Chapter 60

It's All Mine

When I was a kid, I used to close my eyes on Christmas Eve with my heart pounding in anticipation of the presents waiting for me.

I remember being excited about what kind of gift would be waiting for me more than whether Santa Claus was real or not. The difference now that I'm an adult is that I have to earn the gift box myself.

Some people might find that disappointing.

But Baek Jemin, a man among men, doesn't get worked up over trivial things like that. I drew my greatsword and gave it a few loose swings before beginning the joyous task of opening my present.

"Look at him, all wrapped up. Let's take off the goggles, take off the mask~."

Being a man of delicate sensibilities, I didn't want to accidentally touch Ski Goggles' lips, so I poked the mask with the tip of my greatsword and carefully peeled it off. I used my right hand to maneuver the sword and remove the mask while lifting the goggles with my left, hoping to finally get a look at his face.

But Ski Goggles' face was far more horrifying than I'd imagined.

"Jemin, what are you making such a fuss about now— Ack!"

Clang!

I dropped my greatsword and staggered backward. Lee Sejun, who'd been trying to sneak closer to get a look himself, saw Ski Goggles' face and recoiled in disgust as well.

Hamza trembled as if he'd witnessed something he was never meant to see, while only Shin Nain and Pastor Park widened their eyes and stared intently at Ski Goggles' exposed face.

"So this is the price of being a ritual-type mage? What the hell did he make a contract with?"

"A fitting appearance for a servant of demons."

Ski Goggles' bare face was covered in V-shaped cuneiform symbols engraved in irregular, asymmetrical patterns, facing every which way.

From a distance, they might have looked like tattoos or body paint.

But after seeing them up close, I could say with certainty:

They weren't tattoos.

They weren't paint.

The flesh itself had been gouged inward.

His cheeks, forehead, lips, bridge of the nose, philtrum—his entire face was pitted with V-shaped cuneiform marks of varying sizes and orientations, each sealed over with scabs.

The worst part was that some of those symbols had even spread into his eyes.

The whites of his eyes.

Dark crimson cuneiform characters drifted across them as though floating on the surface of water, occasionally passing over his pupils.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Goosebumps erupted all over my body from sheer biological revulsion.

Looking at Ski Goggles' face, stained and defiled by those V-shaped symbols, I felt an overwhelming destructive urge.

I wanted to scrape his entire face apart with a blade until every last mark was gone.

The problem was that I needed to extract the magic-engraved eyes and destroy them to seize the power contained within the catalyst.

Lee Sejun quietly took several more steps backward and shrugged as though making a noble sacrifice.

"Wow~ Lucky you, Jemin. I'm not an Eye mage, after all."

"Hang in there, Jemin. You have to keep your eyes open while doing it. If you close them, you might mess up."

Both Sejun and Hamza had attached themselves to me while trembling from head to toe.

Honestly, if someone asked me which was more disgusting—a cockroach or Ski Goggles' cuneiform-covered face—I would have chosen to keep the cockroach as a pet.

If destroying a wizard's catalystized body part wasn't the way to obtain their power, I'd have burned the whole thing without hesitation.

Everyone seemed to feel the same way.

Even Shin Nain was fiddling with his rifle nervously while looking at me.

"Should I just smash it?"

"No, no... I'll handle it. Besides, if you destroy it, how are we supposed to use your Ear Stage 3 to get information out of him?"

No matter how disgusting it was, the job still had to be done.

We needed to squeeze every bit of information possible out of Ski Goggles through Shin Nain's Ear Stage 3. Destroying everything just because it was revolting would get us nowhere.

I wasn't some primitive caveman who judged guilt solely by appearance.

Sssst... Hooo...

After exhaling through my gas mask, I reversed my grip on the greatsword.

It was easier to harvest this way.

As if enough time had passed, Ski Goggles' eyes suddenly changed color, like a steamed crab turning a vivid reddish hue.

A distorted square forcibly crammed inside a triangle.

The symbol representing the Eye emerged within his pupils, pushing aside the cuneiform markings.

Now all I had to do was extract it.

