Chapter 63

Everyone Loves a Campfire

Inside the shelter protected by ponchos coated with Right Hand's Blood, the wind rattled the windows sharply.

As it did, we discussed what to do with the newly acquired grimoire bound in human skin.

As expected, Pastor Park Yohan and Shin Nain—both doctrine-type mages—opposed keeping it more fiercely than anyone else.

"Why are we even discussing it? It's an evil object made from human skin. And according to Jemin, it's a gateway to demons. We should burn it immediately!"

"The devil's strategy is always to tempt people with small profits right in front of them. Deals with demons may appear beneficial, but they inevitably lead to ruin."

Meanwhile, Hamza's opinion wavered uncertainly now that he'd regained his composure.

"It's dangerous. Extremely dangerous... but the angel says it might be useful."

"Are you sure that's an angel? Islam-boy, are you already possessed or something?"

When Pastor Park shot him a suspicious look, Hamza frowned and snapped back.

"Don't doubt the Angel Jibril!"

"Then why does Gabriel suddenly become Jibril, huh?!"

The two began bickering again.

I didn't have time for it.

Turning my head, I saw Lee Sejun yawning lazily as if he couldn't care less.

He contributed only a single comment.

"If using that thing makes those creepy wedge symbols grow all over your body, I'm out."

For a healthy twenty-four-year-old man covered in muscle, he was surprisingly serious about skincare.

Personally, I agreed that using the grimoire recklessly was a terrible idea.

Contracts and rituals involving transcendent beings had always been the classic example of extremely high risk for potentially high rewards.

Naturally, such things weren't pure scams.

These mystical contracts usually promised incredible powers.

And often delivered.

The problem was the price.

The law of equivalent exchange demanded payment from the caster.

People liked to imagine tricking higher beings and profiting from the deal.

Stories were full of talented mages who outwitted demons and won advantageous contracts through clever words.

What people ignored was that those same fictional mages always emphasized certain rules.

The rituals themselves had to be performed exactly according to procedure.

Every single time.

If you looked past the dopamine rush of the story and paid attention to the details, the lesson was obvious:

Follow the instructions properly when making contracts.

Honestly, that wisdom applied to ordinary life as much as occult rituals.

I, Baek Jemin, had entered the fog seeking the omnipotent power of magic.

But I hadn't come here because I thought power could be obtained carelessly and without cost.

I opened my mouth to settle the argument brewing among the Supreme Mages.

"Let's avoid destroying it for now and use it as a trade item with the Seoul locals."

Everyone reacted identically.

"Baek Jemin?"

"You?"

"I'm sorry, did I hear that correctly?"

The way they all stared at me with wide eyes immediately soured my mood.

What exactly did these people think of me?

Wasn't I a calm, cautious, level-headed archmage who approached magic with careful reasoning?

I tapped the cover of the grimoire with a fingernail.

The cover made from human skin.

Then I clicked my tongue.

"First. If this grimoire genuinely belongs to some demon or similar transcendent being, trying to destroy it might attract its attention. That's practically a cliché. The person who destroys it could end up cursed."

"Jemin, that's exactly what they want! Fear is how they force people to preserve their evil tools!"

The pastor nearly exploded.

Honestly, I hesitated for a moment.

Destroying the grimoire.

For a doctrine-type mage rather than a modification-type mage, there might actually be benefits.

Doctrine mages drew power from religious worldviews humanity had believed in for centuries.

Destroying an invasive artifact from another world might strengthen them.

The logic was sound.

But...

Sister Kang Areum's warning suddenly resurfaced in my mind.

Doctrine-type mages are targeted first.

She had warned me directly.

The others had heard it too.

Yet they didn't seem to appreciate its significance.

But Ski Goggles had targeted the pastor and Hamza first.

He'd hidden himself and approached within striking distance carrying an Amalgam head and Predatory Spine.

Was that really a coincidence?

Had he targeted weaker combatants?

Or was there another reason doctrine mages were hunted?

There wasn't enough information to know.

Under those circumstances, there was no telling what risks destroying the grimoire might pose.

At the very least, we needed more clues.

Or a safer way to destroy it.

When I explained my reasoning, even the pastor and Shin Nain began reconsidering.

"...Whew. Jemin. For a second there, I thought you'd already fallen under the grimoire's influence."

"As expected of a practitioner of Sacred Arts. The Holy Spirit still dwells within you despite your unbelief."

"Of course, we should read it too."

"BAEK JEMIN!"

The pastor nearly exploded again.

