Chapter 112

Empty-Handed You Come, Empty-Handed You Go

When I was a kid, there was a time I became obsessed with lucid dreaming.

You mean I could keep playing even while sleeping?

Anyone who dreamed of getting through life on easy mode would be tempted.

Unfortunately, I had absolutely zero talent for lucid dreaming.

I'd never experienced sleep paralysis in my life.

The moment I lay down, I slept like a rock.

Which was why, now—

The suffocating sensation I felt every time I twitched my fingers wasn't an illusion.

Ghk.

Khhk.

Someone was gasping for air.

Like a person who'd just been pulled out of filthy water after being submerged headfirst.

Breathing desperately.

At this point, they might as well give him a nickname.

Seongnam Wheezer.

Not bad.

I came up with it myself.

"...Khuuuuuugh."

My eyes opened.

Something horrible was beneath me.

But I couldn't properly process it.

The moment I inhaled and exhaled, pain crashed over me.

It felt as though needles flowed through every capillary instead of blood.

As if thorns inside my veins were scraping them raw.

Tears streamed down my face.

Words like side effect and price of magic quickly vanished from my mind.

Only primitive, vulgar thoughts remained.

Holy fuck, this hurts.

But even that wouldn't come out.

Screams.

Groans.

Thrashing.

The overwhelming pain blocked everything.

I writhed more helplessly than a salted slug.

More pitifully than a dried-out maggot.

All I could do was wheeze.

And when you couldn't even breathe properly, resentment disappeared.

Only misery remained.

My mind and will were completely imprisoned by pain.

For a long time I simply choked and gasped.

Eventually, I managed to stand.

A corpse was beneath me.

I was injured.

My feet kept slipping.

So I rose slowly.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The deep breath immediately told me one of my legs was broken.

But an even stronger feeling surged through me.

Excitement.

The penalty reduction from doping.

I'd used it as a desperate gamble.

And it had worked.

Fortunately, Sergeant Squeaky's head had been ground apart first.

The tongue I'd torn out must have been recognized as remains.

Still, the limitations were obvious.

The only reason I was alive and moving was the doping.

I'd already realized repeated use shortened the duration.

The moment it wore off—

I'd die of shock.

I needed physical abilities capable of enduring it.

Only then did I finally glance downward.

The remains of Sergeant Squeaky lay beneath me.

Crushed into a sticky pulp from supporting my body weight.

Dead.

If he stood back up after this, it'd be more ridiculous than me stopping time and walking vertically up an apartment wall.

I wasn't in much better shape.

Normally I'd smell like piss and filth.

Instead, the air reeked of blood and iron.

The skin of my right palm had been peeled away.

Exposed dermis mixed together with Sergeant Squeaky's shredded tongue.

My poncho.

My entire body.

Covered in blood and flesh.

I shook my hand, trying to fling off at least some of the gore.

Then I saw it.

At the center of Sergeant Squeaky's remains.

A heart.

Still beating.

Covered in glowing magical characters.

The sight of that plump heart instantly scrubbed my pain-soaked mind clean with pure greed.

I couldn't suppress the twitching smile pulling at my lips.

Fiddling with the blood-soaked gas-mask strap, I finally laughed.

Worth it.

Absolutely worth it.

People should receive something for their hard work.

Ignoring my shattered bones, I raised a foot.

To crush the heart.

The magnificent secret art that acknowledged the value of labor one hundred percent.

This was exactly why I loved magic.

"Heart Stage 2! Let's go!"

CRUNCH!

I meant to stomp directly on it.

Instead, my foot slipped slightly.

Still crushed it, though.

The inscribed heart burst apart.

Transforming into mist.

The fog drifted upward and entered my body.

And once again, the endless ocean of knowledge welcomed me.

An opportunity to see the knowledge Sergeant Squeaky had possessed in life.

My vision sparkled with delirious lights.

I staggered.

But gritted my teeth and focused.

Even one fragment of precious knowledge dragged away into the sewer of oblivion was too valuable to lose.

In a world where magic couldn't even be stolen without sufficient understanding—

I knew far more now than when I'd killed the Dubai Sticky Witch.

Sergeant Squeaky had ties to the Sixty-Six Society.

He had to know more.

Unfortunately, I couldn't endure it for long.

A suffocating thirst overwhelmed me.

As though trapped in a dark, humid basement.

Meaningless blasphemous whispers filled my ears.

I collapsed onto my backside.

My skull felt ready to split apart.

My senses twisted.

Nausea surged upward.

Then—

The organized knowledge began embedding itself into my mind like needles.

Spiritual intuition.

Divine flame.

