Chapter 14 - The Wizards in Ponchos

When I was little, I used to play around by climbing escalators the wrong way.

I vividly remembered being fascinated by my first subway ride, running up a down escalator, and getting a hard smack on the back from Mom. When my younger self looked back at the subway, there were office workers indifferently straightening their clothes and gleaming cosmetics advertisements.

Now, though, I was trudging onward, wiping wet concrete dust from my gas mask lenses with my hand.

HUFF. HUFF.

Sweat and ragged breathing had filled the inside of the mask with moisture. I felt a droplet roll down my slick, clammy cheek, but I couldn't stop walking.

SPLASH.

Beyond the rising fog, concrete dust churned beneath the pouring sprinklers, weighing down my poncho.

Reddish emergency light scattered against the pale fog, while streaks of water kept running down my gas mask lenses no matter how often I wiped them.

Above the escalator, an advertising sign knocked askew by the impact dangled long cables like an arm with severed tendons. The wet dust sludge filling the escalator's gaps made an unusually loud sound as it trickled down.

But even the sound of that unexpected stream flowing with the sprinkler water was instantly drowned out by the gunfire and screams that followed.

BANG, RAT-A-TAT...

Even with the poncho pulled over me, I could hear dust and little particles pattering against my helmet, overlapping with the gunfire below the stairs and escalator.

Guilt?

My mind was too numb to feel it. No, fuck that. If anything, I felt that just coming this far meant I'd done everything required of me as a citizen of the Republic of Korea.

But this thick gray dust cloud didn't seem inclined to let us leave easily.

At some point the red emergency light disappeared. Uneasily, I kept climbing, only to find a huge advertising display blocking our way, showing off its shattered screen. Tangled with broken ceiling panels, it had formed a makeshift bulkhead.

"Huff... huff... Mr. Baek Je-min?"

Father Jeong Yong-hwan's breathing was just as ragged.

Wondering whether there might be a little hole we could squeeze through, I very carefully crouched and prodded here and there with my rifle butt. There didn't seem to be any opening big enough for a person. I was also afraid that hitting it too hard might block the way completely.

I forced myself upright against the weight of my wet poncho.

"It's blocked. We'll have to cross the escalators and head for the stairs."

"... Lord, please protect us."

"Be careful not to slip."

RAT-A-TAT, BANG...

Gunfire was still coming from below.

How many had survived? Of Captain Bae Seol-gi, the seventy-two soldiers, and the magicians, how many would survive and escape?

To shake off those thoughts, I brushed the wet dust sludge and water off the railing with my hand. Rather than make any reckless moves, I looped my rifle sling over my shoulder to secure it.

If I slipped while crossing the escalators and fell down there, I was certain I'd bite off my tongue and kill myself.

"Ugh, fuck."

The wet poncho was heavier than I'd expected. I nearly lost my balance and only just managed to hold on.

Father Jeong Yong-hwan and I crossed sideways over the escalators, found an intact route, and started climbing again.

Our splashing footsteps hummed with a faint reverberation, as though echoing through a cavern. It sounded far more ominous than I'd expected.

Sometimes I could see severed cables swaying even through the clouds of fog, striking puddles and throwing off blue flashes.

It made my head swim.

The thought that we might get fried by electricity before the monsters ate us, that is.

I slipped the rifle sling off again and gripped the weapon so I could fire at any moment, catching my breath as I wiped dust off the goddamn gas mask filter to get just a little more use out of it.

HUFF. HUFF.

The filter was so thoroughly fucked that I felt suffocated unless I breathed hard. I wondered whether I should just take the mask off, but the concentration of dust made me afraid I'd ruin my lungs if I did.

After we'd climbed a considerable distance, a metallic screech scraped at my eardrums.

SCREEEECH.

For the first time, green emergency light scattered through the fog in a place that had been filled only with red lights. A barrier shutter was screeching as it descended along warped guide rails.

"Can we get out up there?"

"Mr. Baek Je-min."

The person who dampened my murmured hope of escape was none other than Father Jeong Yong-hwan.

I turned to see what was wrong. He was gazing down the stairs, quietly reciting a prayer.

