Chapter 106
After the ranking match ended, Woojin was summoned for a private interview with a priest.
That was only natural. What he had done defied ordinary logic.
No. 209 and No. 110 had been powerful believers—combatants possessing valuable abilities. Yet both had been subdued almost helplessly, unable to properly demonstrate their strengths.
“How were you able to accomplish such a thing?”
When the priest conducting the interview asked, Woojin answered without much hesitation.
“The answer lies within your question, Priest.”
“…What do you mean?”
“They were subdued without resistance because I made sure they couldn’t do anything.”
Both believers had possessed formidable abilities.
Woojin had been fully aware of that. So he struck decisively and quickly, preventing them from bringing out their true power.
That approach had succeeded this time. But if they were to fight again under different circumstances, he could not guarantee victory.
“Now that they’ve learned from this, they’ll approach their duels more cautiously.”
He presented it as a lesson.
The priest folded his arms and considered the explanation before nodding. There was little he could contest.
Woojin had used almost none of his own special abilities. He had defeated both opponents through close-quarters combat alone.
No. 209 had charged recklessly and been felled in a single exchange. No. 110 had grown careless, speaking mid-battle before being headbutted into unconsciousness. It wasn’t a matter of physical capability—it was a deficiency of mindset.
“I’ll send those two to the disciplinary chamber for some mental re-education. Thank you for your cooperation.”
With that, the priest gestured toward the door in dismissal. Woojin bowed slightly and withdrew.
As he walked at a leisurely pace, he reviewed the day’s battles in his mind.
‘…Did I move too quickly?’
In half a day, he had risen from No. 308 to No. 110. Such a drastic leap in rank was bound to attract attention.
But he had anticipated that.
He had no desire to linger in this wretched place. Even if it drew eyes, he wanted to finish what he came for as swiftly as possible.
So, one week later—
He entered the ranking match once again and raised his standing even further.
No. 42.
His rank had become two digits.
No. 42 had been far more skilled than his previous opponents, so this time Woojin deliberately took a few blows, making the fight appear close and hard-fought.
From an observer’s perspective, it had been a razor-thin victory. As a result, the priest did not summon him for a separate interview afterward.
‘Fortunately, they don’t seem suspicious.’
The dark-side priests did not deeply question him. There had been a few interrogations, but since Woojin carried the memories of a dark-side priest, he could answer any question smoothly and convincingly.
And this was the deep interior of the demonic realm.
An outsider infiltrating such a remote region was virtually impossible. The high priest and others regarded Woojin simply as a rising rookie.
‘Still, I should stop participating in ranking matches for now.’
He had drawn enough attention.
Now that he had secured a sufficiently high position, it was wiser to observe quietly rather than stir things further. With that judgment, Woojin ceased entering ranking matches.
With a two-digit rank came numerous benefits. He was exempt from menial labor, received better meals and lodging, and was granted access to areas that handled sensitive information.
‘The Record Hall of the Gatekeepers.’
A repository containing reports, secret correspondences, and various documents written by the dark-side priests. Lower-ranked believers were forbidden from entering.
This was what he had truly aimed for.
‘Where did I put the brooch…?’
He rummaged through his robe.
Soon, his fingers found it.
A large silver brooch engraved with the number 42.
After pinning it to his chest, he approached the archive entrance. The dark-side priests guarding it stepped aside without hesitation.
“He is always by our side.”
They exchanged the phrase like a formal greeting.
Woojin entered the archive.
Immediately, he was confronted by countless books and scrolls.
“…What am I supposed to do with all this?”
Both in the past and now, Woojin had never been the type to keep close company with books.
He had read intermittently while studying magic under Claire, but it had been a long time since then. His mind felt stiff again.
How was he supposed to comb through all of this?
It felt more daunting than fighting.
‘Let’s just start somewhere.’
Like charging headfirst into a wall, he began walking between the shelves, scanning titles at random.
A few caught his eye.
He refrained from pulling too many, fearing it would be troublesome to return them all. Selecting only two volumes, he sat at a desk and skimmed through them.
His immediate thought—
‘…All fluff. No substance.’
He had opened them seeking information, but found nothing useful. The texts were heavily religious in tone, full of vague and lofty rhetoric. He flipped carelessly through the biography of an ancient saint.
Honestly, how many people would genuinely care for such stale stories? Woojin certainly did not.
‘Let’s look a little more, then leave.’
It felt like a waste of time, but on the off chance something worthwhile appeared, he continued browsing.
Then—
The door suddenly opened.
Another visitor entered the archive.
A female priest clad in pure white robes. A mask shaped like a butterfly adorned her face.
Woojin immediately knelt on one knee.
“I greet the Bishop.”
The butterfly mask signified the highest-ranking cleric in this region—the one who presided over the entire city. As a believer of the order, Woojin showed proper respect.
The butterfly mask chuckled softly.
“You may rise. There’s no need for such formality in a place like this.”
She extended her hand.
Woojin hesitated briefly, then took it and stood.
Her hand was softer than velvet.
Then she asked,
“No. 42. What are you searching for here?”
Her voice was sweet, like the plucked string of a harp. A faint, unfamiliar sweetness lingered in the air. Her presence seemed to gradually fill the room.
Woojin narrowed his eyes.
She was attempting something sly.
‘…An ability that charms the opponent.’
The skill of a silk moth demonic beast.
A female moth releases pheromones to lure males. Those ensnared by the scent lose their judgment and become obedient to her will.
‘I should pretend to be affected.’
He would turn this to his advantage.
Woojin deliberately inhaled the pheromones deeply.
His mind grew hazy, as though intoxicated.
“Y-Yes? What did you just say…?”
