Chapter 102 - The Second Hand (Expanded)

Before setting out on a full-scale reconnaissance mission into Seoul, the military had managed to contact five survivors. Here was the rundown.

Dobong District Idthiot.

A survivor believed to be stranded near Bukhansan in Dobong District, sobbing and slurring, "Get me out, you idthiot bastards." But everyone had written him off: he was likely to suffer a mental collapse, and his proximity to Bukhansan, where the crisis had begun, meant he was considered to have practically no influence.

Go Ryeo-ha of Konkuk University.

The survivor the military had tried to contact because she had been the most friendly and welcoming toward them. Poor conditions and internal divisions had broken her survivor group apart, leaving her wandering around out of her mind. Still, she was useful. Not too far gone to put to work.

Professor Nowon District.

The survivor who had told us the truth about Go Ryeo-ha and proposed trading supplies when we returned to Seoul. He appeared to lead an organized group, and judging by his cooperation with isolated military units in northern Gyeonggi, his hatred of those outside the cordon seemed to leave room for compromise.

Gangnam Clairvoyant.

A survivor and Seoul mage suspected of belonging to the Society of 66, currently leading the offensive against northern Seongnam. Since just before the decision to impose the cordon early in the crisis, the Clairvoyant had resisted the military's increasingly coercive measures, murdering generals and field commanders in an attempt to collapse the cordon and break through.

And finally, Madam Yongsan Station.

The survivor who had tried to take charge of negotiations by chatting slyly with the military. The problem was that Yongsan Station had been one of the last places military units held out.

Pastor Park Yo-han suspected this woman had sent the following train to Suwon Station loaded with Amalgams, intending to trigger an explosion of infections.

The people gathered in Reality Survival Command's command-and-control room seemed to share that suspicion.

Every face was full of questions and wariness. Some waited at their stations, ready for operations; others stood in orderly ranks, awaiting the generals' decision.

The American generals, who hadn't shown their faces for a while, had turned up too. No sooner had they heard Major General Jeon Min-ho's report than they frowned and started jabbering among themselves in English.

Fortunately, I had a secret weapon.

Standing among the other Supreme Mages, I gave Shin Na-in a hand signal. The fact that ear mages at the same level could communicate telepathically felt especially handy today, in all sorts of ways.

He noticed, narrowed his eyes, and asked me silently.

'What is it, Je-min?'

Translator Mage. Tell me what those Yankees from across the ocean are saying.

'Je-min, this is a global age. You should at least be able to speak English.'

My tiny, empty head could barely handle learning one spell.

Someone who'd scored 400 on the TOEIC had a fixed ceiling, no matter how much English they studied. Leaving English to Na-in, who was already good at it, and going all in on magic—which had recognized my talent as an archmage—was the smart investment.

In the end, Na-in sighed and translated the American generals' private conversation for me telepathically. It went like this.

Marshal McKinsey: Yongsan Station. Isn't this woman a hostile who tried to break through the cordon?

Brigadier General Thatcher: Yongsan Station was one of the military's last holdouts. If she's a local survivor who took control of it... yes, that seems highly likely.

Lieutenant General Royce: The containment operation seems to be working. Could this indicate rising, subtle tensions among the factions over Seoul's limited resources?

Marshal McKinsey: Or it could be an operation designed to make us draw precisely that mistaken conclusion.

Just what you'd expect from the generals America had lined up after declaring war.

Marshal McKinsey flipped briskly through the report, pointing out his suspicions about Madam Yongsan Station without hesitation. Though the testimony of us Supreme Mages had probably played some part too.

A brief silence fell. Then McKinsey made his decision.

"Get her on the line. Profilers, analysts—stand by. Negotiation goes to Major General Jeon. Spiritual warding... ha. Ridiculous just saying it. Full LISA gear, engaged."

Hey, Translator Mage. You're running late with the translation.

'Nothing important. Just that Major General Jeon Min-ho will handle the negotiations.'

But the actions of this supposedly designated negotiator were quite a spectacle.

First, Major General Jeon firmly secured around his neck a pentagram necklace that a soldier hurried over with. Then he shook a salt container over his own head, seasoning himself. As if that weren't enough, an unusual assortment of people entered the command-and-control room.

First up was a priest with greasy hair, wearing a gas-mask pouch and military belt over his cassock.

Standing before the kneeling major general, the greasy-haired priest made the sign of the cross, poured out the oil he'd brought, crossed himself again, and began to pray.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio. Contra nequitiam..."