"Anima Christi, sanctifica me. Ab hoste maligno defende me."

"What?"

"I told you I learned heat detection through alteration-type magic. Something is coming up the stairs. Please check."

At that moment, I had to make a decision.

What if I ran now? I'd be able to get away a little faster. But if those monsters called Amalgams multiplied and came up through other passages, there was a good chance my escape would fail.

Besides, I had a limited supply of bullets, and I didn't even know how many Amalgams there were.

Apart from the noble goal of saving others, saving anyone I could was the right choice for my own survival too.

In particular, for some reason Amalgams became terrified when they realized I could see the future.

Even if I couldn't exert any real physical force, if I could at least scare them into backing away...

My eyes burned as I aimed my rifle along Father Jeong Yong-hwan's line of sight. Amalgams were monsters that stuck faces together however they pleased, but since the bodies beneath those faces remained intact, they probably couldn't vastly exceed human physical capabilities.

If Father Jeong Yong-hwan, a practitioner of Reception of the Eucharist who could detect heat, worked together with me and my future sight...

[Rule of Engagement 6. Rescue of human lives is strictly prohibited.]

Han Myeong-un's final moments flashed through my mind and brought me to my senses.

I immediately adjusted my grip on the rifle and grabbed the priest's shoulder.

"Father, cut the bullshit and let's go."

"Mr. Baek Je-min..."

"It's one thing if we meet them fighting with guns. We can't trust anyone coming up here looking perfectly fine."

Only then did Father Jeong Yong-hwan seem to understand. He abandoned his reluctance and followed me.

The shutter was slowly descending along its guide rails, and we became the first survivors to escape the underground platform by these stairs. Just then, a heavy vibration ran through the entire station, which began to groan.

I grimaced as I felt my insides shake. Soon afterward, a thunderous crashing sound rose from below.

"Sounds like they're setting off grenades."

"..."

Neither of us could say anything more. We moved on, our breathing huffing inside our gas masks.

SPLASH, SPLASH...

At that moment, Father Jeong Yong-hwan and I both sensed something wrong and exchanged a look.

He wasn't holding a gun because he was using Reception of the Eucharist. I was, and without hesitation I planted my feet and aimed down the stairs, beyond the shutter blurred by the gray dust cloud.

I saw places where that accursed fog cleared.

The future, ten seconds ahead.

Countless footprints followed beneath the shutter. Strange footprints, dragging unnaturally and overlapping far too much to belong to a single person's stride. I couldn't even pull out a grenade for fear of missing my moment.

How many bullets did I have left? Sixteen?

The instant a human shape appeared beyond the fog, I pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Heavy recoil pressed into my shoulder. Ejected casings struck my ears with the sound of rolling across the floor. The gunshots bored deep into my eardrums, shaking them heavily, and as soon as the acrid stink of gunpowder reached my nose—a smell that seemed as though it would taste spicy and salty—I pulled the trigger again and again.

Each time flame burst from the muzzle, the people beyond the fog thrashed.

Whether they were real, living people or monsters called Amalgams didn't matter.

Come closer and I shoot. With that single thought, I frantically pulled the trigger. Metallic pings and the sound of flesh tearing rang out with loud reverberations.

Fortunately, it was a monster, not a person.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.

The instant the heated muzzle stopped spitting bullets despite my pulling the trigger, Father Jeong Yong-hwan stepped in front of me, raising both arms as they radiated an uncanny light.

"Et iube me venire ad te. In saecula saeculorum!"

Tangled human faces poured toward us like river water surging through a collapsed levee.

An old man who looked as though he'd enjoy playing Go, an old woman with a peaceful face, a ten-year-old child, a tiny baby, a man who must have been worn down by exhaustion...

All those faces overlapped and piled together into a single mouth and compound eyes with rolling pupils. They poured toward the priest, who held firm beneath the eerily luminous forearms of Reception of the Eucharist, trying to mingle with his face.

My hands trembled violently at that horrifying sight as I pulled a magazine from inside my clothes.

I had no time to worry about the empty magazine clattering to the floor. My fingers shook so much that I had to push the new magazine in with my palm.

