Still, magical research came before personal feelings. I took a deep breath and pushed ahead with the final experiment.

Upright Tounge-branch, Stage 3 [Information Alteration] 100%.

I, Baek Jemin, am as good at English as I am at Korean.

The instant I did, an overwhelming ringing filled my ear.

-Kiiiiing—.

It sounded like an iron plate being scraped hard with a steel spike. Just hearing it sent chills through my body, enough to make my whole body twist. In an instant, the metallic stench of blood flooded my nose, and I felt as though the moment I opened my mouth, cold, molten metal would slide down my throat.

Standing right beside someone grinding a rusty steel spike across an iron plate would’ve been better than this.

The metallic stench, the scraping metal, the horrible ringing echoing from somewhere deep inside my brain……

A groan squeezed its way up from my lung.

This… This was a different kind of pain.

There wasn’t even any direct physical pain, and it wasn't trauma either, but I’d rather spend the rest of my life on the bottom floor of an apartment with around-the-clock noisy upstairs neighbors.

The metallic stench was so foul and overpowering, the taste of blood kept circling over the tip of my tongue, and the ringing inside my skull tore through my eardrums so relentlessly that sight and touch felt meaningless. It stole every last bit of attention a human being could possibly spare.

I’d rather get stabbed than live like this.

But then a horrifying thought crept into me.

Even while thrashing around, trapped by that metallic stench, the taste of blood, and the ringing, the fear I felt was perfectly clear.

What if…

What if I got stabbed and couldn’t feel it?

-Kiiiiiiing—.

......

Little by little, my vision came back.

Everything was spinning, so I just closed my eyes.

-Huff, huff, huff…

My breathing was ragged.

I was breathing harder now than after sprinting for 30 minutes straight in a gas mask. I sniffed desperately, wanting to smell even raw rubber, but my broken brain still registered nothing except that metallic stench. In the end, I numbed my sense of smell by taking short, rapid breaths.

-Ziiiing……

The ringing was subsiding, but it was still there.

Was this really what they called depersonalization?

Not being able to feel yourself as yourself?

Bullshit.

It was more like the exact opposite. My senses came crashing in so intensely that I was overwhelmed by them, making my mind go completely white.

To kill people one by one with this, like Gangnam Thousand-Miles Eyes had, you’d need some kind of anchor. A psychological anchor like ‘Even if I lose absolutely everything else, I will protect this one thing no matter what’ would be absolutely necessary to endure this backlash.

As my senses slowly returned, my sense of touch recovered enough for me to realize my forehead was soaked. Only then did my thoughts begin to fall back into place.

I think I understood now why Gangnam Thousand-Miles Eyes mutilated his face.

The stage of confirming your identity through pain.

He acted that way because he was certain that only hatred and burning pain could keep him anchored to himself.

Eventually, as my rampaging senses began settling down one by one, voices came through clearly.

"The worst of it is over. There were no signs of shock caused by pain.”

"Anderson. I’m glad Command won’t have anything to complain about.”

"Mister Baek’s magical accomplishments are overwhelming. His knowledge and understanding may lag behind, but he possesses an innate spiritual intuition. Or madness. Either way, he isn’t someone who would collapse easily here.”

"I’ve been reviewing the materials we requested regarding Mister Baek’s family tree and whether he has had any spiritual experiences. According to the Easter superstitious tradition known as the Four Pillars of Destiny, there does seem to be a certain mystical element surrounding his birth. However, it appears limited to Hermetic astrology and the zodiac, and it’s clear that he doesn’t possess a magical bloodline. It seems the Self-Alteration-type magic system really is open to everyone.”

Haah~ who the hell was spouting all this boring, pretentious crap while I was out of it?

Unable to take it anymore, I opened my mouth with my eyes still closed.

"Shin Nain, Pastor. Using big words doesn’t make you sound smart, so quit taking shots at me.”

At that moment, everyone immediately fell silent.

The silence dragged on for a moment, probably because I’d just hit a nerve or something.

Tsk. Talking behind someone’s back was already bad enough, but these guys were talking shit right in front of me.

I was still shaking my head in disbelief with my eyes closed, when…

"Jemin-ssi. That wasn’t us. More importantly, did you just say that in English?”

"What are you talking about? Who else here speaks a language I can understand besides you, the pastor, and Anderson-ssi?”

Our kind-hearted sponsor, Anderson-ssi, would never talk shit about me to my face, so by process of elimination, that left Shin Nain and the pastor.

Apparently even Shin Nain couldn’t argue with my brilliant deduction, seeing that he went completely silent.

"Baek Jemin. Shin Nain just said that in English.”

