Chapter 14

The Wizard in the Poncho Raincoat (2)

When I was a kid, there was a time when I'd ride escalators the wrong way for fun.

I still vividly remember being fascinated by the subway on my first ride and running up a descending escalator, only to get smacked hard across the back by my mother. When I looked back, the subway was filled with office workers absentmindedly straightening their clothes and brightly lit cosmetic advertisements.

Now, however, I was wiping wet concrete dust from the lenses of my gas mask as I pushed forward.

Huff—. Huff—.

The inside of the gas mask was saturated with sweat and ragged breaths.

I could feel a damp droplet rolling down my slick cheek, but I couldn't afford to stop walking.

Splash.

Beyond the rising fog, concrete dust tangled with the water pouring from the sprinklers weighed heavily on my poncho.

Red emergency lights scattered through the pale mist, while streaks of water continued to run down my gas mask lenses no matter how many times I wiped them.

Above the escalator, an advertisement board tilted by the impact dangled from severed cables like a broken arm.

The sound of muddy dust sliding into the gaps between the escalator steps seemed unnaturally loud.

But even the sound of the makeshift stream flowing down with the sprinkler water was soon swallowed by gunfire and screams.

Bang. Bang-bang-bang...

Even with the poncho pulled over my head, I could hear dust and debris rattling against my helmet, mixing with the gunfire echoing from below the escalator.

Guilt?

My mind was too numb to feel something like that.

Hell, I'd gone so far that I honestly felt I'd already fulfilled my duty as a citizen of the Republic of Korea.

But this thick gray cloud of dust seemed unwilling to let us go so easily.

At some point the red emergency lights vanished.

As we continued climbing uneasily, we found a massive advertisement display blocking our path.

Its shattered screen was tangled together with collapsed ceiling panels, forming a natural barricade.

"Huff... huff... Mr. Baek Jemin?"

Even Father Jeong Yonghwan's breathing was rough.

I crouched carefully, hoping to find some opening large enough to crawl through.

Using my rifle butt, I tapped around the wreckage here and there.

No gap looked large enough for a person.

And honestly, I was afraid that hitting it too hard would make everything collapse completely.

I stood back up, fighting against the weight of my soaked poncho.

"It's blocked. We'll have to cross the escalator and use the stairs."

"... Lord, please protect us."

"Watch your footing."

Bang-bang-bang. Bang.

The gunfire below continued.

How many had survived?

Captain Bae Seolgi. The seventy-two soldiers. The other mages.

How many of them would make it out?

To drive away those thoughts, I brushed the wet mud from the handrail and secured my rifle sling across my shoulder.

If I slipped while crossing the escalator and fell all the way down, I'd probably bite through my tongue and die.

"Ah, fuck."

The soaked poncho was heavier than I'd expected.

I nearly lost my balance before barely recovering.

Together, Father Jeong Yonghwan and I crossed sideways over the escalator and found an intact route upward.

The sound of our footsteps splashing against wet surfaces echoed strangely through the underground space.

It sounded far more ominous than it should have.

Occasionally I saw severed cables swaying through the fog.

When they touched puddles, blue sparks flashed.

It was terrifying.

The idea that I might get electrocuted before being eaten by monsters.

I loosened my rifle sling again and held the weapon ready to fire at any moment.

At the same time, I wiped dust from the gas mask filter, trying to squeeze every last bit of usefulness out of it.

Huff—. Huff—.

The filter was beyond clogged.

Breathing had become difficult unless I inhaled forcefully.

For a moment, I considered taking the mask off.

But looking at the density of the dust, I couldn't shake the feeling that my lungs might simply fail if I did.

After climbing quite a distance, I heard a metallic screech.

Screeeeeech—

For the first time, green emergency lights appeared amidst the sea of red.

Their glow scattered through the fog.

A blast shutter was descending along its twisted guide rails, producing the awful scraping noise.

"So we can get out if we make it up there?"

"Mr. Baek Jemin."

"Anima Christi, sanctifica me. Ab hoste maligno defende me."

"Huh?"

The one who crushed my hopes wasn't anyone else.

It was Father Jeong Yonghwan.

I turned to look.

The priest was staring down the stairs while quietly reciting a prayer.

"I told you I learned thermal detection through Alteration Magic, didn't I? Something's coming up from below. Please confirm it."

At that moment, I had to make a decision.

If I ran now, I could probably escape a little faster.

But if the number of Amalgams increased and they found another route up, my escape might fail anyway.