I wondered if bounty hunters who used to cut off wanted criminals' heads had felt the same way.

Crouching low, I began harvesting the catalyst with the tip of my greatsword.

Scrape. Scrape.

The sensation of metal scraping bone traveled through the hilt.

Something soft gave way beneath the blade.

When the harvesting was finally complete, a pair of Ski Goggles' eyes rested in my hands.

Without hesitation, I placed them on the ground and lifted my foot.

Pastor Park suddenly raised a hand.

"Wait, Jemin. Hold on. Since there are two of them, maybe Nain and you could each take one—"

"No! They're mine!"

A Stage 3 Ear Mage trying to get his hands on Stage 2 Eye Magic too?

Absolutely not.

Crunch!

Ski Goggles' eyeballs burst beneath my foot.

Just like with Dubai Sticky Witch's tongue root and heart, the eyes released a burst of fog.

The moment that fog enveloped me—

Knowledge flooded into me once again.

Words and languages I'd never heard before echoed endlessly through my mind.

It felt like being thrown into the center of a debate hall filled with dozens of people all shouting over one another.

Even political extremists screaming at each other would have sounded more civilized than this.

The voices tearing through my mind were discordant, slurred, shrill, and grating.

Like broken recorders screeching out mismatched notes.

Like construction noise somehow made even worse.

Hoarse groans.

Phlegm-choked voices.

Even those would have sounded cleaner.

Yet despite the cacophony, I forced myself to focus.

Just as a dying man might drink muddy water from a roadside ditch if he were thirsty enough, I desperately sifted through the noise for useful knowledge.

It demanded concentration beyond anything I'd experienced.

Worse than the agony of Eye Magic scraping against my eyeballs.

The harder I focused, the more my temples throbbed.

The more I listened, the more nauseous I became.

Still, I managed to piece together several important truths.

The Seoul mages' understanding of magic was far more systematic than anything the military knew.

First: Thaumaturgic Type

This encompassed things like curses cast by shamans, tarot divination, and the mysteries of alchemy attributed to Hermes Trismegistus.

Most Seoul mages initially lacked enough knowledge to use it properly.

But after January 6th and the Threshold Break, information gradually spread.

Some Alteration-Type mages supplemented their combat abilities with Thaumaturgy and survived because of it.

Second: Ritual Type

A contract-based form of magic.

Originally, rituals were humanity's attempt to reproduce and control natural phenomena.

Science and ritual were more similar than most people realized.

Science sought natural laws through experimentation.

Ritual sought them through divine entities and supernatural ceremonies.

Ritual-Type magic focused on the latter.

The mage entered contracts with higher beings through revelations received in dreams or through painstaking research, borrowing their power in the form of spells.

Very little was known about these entities.

The details of contracts and spells were closely guarded because revealing them made them easier to counter.

Such contracts were extraordinarily dangerous.

Once Contract Progress reached 100%, destruction became inevitable.

Even Ski Goggles didn't fully understand the entity he'd contracted with.

He only inferred its nature from the cuneiform marks spreading across his body and the grimoire he himself had created.

Still, he believed his eventual fate was clear.

His entire body would become cuneiform script.

He believed complete ruin would transform him into a page of a grimoire, much like the Necronomicon from the Cthulhu Mythos.

To delay that fate, he offered sacrifices.

The contracted entity demanded fresh meat.

A difficult commodity to acquire in fog-covered Seoul.

Rather than raiding freezer stores and contested territory, Ski Goggles had decided to hunt ordinary survivors instead.

He avoided targeting mages because the cost in summoned servants was too high.

He estimated there were tens of thousands of surviving mages in Seoul.

Of those, roughly ten thousand had reached Stage 2 or higher and possessed meaningful power.

Believing all of them were hiding their true strength, he'd cautiously preyed only upon ordinary people.

And then I learned something unexpected about Ear Magic.

How had Ski Goggles awakened Ritual Magic in the first place?

The moment I wondered that, the chaotic voices faded.

One familiar voice emerged.

[The Sixty-Six Society?]

Ski Goggles.

His voice sounded calmer and more polite than it had during our fight.

[Who are those people? Why do they care how I learned this?]