I couldn't get a proper hold on the bolt either. I lifted my gas mask slightly, bent a finger by biting it, hooked it onto the bolt, and pulled back my rigid shoulder as though tugging my palm toward me.

CLACK.

There was no time to check the chamber or anything else.

When I raised the muzzle again and aimed over the priest's shoulder, my burning eyes showed me the future ten seconds ahead: the faces shrieking at him with their united mouth and vocal cords, as if angry, as if throwing a tantrum.

Not wanting to see it, I pulled the trigger relentlessly.

BANG, BA-BANG, BANG-BANG...

The mass pressing down on Father Jeong Yong-hwan actually made shooting easier. The monster's face, poised to ooze through the gap between his arms, was pierced by scorching bullets.

The Amalgam recoiled with a bizarre scream. Puslike fluid poured from its bullet-riddled face, and it began stroking its wounds and crying.

"Hic... sob, sob... waaah..."

Faced with that grotesque horror, I tugged the sling over my shoulder and hauled the priest upright.

"Father! Hurry!"

"It's s-splitting..."

"Father!"

"Oh, Lord... it's splitting..."

Father Jeong Yong-hwan seemed out of his mind, but he was still intent on running away with me. Only then did the shutter finally descend with a loud metallic screech. The problem was that it hadn't closed all the way.

It had only lowered far enough that we could still see the entire silhouette of the Amalgam's lower body.

"Why the fuck won't that thing come all the way down!"

"F-fire safety regulations... to give people time to evacuate..."

"Fucking hell, the Republic of Korea, what a great place to live!"

As I forced myself to turn my head, I saw the fog scattering and sketching countless footprints everywhere.

Why were there suddenly so many footprints, all over the stairs?

The sounds behind me gave me an instinctive answer.

GRRRRGL...

Rattling, phlegmy sounds overlapped. Then countless voices began saying different things.

"Mom!"

"Son, you haven't visited much lately."

"Waaah!"

"Assistant Manager, that's not what I meant..."

At last the shutter clanged the rest of the way down, but it wasn't much reassurance.

I heard monsters hurling their bodies against it. Beyond that came countless overlapping footsteps, splashing up the escalator steps.

HUFF, HUFF, HUFF...

I wanted to take off my gas mask, but I didn't dare. The fear that I might become tangled into them the moment I removed it made me think I'd rather just breathe a little less.

But when we reached the top of the stairs and arrived at the concourse on the first basement level, things weren't looking much better.

Gunfire rang out from every direction.

Beyond the bright flashes and blinking red light, static-laced radio chatter sounded beneath the faintly scattered green emergency lights.

That was when the booming voice of Pastor Park Yo-han, the shifty-looking man in glasses, rang out.

"What? Are you crazy? How are we supposed to rescue the Operators when things are this bad? You want all the soldiers killed?"

There were survivors.

Seeing them resisting with gunfire, they seemed to be genuine survivors.

At least they were far more human than the things pounding on the shutter behind us.

Exhausted, Father Jeong Yong-hwan and I headed toward them. Corporal Park Se-hyeok's terrified voice called out.

"Stop! I hear heartbeats. Those... sound human, but... Fuck, who are you!"

The fog in the concourse wasn't that thick yet, but the blinking emergency lights made it difficult to distinguish people clearly.

Then a bright flashlight began sweeping the area and turned toward us.

The person who'd switched on his smartphone flashlight was none other than Pastor Park Yo-han.

He frowned at us, then gave a short laugh and spat a gob of phlegm onto the floor.

"You're alive, Father. That Reception of the Eucharist magic must've kept you from getting eaten. Who's that beside you?"

"B-Baek Je-min, Pastor. The man who sees ten seconds into the future."

"A very reassuring pair."

It was tacit permission to join them.

When we finally joined Pastor Park Yo-han's group, I noticed several muzzles trained on the priest and me, but took it in stride.

I'd have shot first long ago. After catching my breath, I looked around. Very few people had escaped from the platform on the second basement level to the concourse on the first.

Even they wouldn't have survived without Pastor Park Yo-han's magic, Fatalistic Conviction.