My ammunition was limited.

I didn't even know how many Amalgams there were.

Aside from the noble goal of saving others, helping people when possible was simply the better option for my own survival.

Especially because the Amalgams seemed terrified once they realized I could see the future.

Even if I couldn't inflict meaningful physical damage, if I could scare them away...

Feeling my eyes burn, I followed Father Jeong Yonghwan's gaze and aimed my rifle.

Amalgams could attach faces wherever they pleased, but beneath those faces, their bodies remained largely human.

If Father Jeong Yonghwan, who could detect heat through Holy Communion, worked together with me, who could see the future—

[Rules of Engagement 6. Rescue of civilians strictly prohibited.]

Han Myeongun's death flashed through my mind.

It snapped me back to reality.

I immediately adjusted my grip and grabbed the priest's shoulder.

"Father, screw that. Let's move."

"Mr. Baek Jemin..."

The shutter continued descending.

And through that stairway, we became the first survivors to escape the underground platform.

Then the entire station groaned.

A heavy vibration shook everything.

The sensation rattled my organs.

Moments later, loud explosions echoed from below.

"Sounds like they're detonating grenades."

"If they're shooting while approaching, maybe. But don't trust anyone who's walking toward us looking normal."

Father Jeong Yonghwan finally seemed to understand.

Abandoning his hesitation, he followed.

Neither of us spoke anymore.

Only the sound of our gas masks echoed around us.

Splash.

Splash.

Then both of us suddenly sensed something wrong.

Our eyes met.

Father Jeong Yonghwan wasn't carrying a firearm because of Holy Communion.

I was.

Without hesitation, I aimed through the gray dust cloud toward the area beyond the shutter.

I saw places where the cursed fog would clear.

Ten seconds into the future.

Countless footprints were following us beneath the shutter.

They dragged unnaturally.

Overlapped impossibly.

They didn't belong to a single person.

I didn't even dare reach for a grenade, afraid I'd lose the timing.

How many bullets did I have left?

Sixteen?

Then I saw a human-shaped silhouette emerge through the fog.

I fired instantly.

The heavy recoil slammed into my shoulder.

Spent casings bounced across the floor.

The gunshots drilled into my skull.

The sharp scent of gunpowder hit my nose.

I pulled the trigger again and again.

Each flash from the muzzle made the figures beyond the fog writhe.

Whether they were real people or Amalgams didn't matter.

If they approached, I shot.

That was all.

Metallic impacts and tearing flesh echoed through the corridor.

Thankfully, they weren't people.

They were monsters.

Click. Click. Click.

The rifle finally ran dry.

Father Jeong Yonghwan stepped in front of me, raising his glowing arms.

"Et iube me venire ad te. In saecula saeculorum!"

Then it came.

Like a river bursting through a collapsed dam.

Human faces.

Thousands of them.

An old man who looked like he'd enjoy playing baduk.

A peaceful-looking grandmother.

A ten-year-old child.

A tiny infant.

A weary laborer.

All their faces overlapped and merged together.

Countless eyes rolled beneath a single grotesque mouth.

They surged toward the priest, trying to merge with his face.

My hands shook uncontrollably.

I fumbled a fresh magazine from my pouch.

The empty one clattered to the floor.

My fingers trembled so badly that I had to slam the magazine home with my palm.

The bolt wouldn't cooperate.

I briefly lifted my gas mask, bit down on my finger to straighten it, hooked it onto the charging handle, and yanked it back.

Clack.

There was no time for chamber checks.

When I raised my rifle again over the priest's shoulder, my burning eyes showed me the future.

Ten seconds ahead.

The faces screamed at him.

A single mouth.

A single voice.

Raging.

Complaining.

Howling.

I didn't want to see it.

So I kept firing.

Bang. Bang-bang. Bang-bang.

Because Father Jeong Yonghwan was holding back the mass, shooting became easier.

The faces pushing through the gaps between his arms were pierced by blazing-hot bullets.

The Amalgam shrieked and recoiled.

Pus-like fluid poured from the wounded faces.

Then it began crying.

Hic... sob... waaah...

Faced with that horrifying sight, I grabbed my sling, threw the rifle over my shoulder, and hauled the priest upright.

"Father! Move!"

"I-It's splitting apart..."

"Father!"

"O Lord... it's splitting apart..."

He sounded half-insane, yet he still focused on running.

Only then did the shutter finally slam down with a deafening metallic crash.

The problem was—

It didn't close completely.

