Chapter 65
Walking Across the Han River
Squeak, squeak.
While I wiped down the bolt carrier group with an oil-soaked cloth, our Supreme Mages sat in a reverent, uneasy silence.
Some scrubbed carbon fouling out of the barrel with a cleaning rod, while others loaded rounds into magazines one by one. Most of the discarded magazines we had failed to pay attention to before had apparently been collected by Hamza while organizing things.
Most had been thrown away with the plastic still attached, but what mattered was that Hamza had managed to recover at least some of them.
With the tip of his tongue peeking out, Hamza carefully loaded each round, making sure not to pinch his fingers, repeatedly letting out sighs of relief. Every time a click sounded as a round seated properly, he seemed immensely satisfied.
He was even reciting prayers he normally never bothered with.
"Bismillahir Rahmanir Rahim. Alhamdu lillahi Rabbil 'Alamin..."
Listening carefully, his pronunciation sounded somewhat slurred, but after that it became difficult to make out, so I just assumed he was praying.
Click.
While Hamza loaded magazines with a solemn expression and a prayer on his lips, the other Supreme Mages finally began talking.
The one who brought up the topic was Pastor Park Yohan.
After accidentally setting down his glasses on the oily rag while cleaning his rifle, he clicked his tongue in irritation and pulled out his glasses case.
"If there's no fog tomorrow... then everyone could be in danger. It seems that when the fog thins, the devils become stronger—or at least more temperamental."
The pastor threw the oily rag onto the floor with a smack! and rubbed his hands against his pants.
He was preparing to take out the precious glasses cloth he kept inside the case.
Lee Sejun, Shin Nain, and I continued cleaning bolt assemblies and scraping residue from the barrels while replying.
"So?"
"We need to organize the information we've gathered. We need to make deductions about the Order of 66 and their code phrases, just like we inferred the conflict between the government and the Order of 66. Leaving everything to the Lord and refusing to judge anything isn't necessarily bad, but it doesn't help survival. If we're going to establish standards, we need to organize the information we've acquired and actually use it."
Every time this man, who looked more fanatically religious than anyone else, made a rational and reasonable argument like that, I struggled to adjust.
Pastor, despite how normal he looked now, was the same man who had confidently declared that dinosaurs went extinct because they didn't attend church.
Still, regardless of who was speaking, what he said was undeniably correct, and I found myself nodding.
And so, under the pastor's guidance, we spent some time organizing the information each of us had been paying attention to.
It was a rest period where we maintained our firearms, reloaded empty magazines, ate canned food and hardtack we'd brought along, boosted morale, and lightened our packs.
We didn't need a radio or records playing cheerful songs.
Seoul itself was already dropping the hottest beat imaginable.
Boom.
The sounds of artillery outside still hadn't stopped.
Beyond the poncho covering the window, only a few kilometers away, shells continued to slam into the city, shaking concrete apart with their concussive force.
Fighter jets and missiles streaked across the sky, dragging roaring trails behind them as they attempted to ignite fires that wouldn't easily go out, all to burn away the endless waves of monsters.
To survive, you had to calmly eat while dust fell from the ceiling onto your head, brushing it off with your hand.
You had to blow on your weapon and wipe away the dust settling onto it.
Surviving in Seoul without any foundation had always been difficult.
The only difference now was that, since 2028, Seoul's residents had become much more violent and the military had decided to conduct its target practice inside the city.
The first person to speak during our information-sharing session was Shin Nain.
As expected of someone who always handled things with disciplined efficiency, Shin Nain was the first to finish assembling his rifle. Clack. After checking the hinge one final time, he hung his headset around his neck and spoke.
"I've thought about methods for increasing the rank of Alteration-Type Sacred Arts. Based on both testimony and what we've personally experienced."
According to Shin Nain:
The requirements for advancing Alteration-Type Magic appeared to be as follows. Combining his observations with my own knowledge and deductions made everything much clearer.
1. Advancement through occult rituals connected to the Order of 66.
However, such rituals required Anderson Makenford—the savior of Korea and American billionaire who couldn't use magic but was so immersed in mysticism that he had even prevented public support for nuclear strikes.
The infrastructure needed to acquire ritual offerings and mystical knowledge, as well as the financial support necessary to carry them out, were all required. Furthermore, rituals could only be performed at specific times to align with celestial bodies.