"When the train derailed and swept onto the platform, the cars miraculously tangled up with each other. The soldiers near me and the people who came toward me survived. Those who will be saved do not doubt salvation. It's all thanks to the Lord's protection."

"Pastor. Is it only the people who escaped up the stairs?"

"Tsk. Some priest you are, only remembering now, after running away first... Some people fled onto the opposite tracks too. I only caught a glimpse, so I don't know the details, but Captain Bae Seol-gi and the other magicians probably went that way. The only ones who came up the stairs were me, this damned monk, this grumbler, and eight soldiers."

Pastor Park Yo-han spoke matter-of-factly, taking a cleaning cloth from his glasses case and wiping his lenses.

Beside him, monk Cheong-hwi stood with his palms together, murmuring something strange.

"Om... mani... padme... hum..."

It had a peculiar resonance.

If the bizarre noises the Amalgams hummed and roared through their united vocal cords frayed people's nerves and impaired their judgment, monk Cheong-hwi's magic... if that was what I should call it... Anyway, there was some harmony in those sacred words that stopped my hands from trembling.

I was certain of it, because I could actually feel my hand settling calmly around my rifle sling.

Amid drifting clouds of acrid gun smoke, I finally felt a little safe and readjusted my gas mask.

In front of the group, Amalgams with disabled bodies were writhing and dying, pouring puslike fluid from their faces.

Pastor Park Yo-han put his glasses back on and blew a few breaths into his gas mask, then grimaced at the dying Amalgams and threw the mask down.

"Desecrating the flesh the Lord gave them like that. Disgusting creatures. Anyway, now that you're here too, we'll catch our breath for just a moment, change magazines, and move on."

"We're not moving right now?"

"Ha. Mr. Baek Je-min, it's wonderful that you're so energetic, but we were shooting those monsters until a moment ago, you know?"

"I just came from shooting a face covered in compound eyes too. It was splitting its own face to multiply. Unless you particularly want to see that thing, let's just change magazines and go."

As always, sincerity and the truth were the most effective tools for persuasion.

Pastor Park Yo-han immediately tapped monk Cheong-hwi on the shoulder to rouse him, then got Corporal Park Se-hyeok on his feet too.

"All right, everyone move. According to Mr. Baek Je-min, there's one hell of a fucking bastard chasing us, so hurry!"

* * *

It was a relief to have people with me.

Ordinarily, even meeting friends or going to a convenience store ten minutes away felt like a chore. This was the moment I rediscovered how precious other people were. Moving among broken windows and red emergency lights, crunching over shards of glass while following only the green emergency lights blurred by fog that had risen to our chests, required an extreme level of vigilance.

Monk Cheong-hwi's Mantra Recitation proved more useful than I'd expected in this situation.

"Om... mani... padme... hum..."

He merely repeated the words, but they calmed our trembling hands and allowed us to keep moving while checking our surroundings.

The low tones seemed to wash our minds clear, giving us the courage to continue. But most of those who could feel courageous were soldiers who didn't know what was coming. To me, with my future sight making my eyes burn as though shampoo had gotten into them, it was hell itself.

I, Baek Je-min, had been made to lead solely because I could see ten seconds into the future. The footprints appearing as fog scattered indiscriminately did nothing but bring me out in a cold sweat. Every time a slick bead of sweat ran down the bridge of my nose, I felt the inside of my mouth crack with dryness.

I had to stop and tell them about the footprints that, ten seconds from now, were on the ceiling.

"I'm seeing something on the ceiling."

"The ceiling?"

There was no time to answer Pastor Park Yo-han's bewildered question.

Before that future arrived, I raised my gun and fired toward the place where the fog scattered and the red emergency light became clearly visible.

Gunshots rattled like beans roasting, accompanied by the sound of casings striking the broken glass on the floor. Soon afterward, a strange wet thud reached our ears.

Pastor Park Yo-han switched on his phone flashlight to check. Seeing what had fallen from the ceiling, he fought desperately to hold back a scream before finally forcing out some words.

Me?

I'd already pissed myself a little.

"What the fucking hell is that thing now..."