The lower half of the Amalgam's body remained visible beneath it.

"Why the fuck won't it close all the way?!"

"I-It follows fire regulations... gives people time to evacuate..."

"Goddammit. What a wonderful country to live in!"

Then I forced myself to turn around.

And I saw them.

The fog parted.

Countless footprints appeared all across the stairs.

Why were there so many?

Why were they suddenly everywhere?

The answer came from the sounds behind us.

Grrrrrrrr...

The shutter finally finished closing.

Yet somehow, I felt no safer.

Monsters were hurling themselves against it.

And beyond the barrier came the sound of countless feet splashing up the escalator.

Huff. Huff. Huff.

The sound of wet breathing overlapped.

Then countless voices began speaking all at once.

"Mommy!"

"Son, you haven't visited lately."

"Waaah!"

"Manager, that's not what happened..."

I wanted to remove my gas mask.

But I couldn't.

The fear that taking it off might somehow make me become part of that writhing mass was stronger than my discomfort.

So I chose to breathe less instead.

When we finally reached the B1 concourse level, the situation wasn't much better.

Gunfire echoed from every direction.

Beyond flashes of light and flickering red emergency lamps, radio chatter crackled beneath dim green emergency lights.

Then a loud voice rang out.

Pastor Park Yohan.

"What?! Are you insane? How are we supposed to rescue the operators in this situation?! You want all the soldiers dead?!"

There were survivors.

Real survivors.

At least they were firing back.

That made them seem a lot more human than whatever was pounding on the shutter behind us.

Exhausted, Father Jeong Yonghwan and I headed toward the voices.

Then we heard Corporal Park Sehyeok.

"Stop! I hear heartbeats. They're... human heartbeats. Fuck, who is it?!"

The fog wasn't as dense here.

But the flickering emergency lights made it difficult to identify people clearly.

Then a bright flashlight illuminated the area.

Someone had turned on a smartphone flashlight.

It was Pastor Park Yohan.

He looked toward us.

Frowned.

Then suddenly smirked.

And spat a wad of phlegm onto the floor.

"Father, you're alive."

Pastor Park Yohan snorted.

"Figures. With that Holy Communion magic of yours, they probably couldn't eat you. And the guy next to you?"

"B-Baek Jemin, Pastor. The one who sees ten seconds into the future."

"Now that's reassuring."

It was an unspoken invitation to join them.

Once Father Jeong Yonghwan and I finally regrouped with Pastor Park's group, I noticed several rifles aimed at us.

Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

If I were in their shoes, I'd have shot first and asked questions later.

After catching my breath and looking around, I realized how few people had actually escaped from the platform on B2 to the concourse on B1.

Even then, survival would have been impossible without Pastor Park Yohan's magic, Salvific Conviction.

"When the train derailed and smashed into the platform, it got tangled up in itself. The soldiers near me and the people who came my way survived by pure miracle. Those destined for salvation never doubt salvation. All thanks to the Lord's protection."

"Pastor. Were the people who escaped through the stairs the only survivors?"

"Tch. Took you long enough to ask, Father. Running away first and all that..."

He cleaned his glasses while speaking calmly.

"Some people fled through the tracks on the opposite side too. I couldn't see clearly, but Captain Bae Seolgi and some of the other mages probably went that way. As for the stair route, it's just me, the monk, this grumbling bastard, and eight soldiers."

Beside him, Monk Cheonghwi sat with his palms pressed together, quietly chanting.

"Om Mani Padme Hum..."

It carried a strange resonance.

The Amalgams' unified vocal cords produced horrifying noises that agitated the mind and disrupted judgment.

Cheonghwi's magic—or whatever it was—did the opposite.

Hidden within the chant was a harmony that calmed trembling hands.

I knew because my own fingers, tightly gripping my rifle sling, slowly steadied.

Amid the drifting smell of gunpowder, I finally felt somewhat safe and adjusted my gas mask.

In front of the group, several disabled Amalgams writhed on the floor, oozing pus-like fluids from their faces as they died.

Pastor Park put his glasses back on.

He breathed heavily into his gas mask, then grimaced at the sight of the creatures' corpses and ripped the mask off.

"To desecrate the bodies granted by the Lord in such a way. Disgusting bastards."

Then he looked at us.

"Anyway, now that you've arrived, we'll catch our breath, swap magazines, and then move."

"We're not moving immediately?"

"Hah. Mr. Baek Jemin, it's great that you're still energetic, but we've been shooting those things until just now."