He was speaking to someone.

My vision shifted.

I found myself seeing Ski Goggles' hideout.

My hearing sharpened, bringing the other senses with it.

The hideout became clearer.

Blackout curtains.

Wooden barricades sealing the windows shut.

A blood-painted pentagram on the curtains.

Tears of dried blood trailing down the fabric.

Ski Goggles sat fully bundled up even indoors, chopping something with a Chinese cleaver.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The knife struck the cutting board rhythmically.

The walls were cracked from constant bombardment.

Human hands hung from nails driven into the wall.

Aside from that, it almost looked cozy.

Ski Goggles chopped human hands apart joint by joint, tossed them into a dented pot of boiling water, and carefully carved symbols into each piece using a sharpened pen nib.

Most people would have seen only horror.

I saw devotion.

Focus.

The passion of someone wholly absorbed in his work.

His occult phone sat on speaker mode atop the table.

Ski Goggles spun the bloodstained cleaver in his hand.

His voice was now as clear as if I stood beside him.

"Damn. Those guys are completely insane."

He let out a dry laugh.

Yet strangely—

He didn't seem upset at all.

He merely grinned to himself as he painstakingly carved cuneiform symbols into a human wrist with the tip of a pen.

Ski Goggles was even humming to himself as he worked. Eventually, he set down the pen and wrist and headed toward the blackout curtains.

Pinching the edge of the curtain between two fingers, he lifted it ever so slightly—just enough to peek outside through a gap no wider than a speck of dust—before quickly letting it fall again.

When he returned to the cutting board, his steps seemed light and cheerful.

"Honestly, this might be worth trying. So, if I share what I know about Ritual-Type magic, what can you guys do for me?"

The voice on the other end of the occult phone couldn't be heard.

Instead, I watched Ski Goggles hurriedly gather pens and writing tools. When he couldn't find a notebook, he rummaged through a pile of heavy black garbage bags stacked in a corner.

A few seconds later, he pulled out a severed woman's forearm, pale and untouched by cuneiform inscriptions, and slapped it onto the cutting board.

"Wait... July 7th, 2:30 a.m. Prepare the magic seal and the ritual... and the incantation is...?"

Scratch. Scratch.

Watching him casually use a human arm as a notepad was so absurdly ordinary that I felt cognitive dissonance just looking at it.

Even as he carved so deeply that the pen scraped against bone, I could clearly hear him swallowing nervously.

"Sixty-Six for the Seven. Fifty-Five for completing the Sixty-Six. A pair of eyes that gaze upon the realization of Fifty-Five. Good. Seoul people should help each other out."

Ring.

The pen tip withdrew from the dead woman's arm.

Ski Goggles set the bloodstained pen down and wiped the blood from his hands onto his long padded coat.

"Try dreaming. Symbols representing various gods are hidden within this damned fog. If you're lucky, you'll find one. Sleep beside the symbol, dream through it, and you'll receive revelations and offers."

But wiping away blood didn't erase the cuneiform symbols covering his body.

He absentmindedly raised his left hand—

And saw the irregular V-shaped cuneiform marks pitting the back of his hand like smallpox scars.

Crunch.

Without hesitation, Ski Goggles drove the pen tip into the back of his own hand.

He stabbed and gouged, digging at the cuneiform symbols one by one.

Yet no matter how deeply he carved, no matter how much flesh he tore away, he couldn't erase them.

Blood pooled into V-shaped grooves.

When he stripped away flesh and blood entirely, even the bones beneath twisted themselves into V-shaped joints.

Eventually, he stopped struggling.

After a deep breath and a blink—

His left hand had returned to normal.

No wounds.

No scars.

Only the cuneiform symbols remained.

"One more favor."

Rubbing his hands together, he desperately tried not to look at the symbols.

"Just tell me where the non-mage freeloaders are. Food's getting hard to find for everyone, right? People should be changing their minds by now. Time to face reality. Anyone who isn't a mage isn't really human anymore. Leave them alive and they'll just turn into monsters eventually."

That was when he abandoned the cutting board and moved toward a corner.

