Chapter 111 - You Won’t Die Riding a Tiger

TAP, TAP...

Three sets of footsteps overlapped on the stairs. We hurried down with our muzzles raised to avoid an accidental discharge, but kept our guard up. These were exterior stairs leading from the apartment roof, leaving our movements plainly exposed. On the way down, I naturally took the rear.

I stopped partway down and pressed against the concrete railing for cover. With a click, I checked my remaining ammunition. How many rounds? Roughly half a magazine, by the look of it...

Cold sweat trickled down my forehead as I reinserted the magazine with trembling hands. My palms were shaking. It wouldn’t seat properly, and I had to smack it several more times. Even the fingers pulling the charging handle had no strength and kept slipping. I could guess why, and shame seized me.

This fear was on an entirely different level from fighting monsters.

Death.

The aftermath of [Cognitive Dissonance] wrung tears from me with pain and agony, making my vision swim. Whatever meaning or grand dreams the human Baek Je-min’s life held, none of it mattered. Even with [Bulletproof] enchanted onto my poncho, a round through the gas mask between my brows meant instant death. One stray bullet through my fucking head, and my entire life and everything I’d achieved would end in a moment.

When I recognized the utter helplessness of having everything depend on probability and luck, I felt just how insignificant human will really was.

But the moment I saw the crusted blood on the back of my right hand, the moment I saw the checkered scar left by [Tiger Immunity] activating, the mage fanatic in me surged up.

I was different from non-mages, who could only die helplessly. Instead of relying on probability alone, I could intervene in it. Instead of being tossed about by fate until it destroyed me, I had sworn to become its master.

I am Baek Je-min, an archmage.

Death frightened me. Eternity frightened me. Pain frightened me. But if I could draw closer to the mysteries of magic... I would do it, even with tears, snot, drool, and piss streaming out of me!

I rolled my tongue inside my mouth.

Avoidance, fatal injury, five minutes, route, me.

My eyelids scraped against my eyeballs like sheets of dried plastic stuck together. My tongue seemed on the verge of going numb; all I could feel was something trickling down it. Outside the fog, with the doping over, I had expected this much of a penalty.

Strength suddenly flooded the fingers that had been slipping over and over moments before. I couldn’t feel the rifle’s weight. In one swift motion, I rested the muzzle over the railing and peeked out.

CLACK!

Clouds hid the sunlight. Within that fleeting shade, the clouds parted and shafts of sunshine streamed through the gaps. For this moment alone, no sound reached me. Most people would have read neither portent nor meaning in this weather.

But as I aimed over the railing, every shaft descending through the clouds looked like a blinking traffic signal. They struck mirrors, vanished behind buildings, and occasionally reflected off abandoned cars’ windows or pristine hoods. Only from precisely the right angle and position could you recognize those beams as guidance, warnings, a system of signals.

Glass fragments near a streetlamp and a shattered glass door glittered.

A warning.

I ducked immediately. Gunfire rained down a split second later. Shots like beans popping by the handful cut across the brief silence. I felt pulverized concrete dust shower over my shoulders and hood. My heart hammered.

But I was alive.

With my head lowered, I stared through my gas-mask lenses at the stairs covered in concrete and paint chips. Then the sunlight returned. The instant I saw the lengthening shadow, I knew.

Safe.

I rolled my tongue inside my mouth. This time, I doubted my tongue alone could pay the pain cost, so I used my left-hand staff for the first time in a while. After resting the rifle down, I clenched my left fist and drove it into the bullet-scarred concrete railing.

Target, hostile mage, five minutes, route, me.

THUD!

My left arm already suffered phantom pain that felt like blood vessels gently bubbling. Adding an impact sent a searing tingle through it, like a pressure cooker boiling. The effect was all the more definite for it.

CLACK!

As soon as I pushed the muzzle out again, clouds began covering the beams glittering all around me. Reflections in windows, smooth car hoods, and a puddle beside a broken hydrant disappeared one by one.

At last, only one remained.

About two blocks down the road. Fourth floor of an apartment building. A balcony window with a broken flowerpot.

I pulled the trigger. The ejected casing bounced down the stairs. Recoil shuddered heavily through me. I didn’t even check whether I’d hit.

Only one thing occupied my mind: shoot, then change positions immediately.