"I just came from shooting one whose face split apart and multiplied itself. If you'd rather not see that thing again, let's change magazines and get moving."

The most effective persuasion tool in the world was sincerity.

Pastor Park immediately slapped Monk Cheonghwi's shoulder and shook him awake before hauling Corporal Park Sehyeok to his feet.

"Alright, move! According to Baek Jemin, something really fucking nasty is chasing us!"

***

The low chant washing through my mind gave us the courage to keep moving.

Most of the soldiers were simply too ignorant to grasp how bad things really were.

For me, however, whose eyes burned with the strain of foresight, this was hell itself.

Still.

Having companions was a blessing.

For someone who usually found it annoying to meet friends or even walk ten minutes to a convenience store, I had just rediscovered the value of other people.

Following the faint green emergency lights through shattered glass and red emergency illumination, pushing through fog that had risen to chest level, required absolute concentration.

Because I could see ten seconds into the future, I had been placed at the front.

And the footprints that appeared wherever the fog parted were enough to drench me in cold sweat.

Every drop that ran down my nose made my mouth feel drier.

Then I stopped.

I had to.

"Something's on the ceiling."

"The ceiling?"

Unexpectedly, the most useful thing in this situation was Monk Cheonghwi's mantra.

"Om Mani Padme Hum..."

It was only a repeated chant.

Yet it calmed our hands and allowed us to search our surroundings without panicking.

There wasn't time to answer Pastor Park's confused question.

Before the future arrived, I raised my rifle and fired toward a point where the fog would clear.

Toward a place illuminated by the red emergency lights.

The rifle cracked.

Spent casings clattered against broken glass.

A moment later—

Thud.

Something hit the floor.

Pastor Park switched on his phone flashlight.

The moment the beam revealed what had fallen from the ceiling, he nearly screamed before forcing it back down.

Me?

I'd already half pissed myself.

"What the fuck is that..."

Have you ever imagined a human body whose parts became independent creatures?

A skeleton that rejected coexistence and evolved into a predator?

That's what it looked like.

A human head with its lower jaw ripped away rolled pale eyes aimlessly.

Its ribs had folded inward like the legs of a dead insect.

Its spine writhed like a tail.

Spinal fluid dripped from it as it died.

There was no flesh.

No muscle.

Only traces of nerves and blood vessels clinging to bone.

Only blood-soaked vertebrae proving it had once belonged inside a human body.

The curled ribs twitched like the legs of a giant arthropod.

Then the creature finally realized it had already been killed by the bullet through its head.

And stopped moving.

Father Jeong Yonghwan silently prayed.

Pastor Park began sweeping the ceiling with his flashlight.

Monk Cheonghwi narrowed his eyes before returning to his mantra.

Corporal Park Sehyeok stood rigidly, too shocked even to curse, moving his rifle obsessively from one direction to another.

Even the soldiers had forgotten how to breathe properly through their masks.

We left the corpse of the monster born from humanity behind and continued toward the green emergency lights.

***

The fog continued rising.

Before long it reached our gas mask lenses.

Someone muttered in despair.

"Visibility under twenty meters..."

Even flashlights had become useless.

The underground darkness swallowed everything.

The weak red emergency lights scattered through the fog, distorting all sense of distance.

Every drifting tendril of mist beyond a shattered window looked like the breath of a monster.

The paranoia steadily devoured our sanity.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Only footsteps against glass and rubble remained.

Even Monk Cheonghwi, still chanting, could no longer hide his exhaustion.

Pastor Park eventually had to support him.

Then Corporal Park Sehyeok spoke.

His voice sounded strangled.

"They're coming."

"Footsteps."

Even here we could hear something pounding on the shutter.

Voiceless echoes rolled through the underground space from every direction.

The bodies devoured by the Amalgams still wore clothing.

Their shoes varied.

Some were barefoot.

Ironically, in this mud-and-glass-filled concourse, the footsteps of the dead sounded far more vivid than when they were alive.

The fog parted constantly.

Everywhere.

As if the fog had never existed at all.

Every surface filled with footprints from ten seconds in the future.

When I glanced back at the group, Corporal Park Sehyeok had already dropped his rifle and fallen to his knees.

"There are so fucking many..."

Wooooooooom—

A unified breath emerged from a unified vocal cord.

Like a giant brass instrument.

The vibration shook the entire underground complex.

Even the air flowing through the ventilation ducts trembled.

The pressure settled atop my already soaked poncho.

