Chapter 32 - Magic at 100% Capacity

By the time we returned to the truck convoy, the captain riding up front had already finished preparing to leave. Watching the three of us Supreme Mages climb out of the armored vehicle and transfer to the truck, he twitched his lips, then pressed them shut.

"Let's get back, quick."

Everyone seemed to have gathered the gist without being told. It had been an unreasonable, grueling mission, after all. Even most special forces units would struggle if ordered to search an entire building in thirty minutes.

The three of us quietly climbed into the back of the military truck and spent a while catching our breath. The damp air on Seoul's outskirts seemed to cling to the lining of my nose. Disgusted by the sensation, I put my gas mask back on.

Then a monk and a middle-aged woman with tightly curled hair climbed in with us. The captain briefly answered our questioning looks as he boarded.

"They were confirmed on-site as users of localized penetrative alteration activity."

As the soldiers boarded the armored vehicles, the truck convoy began speeding out of Seoul. Wheels rolled to the roar of engines, and the drones' distinctive hornet buzz escorted us along the way. But I couldn't relax just yet. The viciousness of the monsters we'd encountered in the abandoned hospital still lingered in my mind.

Just then, a mantra rang out from the monk in his robes.

"Om mani padme hum..."

It was exactly what I'd felt at Suwon Station. The memories I wanted to forget settled down of their own accord. The heavy fatigue bearing down on my shoulders vanished, and cool, clear reason returned. It felt as though my foggy, sluggish mind had been rinsed clean with the refreshing scent of pine needles.

Only then did I turn to the monk. Lee Se-jun and Shin Na-in were looking at him too, Se-jun with gratitude in his eyes and Na-in with a deep scowl.

"This wicked, heretical monk has stolen the trial the Lord God imposed upon me!"

"Na-in, please... Thank you, venerable sir."

Se-jun's hurried intervention kept things from blowing up. Fortunately, the monk seemed exceptionally kindhearted, merely giving a warm chuckle.

"Not at all, not at all. You young people seemed to be carrying far too heavy a burden, so I took it upon myself to interfere. Certainly, if you can endure it alone, that too becomes a form of spiritual cultivation."

The elderly monk, whose eyebrows were threaded with white, introduced himself with a kindly smile.

"My Dharma name is Wonhaeng. It carries the meaning of making a great vow and putting it into practice. If I may hazard a guess, are you three the Aphorism members who travel with Cheong-hwi of the Jingak Order?"

"Aphorism?"

I was the first to react to that strange, unfamiliar name. I didn't know what the Jingak Order was, but since he'd mentioned monk Cheong-hwi's Dharma name, he must have known us. I simply couldn't fathom where this business about Aphorism had come from.

Se-jun, however, apparently couldn't care less about the odd name. Without a moment's hesitation, he looked at Na-in and me and sighed.

"You seem to be an eminent monk. Do you know us?"

"Eminent? Ho ho... Even at my age, I've attained no enlightenment. I'm merely an old monk wandering about until the soles of my shoes threaten to fall off. It's just that I'm curious what Cheong-hwi... what that young man might have said in Aphorism. We shared a small connection, and perhaps that is why my thoughts keep returning to him. It is a failure of my own cultivation, so please be understanding."

"Understanding? There's no need to say such a thing."

Se-jun sounded considerably gentler, seemingly moved by the old monk's eloquence and demeanor. Na-in, of course, still had his gas mask on and had even crossed his arms. He looked like a stubborn old mule determined to take offense no matter what was said. I could only click my tongue inwardly.

Still, it was nice to have someone to talk to as we left Seoul. Our fellow passengers were the monk and the curly-haired woman, and she was practically fast asleep, perhaps exhausted by all the tension. Monk Wonhaeng asked which magic each of us had learned and showed great interest in Cheong-hwi's role.

He called it a small connection, but I suspected they might actually have been master and disciple. At the very least, fellow disciples under the same teacher.

But when I passed on what I'd heard, Wonhaeng's graying eyebrows twisted, and he murmured thoughtfully.