The atmosphere was so solemn and reverent that even people without any particular religious fervor instinctively fell silent.

When the unfamiliar prayer ended with an "Amen," the greasy-haired priest anointed Jeon's forehead with holy oil in the shape of a cross and spoke.

"May the protection of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen."

After the greasy-haired priest stepped away, a monk approached and quietly pressed his palms together.

He was an elderly man, and his face seemed strangely familiar. I stared until our eyes met. Then he winked at me and chuckled warmly.

Only then did I remember meeting him before. Monk Wonhaeng. One of the civilian Operators who had awakened doctrinal magic, and an acquaintance of monk Cheong-hwi.

I'd only met him once and hadn't known what happened afterward. Had he come all the way to the American camp?

But Wonhaeng's attention was no longer on me. Quietly bringing his palms together without a sound, he began rapidly reciting a strange chant.

"Namo saddhata sugataya arhate samyak sambuddhasya. Namo saddhata buddhakoti ushnisham..."

He was too fast, and the sounds were so unfamiliar—nothing I'd ever heard in my life—that I couldn't retain them even when I tried to focus.

My rational mind suggested this might be something extraordinary, but I simply lacked the background knowledge. Like a jar with a hole in it, everything I poured in immediately leaked out. Then one phrase gave me a strange sensation, as though a faint, cool breeze were sweeping over me.

"Om anale vishade vira vajra dhari bandha bandhani vajrapani phat hum trum phat svaha..."

Only after rapidly reciting all those strange, unfamiliar phrases to the end did Wonhaeng quietly bow and withdraw.

Next came the shaman woman who'd served as our inspector when we entered the American camp. There were too many shaman women to keep track of, so I decided to call her the Pyeongtaek Shaman in my head.

The Pyeongtaek Shaman looked around, then clicked her tongue pityingly when she saw Go Ryeo-ha.

Her reaction to me was the exact opposite. Her eyes widened and the corners of her mouth lifted as if she were delighted to see me.

"Our Pure Yang boy's here too? Well, your fate did look that way."

"Who? Me?"

"Yes. Where else would I find a student who looks as dazed as you? Pure Yang, that's you."

It was a brief exchange, but I felt everyone's eyes turn toward us at once. The Pyeongtaek Shaman promptly made light of it and returned to her work.

"Oh dear, things are too urgent for a chat. Call me later if there's anything you're curious about."

She'd brought a basket of salt and a fan. The salt came first.

Circling Major General Jeon, who knelt quietly with his head bowed, she scattered salt liberally around him. Even my grandmother hadn't been that thorough when she made kimchi.

Just as I started wondering whether Jeon would be pickled alive, she put down the basket, picked up her fan, and cried out.

"Divine General of the Blue Emperor of the East, Divine General of the Red Emperor of the South, Divine General of the White Emperor of the West, Divine General of the Black Emperor of the North, Divine General of the Yellow Emperor of the Center: grant your protection and guard this man. Drive away all wandering ghosts, stray spirits, and evil souls from every direction."

When the Pyeongtaek Shaman's noisy ritual ended and she withdrew, our own Pastor Park Yo-han came forward.

Clutching his Bible in one hand, he laid the other on Jeon's head and spoke.

"He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust. In the name of Jesus Christ, I command all evil spirits to depart from this man."

Normally, Pastor Park would have shuddered and denounced all this as heresy, but today he was relatively quiet.

Granted, he looked about as sulky as Se-jun had when he was jealous of Ryeo-ha. Still, at least he wasn't saying it out loud.

"I pray in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."

With the laying-on-of-hands prayer finished, the pastor returned to us Supreme Mages.

What an absurd sight. Catholics, Buddhists, shamans, and Protestants joining forces to pray over a man and pickle him in salt before he contacted someone. It would have been hard to imagine even a year ago.

But no one could laugh or mock it.

Steeped in salt and prayers, Major General Jeon silently held both hands against his chest, breathing in and out for a long while.

INHALE, EXHALE...

Salt, holy water, and holy oil weren't the only things running down his forehead.

Beneath hair left dry and rough by the salt, beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and cheeks, one by one. When a drop finally reached the tip of his chin, he snapped his eyes open and stood.

"May 12. 06:11 hours."

Everyone swallowed reflexively. The peculiar sensation of saliva passing through my parched throat struck heavily at its hollow, almost like pain.