I held up a hand to calm him.

Then I presented my second argument.

"Whether we can learn anything from it is secondary. If we encounter another ritual mage, we need to know what other spells exist."

Ski Goggles had used two primary incantations.

I remembered them vividly from our battle.

They sounded like meaningless gibberish.

But for a man contracted with something transcendent, they had produced real magic.

1. Halu Wi Chungwiyasyen.

A concealment spell.

If you didn't recognize it, even Hamza's angelic intuition couldn't detect it.

Had we merely categorized Ski Goggles as an invisible modification-type mage, we never would have discovered him.

The more thoroughly information about the caster was hidden, the stronger the concealment seemed to become.

2. Olnipial.

A command-and-summoning spell.

More specifically, it appeared to summon monsters that had already been enslaved.

I couldn't confirm whether it was also used to establish control.

But it seemed likely.

Considering how he wielded monsters as weapons, it looked as though he'd forced civilians to become monsters in order to expand his supply of servants.

Capturing living monsters required hunting them.

Capturing civilians and infecting them with Amalgam fluids or Predatory Spine venom was much cheaper.

And those were only two spells.

What if there were more?

What if this grimoire contained clues to the truth behind the disaster?

"Besides, there may be locals who want to learn ritual magic. It could create enemies, sure. But it could also obtain things we desperately need right now."

After hearing all of that, the others began to relent.

Even the two most vocal opponents stopped demanding immediate destruction.

Instead, everyone became extremely cautious.

The pastor pulled a Bible from his backpack and handed it to me.

"Baek Jemin. Put one hand on this Bible and swear you'll never be seduced by that grimoire."

"Will a few words really make you feel better?"

"Before all law and writing came the Word. Covenants may seem trivial, but they embody the principles upon which the world was built. There's a difference between making an oath and not making one. That's the power of words."

And so I found myself swearing an oath.

Naturally, I wasn't immediately allowed to read the grimoire.

Before that, Shin Nain—an Ear Stage 3 mage—would attempt communication.

Her goal was simple.

To converse with the lingering remnants within the book and learn how it was meant to be read.

"Lord, please protect me."

With a slightly trembling voice, Shin Nain placed a hand on the grimoire and fell silent.

Ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

One minute.

Her hand trembled.

So did her eyelids.

Cold sweat glued strands of hair to her cheeks.

Even Hamza looked worried as her lips gradually turned blue.

"She looks like she's having a hard time."

"Hamza, literally anyone can see that."

Even Lee Sejun couldn't resist commenting.

Hamza pouted and crossed his arms.

Three minutes later, Shin Nain suddenly snapped her eyes open and jerked her hand away from the book.

Breathing like a fever patient, she staggered from dizziness before crawling backward until her back hit the wall.

"Hah... hah..."

She looked so miserable that I suppressed my curiosity.

Eventually Hamza rushed over and handed her a canteen.

She accepted it weakly and drank in small gulps.

Only after wetting her throat did she finally speak.

"The hands."

"The hands?"

"When reading it, never use both hands. Turn the pages with one hand, and use a prepared hand to hold the page in place. Be careful not to let the pages open on their own."

Her lips trembled slightly.

Then she added:

"The owner of the book isn't human."

"I understand."

So the severed hands were bookmarks.

That was what she meant.

Before anyone could stop me, I immediately began preparing.

I carefully removed the neatly stacked severed hands from Ski Goggles' backpack and arranged them nearby.

Then I steeled myself and prepared to open the grimoire.

I could feel the others' ominous gazes on me.

I reassured them with a single sentence.

"Every first step in life is dangerous."

"Shouldn't there be exceptions when the first step is a nuclear launch button?"

Lee Sejun had become disturbingly talented at ruining dramatic moments.

Ignoring him completely, I opened the grimoire.

With my right hand, I turned the page.

With my left, I lifted one of the severed hands and used it as a bookmark.

The heavy leather binding opened.

A strangely atmospheric sound followed.

Rustle.

The pages felt far warmer than I had expected.

The pages felt as though they had been wrapped in wool cloth.

A soft, warm sensation climbed up my fingers.

If you soaked a wool garment in a vat of damp, slightly sticky sweat, you might reproduce the feeling of touching this wedge-script grimoire.

People say that truly great books feel alive.

That the paper and letters seem to breathe.

This grimoire belonged firmly in that category.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The breathing wasn't mine.

Nor did it belong to any of the Supreme Mages.

The others had already backed away, weapons drawn in preparation for whatever might happen.

