Chapter 42

Those Who Walk Toward the Darkness

Among our Archmages, the one who showed the greatest interest in the Phone Graveyard was Pastor Park Yohan.

After checking dozens of phones one by one, he had discovered that at least one family among the dead had attended church.

Perhaps because of that, the way he looked at the Phone Graveyard had become noticeably gentler.

While Hamza spread out the blankets he had brought, the pastor quietly rearranged the phones resting among the melted candles whose wicks had long since burned away and fused to the floor.

Still feeling drained, I took a few sips from my canteen and walked over.

"What are you doing?"

"Praying."

"You mean praying they get burned gently?"

"A prayer for all of us."

Behind his glasses and mild appearance, Pastor Park Yohan's eyes were unwavering.

Apparently, there were no exceptions to the doctrine that unbelievers could not enter Heaven.

Yet as he slowly surveyed the cracked and dirt-stained phone screens, the affection, pity, and melancholy in his gaze were unmistakable.

After looking over the Phone Graveyard several more times, he spoke in a calm voice.

"I don't think the military and the government made the wrong decision. They did the best they could. If they'd told everyone about monsters like these, society would've collapsed even faster."

"They did the right thing. They had to. Otherwise we wouldn't have lasted this long."

He picked up a pink phone covered in heart stickers.

After wiping dust from the screen several times with his thumb, he laughed softly when he only succeeded in smearing it with fingerprints and set it back down.

The phone that had once belonged to a cheerful young girl sat silently among the cold candles and blackened screens.

"I simply pray for the courage not to cowardly excuse my sins by saying there was no other choice. I pray for the honesty to admit what I did wrong when the time comes to face judgment."

"How many people actually do that?"

"Kid. That's how you become the light and salt of the world. Someone who serves in the clergy has to be stricter than anyone else."

"Even toward themselves. Salt has to be salty."

Then he glanced at me and smirked.

"Baek Jemin. Don't throw away your chance to repent like these people did and come to church already. I'll make you the youth ministry leader. If you turn into a monster before then, you won't even get a chance at Heaven."

"Wouldn't Heaven just be full of people like Shin Nain?"

"That's right."

I didn't have any particular grudge against Heaven.

But if all my neighbors were variations of Shin Nain, I'd certainly develop one.

I patted the pastor on the shoulder and pointed behind him.

"If you're done praying, come help spread the blankets and get ready for watch duty."

"This kid never lets anyone have a sentimental moment."

The pastor grumbled but finally forced himself to turn away from the Phone Graveyard.

The shock must have affected him more deeply than expected.

Perhaps he was comparing himself to the ear-magic user who had once led the survivors of Jangji Station.

Looking at the graveyard in his place, I found myself pondering a question.

What can a leader do after realizing that the people around them are infected and destined to become monsters?

The mage of Jangji Station had chosen the more selfless path.

He tried to gather the infected into the restrooms and burn them alive before they transformed.

Whether out of guilt or paranoia that he himself might already be infected, he burned himself along with them.

Then what would a selfish person do?

I couldn't help smiling as I looked over the Phone Graveyard.

If there was a mage who killed others and himself because he was selfless...

Then there was undoubtedly a mage somewhere who would kill everyone else in order to survive.

The day when mages would fight one another was drawing closer.

Unfortunately, my profound reflections were interrupted by the sharp voices of Lee Sejun and Shin Nain.

"Jemin, stop daydreaming and decide the watch schedule."

"Last watch."

"Like hell."

"Sigh. Nobody lets a man appreciate the atmosphere."

"Baek Jemin, don't misuse my words like that."

The struggle over first watch and last watch continued here as well.

My attempt to secure the last shift through emotional manipulation collapsed immediately.

I slung my rifle over my shoulder and squeezed into our little gathering of Archmages.

"You all know, right? I'm getting old now. I need proper sleep. I'll take first watch."

"Pastor, stop screwing around and let's leave it to the Lord's will with rock-paper-scissors."

"You little bastard..."

The pastor looked utterly betrayed.

But Baek Jemin wasn't so naive.

You think I'd let him steal first watch just because he got misty-eyed staring at the Phone Graveyard?

Not a chance.

Even if every god in existence approved, Baek Jemin would never allow it as long as I didn't get last watch.

April 16, 2028 — 8:47 AM

What woke us at Jangji Station wasn't an alarm.

It was artillery.

Every detonation sent a deep boom through the station, shaking the entire structure and showering dust through cracks in the broken ceiling.

Stay somewhere like this for a few days and your lungs would probably rot.

Yet we couldn't recklessly move to the surface while the bombardment continued.

Some suggested making good use of the time by continuing along Subway Line 8's tunnels.

That was when I presented a perfectly reasonable objection.

"The monsters aren't mindless. While the shelling continues, they'll obviously be hiding."

"In collapsed buildings. Underground."

"We killed nearly a hundred monsters just moving one station from Bokjeong to Jangji. If we try pushing through the tunnels during active shelling, we'll encounter even more."

It was the same reason Seoul's survivors had chosen subway stations as shelters.