"Initiate contact."

The analysts and profilers hadn't come to the command-and-control room in person. Apparently, they would listen from another location to a delayed feed, to avoid having their identities exposed during the exchange and being killed remotely by someone like the Gangnam Clairvoyant.

Naturally, the risk Major General Jeon was taking was enormous. As commander of the Joint Alteration Operations Group, he was one of the few Korean generals still occupying a key position within the ROK–U.S. Joint Command.

But they needed someone of sufficient standing for Madam Yongsan Station to trust. During the previous exchange in Seongnam, she'd questioned the position and authority of the commander leading the cordon troops and hadn't been entirely cooperative. And now the Gangnam Clairvoyant, the greatest threat of all, was active.

That was why Jeon had agreed to make contact under protection against localized penetrative alteration activity—LISA for short.

The signal didn't come immediately.

I couldn't tell whether she was being cautious, deliberately trying to seize the upper hand, or simply having trouble communicating. As time passed, the ordinary officers grew increasingly anxious.

The Army officers in particular kept checking their watches for no reason, darting their eyes around and working their lips.

Thatcher, a black-haired white brigadier general with a pinched face, was looking far sharper than usual when it finally came.

["... Hello? This is Pyeongtaek this time, right? You haven't routed me to some other cordon?"]

CLICK.

Jeon picked up the receiver and gave the people around him a brief hand signal. I didn't know exactly what it meant, but judging by Madam Yongsan Station's voice growing louder, he'd probably ordered them to adjust the speaker.

Then the conversation began.

"This is Pyeongtaek. I am Major General Jeon Min-ho, commander of the Joint Alteration Operations Group under Reality Survival Command, subordinate to the ROK–U.S. Joint Command."

["Oh my! It really is Pyeongtaek? What a surprise!"]

She was astonishingly animated. I could practically picture Madam Yongsan Station covering her mouth and making a fuss.

Rather than respond to her theatrics, Jeon calmly got down to business.

"I would like to know the name of the person with whom I am speaking."

["Oh, no, no. You know I can't do that, don't you? You're already suffering at the hands of the Gangnam group. Asking my name is a bit much."]

"Are you familiar with the Gangnam Clairvoyant?"

["Gangnam Clairvoyant...? Oh, the Gangnam group's leader? Who came up with that? What a perfect name."]

Ahem. Hm.

I felt as though something had caught in my throat, so I cleared it a little. My shoulders were stiff too, so I decided to shift around for a moment.

Na-in asked in an icy voice, "Je-min, what are you doing?"

"Nothing. What? A guy can get uncomfortable."

"You're being tacky, Je-min."

I ignored Hamza's contribution too. Ordinary people envying someone with exceptional taste was a perfectly natural phenomenon dating back to prehistoric times.

Meanwhile, Jeon and Madam Yongsan Station continued their probing conversation. That bullshit where both sides talk in circles to squeeze even the slightest reaction out of the other.

"Ma'am, if there is anyone you wish to contact, we will provide for their safety and financial independence, as well as evacuation overseas and communications."

["Oh, you soldiers have such kind hearts. It's always the politicians who are the problem. If only you'd shown a little courage and disobeyed orders, right? Still, don't worry too much. They're all here in Seoul."]

"Was that not why you proposed negotiations?"

["That's precisely why. Who offers a tiger their neck just because they're negotiating? Soldiers, anger isn't a bad thing, but you know it'll get you into trouble if you keep this up, don't you?"]

"It seems you have already decided what you wish to say."

["You soldiers only told the people of Seoul it was safe, that it was merely unrest or a riot, that there was no need to flee. Then you told them you'd shoot if they did. Now it's your turn to listen. Give and take. Isn't that what conversation is?"]

That was when Pastor Park frowned and folded his arms.

"She's relaxed. Whether that's confidence she can control the situation or an act, there's more to her than meets the eye."

"If it isn't about keeping her family outside safe, what else could she demand in negotiations?" Se-jun raised an eyebrow and quietly asked the pastor.

Not that the pastor was going to give him an answer, of course.

"Lee Se-jun, would I be standing here like this if I knew? Tsk. Use your head."

"..."

At the edge of my vision, Se-jun's face twisted like a vicious demon's. I turned my attention away.

The actual terms of negotiation had just been presented. They were far more radical than we'd imagined—enough to unsettle everyone in the ROK–U.S. Joint Command.

