Chapter 15

The Wizard in the Poncho Raincoat (3)

They say people get used to anything.

That pain becomes bearable once you've experienced it enough times, just as your tolerance for stimulation rises.

That was bullshit.

Unable to bring myself to look at my left hand, which was still pouring blood, I let it hang limply at my side and staggered forward with my rifle sling hanging from my right shoulder.

A few people glanced at me.

"Hrk... ngh..."

"That's what you get for shooting yourself."

There was a reason Pastor Park Yohan had chosen to support me instead of Monk Cheonghwi.

It just hurt like hell.

Imagine your blood vessels on fire, burning through your shoulder, your neck, and your brain.

That was probably what this felt like.

Cold sweat mixed with groans and occasional laughter escaped my mouth.

Every time I remembered what my Alteration Magic had done, the blood racing through my veins seemed to boil for a completely different reason.

I could stop people's movements just by looking at them?

Sure, throwing fireballs and shooting lightning sounded amazing—honestly, desperately useful right now—but this magic wasn't bad either.

Aside from the sensation of my heartbeat pounding through my skull, neck, and left shoulder.

"Hehehehehe..."

"Pastor, isn't Mr. Baek Jemin losing his mind?"

"He shot his hand with a rifle. You think he'd be fine?"

Thankfully, Monk Cheonghwi's mantra was keeping me together.

Looking back, I noticed something all the surviving mages had in common.

Their abilities weren't flashy.

They seemed ordinary.

Yet they were all surprisingly practical.

Pastor Park's Salvific Conviction.

Whatever nonsense it sounded like, it apparently guaranteed personal survival.

Corporal Park Sehyeok's heartbeat-detection magic seemed mediocre, but it was still helping us stay alive.

And Monk Cheonghwi's mantra...

Without it, the soldiers would have panicked and fled long ago.

Instead, it kept them together.

Pastor Park patted my shoulder.

"You saved us, Baek Jemin. Just stay with us a little longer. The emergency light's right there."

He was right.

Whatever I'd done with my second-stage magic had profoundly traumatized the Amalgams.

They no longer approached recklessly.

Even Corporal Park Sehyeok, who was listening intently for heartbeats, nodded.

"They aren't coming. Or... they're nearby, but..."

"Good enough."

Pastor Park turned toward the frightened soldiers.

"Protect the monk. If either Baek Jemin or the monk dies, assume we're all dead."

Then he pulled out his phone from inside his poncho and attempted to make a call.

Predictably, underground and surrounded by fog, there was no signal.

Just ringing.

Riiiiing...

Then Corporal Park Sehyeok suddenly stiffened.

"I hear something."

"Those fucking monsters?"

"No. Beyond the emergency light."

"Then that's good."

The moment Pastor Park replied with mild irritation, the call connected.

"Quiet."

He deliberately turned up the volume.

Then he winked at us, cleared his throat, and spoke.

The ringing echoed through the underground passage.

Soldiers breathed quietly through their gas mask filters.

Monk Cheonghwi had already removed his mask and was sitting with his palms together.

Meanwhile, I still couldn't bring myself to look at my bloody hand.

Instead, I stared at the green emergency light.

"Pastor Park Yohan speaking. Is this the commanding officer at Suwon Station?"

[Pastor. You're still alive? What about survivors?]

"It's me, the monk, Baek Jemin, and a kid named Park Sehyeok. Four operators total. Eight soldiers. We can come up now, right?"

[What about the Amalgams?]

Silence.

For the first time, hesitation appeared in Pastor Park's eyes.

He looked back at us through his filthy lenses.

Then answered.

His voice had become dry.

"They're pursuing us. If we don't come up now, everyone here dies."

More silence.

Muffled shouting echoed through the phone.

Loud noises drowned out words.

Several seconds later, the officer spoke again.

[The emergency shutter should be down. There'll be an emergency access door built into it. We haven't sealed that exit yet. Use it immediately.]

"And?"

[The Republic of Korea Army is forming a kill zone to prevent further Amalgam spread. Head toward the station building. If you move anywhere else, you'll be fired upon without warning.]

The call ended.

The signalman immediately reached for his radio, but Pastor Park stopped him.

"No point. Think they're going to answer in this situation? Let's move."

And so the survivors headed toward the green emergency light.

***

A desperate struggle to escape the underground where fog condensed into droplets.

Broken glass crunched beneath our boots.

Eventually we arrived at the massive shutter blocking our path.

Then Pastor Park confidently placed his palm against the emergency door.

And froze.

"This isn't opening."

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Corporal Park Sehyeok immediately started swearing.

He shoved the door.

Nothing.

Then he began slamming his body into it.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"Please remain calm."

Monk Cheonghwi's voice cut through the panic.