TAP-TAP-TAP!

My poncho flapped. As I hurried down the stairs in a crouch, it scraped repeatedly against them. When I reached the ground floor, the pastor and Shin Na-in were already behind a trash can and an abandoned door respectively.

I hid behind the stairs and replaced my magazine without hesitation. Removing it and seating the new one took only seconds. Only after the metal clicked into place did Na-in speak.

"Je-min, the information you acquired by destroying the devils’ remains included accounts of the holy-war arts and the Lord’s providence. Information about the devil arts that defiled the holy-war arts."

"Just get to the point. Cut all the flowery shit."

Was this bastard really planning to pile on his Jesus-freak bullshit at a time like this? After my sharp rebuke, Na-in adjusted his grip on his rifle and delivered his reply quickly and clearly. Apparently he’d realized something too.

"Apart from doctrinal arts, alteration-type holy-war arts always carry a cost. Always, even when inverted into devil arts. They must have a way to offset the penalties, or be concentrating on ending this quickly."

"Okay. Got it."

"Baek Je-min, aren’t you bullshitting? What did you get from that?"

The pastor’s skeptical look drew a disbelieving laugh from me.

"Because of supply shortages, Seoul mages have developed tactics where heart mages, who’re good at direct combat and recover quickly, handle head-on fights, while the others focus on hiding, ambushes, surprise attacks, and reconnaissance. That’s the pattern among the Seoul mages we’ve encountered."

Even an empty-headed idiot like me could spot that quickly. I tapped the gas mask between my brows, enjoying the rubber pressing against me, then grinned at the discovery that someone was even worse than I was.

"Yellow-Bandage at least won’t have an ability to heal wounds instantly. Doesn’t seem to be ritual-type either, and even if he has Sorcery-type magic, wouldn’t all the doctors have gone bankrupt if healing spells were that great? We live in an age when even traditional doctors get called quack shamans. That bastard won’t last long with all that blood loss."

"Je-min, that’s not what I’m saying."

"What?"

He hadn’t meant that dragging this out would solve everything? I stared daggers at him, unable to believe it. Na-in stroked his headset as he spoke.

"They’re very likely to possess devil arts Tongue, Stage One. If Yellow-Bandage really looks likely to bleed to death, Velcro may devour him first. We could also use that possibility for a bait strategy."

"Oh, fuck."

I hadn’t considered the twenty-first-century Seoul mage version of scorched-earth tactics: gobble it up rather than let the enemy have it. Na-in tucked his rifle beneath his arm, raised his index and middle fingers, and rattled off his explanation.

"We have to kill Yellow-Bandage first. His communications are growing less frequent. Thanks to your shameless sneak attack, you seem to have hit near an artery in his left arm. He’s rapidly losing consciousness, so he’s stopped the bleeding with minimal first aid and is keeping himself going with injections. With Yellow-Bandage intervening far less often, Velcro is doing everything he can to avoid exposure to our curtain of fire."

"So you’re praising my tactics."

"... We’ll split into two and one again. They’ll be targeting you, Je-min, so draw their attention. While we move in a diversionary maneuver, closing the distance and drawing their attention, we’ll quickly enter the apartment building where Yellow-Bandage is hiding, with covering fire from our special-forces sniper."

Na-in’s ear magic apparently had quite a range now. He must have been hearing that much more garbage inside people’s heads. If all it had done was make him a Jesus freak, he’d gone mad in a remarkably mild way. The three of us Supreme Mages glanced at one another, then silently split up.

I tucked the rifle under my right arm and rolled my tongue inside my mouth.

Avoidance, fatal injury, five minutes, route, me.

My tongue, already steeped in metallic flavor like something canned in vinegar, flopped limply and spilled blood. What mattered now wasn’t accuracy; it was running without catching a stray bullet.

I left the alley and immediately crouched behind an abandoned car. Just as I started to rise, an abandoned shop’s windows reflected the sunlight.

A glint.

I flattened myself as low as possible. Bullets ricocheted off the car’s frame, and the hiss of a tire deflating sounded especially clear. The car sagged, losing a huge chunk of its usefulness as cover.

I considered trusting my [Bulletproof] poncho and running, then thought better of it. The doping had probably amplified Hand, Stage Two [Enchant]. If I ran trusting its doped-up performance and got riddled like a rag, that would be entirely my fault.