["I demand a pardon, immunity, and supplies from Pyeongtaek Command."]

"A pardon and immunity...?"

["Pardon every violation of the law, large or small, that I and the people who gathered here trusting only me had no choice but to commit to survive. And grant us immunity for everything we'll inevitably have to do until we escape Seoul. Supplies too. Firearms, ammunition, food, medical supplies... whatever it may be."]

MURMUR, MURMUR...

The control room, which should have remained quiet, stirred ever so slightly. Officers who'd been listening in silence snorted or widened their eyes, betraying their agitation. Harsh remarks mingled in here and there.

Most reactions amounted to, "Is she insane?" or "How does that make sense?"

Jeon frowned as well and spoke into the receiver.

"Ma'am, that is not a matter Command can decide lightly. Above all, what you and your group can offer in exchange for such terms—"

["I'll make it clear what you get in return. Information on the Gangnam group's leader, whom you call the Gangnam Clairvoyant, and the group's actual fighting strength. The Seongnam cordon is about to be breached, isn't it? We'll give you everything we know about the Gangnam Clairvoyant and the Gangnam group's core mages."]

"It would be difficult to verify that information, and we cannot even be certain you possess it."

["Oh, aren't you clever. Fine. I'll pay in advance."]

Then information about the Gangnam Clairvoyant began spilling from Madam Yongsan Station's mouth.

Gangnam Clairvoyant.

Believed to be a former Grade Five civil servant.

Believed to have learned from administrative documents that VIPs were escaping before the containment measures, then failed in an attempt to expose it. Believed to have been detained, since there were no wounds or marks of the kind normally sustained through violence or looting while struggling to escape early in the crisis.

Knows more than the average civilian about the government intranet and military deployment maps.

Attempted to escape just before the cordon was imposed, amid indiscriminate military gunfire on major roads and the incineration of bodies with flamethrowers. Failed. Entire family believed to have been shot dead.

Joined the Society of 66 to survive.

Notable details:

Deep and shallow burns cover the entire face and neck. These were self-inflicted with fire to erase the Clairvoyant's face.

After saying that much, Madam Yongsan Station added slyly:

["Of course... depending on how the negotiations go, my guesses might become a little more certain. Don't you think? Living in a place like this does leave gaps in your memory."]

It was time to choose.

Jeon put down the receiver for a moment and joined the American generals to discuss matters. McKinsey let out a disbelieving laugh.

"This drone—that was the Chinese, right? They're trying to contain this thing too, last I checked."

Still thoroughly salted, Jeon replied with perfect formality.

"Beyond a pretext for a nuclear strike, they may be after intelligence on the practitioners, sir. Minimizing intelligence sharing on our end was your directive, was it not?"

"Heh. Looking at who's pushing to fast-track the volunteer corps and PMCs through entry, I think we can guess who's behind this."

Then Royce spoke in a cautious voice.

"But sir—back home, public opposition to cooperating with the Chinese is growing fast. We've pushed Congress on intelligence sharing, but it's late in the game, and the senators can't ignore where the public stands."

"Used to think soldiers just fought wars."

Watching McKinsey give a self-deprecating laugh at Royce's words, I flicked my fingers.

TAP, TAP, TAP...

What the hell was that bastard Na-in doing?

Translator Mage, do your job!!!

'They suspect it might not have been China that launched the drones.'

The instant Translator Mage started working, I wondered whether I'd heard wrong.

What? Why? It was obviously China, wasn't it?

But apparently the American generals' calculations really did run deeper than the likes of mine. Na-in sent another telepathic message in a subdued, grave voice.

'If regular troops aren't enough, they'll have to bring in mercenaries. People who follow money and contracts rather than duty or faith. They seem to suspect the sponsors are those who want mercenaries deployed with freedom to operate. Those interested only in the sweet fruits of the alteration-type holy-war arts.'

At last, McKinsey spoke with a bitter smile. This time, thanks to Translator Mage actually doing his job, I didn't miss it.

Marshal McKinsey: Grant the pardon, on condition that they cease further hostile action and cooperate with Command. Take a step back on supplies. Say Seoul's hostile environment makes delivery difficult.

Marshal McKinsey: That's more than enough for someone who might be our enemy.

The decision was made.

Jeon returned to the receiver, let out a deep breath, and relayed the decision of the ROK–U.S. Joint Command in Pyeongtaek. Upon hearing Command's terms, Madam Yongsan Station began clapping softly but distinctly.