"Let the soldiers push together. One person cannot move it, but many can."

Without him, we might have suffered a complete breakdown right there.

Even Pastor Park was close.

The pastor removed his glasses, wiped the sweat from his face, then put them back on.

His eyes sparkled.

"Hoo... yes. The Lord protects me. I do not doubt salvation, therefore I shall be saved..."

Then he turned to us.

"Baek Jemin, me, and those two soldiers will keep watch. Everyone else opens the door. Use rifle stocks if you have to."

"Me too?"

"You're the only one who can stop those bastards."

And so four of us stood guard.

Me.

Pastor Park.

And two soldiers unlucky enough to be chosen.

The concourse before us had become a purgatory stained with red emergency lights and shattered glass.

I refused to call it hell.

Because what if there was a worse hell beneath this one?

I didn't want to contribute to hell inflation.

That was my personal linguistic policy.

"Baek Jemin's giggling again. He's definitely lost it."

"Of course I've lost it. I shot my hand."

"You should've believed in God."

"There it is."

"If you'd believed in God, you wouldn't have shot yourself. It's not too late. Come to church."

"The Father got eaten."

"That's because Catholics are heretics! They follow the Antichrist Pope!"

Under normal circumstances, I would've thought he was insane.

Down here, though?

The conversation was strangely comforting.

Comforting enough that I briefly considered giving Christianity a try.

Then I remembered my ancestors.

And figured they probably wouldn't appreciate me abandoning them after ten years without even setting up a memorial table.

***

Then the emergency door finally burst open.

Monk Cheonghwi shouted.

"It's open! One at a time! Stay calm!"

The first person to move was Corporal Park Sehyeok.

"I'm going first!"

Honestly, I wasn't even annoyed.

For someone like him, he'd endured remarkably well.

Then the moment he pushed open the emergency door—

A violent gale erupted through the concourse.

The fog was blasted backward.

Ponchos snapped like sails.

Gas mask lenses fogged instantly.

The cold wind cut through our soaked clothes.

But even that wasn't the most overwhelming thing.

The sound was.

The deafening roar of helicopter rotors.

Powerful enough to drown out cries for help.

The downdraft slammed into us together with the weight of our soaked ponchos.

At that moment, static burst from the signalman's radio.

Naturally, communications were hopeless.

Everyone still wanted both hands on their weapons.

So Pastor Park used his phone again.

Several rings later, someone answered.

"What's with the helicopter?"

[Phase One suppression. Get out. Now.]

Pastor Park clenched his jaw and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Then he looked at me.

"Baek Jemin."

"Ah. Fuck."

I knew exactly what he wanted.

And understanding somehow made it worse.

So this was it.

The part in the horror movie where someone stays behind.

The sacrificial idiot.

I hated the world.

But I couldn't see another option.

After several long sighs, I finally spoke.

"If I get baptized right now, do I go to heaven? I already got baptized in boot camp. Can I do it twice?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Pastor Park frowned.

"I'm staying behind with you. Just keep those eyes open."

For a moment, I thought I finally understood camaraderie.

Maybe even humanity.

If Pastor Park didn't constantly call my ancestors idol worshippers and insult shamans, I might have actually considered him a friend.

Then again, the fact that I could still list his flaws during the apocalypse probably meant we weren't that close.

***

The evacuation continued.

One person at a time through the narrow emergency exit.

The wind howled.

Rotor noise drowned everything else.

Every breath fogged my gas mask.

Then the condensation turned to droplets.

Then fog returned again.

Huff.

Huff.

This wouldn't work.

I unfastened my helmet strap.

Then ripped off my gas mask.

My face was just as soaked as the mask.

Hair plastered against my forehead.

I tried fixing the helmet strap with one hand.

Gave up.

My right hand was shaking too badly.

Instead, I tucked my rifle under my arm and aimed into the fog.

The pain in my left hand still felt unbearable.

Yet strangely weaker.

Maybe my brain had started flooding itself with survival chemicals.

When I mentioned it, Pastor Park stared at me.

"What if the nerves are dying?"

"Don't say that."

The thought that terrified me wasn't losing my hand.

It was losing my magic.

My second-stage spell depended entirely on pain.

If I stopped feeling pain...

Would the magic disappear too?

To test it, I poked the wound.

"AAAAAGH! FUCK! AAAAGH!"

"Stop doing stupid shit."

"Hehehehehe..."

The evacuation finally finished.

Knocking sounded from outside.

Before I realized it, only Pastor Park and I remained underground.

I took a breath.

Then spoke.

"Go."

"Baek Jemin."

I smiled.

As long as the pain remained...

As long as I could feel it...

I could survive.

"Leave. The faster you go, the faster I can follow."

"Hah. No interest in joining my church? I'd make you youth group leader."

"Just get moving."