"He is pursuing complete Korean translations of Sanskrit scriptures and various Buddhist sutras... Is that what the military told you?"

"Yes, that's right."

"..."

"Venerable sir? Is something wrong?"

Se-jun was the most flustered by Wonhaeng's prolonged silence. When he turned toward Na-in, Na-in had removed his gas mask but was quietly reciting a hymn with his earbuds in. Eventually, his face darkening, Se-jun met my eyes behind my gas mask.

I don't know either, man.

As we both shrugged, at a loss, Wonhaeng slowly parted his lips.

"Cheong-hwi originally belonged to the Seon tradition. He valued meditation and spiritual practice. But he became deeply absorbed in the practices of Shingon and esoteric Buddhism, and eventually transferred his affiliation to the Jingak Order. They emphasize the six-syllable mantra, attaining Buddhahood in this very body, and purifying this present world. Of course, so long as one does not abandon the resolve to become a Buddha and pursues great compassion to save sentient beings, there is nothing wrong with any form of practice..."

"Is there a particular reason you're telling us this?"

At Se-jun's question, Wonhaeng finally came to the point.

"Complete Korean translations of Sanskrit scriptures and Buddhist sutras have already been finished to a considerable extent. Interpretation has long since become the responsibility of individual Buddhists. Anyone interested can easily access these materials through an internet search or a library."

"But the military told us monk Cheong-hwi was working hard on translating scriptures."

"Indeed. He probably is working hard. It's just that he was so captivated by esoteric practices and mantras that I hope he hasn't strayed."

With that, Wonhaeng quietly pressed his palms together and began to pray. Se-jun and I found it oddly coincidental that we'd met someone connected to Cheong-hwi in a place like this. Wonhaeng had clearly come here to meet us—to hear about Cheong-hwi.

Had the military given him information? Or had he requested it in exchange for volunteering as a civilian Operator? Either way, things at the front were clearly bad. Bad enough that they were running mages under a dual system of civilian Operators and specialist soldiers.

Around then, Se-jun moved beside me and asked quietly,

"What should we do, Je-min?"

"What do you mean, what should we do?"

Wonhaeng and Cheong-hwi clearly had no ordinary relationship. And sticking your nose into other people's feelings and relationships without knowing your place never ends well.

"Pretend we don't know. Keep it between us. Se-jun, you know we've got our hands full looking after our own Supreme Mages, right?"

But I decided not to forget.

Monk Cheong-hwi.

Presumed to be Wonhaeng's disciple or a fellow disciple under the same teacher. Interested in esoteric Buddhist practices and mantras. Considered to have very strong mystical inclinations.

Mulling over that information, I could understand why he'd seemed unusually interested in mysticism when we'd chatted with the pastor on the twenty-second. At the same time, it suggested something curious.

The military—First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi in particular—had introduced Cheong-hwi as a monk devoted to translating various Sanskrit scriptures and promoting Buddhism through temple food. But according to Wonhaeng, the complete Korean translations of Buddhist scriptures were already almost finished.

A possibility suddenly flashed through my mind. What if what Cheong-hwi was translating wasn't actually Buddhist scripture, or words supposedly left by Shakyamuni Buddha, but something else?

The strangely systematic, orderly actions of the Republic of Korea's government and military were equally suspicious. Had our country always been this competent? What if there was another reason?

If something like the Necronomicon or Mysteries of the Worm from the Cthulhu Mythos—or some newly discovered grimoire—really existed, and they were in the process of translating it into a human language...

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"No. I'm talking bullshit."

"Oh, Je-min. As if that's anything new."

SMACK!

I whacked Se-jun across the back and threw those idle thoughts away. We were still in Seoul. The fog was gradually thinning, revealing the front line where trenches, tanks, and armed soldiers awaited, but we couldn't let our guard down.

Finally, I raised my eyes north toward the enormous fog bank, hundreds of meters thick.

Koreans who once dreamed of moving to the capital now dreamed of escaping it. Only a handful of lunatics still clung to that old dream like a strand of straw. Perhaps that was why my thoughts kept wandering into such strange territory.

A grimoire? Ridiculous. Realizing my own foolishness, I could only snort.