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if a person weren't a complete entity, but each part of their body were an independent organism? Have you ever wondered what form human bones would take if they became independent creatures, rejected symbiosis, and turned into ruthless plunderers and predators?

That was exactly what the flashlight revealed.

A human head with its lower jaw torn away rolled its milky eyes meaninglessly. Ribs that served as legs curled inward like those of a dead insect, while a spine that had become a tail swayed limply, leaking spinal fluid as the creature died.

There was no flesh or muscle to be seen. Only traces of nerves and blood vessels dried onto the bones, only the blood-soaked spine, told us it had once been inside someone's body.

The curled ribs twitched and struggled like a many-legged arthropod, then stopped, belatedly realizing that the bullet already driven through its head had ended its life.

Father Jeong Yong-hwan prayed silently. Pastor Park Yo-han began searching the ceiling with his flashlight. Monk Cheong-hwi narrowed his eyes, then resumed his Mantra Recitation and guided the soldiers onward.

Corporal Park Se-hyeok couldn't even swear. Rigid with fear, he inspected our surroundings with paranoid intensity, swinging his muzzle from place to place.

After what they'd just seen, the soldiers could barely even breathe audibly through their gas masks.

We passed the corpse of that monster derived from a human and headed toward the green emergency lights.

But the fog rose rapidly, soon obscuring even the space immediately in front of our gas mask lenses. Someone murmured in despair.

"Visibility in the fog... less than twenty meters..."

Even the flashlight was becoming useless.

It was already pitch-dark underground. With even the faint red emergency light scattering through the fog into a hazy glow, all sense of distance became distorted. A paranoid vigilance—wondering whether the fog drifting through the broken windows might be a monster's breath—rapidly ate away at our reason.

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH...

Only the sound of footsteps on glass shards and little stones reached my ears.

Even monk Cheong-hwi, still reciting his mantra, could no longer hide his extreme exhaustion. His steps were visibly falling behind.

So much so that Pastor Park Yo-han silently moved to support him.

At that moment, Corporal Park Se-hyeok murmured in a strangled voice, as though he couldn't breathe.

"They're coming. Footsteps."

We could hear pounding on the shutter even from here.

Voiceless echoes reverberating through the underground cavern began pressing in on us from every direction.

The bodies of the people devoured by Amalgams still wore their clothes. Their shoes were all different, or their feet were bare.

Paradoxically, in this basement concourse filled with dust sludge and broken glass, the footsteps of the already dead were far clearer and more palpable than they had been in life.

The fog scattered ceaselessly.

Footprints from ten seconds in the future filled every corner, leaving everything so clear it looked as though there had never been any fog at all.

When I glanced back at the group, Corporal Park Se-hyeok had already dropped his gun and fallen to his knees.

"There's so fucking many..."

WOOOOOOM...

A united breath expelled from united vocal cords resonated through the entire underground space like a wind instrument. That horribly weighty breath, powerful enough to vibrate even the air flowing through the ventilation ducts, settled onto my already soaked poncho.

Pastor Park Yo-han crossed himself, supported monk Cheong-hwi, and shouted.

"Follow me! Those who do not doubt salvation will be saved!"

"Fire! Fire!"

Reactions split.

While Pastor Park Yo-han supported monk Cheong-hwi and tried to flee with the living, Father Jeong Yong-hwan raised both arms and stayed behind with the soldiers at the rear.

I still trusted the priest, so I decided to stay with him.

We had to drive them back at least once.

But the moment I saw the fog covering even the top of my head, the moment I realized I couldn't see a thing in front of me, I unwittingly lowered my gun.

Only one thought came to me then.

A gun isn't enough.

Before I knew it, my hand was reaching for the Magic Crash Course booklet I'd carefully tucked inside my clothes.

Alteration-type magic that could only be learned in the fog. I'd kept putting it off because things were so urgent, but only now, with my life hanging by a thread, did I pull it out.

The booklet was already soaked with moisture and sweat, its pages stuck together, damaged so badly I feared they might tear at the slightest mishandling. Even so, kneeling there, I carefully rubbed the pages apart with trembling hands and resolved to move on to the next page.

Confronted with this calamity, I remembered what everyday life had been like.