I couldn’t act like those smug fuckers who said, “Why not just do it?” then play dumb once my body was full of holes. Treat your body irresponsibly, and death comes to repossess it.

I, Baek Je-min, made my decision as someone who loved his body more than anyone. That decision was soon vindicated.

When dozens of bullets are hitting around you, one is bound to catch the poncho. A stray round bounced off the asphalt and struck the fabric wrapped around my legs. First came horror at a sensation like an awl being driven deep into my calf.

Cold sweat poured off me at the thought that the bullet had lodged in my body. For a brief moment I howled silently in pain, and countless memories flashed before my eyes. Among them was the most unfair memory in the world.

Resentment welled up toward my father, who’d swung a baseball bat at me just because I’d skimmed 600,000 won from my tutoring fees and spent a month attending a pro-gaming academy that doubled as an internet café. I hated the father who’d crushed Baek Je-min’s dream of becoming a pro gamer. Hated him so much...!

Then lightning struck inside my head, and my fading consciousness abruptly returned.

"Haaah, hah, haaah."

Barely managing to gasp, I lowered my head to check my calf. It hadn’t penetrated. I saw the bullet rolling away. But the slightest brush over my left calf sent a shock up my spine and made me involuntarily try to stand. If I stood, a bullet would go through my fucking head...!

SPLAT!

I flopped facedown like a frog, barely managing to reduce the area exposed to fire. Then I focused.

Shin Na-in, what the fuck are you doing, you bastard!

'Je-min, I’ll keep them suppressed. Move!'

RAT-TAT-TAT...

Gunshots rang out a short distance away. Panting, I struggled to get up. My left calf trembled, nearly throwing me off balance, but I gritted my teeth. Soon, adrenaline and dopamine numbed the left foot I’d been dragging.

Once upright, I could see where I was. Scattered drones. A shopping street empty of people. Windows that exhaled an eerie wind through their bleak, broken panes. Clouds drifting leisurely overhead. Small puddles collected in hollows beside a broken hydrant and drains.

That was when artillery sounded again from Sanseong Boulevard.

BOOM.

The vibration roused my heart and all my innards.

I have to run.

At first I was slow. Only someone who’d taken a bullet to the calf had the right to curse me. Like a sluggish, shuffling grub, I limped along, unknowingly drooling dry spit down the corner of my mouth.

BOOM.

Things changed a little with the second artillery blast. The pain rapidly subsided to a faint ache. My body had figured it out. Unless we wanted to die together, it had to stop making a fuss, so it was numbing the pain. Thanks to that, I could walk a little faster.

Then countless shots began echoing. That was when Na-in’s telepathy reached me.

'Friendly sniper engaging!'

Amid screams and groans from the boulevard and earthshaking artillery, a single heavy gunshot rang out. I couldn’t even guess where it had been aimed or fired from. Unlike the other shots, it seemed to have dropped straight from the sky; wherever I looked, I felt the bullet had come from there.

Something swelled inside me.

I, Baek Je-min, had never properly accomplished a single thing that won everyone’s recognition. But at this moment, I stood tall amid people doing their utmost in their own positions.

Even if good and evil were meaningless, even if we were among people who harmed innocents under survival’s merciless logic, who could dare mock the longing to live? Even if I fell into hell, I would never regret struggling to survive.

For me, magic was survival and salvation, a wish and a reward...

I clenched tight!

When I squeezed the rifle’s grip hard, I could finally run. One driving force overcame my fear of death, the surging pain, and the emptiness I felt before the approaching end. My yearning for magic, the power of omnipotence, finally set both legs running.

Altruism couldn’t make a human heart beat. Someone who truly possessed a noble spirit of sacrifice ought to jump the moment they realized their survival stole resources from others.

I wanted to live. I wanted to enjoy life. I wanted recognition. I wanted to be special. I wanted applause as a unique, absolute being!

Only that base, selfish greed numbed my pain. The weak, estrogen-boy crybaby was gone. Maintaining telepathic contact with Na-in, I managed to keep our distance, alternate distractions, locate the enemy, and move from cover to cover.

I crossed the road and crouched behind a small sign reading Seongsil Pub.

'Je-min, we need to change magazines!'

Okay.

