Chapter 35

The 66 Scriptures 

The world lay shattered into pieces.

The concept of common sense was nothing more than an illusion. In reality, it had long ago been butchered by the countless prejudices of countless people. The mystical theories Anderson had enthusiastically rambled about were likewise torn apart almost immediately.

After the brief storm had passed, everyone mulled things over and arrived at their own conclusions.

Pastor Park Yohan stroked the cover of his Bible, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“So in the end, we still don’t know whether any of this is true or not...”

Though he was the kind of man who called the Pope the Antichrist and preached that salvation existed only within the Church, he was equally absolute in his faith.

There was only one reason a man like him would involve himself with numerology and astrology.

Removing his glasses, he let out a deep sigh.

“Baek Jemin. I’m afraid. Afraid that this power was not given by the Lord, but by beings seeking to mock humanity. Afraid that this is all preparation by some evil adversary to tempt mankind and plunge us into despair.”

Pastor Park Yohan was expressing genuine fear.

Fear that magic might not be a power granted for humanity’s benefit, but rather a tool meant to usher in even greater despair.

Being forced to rely on a power of uncertain origin and unknown source seemed to have developed into a kind of paranoid vigilance.

To him, magic was not opportunity.

It was a trap.

His investigations were little more than debates intended to prove exactly that.

Meanwhile, Hamza rolled his eyes around before slowly shaking his head.

“He who fears wrath and settles into complacency only invites wrath. Submission to Allah’s will. Even if His will is our end, obedience remains humanity’s duty.”

This was coming from a guy who grilled pork belly and downed soju by the bottle.

Yet somehow he became religious in the strangest places.

Hamza spoke with both worldly practicality and absolute sincerity.

If God had decreed humanity’s end, and if He had granted this power in the meantime, then it should be accepted and used willingly.

Since God had already determined everything, there was no point worrying about it. Just live as you always had.

Lee Sejun, on the other hand, merely shrugged.

“What’s so strange about that? Are we supposed to give up magic because of it? Because I can’t. No matter what the cost is, I’m not giving it up.”

Having learned the true benefits of heart-based magic, Lee Sejun had firmly joined the pro-magic faction.

For someone whose usefulness was often questionable, he never missed an opportunity to praise magic.

The moment he discovered it strengthened the body, improved health, and even slowed aging, he was completely won over.

And there was one more point that had caught his attention.

“Let’s say we somehow get rid of the fog and the monsters. Then what’s left for this country? Ten million people turned into monsters and Seoul reduced to ruins? We all starve together? This country is already wrecked. Even if we survive, how are we supposed to compete against the U.S., China, Japan, or Russia?”

“Crazy as Jemin sounds sometimes, he’s not wrong,” Shin Nain added. “A magical superpower, South Korea! Whether we understand it or not, we have no choice but to use magic. It’s the only way forty million Koreans survive. Though... I doubt it has anything to do with occultism.”

As usual, Shin Nain didn’t bother speaking at length.

He simply folded his arms, nodded, and smiled.

“Research and investigation are expressions of human arrogance. Simply using what God has granted us—that is the correct path.”

That left only me and Monk Cheonghwi.

Maintaining his prayer gesture, Monk Cheonghwi glanced at me and raised the corners of his mouth slightly.

“What do you think of the ritual Mr. Anderson proposed, Benefactor Baek? If you intend to perform it, I shall assist you.”

Despite their differing opinions, the Supreme Wizards were converging toward a single conclusion.

None of them placed much value on the mystical theories Anderson had been preaching.

Only two people were exceptions.

Me, whose eyes sparkled at even the faintest possibility.

And Monk Cheonghwi, who watched quietly with a strangely meaningful smile.

I suddenly remembered something Wonhaeng Sunim had said back in Seoul.

He had spoken of how he had drifted away from orthodox Seon Buddhism, with its emphasis on meditation and ascetic practice, and become increasingly interested in the systems of Esoteric Buddhism.

“There’s always the possibility that it works. We have to try it at least once. It’s Seal Magic, after all. Maybe it has some connection to mysticism.”

Lee Sejun shrugged and lost interest.

Hamza frowned before slowly nodding.

Shin Nain looked completely indifferent.

Only Pastor Park Yohan let out a worried sigh.

“Just don’t do anything stupid.”

And so time passed.

We deliberately avoided dangerous missions that would require the three modified members to deploy together.

The reason was simple.

My mind was completely focused on the ritual.