The breathing belonged to the book.

More precisely, it came from every page.

Like a choir that had spent years training until every note and rhythm matched perfectly, the entire book inhaled and exhaled as one.

Inhale—

The page beneath my hand puffed up slightly, as though tiny fibers were standing on end.

Exhale...

Then it flattened again.

The sensation was unsettling.

Like damp plastic clinging tightly against skin.

The strange moisture accompanying each breath even seemed to dampen the back of my hand.

The V-shaped wedge characters scattered across each page behaved similarly.

The book was alive.

It breathed.

It pulsed.

Instead of a heart, countless wedge-shaped characters trembled and shifted.

Every pulse caused them to shudder.

Split apart.

Merge together.

Reform.

And slowly, steadily—

They began crawling toward my hand.

"!"

I hurriedly placed one of the severed hands onto the page as a bookmark.

The wedge characters immediately changed direction.

Instead of flowing toward the hand that had turned the page, they moved toward the severed hand holding it open.

This wasn't a book.

The symbols that should have remained letters flowed like thick syrup.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Toward the severed hand.

The moment a single character touched it—

A dark red mass of flesh swelled within one of the V-shaped carvings etched into the hand.

The carved groove filled completely.

The growth looked like a malignant tumor.

New symbols were being written into the pale flesh.

And then I understood.

The severed hands were a timer.

Once every carving was filled, the symbols would begin flowing toward my own hand.

Only then did I realize my eyelids were stinging.

Sweat trickled down from my forehead.

I forced myself to continue examining the book.

The grimoire was overflowing with V-shaped symbols.

Not a single language I understood existed within it.

Instead, grotesque crimson growths blossomed inside the carved grooves of the sacrificial hand.

Always in the shape of a V.

My reason screamed that I needed to keep reading.

But my eyes continually drifted toward the timer.

Toward the offering.

Unable to endure it any longer, I brought over the remaining severed hands and placed them atop the pages as well.

Remaining sacrifices: 5.

Just in case, I removed my right hand from the book and bit down on it until blood flowed.

I wanted to see whether Hand Stage 1: Right Hand's Blood could influence the grimoire.

The moment my bloodied hand touched the pages, it worked.

The spell that enforced humanity's common sense upon reality affected even this artifact from beyond the world.

Some of the flowing wedge symbols froze in place.

Then they shattered.

Breaking into countless tiny fragments.

Like pixels.

The fragments rearranged themselves into orderly patterns.

My eyes drifted toward the sacrifices.

Remaining sacrifices: 4.

The hand whose carvings had completely filled with symbols suddenly began writhing.

Then it melted.

The flesh fused directly into the page.

Everyone recoiled in horror as the severed hand dissolved into paper.

I forced myself not to look.

What mattered was the knowledge.

The words.

The meaning taking shape.

If necessary, I was ready to invoke Tongue Stage 1: Degradation.

I stared harder.

Remaining sacrifices: 3.

Finally, meaningful words appeared.

Meaningful sentences.

The answer I had wanted.

And the answer I had hoped not to find.

To be certain, I read the text aloud.

Remaining sacrifices: 2.

This was not originally a human language.

The book had never belonged to humanity.

It had never been written for humanity.

It was an altar.

One designed to use humans as sacrifices.

Yet now it was being forced into human understanding.

Forced by Right Hand's Blood.

Prepared for human speech through Tongue Stage 1: Degradation.

From the perspective of the grimoire and its owner, there could hardly be a greater act of blasphemy.

Tongue Stage 1: Degradation.

"Spell. Concealment. Enslavement. False Fog."

Remaining sacrifices: 1.

And then I understood.

The owner of the grimoire had noticed me reading it.

Through the degraded human language, it spoke.

The shattered wedge symbols whispered.

"This contract is absolutely fair.

You are being saved through this book."

The moment I finished reading that sentence, I jerked my hand away.

I shoved it into my sleeve.

Then I slammed the book shut using the fabric.

Thwack!

The sacrificial hands were gone.

All five had been consumed.

Converted into pages.

Someone approached and tapped my shoulder.

"Jemin. Here's some water."

Hamza.

I reached out for the bottle and only then realized how violently my hands were shaking.

My skin was pale.

Far paler than it should have been.

Even after receiving the bottle, my hand trembled so badly the water inside sloshed around.

I couldn't even manage to drink.

Instead, I pressed the cold plastic against my face.

And came to a conclusion.

"Let's burn it."

This was not an object humanity could handle.