I looked around and immediately found something I could use as my next cover: congratulatory flower wreaths for a grand opening. Their durability was shit, but that changed when a mage like me touched them. Tucking the AR-15 under my arm, I drew my bayonet.

I spun it once. Right hand in good shape. I caught the handle in one swift motion and cut my left palm.

SLICE!

I quickly wrote in blood from my left hand at the end of the ribbon reading “Congratulations on Your Grand Opening.” The bloody word I inscribed with Hand, Stage Two [Enchant] was [Light Block]. I imbued it with the intention that I could see from my side, but no one outside could see in. After writing the sticky letters, I pressed in beside the wreath and fallen sign.

I curled up so my poncho could protect my whole body. Almost simultaneously, bullets began raining down. I couldn’t tell whether Velcro or Yellow-Bandage was firing, but whoever it was had definitely been injured. Bullets scattered in every direction. I sucked in a startled breath at asphalt chipping away with a pop.

Occasionally, a bullet scraped the hem of the [Bulletproof] poncho as it passed. Curling up tighter than when I’d hidden in the wardrobe kept me from being hit. Having gauged Velcro and Yellow-Bandage’s accuracy, I realized Eye, Stage One was still working and began my counterattack.

I slipped the muzzle through a gap in the wreath and poked it out. Like translucent jelly, the wreath allowed vision in only one direction. I could see everything from my side. Near the intersection, above the pork-belly restaurant opposite, gunsmoke visibly scattered in the wind.

Supporting the rifle with my bloodied left hand, I shouldered it properly this time and aimed. A pleasant chill flowed into my fingertip as I caressed the trigger.

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!!

Recoil hammered my shoulder. Ejected casings rolled over holes in the broken asphalt. The building’s windows shattered, and bullets punched marks into the concrete. Amid it all, the curtain covering a window shook violently. Shooting in a gas mask, at some distance, limited my accuracy, but it was enough for suppression.

'Je-min, only one traffic light left! We’re right in front of Yellow-Bandage’s building!'

Na-in’s telepathy made it easier to keep firing. I began shooting in intermittent short bursts.

BANG-BANG, BANG!

Of course, I wasn’t planning to empty the whole magazine. The shooter was most likely Corporal Velcro. Once he realized Na-in and the pastor had closed on Yellow-Bandage, he would have to move.

I had to keep him in check while moving. Tucking the rifle beneath my arm to minimize the exposed muzzle, I hurried along in a low duck-walk.

Only curtains fluttered through the broken windows of the place beside the pork-belly restaurant I’d just been shooting at. Gone. Velcro had changed positions too. But in a standoff, I had the advantage as an eye mage.

Five minutes hadn’t passed yet. My Eye, Stage One still warned me of danger.

Just as a shaft of sunlight seemed about to vanish behind a cloud, sunshine glinted through a gap around a mirror inside a car.

Warning!

I ducked low, and bullets poured down immediately. The terrifying cracks of rounds piercing thin metal hammered my eardrums incessantly. At the same time, I frantically moved my eyes, watching where bullet holes appeared and where fragments flew.

Of course, I’d never studied ballistics, so an accurate estimate was impossible. Ear magic was out of the question too. Picking out only the gunfire amid all this noise was beyond my meager aptitude for it.

What now? Should I change what I wanted Eye, Stage One to show me?

I was still deliberating when it came.

'Friendly sniper engaging!'

BAAANG...

Once again, a single shot rang out from an untraceable direction. But the dazzling shafts glittering around me grew peaceful, telling me what had happened. Even if it hadn’t killed him, it had successfully suppressed him.

'Corporal Velcro is retreating, Je-min! Run!'

SCRAPE!

My combat-boot soles scraped the broken asphalt. I sprang up and ran without stopping, poncho flapping. Heart, Stage One [Endurance Enhancement] certainly worked. Despite all this strenuous movement, I wasn’t out of breath.

The gap closed in an instant. Then, on the apartment roof, I glimpsed Corporal Velcro crouching like a frog behind the low parapet, supporting Yellow-Bandage and preparing to leap.

At that moment, a sly birdlike voice came from the walkie-talkie hanging on Velcro’s shirt.

["Listen, listen."]

Without hesitation, I dropped to one knee and aimed. My index finger immediately settled on the trigger.