Up until now, there had only been one way to investigate magic.

Throw yourself into the fog, kill monsters, and hope to stumble upon clues by chance.

But what if...

What if existing knowledge could also be used?

What if I didn’t have to rely solely on random drops?

What if I could pursue magic whenever and however I wanted?

I wasn’t the sort of person who would dismiss even that tiny possibility.

Instead, I volunteered for missions where Eye Magic would be useful and gradually accumulated military credits.

I couldn’t earn dozens at a time like on dangerous missions, but it was enough to order the materials needed for the ritual.

Lieutenant Shin Hangi from the military supply store frowned at my request.

“You want adult magazines for repetitive hand-based activity to help achieve mental stability and spiritual peace?”

“Yes. You see, post-nut clarity is...”

“Well, I’m not saying no. But couldn’t you just repeatedly disassemble and reassemble firearms? What if you get tired and fall asleep?”

“Ah.”

Firearm disassembly and assembly.

Excellent idea.

Of course, I still ordered one adult magazine for three military credits.

Not because I intended to use it.

I simply figured I could rent it out and make a profit.

Naturally, I needed to inspect the quality personally to ensure customer satisfaction.

I never actually sacrificed any of my precious life force.

And so time passed once more.

March 20, 2028 — 5:56 PM

I checked the time through my cracked phone screen.

The government’s censorship and control over online portals had intensified, and only relatively hopeful articles were appearing.

[U.S. Senate reaches agreement on resuming Korea-U.S. trade... A dramatic achievement.]

[Anderson Makenford, CEO known for his support of Korea, speaks again... “The unrest in Seoul is a threat to an allied nation that cannot be ignored. My grandfather fought in the Korean War, making this issue especially personal to me.”]

It was time to prepare.

As everyone else headed to dinner, Monk Cheonghwi approached from a distance, adjusting his robes.

His usual warm smile remained, but today there was unmistakable personal excitement mixed into it.

“Let us be on our way, Benefactor Baek.”

***

Anderson Makenford was a pretty decent man.

At least if you ignored the fact that he became unbearably talkative whenever magic was involved.

When he heard that only Monk Cheonghwi and I intended to perform the ritual, he had gone so far as to send supplies through Pyeongtaek Port.

That alone spoke volumes about his passion for magic.

Monk Cheonghwi’s assistance was invaluable.

Knowing next to nothing about occult rituals, I relied heavily on his guidance.

“To receive mysterious and auspicious energies, one must first empty the vessel that is the body. Even the Christian sacrament once required fasting before accepting the body of God. Until the ritual is complete, water is permitted, but food must not touch your lips.”

Fasting.

Emptying the body to receive the mysterious.

That alone was not enough.

A thorough shower was required to wash away every speck of dirt and stray hair from the body, calming the mind and preventing outside influences from disturbing the ritual.

Monk Cheonghwi added that this level of care was especially important because I was a beginner.

Once our preparations were complete, we gathered our supplies and headed to the ritual site.

Normally it was a workshop used for firearm maintenance.

Today, however, we had secured it by offering free rentals of adult magazines as bait.

I set down the lighting equipment we had brought in place of lanterns and helped Monk Cheonghwi clean the workshop.

Only then did we begin reviewing Anderson’s letter and the list of ritual materials.

“Dragon’s Blood incense?”

The letter even included explanations.

[Dragon's Blood...]

The moment I saw the English words, I neatly folded the letter shut.

What exactly did Anderson think of me?

Just as I was considering using AI translation on my phone, Monk Cheonghwi carefully picked up the letter and began reading.

“It says it is the red sap of a certain tree. Not sourced from South America, but directly extracted from trees native to Socotra Island. Apparently it’s a specialty product of an occult organization, so we can trust its quality. It also says that Koreans may not find it particularly spicy, but it should still be strong enough.”

“Should we sprinkle some chili powder on it?”

“It is red, pungent, and intense. Suitable for a ritual seeking resonance with Mars. However, too much would overwhelm the scent of the Dragon’s Blood.”

For a moment, images of tear gas and military gas chambers flashed through my mind.

Then I abandoned the idea.

Sure, they were pungent and intense.

But I doubted I’d have enough mental capacity left to actually conduct the ritual.

Besides, I wasn’t sure whether wearing a gas mask during a ritual was allowed.

Since this was my first attempt, there was no reason to get too creative.

After confirming the unfamiliar incense, we began the preparations.