He picked up one of those steel tent stakes and tapped it against the wall several times before beginning to pack his backpack.

"Wouldn't it be a hundred times, a thousand times more efficient for us to use them and raise our stages than to create one more monster?"

Tap.

"I can make use of them ten thousand times over. Call me."

The moment Ski Goggles tapped the wall one last time with the stake while slinging the backpack over his shoulder—

The vision ended.

I had fully absorbed the catalyst's power.

At the same time, understanding of Stage 3 Alteration-Type magic flooded into me like a rising tide.

Stage 1 was Reflection.

Looking back upon happiness in order to feel pain.

Understanding why suffering hurts.

Stage 2 was Grief.

Falling from happiness and experiencing pain.

A stage where both body and mind mourn unavoidable suffering, undergoing emotional catharsis again and again.

Stage 3 was Acceptance.

Either rejecting pain or embracing it.

Preparing oneself—whether to escape suffering or to willingly revel in it.

And I was already enjoying pain.

"Bleeeaargh..."

Throwing up had become second nature by now.

The moment nausea rose up, I yanked my gas mask upward to prevent a disaster inside it. Of course, a puddle of vomit splattered across the asphalt, but roads existed for things like that.

As I knelt on one hand and retched onto the ground, I heard someone clicking their tongue above me.

"Ha. Baek Jemin's completely insane. Refused to share and stomped both of them himself."

"Jemin, you should've tested what would've happened if you and Nain each took one eye."

"Bleeaargh... Ptui!"

I spat at Lee Sejun's fake-reasonable nonsense.

"If we each took one and neither of us leveled up, I'd be the only loser. Why would I do that? Are you crazy?"

The whole reason I'd entered fog-covered Seoul was for magic.

And he wanted me to give it up?

Might as well tell someone not to breathe because breathing eventually makes you grow old.

Pastor Park stared down at Ski Goggles' corpse while idly touching his rifle's trigger.

"So if an Ear mage destroys a catalyst, they can directly witness the owner's memories?"

"Yep. My Ear Magic's only Stage 1, so I'm pretty trash at it. But from now on, if a mage's abilities aren't useful, Nain should be the one destroying the catalyst."

According to what I'd learned from destroying Dubai Sticky Witch's tongue, advancement through catalyst destruction had limits.

You could only increase your stage by destroying a catalyst from a mage of the same discipline who possessed a higher stage than yourself.

The knowledge gained depended on how much occult understanding the destroying mage already possessed.

If people like Shin Nain or Lee Sejun kept slacking off instead of studying mysticism, priceless knowledge would simply vanish into the void.

But Ear mages seemed able to bypass that restriction.

I glanced toward Shin Nain.

He was staring down at Ski Goggles' corpse with outright contempt.

For a moment I wondered whether he'd learned everything I'd seen.

That hope died immediately.

The fanatic had apparently spent the entire time poking Ski Goggles' face with the barrel of his rifle while I was trapped in the vision.

As Hamza flailed nearby, unsure what to do, Shin Nain remained busy prodding the cuneiform-covered face.

"Nain. That's filthy. Don't do that."

"This man worshipped idols other than the Lord and may have harmed our brothers and sisters in Christ. Even a heathen like you should understand my desire to make him suffer a little more."

"I don't understand. And I don't want to."

"Ah, Lord! Communication with those outside the flock is impossible!"

The only person capable of stopping this disaster was another devout Christian.

Pastor Park met my sparkling gaze, shook his head, and quietly placed a hand on Shin Nain's shoulder.

"Shin Nain."

"Pastor, we need to burn him. Make him suffer before he reaches hellfire."

"Judgment belongs to the Lord. Our duty isn't judgment. It's helping unbelievers repent before they commit even greater sins."

"But... Pastor..."

"We've already sent him before the Lord. That's enough. Let's go. We've wasted enough time."

"But he made a pact with a demon. I could tell from Jemin's thoughts. He was contacted through dreams!"

"What?!"

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Pastor Park and Shin Nain immediately began smashing Ski Goggles' head with rifle stocks and kicks.