["You ought to check the chamber once before shooting."]

Right. The Gangnam Clairvoyant had intervened. To guard against a malfunction, I removed the magazine and pulled the charging handle, locking the bolt back. A round slipped out of the chamber. That had been close. If I’d fired without checking, it would have collided and exploded...

RAT-TAT-TAT!!!

Loud gunfire. I looked up without thinking, and saw blood scattering like a rain shower. Though they were about fifty meters ahead of me, I could see just how much blood was pouring out.

It was the Yellow-Bandage Routed Soldier. Riding on Corporal Velcro’s back as he leaped, he hung limply like a rag, spilling blood.

Only then did I realize I’d fallen for a suggestion. I hastily reinserted the magazine, chambered a round, and ran up to the roof where the Seoul mages had been. Gunfire continued even as my footsteps pounded up the stairs.

When I reached the roof, I saw Na-in and the pastor taking cover behind the parapet on the green urethane flooring. The pastor fired with his muzzle resting over the wall, while Na-in leaned back with one leg stretched out.

I hurried over and crouched, hearing a groan. Blood was seeping from Na-in’s thigh. A closer look revealed a long fingernail driven like a harpoon through his uniform trousers.

Corporal Velcro’s work.

"Why haven’t you pulled it out?"

"We can’t stop the bleeding right now."

Even through his gas-mask lenses, I could see Na-in had gone slightly pale.

Pastor Park Yo-han kept his eyes along the muzzle and shouted without leaving his firing stance.

"Baek Je-min, Na-in can’t move. I’ll stay with him and cover you, so..."

"You need to go with him, Pastor."

"Na-in, you idiot! What if it’s pierced the artery in your thigh?"

Na-in exhaled with the characteristic rush of a gas mask and adjusted his grip on his rifle.

"It’s only my mobility that’s impaired. My arms are fine, so I can shoot. We’re overwhelming them with our curtain of fire, Je-min and I can communicate telepathically, and we have a friendly sniper. The priority is to pursue them so they can’t escape."

"... O Christ, protect the life of the righteous. Come on, Baek Je-min!"

"Uh, okay..."

As I followed the pastor, who decisively pulled away from the parapet, a memory suddenly surfaced. The voice I’d heard inside Na-in’s mind while testing original-power magic—the thoughts he would be thinking in the future.

—It shall end before my faith breaks. Thank you, Lord.

...

"Baek Je-min, can you track them with your eye magic?"

"Yes."

I felt strangely calm. The greed that had been boiling inside me moments before felt a little more refined.

I rolled my tongue inside my mouth.

Target, kill, Corporal Velcro, five minutes, route, me.

Only the pastor’s footsteps and mine overlapped as we descended the stairs. The moment we left the building, Na-in’s telepathy reached us.

'Yellow-Bandage’s wounds are too severe for them to go far. They’re in the building right beside you. They can’t move freely because of our sniper. I’ll mark it with gunfire; head that way.'

Shafts of sunlight wove together and pointed to one place: a newly built four-story apartment building. At the same time, shots rang loudly from the roof where Na-in should be. The stairwell windows shattered, their scattered fragments sparkling.

The pastor and I ran toward it without a word. Running side by side could get us both shot dead at once, so we maintained a reasonable distance. As we ran, Corporal Velcro made another desperate move.

RATTLE!

A muzzle thrust out through a bathroom ventilation window. The moment we saw it, the pastor and I instinctively ducked and slipped into places where we could conceal ourselves.

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!!

I’d hidden in a convenience store. One corner of the shop, full of smashed displays and swinging refrigerator doors, was covered in brown bloodstains.

His unaimed fire had pathetic accuracy. But even one stray bullet was dangerous, so the pastor and I exchanged looks and waited. Naturally, we weren’t naïve enough to assume that a pause in his shooting really meant he’d run dry. An idiot incapable of even that much of a feint couldn’t have survived this long.

To break through the feint, I had to lead with my [Bulletproof] poncho. The only way to push straight through a trick was to use an outlandish move of our own.

I breathed heavily through the gas mask, calming an emotion I couldn’t put into words. Then I raised my left arm and rushed out of the convenience store in a crouch.

BANG, BANG-BANG!