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP...

["You've become much more reasonable. Oh, things really do change completely when the people at the top change, don't they?"]

"How will you deliver the information?"

["Just leave this on. Do we have proper internet here? A fax machine? But you know there's no avoiding the risk of someone listening in, right? I'm essentially announcing that I'm on your team now, so isn't that good for both of us?"]

At that moment, Go Ryeo-ha, standing among the Supreme Mages, tentatively raised her hand.

She hesitated when everyone's eyes turned toward her. Na-in clicked his tongue and frowned. Se-jun folded his arms with an impassive expression. Hamza looked around helplessly, while the pastor calmly nodded.

Then Ryeo-ha's eyes wandered until they found me. She probably wanted me to say something.

For Ryeo-ha, who was gradually swallowing the red pill, I decided to instill the spirit of the Supreme Mages as a replacement.

"Ryeo-ha. Know why you went crazy?"

"My junior..."

"Because you thought the world was too soft. Everything in it runs on need, but your good-girl complex told you to save people nobody needed. That's what ruined you. The moment I found out monsters were EXP for raising my magic level, I'd have fed every non-mage who hid away like a useless mouth to feed without even applauding to the Amalgams. If they were going to die anyway, they could live on with me as my EXP."

I saw Na-in and the pastor recoil in horror at the philosophy of Archmage Baek Je-min: recycling non-mages who couldn't even clap properly to the absolute limit for everyone's benefit.

Faced with their horrified expressions and furiously reproachful stares, I puffed myself up even more and smiled confidently.

"So if anyone gives you shit, tell them you're better than a bastard like me. They should be grateful you gave those non-mage vermin a gentle death after they spent two months eating your food without learning any magic. This country called people parasites for taking welfare without paying taxes. Now the world's ended, and it blames you for not saving people who couldn't even beg up a meal? Does that make sense? They're only giving you shit because you're an easy target."

"..."

"Hoarding non-mages was a sin, though. Trying to save people when you didn't have the ability—that was a sin."

If she kept hoarding non-mages after joining the Supreme Mages, I'd shoot her dead.

That was the resolve behind my words.

Ryeo-ha gave me a truly complex, inscrutable look.

Still, I seemed to have helped her make up her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears pouring down, and trudged forward. The generals looked bewildered, unable to understand why this woman was approaching or what I'd been saying.

That was when Jeon, a native Korean, approached with an uncomfortable expression and asked her a question.

"Ms. Go Ryeo-ha, do you have something to say?"

"The Gangnam Clairvoyant's magic level."

* * *

"Pardon?"

"He's an ear mage. The man from Gangnam. Upright Alteration-Type Ear, Stage Four..."

With her mind teetering, Ryeo-ha finally chose to face the truth.

Everyone in the command-and-control room fell silent, watching her from behind as she poured out everything she knew like a confession, striving to offer even one more detail while tears fell without pause.

With a few exceptions.

The pastor immediately stormed over.

"Baek Je-min, you butcher bastard. Do you show devotion to your parents because they're unnecessary too?"

"No, because they're necessary."

Who besides my parents would put up with nonsense like, "Ugggh, Daddy, Mommy, widdle Je-min wants to go night-night, Je-min doesn't wanna, doesn't wanna"? Even they couldn't stand it.

My parents were people I desperately needed.

Next, Na-in approached.

"Je-min. That is a truly horrifying way to think. There is no such thing as an unnecessary person. We are all equal sheep before the Lord."

"Didn't you say I wasn't a good person? Heaven only takes the sheep it needs and dumps the dirty leftovers in hell to roast them nice and slow, but somehow I'm the only one you criticize."

"That is why you must live a clean life. The gates of heaven are open to everyone."

"Wouldn't the world prefer Archmage Baek Je-min, who has real ability even if he acts like an asshole, over a clean, kind, gentle, virtuous Baek Je-min who's going to heaven?"

"I'm glad you're aware you're an asshole. Repent, Je-min."

You win, you fucking bastard.

That was when Hamza sidled over, looking frightened.

"Je-min."

"What?"

"Do you think you really would have done that? Used them for EXP?"

His words brought me up short. Not because I cared about how society would judge me.

After a moment's thought, I gave him an honest answer.

"No."

If I'd been in exactly the same situation as Ryeo-ha. If I'd realized I could no longer save the people who'd applauded for me. If I'd faced that situation knowing the truth about monsters and eternity...