Not immediately.

Under Monk Cheonghwi’s supervision, I first turned off my smartphone and spent time meditating while blocking out external distractions.

Only after sufficient time had passed did he check the clock.

“9:40 PM. The Hour of Mars. Let us begin preparations.”

Saltwater.

“Salt has long symbolized purification, driving away corruption and banishing sinister influences.”

Next came the centerpiece of the ritual.

Meteoric iron.

Iron extracted from a meteorite.

Just hearing the description made it sound expensive.

The fact that Anderson had casually provided it revealed the depth of his obsession with magic.

Holding the small lump of metal—which was smaller than my palm and probably worth more than my entire body—I lowered it into the saltwater.

“Won’t this oxidize? Iron rusts when it gets wet.”

“We’ll use it before that becomes a problem. Leave it in for now.”

Following Monk Cheonghwi’s instructions, I submerged the meteoric iron.

At this point I was starting to suspect he might be a little strange.

But then again, magic existed and monsters had appeared.

What wasn’t strange anymore?

And more importantly, I needed someone strange.

Not an ordinary, sensible person who would be useless.

I needed someone eccentric enough to guide me through this insane world with equally eccentric logic.

The next item was a red cloth.

We spread it carefully across the center of the room, smoothing it flat.

Then came the candles, which we positioned at the ends of the lines that would form the grid, following Monk Cheonghwi’s strong recommendations.

“Long ago, candlelight was humanity’s only source of illumination in the darkness. Because of this, people believed it protected them from the sinister and malicious beings lurking in the shadows. It also symbolizes the light of truth that illuminates a dark world.”

With that, Monk Cheonghwi handed me a ruler and a piece of chalk.

“Now. Draw the grid without wavering.”

“Yes, sir.”

Unfortunately, it was a flexible ruler.

I ended up circling around the red cloth, painstakingly tracing straight lines with chalk while trying to keep the ruler steady.

A rigid ruler would have been so much easier.

Why bring a flexible one?

As if reading my thoughts, Monk Cheonghwi answered.

“There aren’t any rigid rulers left on base.”

Life was truly unfair.

Fortunately, there was one thing I, Baek Jemin, could proudly boast about: I could draw a perfect circle without a compass.

Neat, square grids were carefully drawn across the red cloth, and candles were placed at every endpoint.

Click. Click.

Monk Cheonghwi lit a lighter and began lighting the candles. Meanwhile, I took out a ball of red thread from the supplies we had brought.

“Let’s connect the candles with red thread and overlay it on the grid.”

Red thread was laid directly over the white chalk lines drawn across the red cloth.

“Let’s prepare the censer. I’ll bring the Dragon’s Blood incense and a little chili powder.”

The lid of the silver censer opened, and the Dragon’s Blood resin was mixed with the chili powder. A piece of charcoal soaked slightly, ready to retain heat.

Before long, it was 11 PM.

The moment Monk Cheonghwi checked the time, he turned off his phone again and looked down at me.

“From now on, let’s disassemble and reassemble the rifle you brought.”

“Does it have to be a new one?”

An AR-15.

I had spent fifty military credits on it, and I was worried I might ruin it through repeated disassembly before I even got to fire it once.

But Monk Cheonghwi shook his head firmly.

“You could purify an old one by scrubbing it thoroughly with saltwater, just like the meteoric iron.”

“I’ll use the new one.”

“I’ll support you with mantras, but you must focus your mind. The success or failure of a ritual depends entirely upon the practitioner’s concentration.”

“Yes.”

I knelt before the ritual site, placed the AR-15 before me, and began disassembling and reassembling it.

Even then, I remained skeptical.

The preparations certainly looked convincing enough, but could any of this really enhance my Alteration Magic?

What if magic had absolutely nothing to do with occult traditions?

Wouldn’t it be better to dive into the fog and hope for a lucky drop?

Such distracting thoughts naturally slowed my hands.

Several dozen minutes passed.

Then the voice of Monk Cheonghwi, who had been silently watching, drifted over.

“Do you believe it is meaningless?”

“The attempts to seek truth. The attempts to illuminate ignorance.”

Chuckling softly, Monk Cheonghwi bowed his head with palms together before continuing in a calmer voice.

“Everything depends upon what a person sees and feels. It is only natural that one thing gives rise to a thousand perspectives. People believe their senses alone can be trusted, accepting only what they see and feel as truth. Yet once they realize even their senses cannot be trusted, they finally begin asking what truth truly is.”