Grimoires were nothing but impossible products of fantasy. One simple argument disproved them.

If a grimoire really existed...

It should obviously have sought out me, Baek Je-min, born with the makings of an archmage!

* * *

March 1, 2028. 9:31 a.m.

Having escorted magic candidates in Seoul and made a major contribution to identifying an unidentified species, we Supreme Mages received a sizable amount of military scrip.

Forty for completing the mission, thirty for successfully identifying the species provisionally named the teratoma. Seventy units of scrip in total.

But the biggest change was surely our standing. Wasn't it said that a person's greatest thrill came from rising in status and feeling their own power? Those were the words of ordinary worldly folk, but even I, steadfastly walking the path of an archmage, had to agree.

Allow me to introduce my new hobby.

Heading for the dining hall, I handed the food-service officer one unit of scrip, pulled together the poncho I'd deliberately kept on, and announced proudly,

"Let's go, Se-jun, Na-in. It is time for the Supreme Mages to make their entrance."

"Amen, amen. Let us remind those of insufficient faith that the army of the Lord Jesus Christ has returned triumphant and unharmed."

"This is so fucking embarrassing..."

Unable to abandon the commoner's mindset, Se-jun desperately tried to hide his blazing-red face, to no avail. Though he was the least capable of our trio, he was still unquestionably a Supreme Mage.

An old saying speaks of an awl in a pouch. However much it tries to hide, it will inevitably poke through. In other words, stop trying to conceal yourself and just show off.

Following that advice, I flung the dining-hall door open without hesitation. The Supreme Mages had arrived, clad in ponchos rather than the traditional robes of a mage. As we strode forward majestically, everyone in the dining hall turned toward us and swallowed.

It had paid off to deliberately time our entrance for when soldiers, officers, administrative staff, and assorted civilians were busy eating.

Silence fell in an instant, and soundless cries filled the dining hall. Even the clinking of spoons against trays ceased. In that stillness, I raised a hand to my ear and quietly asked Na-in,

"Shin Na-in. Tell me what people think of us."

"They're all astonished and amazed. They're amazed that we fought two unidentified species and returned without injury. And they're busy marveling at how we searched an abandoned hospital in Seoul, overcame mental attacks, and even recovered a journal left by a group of survivors."

"Mmm. That's exactly it."

This was where Shin Na-in the Shitter proved wonderfully useful. As a sort of community loudspeaker who let me hear every whispered compliment, gasp of admiration, awestruck voice, and private thought, the guy was unrivaled.

Se-jun even pulled up his poncho hood to create an air of mystery. Apparently, he intended to reinforce that mystique by tightening the drawstrings until his face was hidden.

"Please stop this bullshit and just eat..."

"Well, if our Se-jun's hungry, it can't be helped. Let's go, blockhead."

"Both you and Se-jun are heretical, Je-min, but one cannot always expect the best. You both merely lack repentance and are worthy holy warriors of the Lord nonetheless, so I'll let it slide."

We Supreme Mages were humility itself even with the woman serving food.

"Ma'am, lots of cabbage, please."

"Of course, of course. Just make sure you keep our boys alive."

The generous heap of cabbage pickled in soybean paste warmed my heart. Wasn't this the affection of the Korean people? For once, Na-in also wore a friendly smile and made what they call eye contact with her.

"Ma'am, have you ever considered coming to church?"

"Oh, I go to a temple. I'm fine."

"I cannot let a good person like you burn in hellfire. I'll invite you every day from now on when I collect my food."

"What's wrong with this boy?"

Once we took our trays and sat down, the murmuring finally resumed. This time it reached my own ears without borrowing Na-in's. Setting down my spoon and chopsticks and listening with intense concentration paid off.

"That's Aphorism? Aren't they fucking nuts? What the fuck's with the ponchos?"

"They might look like that, but apparently their skills are the real deal. Not a single casualty when they retook Suwon Station's underground platform. Against those monsters. You know Major Kang Min-su? The by-the-book commander at Suwon Station. Apparently he's already requested first dibs on them whenever he needs mages."