"I think I'd shoot them dead."

At least I wouldn't make someone else do it.

* * *

May 12, 2028. 6:46 a.m.

As we Supreme Mages loaded our belongings into the helicopter, we watched the frantic activity at the American camp in Pyeongtaek. Armored vehicles and tanks that had sat in parking lots and hangars roared to life and drove powerfully down the roads.

While I stood mesmerized by the magnificent procession of tanks, someone noisily loaded a heavy ammunition can into the helicopter.

CLANG!

Se-jun pulled a smartphone and earphones from inside his clothes and handed them to me.

"Je-min. If you're going to fuck around, at least listen to the recording they distributed."

"Oh, sure."

What idiot would work when he was allowed to slack off instead?

I promptly took Se-jun's phone and examined the screen. Beneath my rain poncho flapping in the wind, I stylishly showed off my gas mask, which I now wore like an epaulet because even putting it back in its pouch was too much trouble.

"Oh dear, tell him to slack off and he actually does it."

Ignoring the pastor's scolding, I tapped the screen.

Madam Yongsan Station had kept her promise. I put in the earphones Se-jun had given me and played the recording.

["I didn't expect the army's little engineering girl to spill the Gangnam Clairvoyant's secrets. She's really one of you outsiders now, goodness. Giving away another mage's level? A Seoul mage would never do that. And with someone like the Gangnam Clairvoyant, no less?"]

The rumbling tank treads and soldiers' shouts faded, leaving only the woman's sly voice tickling my ears.

All the while, my eyes watched soldiers clutching their guns and hurrying through the salty sand-laden wind.

["The Gangnam Clairvoyant was indeed a Grade Five civil servant. Young, too. How do I know? Oh, you're determined to squeeze me dry. Still, now that we're in the same boat, I ought to tell you. Isn't that what a team does?"]

Gangnam Clairvoyant.

A former Grade Five civil servant, a member of the social elite.

While handling administrative documents, he realized VIPs were escaping. He was caught trying to inform Seoul's citizens and arrested by the military and police for leaking classified information. While he was being transported in custody, the spread of the Restricted-Access Zones led to an attack on his escort, allowing him to escape.

Afterward, he tried to flee with at least his family, but the military and police ordered them shot because they had emerged from a Restricted-Access Zone.

Escape failed.

Entire family shot dead.

Three times, they pleaded not to be shot, promising to return to the fog. All were killed, and their bodies incinerated.

Only he escaped and survived.

He subsequently burned his own face and neck to prevent identification.

["The source is the Society of 66. They seem to have a bit of internal factional fighting too."]

I saw American soldiers climbing onto trucks. Some were far younger than me, with youthful faces that looked fresh out of high school.

Those young soldiers chatted about this and that, nervous about the coming battle yet strangely excited.

["Afterward, the Gangnam Clairvoyant used his remote curse-killing ability to sow confusion among the troops massacring Seoul's citizens. Meanwhile, he gathered survivors who were definitely human and attacked military units. He was the most hostile toward soldiers. And he made the best use of them too."]

The Gangnam Clairvoyant had made extensive use of remote curse killings to grow his organization.

The condition was how much he knew about a target. The more information he possessed about someone, the greater the danger. Once it passed a certain threshold, he could kill them remotely. That was why revealing your face and name was fatal.

And because the same could be done to him, the Clairvoyant erased his name and burned his face and voice away with fire.

The Clairvoyant seized firearms without caring whether the survivors he incited lived or died. Then he used his followers wielding those stolen guns, and soldiers he'd threatened into joining, to hunt other mages in Gangnam.

Their choice was simple: die and surrender their remains, or join the Gangnam group.

The group's oath of loyalty consisted of revealing your face and name. At the same time, all its mages fought with their faces concealed to prevent anyone from identifying the Clairvoyant.

["In a way, he unintentionally became the first to copy the Unit 55 model the Society intended to operate. That's also why he was promoted within the Society despite being a Seoul local."]

That made the Gangnam group's mages difficult to distinguish, but a few stood out: its most powerful, distinctive members, officers who represented its real fighting strength.

There were five main figures. Here was the rundown of the people, most of whom I'd named myself.

Madam Yongsan Station explained them in detail, saying that while she didn't know all their stages, she could tell us their highest ones.