A chilling sensation swept through the ritual room.

It felt as though the temperature had dropped five degrees.

Only when I saw my breath did I realize it wasn’t my imagination.

“As above, so below. Within me resides the Buddha. Within me already resides the divine. Sentient beings and Buddhas are not truly separate. This is why one practices for enlightenment in this very body. If one always postpones things to another life, how could one ever escape countless kalpas of reincarnation?”

At that moment, the fluorescent light overhead flickered.

The unstable light blinked several times before dying with a soft pop.

Only the candles lining the red grid remained, their flames wavering.

“Magic was originally a path of cultivation. Another system of practice, much like the meditation and discipline spoken of in Buddhism. Just as Daoists cultivate inner elixirs and seek detachment through harmony with nature, Western occultists studied numbers and transformed matter through alchemy in hopes of reaching the domain of the Great Brahma who created the world. Wealth and glory were never the true objective. They were merely byproducts of cultivation. Yet look at magic today.”

The red threads overlaying the grid began to glow.

I couldn’t tell whether it was real or merely an illusion.

At some point I had stopped looking at Monk Cheonghwi entirely, too busy feeling the cold sweat running down my ear.

“They do not question. They do not seek. They desire power yet refuse to understand power. They speak of truth yet make no effort to attain it. To such people, magic is merely a trick that turns lead into gold or a weapon that hurls fire to kill enemies.”

Then I felt a hand settle upon my shoulder.

“However, Benefactor Baek. You are different.”

Standing behind me, Monk Cheonghwi leaned forward slightly and kept his hand on my shoulder.

Together, we looked down at the ritual site.

“You are captivated by magic itself. Certainly, you are not free from worldly desires. Yet your soul bears a desire strong enough to overcome even those attachments.”

Then he spoke of each member of the Supreme Wizards.

Pastor Park Yohan. He would ignore the truth itself if necessary to preserve his faith.

Lee Sejun. He would use magic merely as a tool to remain loyal to his nation.

Shin Nain. He would misinterpret magic through misguided fanaticism.

Hamza. He lacked the will to refine his magic any further.

“Benefactor Baek. Magic may be the final opportunity granted to you—the one who lamented the possibility that an omnipotent power could vanish beneath nuclear fire. Whether you seize the mystery revealed to the world or turn away from it and settle into ordinary reality.”

“Unlike the occultists outside, you have walked through the hell created by monsters yourself. That grants you a sincerity and a choice that few others possess.”

My hands had stopped assembling the rifle.

Instead, I was idly turning the bolt carrier group in my hand, feeling the unique warmth of metal heated by body temperature.

“What will you do?”

Squeeze.

I gripped the bolt carrier tightly and thought.

For a moment, I remembered what Pastor Park Yohan had said when he founded our group, Aphorism.

Before our faith breaks, it will end.

Before fear subdues us, we shall become fear.

We are madness opposing madness, absurdity opposing absurdity.

Before hell seeps in, we advance into hell ourselves.

Only then did I answer.

“Pastor Park seemed to realize something long ago. I think that’s why he believes he’s destined for hell.”

Monk Cheonghwi smiled bitterly but did not deny it.

Slowly setting down the warmed bolt carrier, I recalled everything that had happened.

The refugee train that crashed into Suwon Station.

The flood of Amalgams and Devouring Spines.

The priest-monster and the Bodhisattva of Letters monster that rose from the dead.

The horrors unfolding within Seoul’s primary blockade zone.

The Teratoma that disguised itself as a human infant and launched psychic attacks.

We were already living in a hell without flames.

If so, even if this was a one-way ticket to hell, what was there to fear?

Besides, I wasn’t even Christian.

According to their logic, I was headed for unbeliever’s hell anyway.

So what exactly was there to hesitate about?

“Let’s begin.”

March 21, 2028 — 4:53 AM

It was the Hour of Mars before sunrise, as Monk Cheonghwi had instructed.

After washing my face with cold water, I removed the meteoric iron from the saltwater and carefully dried it.

Then I placed it in the center square of the 5×5 magic-square grid.

Exactly as Monk Cheonghwi directed.

“I will light the incense.”

Smoke drifted from the censer, filling the room with a sweet yet heavy fragrance.

The finish carried a sharp note reminiscent of cinnamon and cloves, mixed faintly with chili powder.

The smoke seemed to flow directly toward the red cloth and its grid.