He spoke in a slightly dazed tone, as if no longer fully in control.
Satisfied, the female priest smiled.
“What book were you looking for?”
“The Holy One… the Sacred Prophet. I was searching for a book about Him—He who always remains by our side.”
Woojin answered, feigning hesitation.
The One.
Another title: the Sacred Prophet.
To the dark-side priests, He held a position akin to that of Christ. The saint who first communed with the Outer Gods beyond the Door. The supreme leader who presided over all Gatekeepers of the Night.
On the day He returned, the Holy War would begin. So the dark-side priests believed.
“And why are you searching for such a book?”
The butterfly mask tilted her head slightly, sounding intrigued.
Woojin paused before replying.
“…Forgive my irreverence… but I wished to determine whether He truly exists.”
He is always by our side.
All dark-side priests said it—yet no one had actually seen Him.
A young believer might begin to question that fact. Curious whether the Prophet truly existed, he had come to the archive seeking proof.
“Please forgive my sin.”
He spoke as if making confession.
The butterfly mask chuckled softly.
“That is understandable. Though most do not admit it, everyone passes through that stage once. There is no need to feel guilty about it.”
Everyone doubts the existence of God at least once.
Like a rite of passage in youth. But just as closing one’s eyes does not erase the world, the Prophet always watches over them.
“Believe or doubt as you wish, Brother… but I have personally met Him.”
She claimed to have stood before the leader of the dark-side priests.
That caught Woojin’s interest.
“How can one meet Him?”
“Devout believers are sometimes summoned. I was as well. I received the Sacred Prophet’s summons and crossed beyond those mountains… There, I experienced a time as radiant as a dream.”
After saying that, the butterfly mask seemed to consider something before adding, almost generously:
“I will soon journey to see Him again. Would No. 42 like to accompany me beyond the mountains?”
“…Is that allowed?”
“Of course. There is no reason it would not be.”
Come with me to the headquarters of the dark-side priests.
Her offer complicated Woojin’s thoughts.
‘What should I do?’
If he went to their stronghold and wiped them out, the northern campaign would conclude far more easily.
But he lacked sufficient intelligence about their forces.
If things went wrong, he could find himself plunging alone into the heart of enemy territory.
‘…Still, I’ve come this far. It would be a waste to retreat now.’
Woojin nodded.
“I would like to accompany you.”
***
Ingots forged in the blacksmith’s workshop were loaded into crates.
Their types varied—silver, gold, and frost steel worth even more than gold. A portion of these metals would be transported beyond the mountains to the dark-side priests’ headquarters.
Woojin was assigned to escort the shipment.
‘The Mountains of Madness.’
That was what the slaves called them.
A vast mountain range dotted with towering volcanoes. For reasons unknown, the slaves feared that place deeply. Even demonic beasts seemed reluctant to approach it.
The bull-like demonic beasts pulling the cargo halted abruptly. As if unwilling to draw closer to the mountains, they dropped to the ground and refused to move.
“They’ve completely given up.”
The caravan was stalled.
Seeing this, the butterfly mask raised one arm gracefully, fluttering her robe like wings.
Pink particles shimmered from the fabric. A sweet fragrance filled the air. The bulls’ eyes grew glassy.
She issued her command:
“Advance along the path.”
The bulls obeyed immediately. Likewise, the accompanying dark-side priests walked forward without complaint.
They resembled sleepwalkers.
Woojin joined the procession.
‘A remarkably useful ability.’
He had never seen demonic beasts controlled so effortlessly. No wonder she had ascended to the rank of Bishop.
After traveling for some time—
They reached the summit of an unnamed mountain.
A vast pool of blue water filled the peak. It appeared to be a caldera formed after a volcanic eruption collapsed the summit.
‘Feels like I’m looking at Baengnokdam.’
Woojin observed quietly.
For some reason, the butterfly mask directed both the bulls and the priests toward the lake.
‘Refilling water supplies?’
The water looked clear.
Which meant—
There was likely a powerful beast dwelling within it.
Thunk.
The butterfly mask personally stabbed one of the bulls in the neck with a dagger.
Despite the pain it should have felt, the bull—still deeply enthralled by pheromones—seemed unaware of its wound.
Blood dripped steadily onto the ground.
She gestured toward the lake.
Step. Step.
The bull staggered forward, bleeding as it approached the water.
The butterfly mask raised her voice:
“O Outer God! Accept this offering!”
Splash—!
The lake’s surface exploded outward.
A colossal serpent emerged, its head rising above the water.
Its size defied belief.
Its body was as thick as multiple logs bound together. When it opened its jaws in what resembled a yawn, fangs as thick as elephant tusks glistened.
‘…An Old One?’
Not quite on the level of the Heavenly Punishment Dragon—but formidable enough to qualify as an Old One.
The serpent flicked its tongue.
The bull, confronted with that vicious gaze, froze.
Though still under pheromonal influence, it seemed to regain awareness at the sight of the predator.
“Moo—!”
It tried to flee, hooves kicking frantically—
But its body was already suspended in midair.
The serpent clamped down on the bull, adjusted its grip, then lifted its head high.
Gulp.
It swallowed the entire beast whole.
Its neck bulged grotesquely as the bull slid downward. The path of its descent was visible through the distended flesh.
Moments later, the serpent’s throat returned to normal, like a deflating balloon.
It hissed, flicking its tongue.
Its gaze shifted toward the dark-side priests.
Woojin muttered under his breath:
“…One doesn’t seem enough.”
The creature clearly wasn’t satisfied.
As if responding to his remark, the serpent opened its monstrous jaws and shrieked—
“Kyyaaaaak—!!”