"No, he was speaking perfectly normal Korean just now. What are you…”

"No. Baek Jemin-ssi, you are currently freely switching between English and Korean.”

That was… Anderson-ssi’s voice…

If our sponsor Anderson-ssi, who praised me, acknowledged me, and respected me, said it, then I could trust him.

Something had clearly happened.

I cracked my left eye open and looked around.

Everyone was staring at me with their eyes wide in disbelief. We couldn’t just sit around wasting time, so we needed a test.

"Pastor. Say something in Korean."

"Baek Jemin, are you okay? How was the backlash?”

"Fucking awful. Next. Any native English speaker.”

Thomas Salton-ssi, who had been watching me with interest, immediately brightened up and spoke.

"Baek-ssi. Can you understand me? Have you considered purchasing insurance?”

"No. I haven’t."

Crossing a line there, buddy.

I gave him a flat, firm refusal, to which Thomas-ssi’s eyes went round before he clapped his hands together, his jaw dropped.

"It’s real. This guy couldn’t understand a word until just now!”

"Magic…If you can endure the price, this power would be tremendous.”

"Professor Preston, Thomas! We did it! Our investment paid off!”

Anderson and his friends hugged each other and sobbed.

Seeing that, I instinctively covered my mouth with one hand and opened my eyes wide.

Holy shit. Damn.

Naturally, I turned toward Shin Nain.

"Hey. Shin Nain. How hard did you work to learn English?”

“...”

"You should’ve invested in magic like me instead of wasting time on useless vocabulary books.”

Shin Nain put on his headset, turned away, and gave a short reply.

"O Lord, grant me patience.”

June 8th.

That day, Anderson-ssi and his friends returned home with the results they had obtained and the remains allocated to them by Command.

I met Anderson-ssi separately the day before he left, and we even shook hands.

"Mister Baek. We’ll make sure to profit from this ourselves. May the friendship between you and us last forever. Please remember that our relationship has always been friendly and mutually cooperative.”

"Don’t worry. You too, stay healthy, Anderson-ssi. I’ll give you my parents’ number, so if you can look after them, please do.”

"Of course, Mister Baek. Please never forget that the people who were unable to learn magic see you as a hero.”

It was great being able to get around without needing a translator wizard anymore.

Of course, [Information Alteration] had a fatal drawback.

It became impossible to use other magic at 100% through Tongue-branch, Stage 1 [Degradation].

Even if I tried using another spell at 100%, it wouldn’t activate. I didn’t even get the pain of having my tongue sliced into strips.

Normally, I should’ve continued suffering from depersonalization, but there was also the theory that I was only enduring it thanks to that awesome True-Body Sarira. It seemed to prioritize absorbing the backlash from [Information Alteration] over the backlash from other magic.

The reason it was only a theory was because I didn’t want to test it.

I was convinced the backlash from [Information Alteration] would come crashing down on me if I took off the True-Body Sarira prayer beads, so why the hell would I?

It felt like I was a walking corpse, with all my body’s senses scrambled up.

Living while taking the full backlash from [Information Alteration] would be no different from throwing myself into a furnace.

But when would I ever need to use Tongue-branch, Stage 1, in everyday life anyway?

Normally, I could just enjoy life as an English-speaking genius with Tongue-branch, Stage 3 [Information Alteration].

So after seeing Anderson-ssi and his friends off, figuring out the effects of the True-Body Sarira and Tongue-branch Stage 3’s magic, I returned to my everyday routine.

June 11th.

I was finally getting completely used to having only one eye, so I decided to stop by the MPC shop to get myself a badass custom eyepatch.

Fighting with one eye had to feel different from fighting with both eyes intact. I walked along the road, figuring I could get some combat training again, check how my magic worked, and spend some time testing my physical movements.

I ran into Lee Sejun in front of the MPC shop.

He looked like he'd just finished working out. He was sitting on a bench, sweating a ton while eating a popsicle. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen this bastard around the barracks either.

As the Great Archmage and undisputed leader of the Supreme Archmages, I had a duty to look after my comrades and keep them from going astray, so since I had some time, I walked over.

"Sejun. What’re you doing? You haven’t even been showing up to study the occult with Anderson-ssi.”

"Jemin-ssi. If you're just here to talk shit, then go away.”

"Ah, seriously, I’m not. I won’t tell you to fetch me water either, so tell me what you’ve been doing lately. What about Hamza? Why have neither of you been around much lately?”

Lee Sejun answered while gnawing on his popsicle stick.

He clearly didn’t want to tell me, but his expressions said he was willing to fall for it just this once.

"I’m not telling you.”

"Crazy bastard.”

Fine. Don’t tell me then.