A once-in-a-lifetime inspiration.

Call it whatever you wanted.

The hearing magic I'd obtained was pulling fragments from Sergeant Squeaky's essence and turning them into moving images.

Amid the flashing delirium.

Amid the sensory storm.

Amid the blasphemous whispers.

I focused desperately on the vision.

["Hyeongseop. You may resent the people outside the quarantine line. But don't hate them too much."]

The voice was so worn and damaged that age and gender were impossible to determine.

Within the dazzling hallucination, someone walked calmly beneath the dim lights of a subway station.

Click.

Click.

Sergeant Squeaky kept his head lowered.

Since I was only observing his memories, I couldn't control what I saw.

Still, I understood.

Anyone wearing dress shoes in Seoul was insane.

Whether they were shoes or boots, those heels clearly belonged to someone who didn't fight personally.

What Sergeant Squeaky felt was confusion.

Don't hate the people who told us to die?

Peak Seoul Mage mentality.

They had no intention whatsoever of sacrificing themselves for humanity.

How could such people develop altruism?

If every Seoul Mage had committed suicide for their families, everyone would've cried for them.

Regardless, the footsteps continued.

Click.

Click.

Eventually Sergeant Squeaky slowly raised his head.

The man standing there wore bizarre clothing.

At first I thought I was seeing things.

No.

Prayer beads wrapped around his right arm.

A coat covered in mysterious symbols and languages.

In his left hand he rolled human eyeballs like marbles.

Then I noticed the burn scars visible on his wrist.

Immediately understanding who he was.

Gangnam Clairvoyant.

The Gangnam Clairvoyant stood at the far end of the subway platform.

Facing away.

Staring into the tracks.

Into darkness untouched by even a single beam of light.

Noticing Sergeant Squeaky's gaze, he spoke without turning around.

["They've become obsolete. They still believe monsters and magic can be fought using the old methods. That belief protects the world of non-mages, but it's nothing more than a sandcastle. Inside the Society, there are voices arguing we should teach them a painful lesson."]

Sergeant Squeaky asked mentally.

Stop talking in circles and get to the point.

His knees hurt and he wasn't interested in philosophy.

The Gangnam Clairvoyant gently stroked one of the eyeballs.

Then replied.

["Half want to maintain the status quo. The other half want to trigger a nuclear strike and seize control of the world for the Society."]

Sergeant Squeaky's answer was immediate.

The latter.

["Me too. Though we must preserve the decision-makers. We're modern people. We understand forgiveness and reconciliation."]

Crunch.

The Gangnam Clairvoyant slowly crushed the eyeballs one by one with his fingernails.

Carefully.

Lovingly.

Then he said:

["If they willingly crawl to Lee Tae-su and bow their heads, they deserve forgiveness."]

The hallucination ended.

The vision faded.

Knowledge settled into place.

Sergeant Squeaky's real name was Bang Hyeongseop.

Inverted Transformative Heart Magic Stage 3.

Inverted Transformative Tongue Magic Stage 1.

Almost identical to the Dubai Sticky Witch.

But he used [Perfect Absorption], Heart Stage 1, and [Hierarchy Reorganization], Heart Stage 3, to overcome the nutritional consumption that normally plagued Heart Magic.

The pustules and tumors growing on his arms stored human slimes.

Whenever he became desperate, he bit into them and swallowed them like raw eggs.

Those monsters were so far beyond human biology that they contained tremendous nutrients.

Their origins.

Appearance.

Infectious nature.

Everything about them was revolting.

But if they were edible, then they represented a future food source.

To maximize [Instant Evolution], his Heart Stage 2 ability, Sergeant Squeaky developed tactics centered around his fingernails.

They grew quickly.

Were extremely hard.

And could be fired like projectiles.

Rather than operating alone, he specialized in group tactics.

Compared to the Dubai Sticky Witch, he knew almost nothing about mysticism or the Society's deeper secrets.

It couldn't be helped.

He was a combat specialist.

A complete meathead.

However—

His body modification techniques were vastly superior.

To eliminate pain, he'd replaced most of his nervous system with human slime.

Instead of transmitting pain directly, impacts caused the slimes within his body to vibrate.

The result was effectively the same.

But it rendered pain-based Eye Magic completely unusable.

Ironically, his willingness to sacrifice an entire school of magic earned him tremendous trust from other mages.

His practical knowledge might have been impressive.

His academic knowledge was absolute garbage.

Still, he possessed some information regarding doctrinal magic and holy relics.

Once a doctrinal mage reached a sufficiently high level, they could imbue symbolic objects with portions of their abilities.

Such objects were also classified as holy relics.