1. Sporty Rebar. Inverted alteration-type hand mage. Estimated Stage Three.

A mage in a tracksuit, sneakers, and padded jacket, dragging bloodstained rebar. He roughly conceals his lower face by turning up his shirt collar. There is speculation that it may not be his real face.

2. Hundred-Mile Sight. Inverted alteration-type eye mage. One additional branch: upright alteration-type heart. Estimated Stage Two.

His eye ability is believed to provide distant sight, while the upright heart branch is confirmed at Stage Two. A sniper who stays in the fog and assassinates targets by throwing stones and objects by hand.

Wears a beanie, short-sleeved shirt, cargo pants, and work boots. Conceals his face with black paint.

3. Yellow-Bandage Routed Soldier. Inverted alteration-type ear mage. Estimated Stage Three.

A mage in military uniform, wearing a steel helmet wrapped in bandages painted yellow, with a KN95 mask and sunglasses concealing his face. Knows how to use firearms.

4. Ski Goggles. Ritual-type and upright alteration-type eye mage. Stage Three.

Yes, the bastard we killed.

5. Corporal Velcro. Inverted alteration-type heart mage. Estimated Stage Two.

A mage in military uniform who randomly attaches the name tags of soldiers he's killed to his Velcro patches and conceals his face with a gas mask. Knows how to shoot, but is better known for his vicious method of killing: carrying human slimes in tumor-like growths on his arms and bursting them at close range.

After explaining them, Madam Yongsan Station gave a sly laugh.

["But I hear you've got some mages who fight well too? The Society of 66 seems to think highly of them."]

Someone tapped my shoulder.

I turned around to find the Supreme Mages boarding the helicopter, having already finished loading everything. Ryeo-ha had tapped me. With her eyes still swollen, she patted my shoulder and gave me a thumbs-up with her other hand, bracing against the wind whipped up by the slowly turning rotor.

Was she playing weak despite being a heart mage?

I nodded and followed her aboard.

A heavy jolt—not a sound, but something I felt through vibration.

Leaning against the fuselage, I took in the view outside for as long as I could before motion sickness set in.

The helicopter door closed. Beyond the glass as we slowly rose, tanks and armored vehicles crawled along far below, driving or advancing together.

["All we can do is hope you do well."]

CLICK.

The sound in my earphones cut out briefly. Then Major General Jeon's voice came on.

["First, there is something I must say to everyone listening to this recording. I'm sorry."]

Na-in already had his eyes closed, perhaps singing a hymn, while Hamza practiced putting on his gas mask.

["I tried to do well. I failed."]

Pastor Park stroked his Bible's fine cover. Ryeo-ha sat with her head deeply bowed, her face hidden beneath her rain poncho.

["Some of you will have ended up here by chance. Many are fighting against their wishes. Many must have asked countless times, in resentment, why this had to happen to our country, why it had to happen to them. Many must believe the military did something unforgivable. I will make no excuses."]

Se-jun watched me with his arms folded and a serious expression. Under that gaze, I tapped the smartphone screen for no reason.

TAP, TAP.

["But I believe it was something the military had to do. I am not claiming pride in abandoning ten million citizens. By making the cruelest decision at the cruelest moment, we protected at least the remaining forty million. We can never take pride in it or boast of it. Yet it remains a fact that gives us some comfort."]

Below the helicopter window, dense columns already filled the landscape. Above them, fighter jets streaked past in formation, drawing contrails across the sky.

They passed so close that, for a brief moment, I had the illusion I'd met a pilot's eyes through the canopy.

["At 2:44 a.m. on May 12, the cordon finally reached its limit and began to collapse. Against us stands a force led by a hostile local survivor designated the Gangnam Clairvoyant. What the military did was horrific. But the military is our last comfort. We cannot also lose the fact that there are still people alive."]

The recording was almost over. I took out one earphone.

Immediately, breathing, sniffles, and the weight of the air pressed in on me.

["May we be remembered in some way other than as the end of the world. Major General Jeon Min-ho, commander of the Joint Alteration Operations Group under Reality Survival Command. That is all."]

CLICK.

The recording ended.

I removed the earphones, handed them and the phone back to Se-jun, and leaned against the fuselage again.

Hamza, watching me in puzzlement, asked a question.

"You're not getting motion sickness today?"

"No."

I silently recited the Supreme Mages' motto again.

We are madness against madness.

Absurdity against absurdity.

"With the whole world shaking, a shaking helicopter doesn't even make me dizzy."

To stop hell from seeping in, we march into hell.