Just as I was about to turn away too, someone who really didn’t seem like they belonged in a US military camp came running over from a distance.

"Sejun-ssi! I brought the Muslim guy~. Huh? Hubae-nim?”

Go Ryeoha came running over with Hamza slung over her shoulder.

Hamza seemed to have already given up resisting and hung limp like a dried fish, but when he saw me, he tried to reach out as though he’d found one last shred of hope.

"J-Jemin-ssi.”

"Hubae-nim! What are you doing here? You looked like you’ve been really busy lately!”

"Sejun looks like the busy one to me.”

I said it while glancing at Lee Sejun. He stopped chewing on his popsicle stick and clicked his tongue.

"Tsk."

"We’re planning to deploy separately as a three-person team. We’re going with either the pastor or the Muslim guy—”

"Planning to?”

As far as I knew, the first UN troop deployment was on June 13th. I wondered whether there would even be somewhere we could jump straight into once the blockade line stabilized.

At least, until Hamza let his arms flop around and started whining in a crying voice.

"C-Command says they’re going to conduct subway reconnaissance and exploration to assess the danger underground…”

"Ah, fuck. Those Seoul bastards must really be whining their asses off about there being something wrong with the subway.”

"They also want to determine whether the civilians who testified were brainwashed through magic or some other powerful method, but since multiple people independently agreed that the underground is dangerous, they’re apparently going to deploy civilian Operators and troops…”

With everything blowing up around us, a train could derail or roll somewhere. I couldn’t believe they were actually taking that bullshit about the subway lines being off spouted by some people who’d even been suspicious of the monsters or the blockade and were probably just trying to get themselves immunity or something seriously.

Just how paranoid were those American generals?

If they were going to listen to every Seoul bastard whining, they might as well lift the blockade while they were at it, seriously.

Still. It wasn’t like the American generals were bad people. They were cultured men who knew how to respect me.

I could understand.

They probably just needed some justification for exploring Seoul.

"Haah. Fine. So you guys are going too?”

"I’m not letting you hog all the experience points, Jemin-ssi.”

-Crack!

Lee Sejun bit the stick in half, shot up to his feet, and moved over to stand beside Go Ryeoha.

"I’m not interested in the occult, and I have no talent for learning it, so even when I listen in on that kind of talk, I would have no idea what anyone’s even talking about. Instead of sitting behind a desk, I’d rather raise my level faster by getting out there, moving my body, and killing monsters. Please, Ryeoha-ssi. No…”

Then with a humble attitude I never could have imagined from him, he sharply bent at the waist in a perfect 90° bow.

To none other than Go Ryeoha!

"Master!"

"Ahaha~. I guess that makes Hubae-nim the senior disciple now, huh? And now you’ve got Sejun-ssi as your junior disciple!”

-Grrrrk.

This time, this was me.

I clenched my teeth hard.

I knew exactly where Lee Sejun’s drive to improve himself came from, and I couldn’t suppress my disgust. And now, of all people, he’d gone and made Go Ryeoha his master… Even if it was nothing but an empty facade, just being lumped together with Lee Sejun as senior and junior disciples was humiliating.

I glared at Lee Sejun with blazing eyes, but he stared right back without caring.

"Jemin-ssi. I’m going to raise my level too and achieve my dream.”

"Please…Just live your life. Captain Korea suits you perfectly!”

"No! I refuse to accept that. Never! I’ll defy this heaven-sent curse!

Lee Sejun turned away proudly. Hamza was still hanging over Go Ryeoha’s shoulder like a dried fish. Even with him slung over her, Go Ryeoha showed no sign of fatigue as she beamed and waved me goodbye.

"We’ll go for a run first, Hubae.nim!”

"Aah… Please…”

Watching Hamza get carried away without even having the strength to scream, I couldn’t hide my sorrow.

Sorry, Hamza.

But I don’t want to deal with that myself.

In the end, there was only one thing I could do.

I entered the MPC shop where a clerk worked, thinking as I felt the sound of my combat boots striking the tiles beneath me.

Setting Command’s paranoia and the whining of those Seoul bastards aside, something was clearly going on underground.

So whether it was monsters or something else, there had to be something down there. Besides, if I wanted to find traces of the 66 Society, I had no choice but to head underground.

When I stole memories from those remains, I saw moments when both the Gangnam group and Father Kang Peter had operated around subway stations.

At that moment, my next destination was already decided.

Of course, underground passages weren’t exactly pleasant places.

Ever since 2028 began, I've had nothing but bad memories of subway stations and underground passages.

Still.

A single candle can give a person the strength to endure the night.

My candle is magic.

And if my candle is burning all alone on some dark subway track, I’ll claim it with these hands.