April 19, 2028 — 8:14 PM

Day 5 of the Expedition

We were having a campfire.

Using the lighter Hamza carried.

With the fog gone and the sky clear, Seoul had grown unexpectedly cold.

The temperature had dropped sharply.

We needed the warmth.

And incineration happened to be an excellent way to dispose of dangerous artifacts.

We left a window slightly open to let the smoke escape.

Curiously, Hamza didn't consider that dangerous.

"The angel says it's fine."

"I don't hear anything either," Shin Nain said. "Perhaps monsters fear fire."

"Honestly, that would make sense."

Thinking back on it, the military had also suspected monsters were vulnerable to liquid nitrogen and fire.

Liquid nitrogen was impractical.

Fire was not.

When the military used flamethrowers on refugee groups infiltrated by monsters, the creatures had visibly suffered.

They writhed in agony.

They struggled to approach the flames.

Meanwhile, Lee Sejun sat several steps away from the burning grimoire, picking at a can of food.

"Everything fears fire. That's true for any animal."

"Humanity became ruler of all things through mastering fire. And these creatures, born from human flesh, still fear it. No matter how you look at it, they're attempting to profane humanity's sacred nature."

That was Pastor Park Yohan's uniquely pastor-like interpretation.

Regardless, everyone felt relieved.

The pastor—who had personally ignited the grimoire—was even smiling confidently.

"As always, evil things use the same tricks. They threaten you. Promise terrible consequences if you run. But people with true faith don't give in. Because they know the Lord will save them in the end."

"At least we learned three spells."

Shin Nain calmly ate canned peaches while speaking.

"Now that we know there's a spell called False Fog, we'll be able to watch for traps set by the servants of demons."

"So Hamza's magic becomes even more useful. Seriously, Islam-boy, stop being scared and either praise Allah louder or just convert to Jesus."

"You're the weird ones! I'm the normal one!"

Hamza's indignant protest accompanied a rare moment of peace.

We sat around the burning grimoire, eating hardtack, canned food, and drinking bottled water.

Everyone was exhausted after five days of forced marching.

Before the major challenge of crossing the Han River, morale needed restoring.

Even I secretly opened a can of Spam I'd been saving.

"What about that girl, Goryeoha? If we meet her and get information... should we help her escape?"

My thoughtless question received equally thoughtless answers.

"If we'd arrived with the military as originally planned, perhaps. Now? Difficult."

"Why can't she just keep living in Seoul? The Seoul Mages seem to be doing fine."

"Lee Sejun, are you secretly a psychopath?"

The most reasonable answer came from Hamza.

"We should at least help her relocate somewhere safer. Maybe Gangnam or another shelter. If she's giving us information."

It was a surprisingly convincing argument.

If she'd heard about the Supreme Mages, receiving an escort from five mages would be an attractive offer.

That logic was exactly why it bothered me.

I found myself thinking seriously about it.

"The Supreme Mages aren't really good at protecting people."

After some honest self-reflection, Baek Jemin reached a conclusion.

We were excellent at revenge.

Not so great at getting people home safely.

April 20, 2028 — 4:12 AM

Day 6 of the Expedition

I didn't wake up because of tension.

Or because monsters were rampaging.

Bzzzzzz.

The Cursed Phone was vibrating endlessly.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

The noise woke everyone.

"What is it, Baek Jemin?"

"Jemin, turn that thing off!"

Ignoring them, I focused entirely on the incoming messages and video.

There was no time to worry about the others.

A notification appeared.

[Video transmission complete.]

Then a news broadcast began playing.

"As nationwide armed resistance enters a temporary lull following martial-law crackdowns and UN mediation, the Pyeongtaek U.S.–ROK Joint Command has emphasized cooperation with UN forces to bring the crisis to an end."

"Commander McKinn, who leads the joint command, has identified the recent reduction in abnormal fog and changing seasonal winds as an opportunity. He announced that restrictions on previously limited weapons will be lifted in order to reduce military casualties and maintain the front line."

"Civilian analysts, however, predict that this tactical shift will drastically reduce the chances of survivors returning alive."

It was a news report.

Delivered directly through the Cursed Phone.

Then another anonymous message arrived.

[Authorization confirmed for thermite, white phosphorus, and chemical munitions.]

[If purification systems or CBRN equipment are unavailable, request nearby support whenever possible. Material support will resume once fog density recovers.]

The room fell silent.

The military had finally decided to stop holding back.

And for the first time since entering Seoul, that realization felt even colder than the night air outside.