"Wow... So they're seriously skilled fucking lunatics."

Whatever else they said, the soldiers were busy praising our achievements in dealing with the predatory spines, Amalgams, and finally the priest and Madam Geulmun on Suwon Station's underground platform. I especially liked the details.

Simply saying we'd retaken it would have diminished the greatness of the Supreme Mages' achievement. I liked that they'd mentioned the unprecedented feat of zero casualties. But was that all?

I repeatedly nudged Na-in in the ribs with my elbow, wanting to hear what the officers and administrative staff were saying. He seemed to resist a little, as if he had no choice, but soon relayed their conversations with a proud smile. This was what the officers were cautiously discussing among themselves in a distant corner.

"That mutant found beneath Suwon Station. They've determined it's one of the existing unidentified species. Command plans to call it a neural-network-parasitic Amalgam, or Bloodcord Delta."

"So it'll be classified as an identified species?"

"No. It's suspected of absorbing some of the memories and knowledge of humans it consumes. They say making that known would be dangerous, so the policy is to postpone identified-species classification for quite a while. Don't tell the soldiers. Instead, if they have no choice but to enter a building, they're to deploy blood agents or blast the ceiling with grenades."

"Easy to say... Do they think that's the only thing we have to watch for...? And those three civilian Operators fought it and survived? A monster like that?"

"That's why they're shoving everyone into the fog. To get even one more Operator or specialist soldier."

Mmm. Just hearing this stuff filled me up. They might appear to be discussing operational policy, but beneath it was a faint note of praise for just how fucking awesome we Supreme Mages were. Overt praise is easily mistaken for public mockery.

True praise seeps out subtly, like this. The more you chew on it, the more juice of sincerity pours forth. Now that is a delicacy.

Se-jun, however, glared at me as though I were making a complete fool of myself.

"Je-min, aren't you going to pick up your spoon?"

"I'm having my side dishes right now."

His expression twisted with contempt.

Still, we had important business, so unfortunately that was all the side dishes I could enjoy. Na-in, Se-jun, and I rapidly worked our utensils, finished eating, and returned our trays. We even had the consideration to eat quickly so that ordinary worldly folk wouldn't be crushed beneath the Supreme Mages' glory.

Besides, we were planning our most important experiment of the day.

As the three of us proudly walked through Suwon City Hall in our ponchos, every eye fixed on us. Some turned away with fear in their eyes, while several soldiers snapped vigorous salutes with booming cries.

"Loyalty!"

"We're not soldiers."

"We know!"

Our destination was the makeshift chapel where the Supreme Mages were to gather. Pastor Park Yo-han and monk Cheong-hwi were already waiting, having arranged the tables and chairs. Though the pastor was scowling deeply.

"Can't you guys take off those stinking ponchos already?"

I was the first to object.

"Pastor, I've thought about what Aphorism needs most."

"What's that? Wait, did you even know the name Aphorism?"

"Symbolism. We lacked a symbol unique to us."

Look at the Taegeuk Cape Brigade. Everyone avoided mentioning them because they'd been wiped out, and First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi sighed gloomily whenever he heard the name. But that only showed how strong an impression they'd made.

With more and more civilian Operators quietly arriving at Suwon City Hall, they were probably its best-known organization after us Supreme Mages. The reason was their Korean-flag capes.

"So you're fucking making those disgusting ponchos the symbol of our noble Aphorism? Are you out of your mind?!"

Pastor Park's desperate struggle against the times was already futile. For roughly two days, our alteration-type trio had branded our presence into the dining hall's consciousness.

The Supreme Mages? The strongest elite civilian Operators, who wear ponchos even off duty.

That impression must already have been driven in like a wedge.

Only Cheong-hwi understood our decision.

"More important than the virtue of modesty are a heart that cares for others and action to match. If your words and deeds help sentient beings, what problem could there be?"

Anyway, our trivial quarrel moved on to a more substantial topic. Or it nearly did—the discussion actually began with a late-arriving Hamza dropping into the final empty seat, panting.

"Hah, hah... I'm in Aphorism too..."