And now, in the face of this calamity, I felt a single emotion. It wasn't an active emotion like resentment or anger.

Grief.

This was closer to resignation.

The helplessness of encountering a calamity no human could dare resist. The heart of a flood victim looking at a home swept away by the waters after a typhoon. The stage where you want to blame someone but cannot find anyone you can even dare blame, so you simply slump down and blankly dwell on your sorrow.

At that moment, the magical characters permitted me to see the next page.

No... they forced my brain to understand it.

These characters, these bizarre symbols, rummaged through and twisted this fucking moron's brain however they pleased, forcibly cramming knowledge into it.

Magic that forced human eyes capable of seeing only three to see four or more. I passed the first stage of alteration-type magic and finally reached the second.

As the smeared ink on the wet pages writhed as though alive, forming sentences at will and drawing circles containing triangles and squares, my mind rearranged itself along with it.

The eyes are cognition.

Most of the standards by which humans judge and assess the world rely entirely on sight. Thus, we even call the concept of how we perceive the world a [worldview]. For humans, seeing is almost synonymous with cognition, and alteration-type magic—the eye branch—uses that cognition.

If the first stage, recollection, was merely an expansion of everyday life, an expansion of the part that perceives...

The second stage was grief. Through suffering, the distortion of cognition begins.

For human time slows when we feel pain...

I adjusted my grip on the gun and aimed it at my left hand.

By then, Father Jeong Yong-hwan's magic had already run its course.

The moment I pointed the muzzle at my left hand, Father Jeong Yong-hwan was being dragged away, an Amalgam's teeth sunk into his shoulder, tears streaming from his terrified eyes.

"Lord... Lord...! Aaaagh...!!!"

More Amalgams surged in from beyond him.

Past the scattering fog, amid a hail of panicked gunfire from the soldiers, the Amalgams approached as if mocking us. Merging and splitting their faces, they seemed to rejoice at the opportunity to feed and reproduce.

At that moment, I pulled the trigger without hesitation.

BANG!

When pain is too intense, people either squeeze their eyes shut or open them wide.

Fortunately, I did the latter.

"Aaagh! Agh! Aaaaagh!"

Screaming, I clutched my profusely bleeding left hand and desperately held my eyes wide open, glaring at the Amalgams charging through the fog.

I forced my gaze to stay fixed, though it kept slipping down toward my left hand.

Happy times are short. Painful times are long.

And right now, my pain was longer than any time in the world.

"What... what is this?"

"They stopped?"

"Shoot! Shoot them in the fucking heads now, you dumb bastards!"

I shouted while forcing my eyelids to stay open as they kept trying to close. The pain felt as though I'd scrubbed my eyes squeaky-clean with shampoo, and I had no time even to wipe away the stinging tears streaming down my face.

Realizing this was an opportunity, Pastor Park Yo-han and monk Cheong-hwi joined forces to encourage the soldiers.

"Om... mani... padme... hum..."

"It's Mr. Baek Je-min's magic! He's stopped them! Shoot them all dead now!"

Alteration-type magic—the eyes.

If stage one was perceiving higher-dimensional information, such as seeing time, stage two marked the beginning of true reality distortion through cognition.

For this moment while I held my eyes wide open, until I blinked again...

I could halt my opponents in proportion to the intensity of my pain.

"Hehehehe... fuck... fuck, it hurts so fucking much...!"

Rejoicing in the greatness of that magic, and howling at my own stupidity for doing something as idiotic as shooting my left hand when I could've just fucking bitten it, I clutched my hand, choked and gasped, and slowly closed my eyes.

A blink.

Having experienced being frozen once, the Amalgams fled with grotesque shrieks. As the monsters disappeared back into the fog, I heard the soldiers breathing raggedly through their gas masks.

HUFF, HUFF...

After about ten seconds like that, everyone realized it.

We'd successfully driven them off.

But we hadn't been able to stop one familiar voice from drifting away.

"Lorrd... Looorrd... aaaagh..."

Clutching my profusely bleeding left hand, I laughed as though I'd lost my mind.

"I'm sorry, Father."

Thanks for buying us time, but next time we meet, I'll put a bullet between your eyes.