Time, location, and resources were all extremely limited.
2. Awakening accelerates according to the number and strength of monsters killed.
This was still speculation, but every Supreme Mage had opened at least one additional branch of magic within only six days of arriving in Seoul.
Advancing a stage was one thing—we'd obtained that through destroying the body parts of mages, artifacts that could practically be called magical relics.
But considering that outside Seoul there were practically no mages capable of using multiple branches of magic, something else had to be going on.
The primary evidence for this theory was me, Baek Jemin.
"Me? Why?"
"Because nobody outside Seoul has been as proactive in exterminating devils or as willing to take risks as you, Mr. Baek."
"Nain, then shouldn't the artillery crews have learned magic first?"
"Sacred Arts place great importance on perception and understanding. If artillery crews clearly recognized what they were killing, awakening might have progressed quickly. But if they simply followed orders and fired at coordinates without understanding what they were killing, then their lack of awareness likely prevented them from learning Sacred Arts."
At this point, Shin Nain revealed another hypothesis.
Monsters killed by blind bullets didn't count.
Just looking at the third-stage Eye Magic spell used by the Goggles Mage, [Cognitive Dissonance], made it obvious: perception and understanding were critical for mages.
If artillery crews had used Ear Magic to detect enemies from afar and then directed bombardments accordingly, that might be different. But if they mindlessly fired before even perceiving their targets, they'd fail to farm experience.
In short, close-range combat within a certain distance yielded far greater rewards.
Of course, that assumed killing monsters really did accelerate leveling.
3. Killing a higher-ranked mage of the same branch and destroying their magical body part increases your rank.
This was knowledge obtained after killing the Dubai Chewy Witch.
For example:
Under normal circumstances, if a Heart Mage killed an Eye Mage and destroyed their eye, they would not learn Eye Magic.
However, a Stage 2 Heart Mage could kill a Stage 3 Heart Mage and advance to Stage 3.
When leveling up, one could also inherit the slain mage's knowledge.
But if they belonged to different branches, nothing would be gained.
The exceptions were:
- Acquisition through the Reverse Alteration-Type Tongue Stage 1 spell [Devour Plunder]
- Ear Mages stealing memories and knowledge from slain mages
Shin Nain added another speculation.
"I don't know whether a Stage 2 mage can defeat and absorb a Stage 4 mage. But considering how dramatically Sacred Arts increase in power and versatility with each stage, it seems unrealistic. And given that lower-stage magic loses effectiveness against higher-stage mages, it probably wouldn't work anyway."
Alteration-Type Magic was thoroughly stage-oriented.
The pastor had once speculated that only Doctrine-Type Magic could overcome these differences in rank and maintain full effectiveness.
It was at that point that Pastor Park, who had been silently listening, finally spoke.
"Form. That's exactly what it is. Through Kang Areum, that Seoul Mage, we've learned there are four major forms of magic: Ritualistic, Ceremonial, Doctrinal, and Alteration. Even if we don't know the essence behind them, their activation methods are clearly different. The rules governing Alteration and Doctrine are different, and they don't seem to be very compatible with each other."
"The rules differ depending on the form, so compatibility differs too?"
As I voiced my question, the pastor continued polishing his glasses and sighed.
"Alteration is too heretical. Too mystical. Too arrogant. If Alteration Magic truly aims toward the soul through a sixth branch, then it's not something clergy devoted to proper doctrine can handle. No—something they shouldn't handle. Their faith would collapse."
"But Father Jeong Yonghwan used both."
"Kid. That's exactly why he got slurped up! You said you guys shot him while he was babbling and cackling, didn't you?"
Hmm.
I suddenly remembered the priest's dying screams as he was dragged away by the Amalgam's teeth while calling out to the Lord.
If the pastor was right, Doctrine-Type and Alteration-Type Magic were compatible.
Compatible—but both would weaken, or Doctrine-Type Magic would be weakened catastrophically.
Unless someone absolutely needed Alteration Magic despite that drawback, it would be difficult for a clergyman or a person of strong faith to choose that path.
As for Ritual-Type Magic, however, I thought it might be compatible with both Doctrine and Alteration.
After all, the Goggles Mage had already demonstrated compatibility between Ritual-Type and Alteration-Type.
That concluded our discussion about Alteration Magic.