At the very least, monsters on the outskirts would retreat indoors or underground to avoid artillery.

And while they were at it, they'd hunt any humans hiding there too.

Naturally, monster density would become much higher.

Just getting from Bokjeong Station to Jangji Station had cost us two grenades.

Each member of our Transformation Trio had burned through two thirty-round magazines.

We'd brought ten magazines per person.

On the very first day we'd already spent two each, plus two grenades.

Even with two 800-round ammunition cans, we'd used nearly 180 rounds.

If this pace continued, we'd eventually be swinging empty rifles like clubs.

So I tapped my temple and laid out the problem point by point.

"And then there's those Freedom Colonies."

"I don't think Seoul is the Seoul we knew anymore."

"Bokjeong to Jangji is still the outskirts. The constant bombardment probably reduced the contamination somewhat."

"If that's true, then the closer we get to the city center—where shelling was lighter—the worse the contamination becomes."

"The reason we've survived isn't because we're strong enough to endure anything. It's because we're exceptionally good at detecting danger and avoiding it."

Yesterday's encounter with the Freedom Colony—that flesh-colored slime—had convinced me.

Seoul was no longer a human city.

It was easier to think of it as another world entirely.

A concrete jungle inhabited by every kind of horror-movie monster imaginable.

The city had become a land of things born from humanity but no longer human.

Just as jungles were called green hells...

Seoul had become a gray hell.

"At the very least, we should avoid using underground routes until the shelling stops and the monsters return to the surface."

"Our firepower is limited."

"South Korea isn't exactly a country where we can easily resupply ammunition."

"Ideally, everyone should learn at least Stage 1 Hand Magic so we have viable close-combat options."

"And we need more local information before making any major moves."

Then I looked around Jangji Station.

We had cleaned up a little, but it was still a mess.

Proof that nobody besides us had managed to reach the platform.

Originally, our Archmage team occupied the position of a follow-up clearing unit.

The operation had been simple.

American and Korean special forces would scout ahead.

Volunteer soldiers—or those unfortunate enough to be assigned—would establish footholds.

Then civilian operators like us would move along the secured route.

That was the plan.

Somewhere along the way, however, something had gone wrong.

Gripping my rifle sling, I voiced a theory.

"The advance teams that tried to establish a foothold probably used surface roads instead of the subway tunnels."

"Just yesterday, our Transformation Trio encountered at least two major monster groups. That's a minimum of forty monsters, probably closer to a hundred."

"Sending ordinary infantry against that kind of density would be insane. Even if the fog limits visibility, they might've decided surface roads were safer since armored vehicles and transport support are available there."

The Archmages all looked at me strangely after hearing my theory.

Pastor Park Yohan raised an eyebrow.

Lee Sejun did too.

Shin Nain wore a satisfied smile.

Hamza even pretended to applaud.

"Holy shit... Baek Jemin, what's gotten into you?"

"What?"

"You don't usually sound this smart."

I learned at that moment that the Christian pastor had apparently looked down on me quite a bit.

Still, he seemed to think my reasoning made sense.

We agreed to spend more time regrouping in front of the Phone Graveyard at Jangji Station.

Chewing hardtack and washing it down with canteen water.

Not everyone, however, had fully grasped the importance of conserving drinking water.

Watching Lee Sejun gulp down food and water, Shin Nain decided to remind him.

"Sejun, conserve your water. If you run out, you'll have to turn on a faucet and get water from the restroom."

"Pffft! Cough! Cough!"

The moment Lee Sejun remembered the flesh-colored slime known as the Freedom Colony, he nearly choked to death.

After several fits of dry coughing, he began tilting his canteen much more carefully.

So we spent the day in front of the Phone Graveyard.

Eating.

Drinking.

Moving toward areas where the fog was thicker to practice magical script.

Examining the remaining phones and searching for clues.

The bombardment finally stopped at 1:31 PM.

I was absently tapping through a dark-blue phone when the constant shower of dust drifting from the station ceiling suddenly ceased.

The strange phenomenon, however, didn't happen above ground.

It happened on the phone.

Just as I was about to put it away, thinking the shelling had finally ended, a familiar yet unsettling sound echoed softly throughout the station.

Kkatok.

Everyone froze.

I slowly lowered my gaze toward the screen.

The dark-blue phone had lit up.

Kkatok.

I instinctively looked at Hamza.

He had been folding blankets.

His face immediately turned pale.

He shook his head rapidly as if trying to reject something, then tilted it in confusion.

Apparently it felt dangerous.

I checked the others.

Shin Nain couldn't read a phone's thoughts.

He frowned while casually resting a hand on his rifle.

Lee Sejun was too busy pounding his chest and hiccuping.

Only Pastor Park Yohan sighed.

"Check it."

"We need information. Even if it means taking a risk."

Most of the phones in the Phone Graveyard were locked.

But both the Jangji Station mage's phone and this dark-blue phone had their security disabled.

Whether the owners were careless or there was another reason, nobody knew.

What mattered was that we could actually read messages arriving on a phone with neither data nor Wi-Fi.