Just as expected. Bullets bounced around me, and broken asphalt struck my boots. Then a round hit my left arm through the poncho.

Hit. It felt as though my breathing had stopped.

Haaaah...

When pain hits, you can’t even scream. My knees buckled, and I sucked in a startled breath. It felt like a broken bone. Of course I dropped to my knees under pain that squeezed tears out of me.

Humans can never defeat pain. Those bastards who tell you to overcome it through willpower would spill everything the moment they were tortured.

Tears streamed down my face from the pain. I worried that a broken bone might leave lasting damage. One curse wasn’t enough. Every filthy, vulgar word imaginable churned through my head. I probably pissed my pants again. The inside of my gas mask was full of moisture, its rubber clinging like a damp sauna. The smell of raw rubber mingled with a salty stench, becoming even more disgusting.

All those revolting sensations told me something.

I exhaled long and hard.

Baek Je-min, you idiot.

I kept breathing, hard and fast.

You’re still alive and breathing.

CLACK!

This time, I braced the rifle over my knee and left forearm. I pulled the trigger without hesitation. The repeated shots became a ringing that plugged my ears, and the enemy could no longer fire. Meanwhile, the pastor quickly closed the distance and reached the building’s entrance.

"Baek Je-min, run!"

Hidden in the entrance, the pastor poked only his muzzle out and fired at the exterior window. As shots chipped away at the outer wall, I adjusted my stance and ran. Once I joined him safely, there was nothing to hesitate about.

Aphorism when retreating. Supreme Mages when advancing!

The pastor and I naturally formed a two-man team and hurried up the stairs. Instructor Song Smith’s lessons were especially effective in close combat like this. Holding my rifle tight to my chest with my elbows drawn slightly back, I pushed the short-barreled AR-15’s muzzle around every corner as I led the way.

The pastor followed half a step behind. I saw him fiddling with a grenade on his belt.

Meanwhile, the sun, buried in incoming clouds, sent shafts of light through the gaps. Streaming through clouds and broken windows, the sunshine illuminated us Supreme Mages, revealing even the dust with perfect clarity.

That clarity was especially marked before the fourth-floor doorknob. The moment I saw a beam illuminating the whole door, I raised my blood-soaked left hand.

There was more than one beam. Like a current splitting around a rock, they used the windows as reference points: one lit the door, the other the stairs to the roof. Choose either, and we’d be ambushed. Given Corporal Velcro’s three-dimensional mobility and ambush tactics, getting isolated was dangerous in itself.

And if we focused on Yellow-Bandage...

A hand settled firmly on my shoulder. Obviously, the only person who could do that here was the pastor. His brow was drawn so tight that I could clearly see the wrinkles around his eyes through his gas-mask lenses.

He whispered, "Baek Je-min, you chase Corporal Velcro. I’ll wait here and rush in if Yellow-Bandage tries to help him. You suspect a trap, don’t you?"

"Yes."

"They’ll have left the door open to lure us in. If we both tackle one of them, they’ll target Na-in, left behind. A righteous man mustn’t act thoughtlessly. You have to act wisely to save people. Baek Je-min, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

At my short reply, the pastor patted me a few more times and stepped backward. I wondered what he was doing... Then realized he wanted to make noise on the stairs.

Yellow-Bandage wouldn’t be fully conscious, so similar footsteps would confuse him, making it sound like we were moving together. Understanding his intent, I immediately turned toward the roof stairs.

Two sets of footsteps overlapped. Though the pastor and I trod stairs on different floors, we were walking together.

The rooftop door stood slightly ajar. I flung it open.

CREEEAK...

Beneath a sky crossed occasionally by clouds, clotheslines filled the apartment rooftop. Stained clothes fastened with pegs swayed in intermittent gusts.

No telepathy came from Na-in. Instead, I could faintly make out a human figure among the billowing laundry. Beyond lines sagging precariously under blankets, beyond a fluttering shirt, I saw a combat boot.

CLACK.

I adjusted my grip on the rifle and stepped forward. A soft footfall. With the hanging laundry between us, the sounds of combat boots overlapped.

I couldn’t assume he had a human upper body. My opponent was an inverted heart mage. If his physiology was as bizarre as the Dubai Fondant Witch’s, he could abandon the human shape you normally expected and neutralize bullets.

["Listen, listen..."]