After dozens of minutes, a cloud of incense smoke hovered above the ritual site like fog.

We waited.

As a tingling excitement ran up my spine, I stared at the red cloth beyond the disassembled rifle.

The doubt remained.

Will this really work?

Yet Monk Cheonghwi’s calm presence prevented my anxiety from growing.

For nearly an hour, meditation and preparation continued.

Finally, I drew the bayonet and prepared to cut my right palm.

March 21, 2028 — 6:33 AM

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Monk Cheonghwi checked the alarm on his phone.

“Cut your palm and let it bleed. Then grasp the prepared meteoric iron. I will teach you the incantation.”

“An incantation...”

“Sixty-six to create seven. Fifty-five to complete sixty-six. Two sets of five fingers dreaming of fifty-five.”

“Sixty-six to create seven.”

6:34 AM.

Sunrise began.

I slashed my right palm with the bayonet.

At once, the fog-cloud formed from incense smoke extinguished three candles.

The melted wax and burned wicks disappeared into the mist.

“Fifty-five to complete sixty-six.”

Before I could even register the pain, I reached out.

The iron felt cold through my blood.

Blood flowing from the wound mixed with the meteoric iron, producing a thick metallic scent.

Then every candle went out.

That was when I felt the iron dissolving.

Yet I continued the incantation.

“Two sets of five fingers dreaming of fifty-five.”

With the final words, my hand closed into a fist.

The iron was gone.

Only my fingers remained, pressing tightly against my bleeding palm.

At that moment, instinct struck me.

I looked through the incense fog toward the grid drawn upon the red cloth.

Something forcibly altered my mind.

Knowledge I had never seen nor heard before surged into the head of Baek Jemin—a man who struggled enough with a single language already.

The ritual had succeeded.

No matter how talentless or insignificant a person might be, merely completing this ritual granted qualification.

Qualification to reach greater mysteries.

Greater power.

I realized that eligibility depended not upon talent, but upon will.

I had reached Stage Two of Hand Magic.

The blood vessels writhing within my left hand pulsed with the rhythm of my heartbeat.

The same hand that had been shot and burned before seemed to be finally releasing all the delayed consequences it had carried.

Fortunately, it wasn’t painful enough to make me scream.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Clutching my left hand, I knelt there for quite some time with tears streaming down my face.

Because I had discovered an eternal truth:

When something hurts like hell, crying is the best solution.

“Ughhh... Huhuhu... Hehehe...”

Even while crying from pain, I couldn’t stop laughing.

I had essentially cheesed my way into Stage Two Hand Magic for free.

The realization that there were ways to pursue higher levels without fighting monsters filled me with joy.

The exhilaration of discovering that this wasn’t incomprehensible divine knowledge, but a system that human intellect could actually reach, was overwhelming.

No longer wandering blindly.

No longer stumbling through darkness.

For the first time, it felt as though I had caught a glimpse of the answer sheet.

And then—

My thoughts went cold.

“...Monk?”

When I looked around, every trace of him had vanished.

I hurried to my feet and opened the workshop door.

Soldiers were wandering the corridors, greeting the sunrise.

I ran to them and asked.

All of them simply blinked.

“No. Haven’t seen any monk.”

“Me neither...”

Despite their annoyance, they genuinely seemed not to know.

Hearing the commotion, Pastor Park Yohan arrived moments later, his glasses slipping down his face.

“The monk disappeared? Right after helping with the ritual and seeing it succeed?”

“He vanished while I was busy crying from the pain.”

“Where did he go? Did he say anything? More importantly, where could he even go after leaving here?”

“Pastor, that’s not the important part.”

Seeing my serious expression, he swallowed and glanced around carefully.

Only after confirming nobody else was nearby did he ask:

“Baek Jemin. Do you know something?”

“There’s something you need to see.”

“What?”

I led him into the workshop where the ritual had taken place.

A few candles reduced to wax.

Clouds of fragrant smoke.

The silver censer still smoldering.

The bayonet stained with my blood.

The half-assembled AR-15.

“This is...”

Turning to him with the gravest expression I could manage, I delivered the truly important matter.

“He disappeared before cleaning any of this up. If we leave it here, the soldiers are going to complain. For the sake of the Supreme Wizards’ reputation, don’t you think our esteemed leader should help me clean this up?”

God damn it.

You expect me to clean all this by myself?

Not happening.

Absolutely not cleaning it alone.