I swiped twice.

A message appeared.

[Military personnel spotted in Songpa-gu, Seoul.]

The first message.

Someone had apparently discovered the military forces sent to clear Seoul.

Had they found us?

Or were they talking about the soldiers who had mysteriously disappeared near Bokjeong Station?

There were too many possibilities to jump to conclusions.

I moved to the next message.

[Heavy fog. Outdoor activity is easy.]

The second message looked simple.

Almost meaningless.

The kind of thing that only became strange if you thought about it carefully.

I showed both messages to the group.

Naturally, our Archmages focused on the second one.

The pastor stroked his chin.

Shin Nain gestured thoughtfully.

"Heavy fog makes outdoor activity easier?"

"Maybe they're a survivor group composed entirely of mages?"

"You said magical backlash decreases when the fog is thicker. In that case, it's possible..."

"For ordinary people, it'd be hell either way."

Lee Sejun's comment ultimately summed up our conclusion.

We didn't know how much the fog affected monsters.

But when the fog thinned, monster vision likely improved as well.

The result was a bizarre environment where survival rates might actually be higher inside thick fog, where magic could be used freely.

Yet the most important implication lay elsewhere.

This phone's messages suggested something significant.

Just like the mysterious mage who had forced communications through the command tent in Seongnam before the power cable was cut...

The mages of Seoul apparently possessed some method of communication that worked without data or Wi-Fi.

That was not good news.

We immediately checked that all of our own phones remained powered off.

Then we decided to keep the dark-blue phone with us.

The unread indicator had already disappeared.

The sender's profile consisted of nothing but a single period.

No way to identify them.

Being cautious professionals who double-checked even extinguished fires, our Archmages reached a conclusion.

"According to that friendly survivor who warned us, most of Seoul's mages have gone insane."

"Truly selfless people like the mage of Jangji Station probably killed themselves long ago."

"If whoever sent these messages knows roughly where the phone owners are, and if they learn soldiers have reached the outskirts of Seoul..."

"They'll come after us immediately."

Shin Nain nodded.

"There could easily be a variation of Transformation Holy Ritual Magic that functions like psychometry."

"We don't know its limits, but at the very least we can't allow this dark-blue phone to fall into someone else's hands."

The discussion naturally evolved into another question.

Should they destroy the Phone Graveyard itself?

Lee Sejun and Hamza hesitated.

"The dead don't even have bodies left..."

"The angels remain silent. I can't tell whether it's safe or not."

That was when I found the answer.

"Let's return them."

And so our Archmages carried the phones from the Phone Graveyard to the restroom entrance.

It was the place where the remains of the self-immolated mage rested.

The place where traces of humanity met the monsters that had once been human.

The flesh-colored slimes extended grotesque pseudopods and felt around the discarded phones.

Like someone searching for their phone in a dark room with their eyes closed.

To a Freedom Colony, a smartphone should've been meaningless.

An unfamiliar object.

Something it couldn't eat.

Yet the creatures touched them.

The pale human eyes embedded along their edges stared fixedly at the devices.

Then more pseudopods emerged.

Large.

Small.

Dozens of them.

They covered the broken phones.

The same disgusting appendages that crawled through the cracks in restroom tiles grasped the cold devices and pulled them into the creatures' bodies.

We all knew the truth.

These things were no longer human.

According to Shin Nain, the Freedom Colonies were monsters formed from human souls shattered into tens of trillions of fragments.

And yet...

Those shattered remnants.

Those broken souls.

Those starving monsters.

Were still reaching for the objects they had touched most often in life.

One by one, the broken phones sank into the slime's body.

Vanishing beneath the pale waves and opaque flesh.

And once the last phones disappeared inside them...

The pale eyes stopped looking outward.

***

Tatatatang!

Gunfire.

Every one of us turned toward the sound.

The fog was too thick to see anything.

But we had emerged from Exit 3 of Jangji Station.

We could make a reasonable guess.

The department store.

The same department store mentioned in the dead mage's records.

The one he believed artillery had intentionally avoided hitting.

Had soldiers entered it?

At that moment, a pained voice crackled from the radio inside the vehicle.

[...Hostile survivor detected...]

The speaker's breathing was ragged.

The voice of someone already dying.

[Localized... localized... fuck... that mage bastard...]

Our eyes met through the lenses of our gas masks.

Missing soldiers.

Survivor groups that were impossible to locate.

Endless fog.

Mysterious messages.

New monsters that could appear at any moment.

And mages.

We were standing at the heart of humanity's greatest catastrophe.

A mystery that had swallowed the world in 2028.

And I felt exhilaration.

A thrilling anticipation.

The excitement of discovering countless forms of magic along the way.

My voice trembled.

Not from fear.

From excitement.

"Let's go."

Hooo...

My breath escaped through the gas mask filter.

We stepped forward into the swirling fog.

Gripping our weapons.

Eyes wide with fear and anticipation.

We were explorers entering a place that was no longer a human city.

Day 2 of the Expedition.

We were heading toward the department store where the gunshots had originated.