This bastard barely had any presence, and now he was late too? As I fixed him with a cold stare, Hamza glanced my way and changed his wording.

"I'm a Supreme Mage too."

"Mm."

I gave him a warm smile.

Whatever anyone said, Hamza was one of us Supreme Mages. With his excellent magic, Angel's Intuition, no one could be more helpful in a crisis. Hadn't we even shared precious pieces of Richam and Spam?

But the pastor looked back and forth between Hamza and me with a stunned expression, making me wonder if something had happened.

"Pastor, have you realized something?"

"Forget it, you little shit."

Pastor Park grumbled, idly fiddling with the arm of his glasses.

Around then, Cheong-hwi closed the makeshift chapel's door, checked that the bubble wrap used for soundproofing was properly in place, and returned to his seat. Only then did the pastor clear his throat and get down to business.

"So. I sent the journal you three found to Pyeongtaek, and the results have come back. They asked that only us civilian Operators be told."

"They said not to tell the colonel either?"

"Right. Command will contact him separately, so they told us to keep it among ourselves for now."

That was when both the pastor and the monk turned their eyes toward me.

"Baek Je-min. You held off using tongue magic, right?"

"Yes."

Acceptance and change.

Our investigation into tongue magic, with all its possibilities and worst-case scenarios, had been suspended. We'd decided to wait until the newly discovered journal could advance research into the alteration-type magic system.

And today, through the pastor, who'd returned from Pyeongtaek, a little of their speculation emerged.

"First, the five aggregates the monk mentioned. The five elements that make up a human... Those big-nosed Yankee conjurers in Pyeongtaek reckon the five branches of alteration-type magic are closer to a system of secret arts defining humanity."

"Doesn't that leave out too much?"

"Magic is symbolic by nature. If you draw every last thing, it's a still life, not a symbol or script, isn't it?"

The mystics affiliated with the ROK–U.S. Joint Command in Pyeongtaek had put forward the following conjectures.

Eye. It symbolizes human cognition, a human-centered worldview, humanism, and the distortions exemplified by anthropomorphism based upon them.

Ear. There is a concept dating back to Pythagoras called the music of the spheres: the metaphysical idea that celestial motion can be expressed or heard as sound. Given the importance of astronomy in mystical studies and astrology, this is thought to explain the journal's reference to fate.

Heart. It has symbolized life since antiquity. As the central organ that circulates blood, its symbolism is hardly surprising. It was considered so important in ancient times that it was even regarded as the seat of the soul. It may reasonably be understood to symbolize human life and living.

Hand. According to the journal, it symbolizes intelligence and alchemy. The grid pattern resembling overlapping left and right hands is almost identical to the magic square of Mars. In mysticism, Mars is regarded as a celestial body with the property of fire and a correspondence to conflict. Given fire's importance in alchemy, assuming the journal is correct, a connection to alchemy is highly likely.

Intelligence is counted among the chief traits distinguishing humans from other animals. The emphasis on five, the number of humanity in numerology, also suggests that it symbolizes intelligence.

Tongue. Acceptance and change are conjectured to symbolize human adaptability. However, as acceptance and change are the most likely to harm human nature and essence, this branch is considered the most dangerous. Misreading or misusing it is judged likely to cause a reversal and produce unintended results.

The side effects mentioned in the journal appear to refer to a magical reversal. Do not attempt it rashly.

"Therefore, we'll investigate tongue-branch magic with every member of Aphorism present. That's why I called that Muslim fellow over there too."

The pastor jerked his chin toward Hamza.

"Hamza, you bastard, keep your wits about you. If something feels wrong, stop it, even if you have to scream your lungs out. Use that Angel's Intuition magic to keep Baek Je-min from going crazy, and do it damn well. Got it?"

"Yes. I'll keep Aphorism... uh, the Supreme Mages... safe!"

"Shin Na-in and Se-jun, prepare to use force in case Je-min loses his mind. From now on, if it looks like a monster's about to be born in this room, stop it even if you have to shoot it dead."

"Yes, Pastor."

"Whew, whew... Je-min, don't hold it against me if I hit you really fucking hard."