Even our ancestors pounding rice cakes during Chuseok couldn't have matched that enthusiasm.

The assault was so sudden and so destructive that Lee Sejun and Hamza could only watch in terror.

I was just as horrified.

But the thought of valuable loot being destroyed drove me into action.

"Wait!"

"What now?!"

"Jemin, move. This is purification!"

I raised a hand and calmly stopped them.

"Let's take off his backpack first. Then you can continue."

April 19, 2028 — 3:24 PM

Day 5 of the Expedition

After defeating the attacker known as Ski Goggles and obtaining his backpack, we successfully passed Mongchontoseong Station.

The result would have been beautiful if Lee Sejun hadn't spent the entire time grumbling through his gas mask.

"Of course they dump this job on me again."

"Stage 3 Heart Mage, superhuman who doesn't even need to poop—carry some luggage. We've used enough ammo that it's lighter now."

"Easy for you to say when you're not carrying it."

"Hey. I'm carrying a sword."

Of course, not everything was perfect.

Fighting Ski Goggles had drained our ammunition at an alarming rate.

We only had 800 rounds left.

Without the ammunition we'd recovered at Jangji Department Store, we'd already be empty.

As a result, the Supreme Mages had been forced to assign combat roles.

Lee Sejun, with Stage 3 Heart and Stage 1 Hand, could crush monsters through raw physical strength.

And me, Baek Jemin—the Supreme among Supreme Mages—with Stage 3 Eye, Stage 2 Hand, Stage 2 Tongue, and Stage 1 Ear.

The two of us carried only a single magazine each while taking responsibility for close combat.

Everyone else became useless the moment they ran out of bullets.

Sejun took the rear.

I took the vanguard.

It was the best arrangement possible.

Honestly, my performance had been so incredible that they could've edited footage of me into a memorial video at my funeral.

Tongue Stage 2, Appetite.

Without me, we never would've been able to neutralize small monster packs so efficiently.

I'd love to brag about every detail.

But I'll save that for my funeral.

We crossed a massive bridge, repeatedly gazing at the silhouettes of skyscrapers rising beyond the dense fog.

Then we looked down at the river still flowing despite everything that had happened.

It gave me a strange feeling.

Humans were worrying about life and death.

The river simply kept flowing.

Even the fish beneath the surface seemed fine.

Another reminder that the monsters targeted only humans.

"Everything in Seoul is huge."

"No. The apartments are tiny."

While Hamza and Lee Sejun exchanged meaningless chatter, Pastor Park and Shin Nain discussed something more serious.

The strange name I'd seen in Ski Goggles' memories.

"The Sixty-Six Society..."

"Those who command demons?"

"Hard to say... It does seem connected to that monk."

I smacked both of them on the back and spoke up.

"Let's stop obsessing over things we can't find yet and keep moving. We need to reach the Han River before today ends."

"Hah. Wonder what's waiting for us there."

Pastor Park sounded worried.

Shin Nain exhaled softly.

"Pastor, I think we should reorganize again once we reach the Han River."

"Yeah. We should."

Determination returned to Pastor Park's eyes.

He turned toward us Supreme Mages, raised his rifle, and gestured.

"Alright, Best of the Best. Quit slacking and let's move."

"Yessir."

Lee Sejun answered playfully before jerking his chin toward me.

Grinning, I ran my left index finger across the flat of my greatsword.

The blade in my right hand was stained with blood.

Written upon it, in my own blood, was a single word:

[Sharpness]

The letters had dried into dark crimson.

Of course, both my hands were wrapped in Hamza's cat-pattern bandages because of it.

As I gripped the greatsword tightly and began walking again, everyone's voices drifted through the fog.

"If Seoul property prices crash, I want a house too."

"Islam-boy, you'd actually want to live here?"

Behind us, monsters shrieked as they devoured one another.

Ahead of us, the river flowed.

Each step across the bridge tiles stained with dried brown blood carried the faint smell of the river.

After getting used to the stench of rot and blood, the scent almost seemed clean.

A city soaked in mold, decay, blood, and river water.

A place many would call hell.

Yet we were still alive.

And willingly walking toward an even deeper hell.