We simply lacked the clues and knowledge necessary to speculate any further.
Instead, we moved on to the most practical problem.
This time it was Lee Sejun, unusually serious as he cleaned his rifle, who raised the topic.
"The Dubai Chewy Witch... damn it, why is that even her nickname? Anyway, if that Seoul Mage from the department store really belongs to the Order of 66, then military frequencies themselves are compromised."
Absentmindedly rubbing his rough beard, Lee Sejun looked troubled, apparently remembering the soldiers we'd cremated.
"The way she made walkie-talkies activate on their own... we have to assume military frequencies have already been hacked. Even if we obtained military radios or communication equipment, it would be difficult to use them. Honestly, I don't think we should try for the military's sake."
"Eavesdropping. Dangerous."
Click.
Hamza, still loading magazines, narrowed his eyes slightly.
"The Seoul Mages... already know information from outside. High chance they can also listen to communications through military radios and communication devices."
"Plus?"
"And before we left... in that tent... they showed that if they know your face and name, they can harm you."
"That clairvoyant you think is in Gangnam?"
"Y-yes."
Still staring at the magazine and bullets, putting every ounce of concentration into avoiding pinching his fingers, Hamza continued.
"We don't know what the Seoul Mages are planning. We... we may only get one chance to transmit information."
"Isn't what we've learned already valuable enough?"
At my question, Hamza's expression darkened.
"If it isn't enough... they'll break through."
"Break through where?"
"Everything."
"Your opinion?"
"The angel thought so too."
Knowing exactly what Hamza's Doctrine-Type spell, [Angel's Intuition], was capable of, none of the Supreme Mages could make an easy decision.
The Order of 66 was obtaining outside information somehow—whether through their precious Ritual-Type Magic or some other means.
And now that the Dubai Chewy Witch, who had almost certainly sucked information straight out of soldiers' and officers' brains using Devour Plunder, had been confirmed, there was a high chance that at least some military secrets had already leaked.
In that situation, if we attempted communication, the Order of 66 might be caught off guard once.
But afterward?
Even someone as stupid as me could predict the chain of cause and effect.
They would inevitably take measures to neutralize that frequency or communication method entirely.
We might have to push all the way to Line 3 where a Wi-Fi network for drone operations still existed.
To do that, we'd need to break through Gangnam—the territory of Clairvoyant, the most dangerous Seoul Mage.
Either option was insane.
So putting aside the fact that we didn't currently possess military communication equipment, even if we did, we'd only get a single opportunity to relay information outside.
And Hamza's warning implied that if we failed to transmit the most critical information during that one chance, we'd be doomed.
Naturally, using the Ritual Phone was out of the question.
Even Lee Sejun, who often seemed to have a perfectly smooth brain, was wary of it.
"The Ritual Phone is probably being distributed by the Order of 66 in the first place. Honestly, that's practically confirmed. There might even be some sort of tracking method built into it that's letting them estimate people's locations."
"Is that why they were able to pinpoint our location so easily?"
At those words, I hesitated for a moment, wondering whether I should throw away my Ritual Phone.
Because I felt like I finally understood why the Order of 66 distributed them.
They provided information essential for survival.
Practically a mandatory item.
But if the Order of 66 could also determine the location of every survivor carrying a Ritual Phone, then their influence over the survivor population would be nearly absolute.
The problem was that the information provided by the Ritual Phone was simply too valuable.
Valuable enough to make you willing to accept the fatal weakness of being tracked.
The ordinary smartphones we'd brought were currently lying powered off because the cellular towers had all been withdrawn.
At that moment, the pastor put his cleaned glasses back on and spoke.
"You know... we're living in an age of satellite internet. Even if the fog blocks everything and there aren't any cell towers, why do you think information about this whole disaster still managed to spread around?"
"You're talking about Starlink."
Shin Nain nodded along, his eyes sharpening.
The pastor nodded as well.
"Wasn't I a missionary in frontier regions? If you go to remote mountain villages or isolated places, there are still areas where the internet barely works. I heard there was a service that could provide internet anywhere, so I looked into it once. Pretty expensive, though. But among the ten million people living in Seoul, don't you think a few of them bought one back when the government was talking about joint military-police operations to suppress the unrest before things got really serious?"
"So the Order of 66 could have been getting outside information through that... Right. Now that I think about it, that existed."