When I woke from all those hallucinations, I couldn't help but click my tongue.

“Tch. Yeah, well.”

Even as I clicked my tongue in disappointment, I couldn't hide the silly grin creeping onto my face.

No, well.

Yeah. I got Stage 2 Heart. That's enough.

“You dumb bastard. You should've studied, for fuck's sake.”

Still, I'd obtained Stage 2 Heart: [Physical Enhancement].

I examined my body from head to toe and immediately knew I still wasn't on the level of Lee Sejun or Goryeoha. I could hop around and position myself better, but if I got into a direct brawl, my body's durability wouldn't be able to keep up.

With that, I sloshed forward.

Yeah, there's still one thing left.

Shin Nain had injured her leg and wouldn't be able to come right away, which meant that only Archmage Baek Jemin, newly reborn with Stage 2 Heart, would be gulping down Stage 3 Ear.

My heart pounded at the possibility of power-leveling as I entered the villa and climbed the stairs.

Soon, on the fourth floor, I heard Pastor Park coughing through the wide-open doorway.

Overjoyed, I charged up the stairs like an excited mutt.

Of course, I kept missing my footing and smashing into the handrails over and over, but my happiness outweighed the embarrassment.

I had achieved a great accomplishment.

A great victory.

I spread my arms wide, ready to embrace the world and boast about it.

Filled with joy and exhilaration, I stepped through the open doorway.

“Pastor!”

“Gah! Fuck! What the hell?!”

Bang!

For a brief moment, we stared each other down.

Looking up, I saw a fresh bullet hole in the doorframe above my head.

“What was that?”

“An accident, an accident. You little punk, anyone would shoot first if they saw you looking like that. A guy drenched in blood walking toward me with his arms spread wide? I'd think it was an amalgam!”

Pastor Park immediately launched into a nonstop stream of excuses.

Fair enough.

I was half-blind and seriously injured.

Fair enough.

I was only staying alive through doping and the boost from Stage 2 Heart. One bullet would have put me in real danger.

But I was a merciful and fair man, and Pastor Park was someone who would listen to me brag.

So I decided to let it slide.

Looking around him, I finally noticed the Yellow-Bandage deserter lying dead in a pool of blood.

The body was riddled with holes.

While I'd been fighting Velcro on the rooftop, the pastor must've finished him off.

“That chatterbox bastard. Did he leave any last words?”

“He died without listening. I can't listen, he says. Honestly. To have such a useful ability and still end up with that kind of mindset. Lord, punish the sins he committed in life, but take into account the hardships he suffered...”

I walked over to the corpse.

The pastor had already taken care of the deceased's funeral rites.

I, on the other hand, intended to loot some spoils of war.

As I carefully sliced off the Yellow-Bandage deserter's ear with my greatsword, Pastor Park wandered over and clicked his tongue.

“Good grief. Baek Jemin, are you not even thinking about Nain's injuries?”

“Pastor, people eat all the food from memorial tables anyway, right?”

“Memorial rites are idol worship. How are you going to use a wrong example and insist you're right? And what's with talking about memorial tables while cutting people apart?”

“Ah, ah! I'm cutting it wrong! The magic's gonna disappear!”

“Ah, damn it. Fine, you lunatic. If you want to be president of the youth group, go ahead. Hurry up, cut it off, absorb it, and let's get moving.”

I examined the severed ear of the Yellow-Bandage deserter.

I was dying to know this bastard's ability and penalty.

I stroked the magical runes of the Ear lineage, dropped it onto the floor, and immediately raised my foot.

Crunch!

“Did I get Stage 3 Ear?!”

Pssshhh—

The crushed ear turned into mist and seeped into my body.

Once again, delirium and blasphemous whispers assaulted me.

My five senses felt detached from my actual body, making me nauseous.

The inside of my gas mask filled with moisture, as if my face were submerged underwater.

Then the Yellow-Bandage's memories appeared.

***

“C-Corporal, I can't shoot. They're... civilians.”

“You little shit. Shoot. SHOOT!”

Ah...

This kind of story?

Back when it was still called a civil disturbance, before people understood what was really happening, the Yellow-Bandage deserter had been a soldier stationed near a restricted zone under martial law, helping maintain public order within fifty meters of the fog.

A civilian had burst out of the fog screaming for help.

The soldiers were arguing over what to do.

Yellow-Bandage, then a corporal, was openly defying his squad leader.

“We soldiers exist to protect the people! Get a grip, Squad Leader!”

“I told you that isn't a person. You haven't been on rotation long, have you? Hey! Kim Je-il! Why's a private getting close to it? Get the hell back!”