His footsteps receded.

The helicopter wind surged through the gap again.

A single beam of light spilled through the emergency exit.

Brighter than any emergency lamp.

Brighter than any green exit sign.

But it wasn't enough.

Not enough to drive away the silhouettes moving through the fog.

Wooooooooom—

The footprints appeared again.

Ten seconds into the future.

And among them, I saw someone familiar.

Faces tangled together like grotesque Siamese twins.

Countless eye sockets.

Compound eyes rolling in every direction.

They advanced toward the shutter.

Limbs dangled beneath them.

Kneeling.

Crawling.

Walking with broken joints.

And among those bodies hung familiar arms and legs.

One unified breath.

One unified voice.

Standing firm even against the helicopter's roar.

The beads hanging from the creature told me everything.

Geulmun Bodhisattva.

Because Spiritual Sight attracted the Amalgams' hostility, she had likely been targeted first during the disaster on the platform.

Yet she wasn't what chilled me most.

The figure hanging at the very front was.

"Uiiim... uiiim... aaah..."

A voice that somehow remained separate from the unified chorus.

A tongue struggling desperately to form words amidst the mass.

And I immediately knew whose voice it was.

The body in the black cassock, its bare forearms exposed, was still struggling, clawing frantically at its own face.

The problem was that there was no face left.

Aside from the fused mouth and tongue twisted together like Siamese twins, every other facial feature was gone.

Father Jeong Yonghwan's eyes, nose, and forehead had already melted into the mass of faces.

They hadn't even become part of the compound eyes.

A pitiful moan echoed from a man who no longer realized he had lost his face.

His body writhed desperately, scratching and tearing at the monster's flesh as though trying to find his own features.

But all his fingernails could peel away were the creature's melting faces and strips of flesh.

Looking at him, I felt something beyond fear.

Exhaustion.

"Guess praying to put a bullet through your forehead worked. You came back without a forehead at all."

Then I hurled myself toward the emergency exit without hesitation.

Bang!

The steel door flew open beneath the force of my body.

Behind me, I heard the monsters screaming.

"Mom!"

"You think a monster like this could really exist?"

"Huuuuuk..."

"No! I don't want to!"

Run.

I had to run.

***

The surface was far harsher than I had imagined.

"Huff... huff..."

The helicopter was flying much lower than expected.

The downdraft was so violent that it felt as though my soaked poncho might dry instantly.

The fog was pushed back.

In exchange, the searchlights blinded me until tears streamed down my face.

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears and nearly knocked me off balance.

Yet one primitive instinct remained.

The certainty that monsters were chasing me.

That alone overwhelmed every other pain and hesitation.

[Move! Move!]

I had no idea where the loudspeaker was.

I simply gripped my rifle and stumbled forward.

My left hand barely functioned.

So I dragged my arm forward regardless of how badly it scraped.

The rifle stock jammed against my right side as I half-crawled and half-ran.

I looked ridiculous.

Like a cripple.

But dignity had ceased to matter.

Then something struck my spine.

Not physically.

The sound.

The impact of countless creatures hammering against the shutter.

The pulse of pain racing through my body made my heart ache.

My trembling legs kept moving only because agony continued flowing through them.

***

When I finally reached the top of the stairs, moisture from the fog glistening across my face, I heard the military loudspeakers through the wailing sirens.

[All survivors gather at Suwon Station! Anyone moving elsewhere will be fired upon!]

Before me, buses blocked the roadway.

Beyond the thinning fog, they formed a barricade.

Behind one of them waited soldiers.

Pastor Park.

Monk Cheonghwi.

They looked as though they were preparing for a final communion.

I stumbled toward them and blurted out the first question that came to mind.

"Where's Park Sehyeok? The grumbling bastard?"

A soldier pointed wordlessly.

Across the street.

Apparently he'd tried to flee into a side alley.

Now he lay in the road, bleeding and twitching.

"Ugh... ngh..."

Cruel as it sounded, after seeing what happened to Father Jeong Yonghwan, I almost thought a few holes in the lungs would be preferable.

Pastor Park and Monk Cheonghwi were kneeling beside a collapsed soldier.

They had removed his gas mask.

Pastor Park was slapping him across the face.

"Hey! Don't close your eyes! If you die here, you won't die cleanly!"

Monk Cheonghwi spoke gently.

"Patron, there are still things left for you to do. Do you truly intend to close your eyes already?"

"You survived down there and now you want to die? Get up! You're supposed to make it to heaven!"

I staggered closer.

"We need to run."

"Baek Jemin! You bastard! My honorary youth-group leader is still alive!"

"The things downstairs are pouring out. They realized the blockade isn't complete. They came out even while I was staring right at them."

Then something made my heart stop.

Not a sound.

A vibration.