Even Lee Sejun nodded as if it were something he'd overlooked.
But for Shin Nain and me, the existence of Starlink suggested an even more unsettling possibility.
"As far as I know, Starlink can be used by private individuals. Yet despite that, information about the fog and the unidentified species never spread outside. The lack of information coming out of Seoul is what bothers me."
"And what we can say for certain is that the military is losing the information war."
When I added that to Shin Nain's observation, the pastor smiled bitterly.
"Obviously. The ones helping survivors survive in Seoul right now are the Order of 66. Either they've completely tightened their grip on Seoul's survivors, or they've secured most of the Starlink terminals."
"Do you think that friend from Korea University will help us?"
"At least when we were still in contact, they seemed friendly toward the Republic of Korea Army. They probably haven't been recruited by the Order of 66. At least that girl from Korea University probably hasn't."
The moment we heard the pastor's words, all of the Supreme Mages understood the implication hidden within them and quietly finished eating.
The clattering of forks and spoons scraping against cans echoed repeatedly.
No group ever shares exactly the same thoughts.
If we were worried about the Order of 66's growing influence, then we now had one more reason to cross the Han River and reach Konkuk University as quickly as possible.
April 21, 2028 — 4:13 AM
Day 7 of the Expedition
The sun had not yet risen.
The Gaze Monster had not appeared either. If it had moved, the Ritual Phone would have been going crazy with alerts, so today seemed relatively safe.
Meanwhile, as artillery barrages and airstrikes continued through the night, the Supreme Mages rose one by one, wiping their faces with damp cloths and preparing themselves.
Tatatatatatat—
The sound of running footsteps.
Countless footsteps, as though marathon runners were sprinting at full speed, thundered across the cracked and filthy asphalt roads.
At the same time, faint overlapping voices drifted through the windows.
"Daddy, where are you going?"
"Our Yeryeong's hands feel so nice."
"Kiss~"
I looked toward Shin Nain, our human detector.
"Head count?"
Checking the condition of his gas mask filter with a puff of breath, Shin Nain replied lazily.
"They're faster."
His eyes narrowed.
"Definitely. Strong specimens are moving at more than twice the speed they did in the fog."
Nobody bothered questioning him.
Instead, before removing the poncho covering the window, each of us checked our packs, inspected our weapon chambers, and mentally reviewed our equipment and magic.
"Islam."
"Y-yes?"
"How many rounds left?"
"Seven... seven hundred sixty rounds..."
We'd used more than I expected.
I picked up a magazine, then flipped it over and tossed it toward the pastor.
Smack.
Like a seasoned baseball player, the pastor caught it one-handed, weighed it in his palm, and tucked it into a magazine pouch.
The empty cans we'd eaten from.
Crushed water bottles.
Disposable plastic forks and spoons slick with saliva.
Urine stains on the walls.
Human waste hidden beneath dirty cloth.
The final traces we might leave behind in this world were nothing more than garbage.
I stared at it all, then lifted my gas mask—the inside marked with the word [Purification]—and took a deep breath.
Once I put it on, the world became obscured behind slightly scratched lenses.
Hoooooo...
The characteristic sound of breathing through a gas mask echoed softly.
After tightening the straps, a few strands of hair poked out awkwardly.
Once I'd finished adjusting it and completed my inspection, I picked up my rifle and looked it over.
Lee Sejun, meanwhile, seemed to have completely given up on using his K2C1. Instead, he was examining an absurdly huge revolver.
When our eyes met through our gas mask lenses, he casually holstered it.
His rifle had been handed over to Hamza.
Nobody expected Hamza to suddenly become a great marksman, but it would at least help steady his nerves.
And so we prepared in silence.
Listening to artillery fire.
Bombing runs.
And the increasingly bizarre cries and screams of monsters growing stronger with every passing hour.
Then a familiar voice echoed through my mind.
"Son, what are you doing?"
A hallucination.
At a moment like this, everyone in the world would probably hear their mother's voice.
"What the hell is a Grand Mage, you idiot?!"
I could even imagine what my father would have shouted through a disconnected phone line.
I'd never actually heard it.
Yet somehow it felt real.
Even Lee Sejun, who'd grown up an orphan, seemed to be hearing something similar.
His eyes were closed.
His posture was solemn.
He appeared to be replaying old memories.