Pastor Park crossed himself and shouted while supporting Monk Cheonghwi.

"Follow me! Those who never doubt salvation shall be saved!"

"Shoot! Shoot!"

The responses split.

Pastor Park tried to flee with the survivors.

Father Jeong Yonghwan raised his glowing arms and remained behind alongside the rear-guard soldiers.

And because I still trusted him, I stayed too.

We needed to drive them back at least once.

***

Then I saw the fog.

It had risen above my head.

I couldn't see a single meter ahead.

At that moment, I lowered my rifle.

One thought entered my mind.

A gun isn't enough.

My hand reached into my poncho and pulled out the magical training booklet.

The Alteration Magic that could only be learned within the fog.

I'd kept postponing it because everything was so urgent.

Yet now, with death breathing down my neck, I finally opened it.

The booklet was soaked with sweat and moisture.

The pages had nearly fused together.

Still, I knelt and carefully separated them with trembling fingers.

In the face of this disaster, I remembered what ordinary life had once been.

And now I felt only one emotion.

Not anger.

Not resentment.

Sorrow.

A resignation bordering on despair.

The helplessness of standing before a catastrophe humanity could never oppose.

Like a flood victim staring at a home swept away by a typhoon.

Wanting to blame someone.

Yet finding no one to blame.

And simply sitting down to contemplate grief.

At that moment, the magical letters permitted me to see the next page.

No.

They forced my mind to understand.

The symbols dug into my brain.

Twisted it.

Shoved knowledge inside by force.

The first stage of Eye-Type Alteration Magic had already allowed me to see beyond normal perception.

Now I reached the second stage.

The ink on the wet page writhed as though alive.

Circles containing triangles and squares rearranged themselves.

My thoughts reorganized alongside them.

Eyes are perception.

Humanity relies on sight to judge the world.

Even the term worldview is built upon seeing.

To see is to perceive.

And Eye-Type Alteration Magic manipulates perception itself.

The first stage was Reflection.

An expansion of ordinary awareness.

The second stage was Sorrow.

Through suffering, perception itself becomes distorted.

Because time slows when humans experience pain.

***

I raised my rifle.

And aimed at my own left hand.

By then, Father Jeong Yonghwan's magic had already failed.

In the future I saw, an Amalgam had bitten into his shoulder and was dragging him away.

"Lord... Lord...! Aaaagh!"

More Amalgams surged behind it.

The fog parted.

Soldiers fired wildly in panic.

The creatures approached mockingly, splitting and merging faces in celebration of feeding and reproduction.

Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger.

Bang.

"What..."

"What happened?"

When pain becomes overwhelming, people either shut their eyes—

—or force them open.

Fortunately, I was the latter.

"AAAAAAAGH!"

Blood poured from my shattered left hand.

Clutching it desperately, I stared at the charging Amalgams.

Forcing my eyes to remain fixed on them instead of the wound.

Happy moments are short.

Painful moments are long.

And at this moment, my pain was longer than any period of my life.

"Shoot! Shoot their fucking heads, you idiots!"

Tears streamed from my burning eyes.

It felt like scrubbing them with shampoo.

Yet I refused to blink.

Pastor Park and Monk Cheonghwi immediately realized what had happened.

"Om Mani Padme Hum..."

"It's Baek Jemin's magic! He stopped them! Kill them now!"

Alteration Magic — Eye Type.

If the first stage allowed perception of higher-dimensional information—

The second stage was true reality distortion through perception.

As long as I kept my eyes open...

Until the moment I blinked...

The targets remained frozen according to the intensity of the pain I felt.

"Hahahahaha... fuck... fuck, it hurts so much...!"

I rejoiced at the magnificence of the spell.

And simultaneously cursed my own stupidity for shooting my hand instead of simply biting it.

Laughing and crying at the same time, I clutched my mangled hand and finally closed my eyes.

Blink.

Yet one familiar voice still drifted through the fog.

Whimper...

Whiiiimper...

Aaaaagh...

I laughed like a madman while blood streamed from my hand.

"I'm sorry, Father."

Thanks for buying us time.

But if we meet again...

I'm putting a bullet right between your eyes.

The Amalgams that had experienced being frozen once emitted hideous shrieks and fled.

The monsters vanished back into the fog.

Around me, the soldiers' breathing echoed through their gas masks.

Huff.

Huff.

Huff.

For about ten seconds, nobody spoke.

Then everyone realized the same thing.

They had successfully driven them back.