The lower body was certain. Since he walked on two feet, his lower half was probably normal.

Another soft footfall.

I moved out onto the roof and circled halfway around. Sidestepping through the clotheslines, pushing laundry aside with my body, I slowly lowered myself and steadied my muzzle. The occasional wind made it difficult to distinguish signs of a person.

["If he’s hard to find, just look... at his feet..."]

Aim for the lower body. Shoot his legs, and he wouldn’t be able to move.

A soft footfall. Clothes billowed.

Then the voice that had been silent reached into my focused mind.

'Je-min, he’s doing a handstand!'

At the same time, a gunshot rang out. Blood spattered with a sharp groan. The moment bloodstains splashed between yellowed shirts, the combat boot visible beneath the clothesline slipped away.

I aimed at the bloodstains on the laundry and pulled the trigger. Recoil struck my body. Casings hit the laundry and tumbled down.

Before long, something sharp struck my rifle.

CLANG, CLANG!

With a sound like striking a metal can, terrifying weight shook my stance. I failed to control the recoil, and my muzzle shot skyward. I hadn’t dropped it, but that wasn’t enough.

Clotheslines snapped, and laundry ripped apart. At that moment, I grabbed the sling and thrust the rifle forward.

CLAAANG!!!

The barrel buckled. Inverted or not, he was a heart mage, and his strength was no joke. Corporal Velcro held his magazine-less rifle backward in his left hand, bringing it down like a club.

That was when he ripped off his gas mask.

RIP-RIP-RIP!

As all the straps tore apart, I understood why he’d been fighting without a word. Eyes were packed densely around Corporal Velcro’s mouth, rolling about. He extended his tongue and brought his right arm to his mouth.

I wondered what he intended to do with that arm trembling from hunger...

CRUNCH.

Corporal Velcro bit into a pustule on his right arm and burst it. Like chewing a Shine Muscat grape skin and all, like cracking an egg and slurping it raw, his tongue swam through the eyeball-studded human slime as he gulped it down. One eyeball stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Lidless eyes rolled about, packed across his palate like scallops. Confronted with that brief but shocking sight, I forcibly kept my strength from draining away and put my bayonet training into practice.

CLANG!

Barrel met receiver. Corporal Velcro swung his rifle like a Cheetos-shaped bat, blocking and interfering with his right arm. I sidestepped little by little, somehow deflecting the impacts with bayonet techniques that ought to have been useless.

Every time he gobbled another human-slime pustule from his right arm, fresh flesh pushed the bullets out of his body. Whenever I tried to create distance, he slid closer, rubbing his boot soles across the roof even as he chomped on that arm.

'Je-min, try to get some distance. Our sniper can’t intervene either!'

Fucking hell. You try it, then!

CLANG, CLANG...

I was using Eye, Stage One, but my body couldn’t keep up with the flashing light. I could foresee what would happen, yet when I tried moving ten seconds ahead, Corporal Velcro made up for it with sheer toughness. The stupid bastard simply took rifle-butt blows.

Still, when he seemed to wobble a little, I thrust out the muzzle and pulled the trigger.

RAT-TAT-TAT!!!

I’d definitely hit. But what came back was his rifle-club. Beneath his perforated uniform, I saw smooth, nail-like keratin shatter and trickle down like powder with a little blood.

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!

Corporal Velcro swung his rifle-club to keep me from aiming properly. As if that weren’t enough, his right fingernails visibly grew moment by moment. The sight of him flexing and twitching those scissor-like claws sent irritation and dread surging through me.

Corporal Velcro knew how to fight someone carrying a gun. No, he knew how to fight a mage. He knew humans could never defeat pain. Knowing pain inevitably exhausted human senses, nerves, and intellect, he’d forced me into a battle of attrition...!

My sidestepping foot tapped the rooftop parapet. A chill seized me. My spine tingled.

That was when Corporal Velcro lowered the right arm he’d been placidly nibbling.

SCRAAAPE!

His long nails scraped the receiver loudly. Curling together, they swept my rifle aside.

Defenseless. That was the only word in my mind.

I couldn’t even dodge the incoming foot.

THUMP!

I was shoved backward. At least the parapet came up to my waist, so I wasn’t immediately flung off. But my grip on the rifle failed, and a sensation of floating in midair washed over me.