"Venerable sir, chant a mantra or something. Help Je-min hold on to his sanity."

"Of course."

And so everyone took their positions. The tables were moved aside, the chairs stacked neatly, and I stood alone inside a circle drawn with salt. The pastor carefully inspected it, concerned that the salt might have been disturbed.

"Salt's spread properly...? Good."

Then all sorts of objects came out. Crosses, prayer beads, holy water, salt...

I took them, wound them around my arms, and wet my head with salt and holy water. Candles crowded the circle's perimeter, while unfamiliar prayers and mantras overlapped and echoed around the room. Only candlelight illuminated us, rather than the fluorescent lights.

"Apparently you're supposed to perform a proper purification ritual, but with Christianity and Buddhism working together and sprinkling salt, spirits shouldn't be able to latch on. It ought to protect you while you use this sinister sorcery. We have no choice but to believe that."

With those words, the pastor stepped back. I now stood upright under everyone else's gaze.

"Begin."

Under the pastor's resolute stare, I slowly stuck out my tongue, letting it hang there.

Would you call it the scent of candles? That distinctive fragrance began to register as a taste. Feeling my tongue savor the air, I slowly began to move it.

Alteration-type tongue branch, Stage One.

At that moment, my intuition recalled the clue Father Jeong Yong-hwan had left behind.

["These magic scripts must have phonetic symbols and tones..."]

A true language no human language could dare contain.

If the priest monster's gurgling moans were magical incantations only gods or monsters could utter, then only humanity's language in its purest state, before it became contaminated by additional meanings, could contain them.

But I was a dumbass who struggled with even one language. So I had to spit out a word in its purest meaning.

Stage One tongue magic wasn't a standalone spell. It was the process of rendering magical language back into human language—a recollection viewed through human eyes, closer to [Demotion].

Of course, without the clue Father Jeong Yong-hwan had left, I might have ended up tearing into monster corpses and eating them. But with that clue, I could connect it to language, and that gave me confidence that I was using Stage One tongue magic properly.

Now the important question was what to test it on...

As I considered which magic to use, Stage One of the alteration-type eye branch came to mind. Magic that allowed a human who could see only three to see four or more. To complete that first stage, I spoke what I wanted my eyes to see.

-Time.

At that instant, my tongue heated up. It began to burn as though seared by a branding iron. The bumps of my taste buds split open, welling up with dark-red blood as hot as lava. It collected at the tip of my tongue and began falling drop by drop. I could hear those hot droplets tapping against the floor.

Everyone turned horrified eyes toward Hamza, but he nodded, his face deathly pale.

"There's no problem... It's correct... No, wait!"

Then I saw something strange. Hamza's lips were closed. Yet I could hear his voice. No... was I not hearing it at all, but imagining it from the movements of his lips?

Belatedly, I reached out and touched my tongue. It was fine. I wasn't bleeding yet.

No. My hand isn't touching my tongue yet.

I see something else.

I'm sitting, smiling at Hamza. I see the pastor's bewildered face. It's overlapping.

This is...

Everything mixes together without meaning, appearing before my eyes in turns. Chronology means nothing. I'm seeing the past, present, and future simultaneously. I shouldn't be able to see them, but I do.

The moment I realized that, the magic broke.

"Huuurrrgh—!!!"

I collapsed immediately. Every bit of the lunch I'd just eaten came back up. I saw my hands become covered in vomit, but I had no room to feel disgust.

Fuck, fuck...

I clenched my fists and struggled to hold my trembling body together. Only after a long while did the voices around me reach my ears.

"Baek Je-min! Baek Je-min!"

"Hah, hah..."

"Je-min! Can I hit you?!"

"No, you fucker..."

Immediately rejecting Se-jun's self-serving suggestion, I wiped the bile and vomit from around my mouth.

Was I suffering? Only for a moment.

Right now, I was insanely excited.

Thrilling wasn't enough to describe it. My heart was pounding more painfully than if it had stopped. Not from terror or fear, but from pure elation and joy.

This was alteration-type magic at 100%.

This was...

The true power of magic!