“B-But Corporal said...”

Naturally, he got eaten alive.

Only after watching an amalgam grab Kim Je-il by the head and drag him screaming back into the fog did Yellow-Bandage understand reality.

That night, after returning from duty, he got beaten half to death by his squad leader.

“You little fuck. That private died because of you. Protect the people? Bullshit. You just didn't have the guts to pull the trigger.”

“Urgh... Hrk...”

“You're just a coward. If it were up to me, I'd throw you into the fog too, but we're short on manpower, so you're lucky. This isn't a civil disturbance anymore. There are no civilians. Anything that comes running out of that fog gets shot dead!”

“Hrk... Haaah...”

“Fuck... Do you know Private Kim Je-il's mother's phone number? ...I'll make the report. You go take a shower.”

This kind of story was boring and didn't really provide any useful information, so I skimmed through it.

Once the delirium and whispers subsided, the knowledge Yellow-Bandage possessed settled into place.

His name was Jang Ilsu.

A Reverse Alteration Ear Stage 3 and Reverse Alteration Tongue Stage 1 mage.

Apparently he'd studied magic quite seriously, because the information he left behind was extremely satisfying.

To summarize the knowledge now embedded in my head:

The Alteration magic system is open to all humans.

Curse magic requires extensive occult knowledge and a certain level of inspiration.

Ritual magic requires being chosen by or contracted to transcendent beings.

Doctrinal magic requires unwavering faith in a worldview.

Alteration magic, however, is remarkably egalitarian.

That said, everyone's aptitude determines how much experience is required to advance stages.

Even someone with terrible talent can learn it.

It just might take forever.

In theory, it's a form of magic available to every human.

To reduce that experience requirement, one can:

• Learn mystical knowledge and deepen their understanding of magic.
• Repeatedly engage in actions that improve aptitude.
• Sacrifice other humans and steal their aptitude through human sacrifice.

Additionally, Alteration mages can conduct apprentice rituals with non-mages or low-level mages and priests.

The 66 Society currently monopolized this ritual.

Within the organization, masters and apprentices formed formal relationships, allowing masters to transfer the costs of their magic onto their apprentices.

From this, I also learned Yellow-Bandage's ability and penalty.

The Reverse Alteration Ear lineage worked like this:

Stage 1 – Suggestion
Implants suggestions into a target, though absurd suggestions won't work.
Cost: The user must place one suggestion upon themselves as well.

Stage 2 – Hypnosis
Twists one piece of the target's common sense.
Cost: The user forgets one piece of their own common sense.

Stage 3 – Collapse of Reason
Distorts all of a target's reasoning, causing impulsive actions or false conclusions.
Cost: All of the user's desires become temporarily paralyzed.

And because Yellow-Bandage couldn't handle the penalties, he only ever used Stage 1.

The final thing I learned was...

...that one's realm always rises by exactly one level.

When I finished organizing the information and opened my eyes, Pastor Park was sighing as he looked around.

“Life really is something. I don't know how things ended up like this.”

“Pastor, let's go. The people coming to transport us should arrive soon, right?”

“Yeah. We can organize what we've learned later. Nain comes first. And after all this chaos, someone should be coming to evacuate us. Honestly, Baek Jemin, looking at you, it's a miracle you're not already in a hospital ward.”

The pastor and I left the corpses behind and headed toward the villa rooftop where Shin Nain was waiting.

When we climbed the stairs, Shin Nain was deliberately taking deep breaths with her injured leg propped up on the railing.

She had her hands behind her head like she was on vacation.

“What are you doing?”

“If I keep my leg above my heart, I'll lose less blood.”

“Pastor, is that true?”

“How should I know, you brat? If I knew that, I'd have become a doctor instead of a pastor.”

Shin Nain was alive.

The fact that she was still spewing nonsense proved her vitality was absurd.

I let out a deep breath and looked around.

A gust of wind fluttered the hem of my poncho.

At that moment, loud radio chatter and synchronized footsteps echoed through the alleyways below.

“The soldiers are coming.”

Shin Nain closed her exhausted eyes.

“Haa... I really don't know how my life ended up like this.”

Pastor Park plopped down onto the rooftop and pulled up his gas mask.

And I, Baek Jemin, stared blankly at the sky before collapsing backward.

For an Archmage who had become a Stage 2 Heart mage, the green urethane-covered rooftop wasn't particularly painful.

“How many people did I defeat by myself?”

“Including those two? You probably took down close to twenty by yourself.”

“Wow.”

Hearing Shin Nain's response made it finally feel real.

I slowly closed my eyes and curled the corners of my mouth upward.

“I'm gonna make the news.”