I’d never even dived into a swimming pool because I hated that weightless feeling...

This time, my life really did flash before my eyes. There was no time to feel pain. Vertigo. Terror. Before my heart could stop, my blood ran cold. Chills swept my whole body. My mind raced while the world before my eyes receded.

I’m going to die?

... Here?

With a gun in hand, after learning five branches of magic...

By falling?

At that moment, I lost the rifle. I really began falling headfirst from the fourth floor. I thought tears, snot, drool, piss, and shit might all spill out at once.

Only one thought filled my head.

I want to live.

What do I have to do to live?

The movement was instinctive. Subconsciously realizing that holding a gun couldn’t save me, I had to do something, however meaningless. Like someone falling from a cliff grabbing at a straw, I stretched out my right hand and slammed it against the outer wall.

Unthinking instinct.

But when my right hand—my right palm—took the entire weight of my fall, the pain rising from its scraping skin wrapped my whole body like flames. I didn’t know whether I was screaming.

Humans could never overcome pain. Not even before the terror of death.

I distinctly felt my skin peeling away. The palm of the human Baek Je-min was being ground away right now. Blood and flesh expressed my longing to live in a handprint.

Then, amid the pain burning through my body, I unconsciously recited.

Because I alone in this world am absolutely dignified and precious, only my pain is absolute, and only my pain is long, so very long...

Eye, Stage Two, [Cognitive Distortion], 100%.

Time slows.

I was still falling, but my thoughts were trapped with me. The moment time stretched out, I paid another cost.

Eye, Stage Three, [Cognitive Dissonance], 100%.

I adjusted gravity. One eye went completely dark. Praying it wasn’t permanent blindness, I pressed my body flat against the building’s exterior.

Only then could I catch my breath.

"Haaah, hhk, haaah."

My trapped breath circulated inside the gas mask. When I raised my head, the sight was something else. Apparently knocking me off hadn’t reassured Corporal Velcro. The moment he saw me leaving handprints down to the third floor, he leaped after me, intent on crushing me outright.

Vicious bastard.

I crawled along the wall like I was doing individual combat drills. Having used [Cognitive Distortion] and [Cognitive Dissonance] together, I couldn’t withstand the penalties. I would die of shock. There was only one way to overcome it.

Penalty reduction through low-level mage doping!

Since the tongue branch was the signature magic distinguishing inverted from upright, Corporal Velcro should possess at least Inverted Tongue, Stage One.

When I barely managed to crawl over, Corporal Velcro’s gaze still hadn’t caught up with me. That must mean my pain was that immense. I didn’t even have the strength left to reach for the rifle floating in midair.

I gasped, spilled streams of blood from my tongue, and finally smiled. Fortunately, I had enough strength to tear out his tongue. Human slime might foul his mouth, but I had my right hand, soaked in Hand, Stage One [Blood of the Right Hand].

I squeezed hard. Look at that disgusting tongue skin. As soon as [Blood of the Right Hand] touched them, I could faintly make out eyes rolling to look at me. Only Corporal Velcro’s own eyes, still human, hadn’t noticed me.

I pulled his tongue. Harder, harder still... and simply tore it out.

RIP!

The moment I tore out Corporal Velcro’s living tongue, I set about getting into position. I caught his head in my left hand, pressing gently on the back of it until his face lay flat against the outer wall.

His tongue would replace the skin stripped from my right palm.

CLACK!

Dampness spread across my raw, stinging right palm. Corporal Velcro’s tongue lay beneath my right hand, his face beneath my left, ready to be ground against the wall.

"Heh heh heh..."

I laughed. Once again, my vision had been right.

Pain is my salvation and survival, my wish and hope...

For magic, I shall offer only the pain of the world’s most precious archmage, Baek Je-min.

I climbed onto Corporal Velcro’s body, preparing to release [Cognitive Dissonance] and [Cognitive Distortion] simultaneously. Limp, hanging upside down, so his body could serve as a cushion.

Everything was ready. I slowly closed my eyes. Through my narrowing eyelids, I smiled at the back of Corporal Velcro’s head, held in my left hand as he kept kissing the wall.

Baek Je-min, a real man. Even after enduring this much pain, I blinked once.

This time...

A human sled.

CRRRRRUNCH!