The pastor.
Hamza.
Shin Nain.
All of them.
For this brief moment, everyone stopped moving and fell silent.
Bzzzzzz—
The Ritual Phone vibrated.
I picked up the dark blue-black device.
An anonymous message appeared.
[Fog density not recovering. Outdoor activity impossible.]
But that wasn't the only thing I noticed.
April 21, 2028 — 7:01 AM
Day 7 of the Expedition
Light began seeping through the edge of the poncho covering the window.
Without a word, we pulled the bayonets pinning it in place, caught the falling fabric, and immediately draped it over ourselves.
Under the pale, cloudless sky stretched a wasteland.
Heavy smoke rising in the distance.
Fires still burning.
Shattered windows.
Abandoned apartment complexes and villas devoid of human life.
And finally—
The monsters.
Hordes of them.
Running wildly through alleys, roads, and rooftops covered in green urethane flooring.
Crying out in apparent ecstasy.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Tens of thousands.
Perhaps all ten million residents who had once lived in Seoul were now charging toward the outskirts of the city, toward the places where artillery shells were falling.
Some retained familiar forms.
Others were things I'd never seen before.
The things hidden by the fog now moved with far greater vigor beneath the sunlight.
At that moment, I realized something with painful clarity.
The sun had not risen to save humanity.
The area around Lotte Tower, where the Gaze Monster lurked, was still covered in thick fog.
But that alone wasn't reassuring.
The sounds of monsters hammering against buildings were deeply unsettling.
The only reason we hadn't been discovered was because they were too busy rushing toward Seoul's outskirts.
And because we had immediately lowered ourselves out of sight the moment sunlight touched the building.
Practically flattened against the floor, the Supreme Mages exchanged glances.
Everyone's hands were trembling.
Heroic duty?
We didn't have anything like that.
We were just people hiding beneath a concrete rooftop while countless monsters ran overhead.
Clench.
Everyone gripped a weapon.
A rifle.
A bayonet.
I held my bayonet tightly.
At that moment, though none of us spoke aloud, we silently recited the motto of the Supreme Mages.
We are the madness that opposes madness.
When Odoki's cry echoed out—
"Hungry."
—I pressed myself against the floor and repeated it internally.
We are the absurdity that opposes absurdity.
When I heard a fighter jet smash into filthy flesh and crash from the sky.
When autocannons shredded cursed bodies.
When artillery and airstrikes intensified once again.
I opened my eyes.
And for the first time, spoke aloud.
"Before hell seeps into this world, we march into hell."
At that moment, we stood.
We kicked open the door beyond the barricade we'd prepared in advance, desperately struggling against our fear.
BANG!
The door flew open.
Immediately we formed up.
We sprinted down the dust-covered stairwell illuminated by sunlight and descended to ground level.
Bright sunlight streamed through the glass doors that the fog could no longer conceal.
Instinctively, we raised our hands to shield ourselves from it.
Several seconds later, after realizing it wasn't a gaze attack, we could finally move again.
Lee Sejun took the rear guard position.
While fiddling with the grip of the enormous revolver in his holster, he pulled up his gas mask and bit into his own right hand, creating a blood-covered fist.
Hamza carried Lee Sejun's K2C1, aiming awkwardly at the surroundings.
Sweat trickled around the prominent bones of his eye sockets inside the mask.
The pastor clutched the cross hanging from his neck and recited a prayer.
Then, shouldering his weapon with far more discipline than before, he patted Hamza on the shoulder and motioned him forward.
Shin Nain put on his headset and began singing a hymn.
Not with words.
Just humming.
As for me, Baek Jemin—
Only after checking on all of them did I draw my bayonet across my right hand.
Slice!
I cut deeper than intended.
Yet seeing [Right-Hand Blood] staining the blade somehow reassured me.
I gripped the bayonet once more in my right hand and steeled myself to use the staff in my left as well.
I refrained from biting my tongue.
I needed it for Tongue Magic.
Without the fog, I had to spend the pain caused by magical backlash carefully and deliberately.
A day without fog.
The monsters rejoicing beneath the sunlight still hadn't noticed us.
But it was only a matter of time.
Hoooooo...
The sound of breathing through gas masks spread among the Supreme Mages.
And at last, I stopped hesitating.
"Let's go."
I'll take point.
The vanguard is mine.