My organs felt it before my ears did.

As though the ground itself were warning me of an earthquake.

I looked up.

Fire blossomed across the sky.

Moments later came sharp snapping noises.

Then a sound like concrete being pulverized at a construction site.

KRRRRRUMBLE—

Thunder rolled through the fog.

The result was catastrophic.

Exploding stone.

Fragments smashing into buses.

Human voices became meaningless.

Everyone's mouths moved.

Nobody could hear each other.

Only the ringing in my ears remained.

Kiiiiiiing—

And yet one thing was perfectly audible.

The monsters.

Their voices.

The chorus that emerged from the masses crushing steel and concrete was horrifyingly human.

Which somehow made it worse.

"Mom..."

"They're our survivors!"

"Open fire!"

At last, my hearing returned enough to make out the loudspeakers.

[Helicopter is nearly out of ammunition! Survivors, run!]

The parked buses were both protection and obstacle.

They shielded us from indiscriminate fire.

But navigating the streets between them proved harder than expected.

Every time someone drifted too far from cover, searchlights swept across them.

"Major routes are blocked! Come any closer and we'll shoot!"

The military had used armored vehicles to barricade the roads.

Searchlights.

Machine guns.

Kill zones.

Even through the chaos I could hear soldiers shouting things like:

"Change ammunition belts!"

"Confirm identification bands!"

Naturally, from our perspective—

"Life is such fucking bullshit..."

Pastor Park slapped shoulders and tried to encourage people.

"We'll be saved. Just get through the buses. Suwon Station is defended. The helicopters will handle the monsters. Just keep running."

Yet even his hands trembled.

Monk Cheonghwi quietly tore a strip from his robe.

Then wrapped my bleeding hand.

"It seems this is all I can offer you."

"No. Everyone did everything they could."

"Heh..."

The monk smiled sadly.

"Do you think people refrain from resentment simply because someone did their best? You're very kind to say that."

We rested behind a bus for perhaps fifteen seconds.

Not long.

Yet long enough to exchange words.

Long enough to remove gas masks.

The surviving soldiers were my age.

Some even younger.

Sweat and moisture plastered their hair to their faces.

Their expressions were a mixture of hopelessness and desperate determination to live.

And there, for some reason, I pulled out the magic booklet again.

My bandage was already soaking through with blood.

Still.

I turned the pages.

Even if they tore.

***

First Stage: Reflection.

Expansion of perception.

Second Stage: Sorrow.

Forcing my pain onto those within my sight.

Magic was horrifyingly honest.

Its price was terrible.

But it always paid what it promised.

Study for years and success isn't guaranteed.

But magic?

Magic felt as though it would repay every ounce of suffering exactly.

So then—

If I offered more...

How much stronger could I become?

The curiosity was as intense as the pain.

The magic whispered.

Magic is honest.

Magic grows stronger the more it hurts.

The more you sacrifice, the stronger you become.

Then Pastor Park interrupted.

"Baek Jemin! Run!"

I stuffed the booklet away and sprinted.

At first, I simply ran.

Several seconds later I realized the helicopter was leaving.

[Fire! Fire! Shoot anything moving!]

Searchlights flashed.

Machine guns opened up.

I nearly pissed myself.

Fortunately, I was already soaked enough that nobody could tell.

Others weren't so lucky.

Ricochets screamed from concrete and bus frames.

One exhausted soldier reached cover beside me—

Then vanished beneath machine-gun fire.

Human flesh wasn't designed to withstand heavy rounds.

Heavy rounds were designed specifically to destroy flesh.

More than ten bullets tore through his torso and side.

He collapsed.

Stared blankly at the blood pouring from his body.

Then his eyes stopped moving.

"Fuck... fuckfuckfuck..."

Someone muttered.

Meanwhile, the monsters screamed.

I caught glimpses of twisted limbs moving beneath the buses.

"Run! Run!"

Probably Pastor Park.

So we ran.

The monsters pursued.

The bullets pursued.

And the buses weren't nearly as sturdy as we'd hoped.

The military noticed the Amalgams using the buses for cover.

They accepted collateral damage.

And unleashed more firepower.

The bus bodies erupted with holes.

Rounds punched through the tires.

Metal shrieked.

One bus tilted sideways.

The concentrated barrage tore through it.

Fog sprayed from the ruptured frame like blood.

A soldier hiding behind it caught a round through the neck and died instantly.

Lucky?

Unlucky?

I didn't know anymore.

Then the Amalgams did something unexpected.

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH—!!!

Their unified voice screamed.

Like a gigantic brass instrument.

For a brief instant, the gunfire stopped.

The vibration shook the earth.

Untrained humans instinctively froze.

Then came countless footsteps.

Wet footsteps.

The buses began tilting.

Only then did I turn back.

The fog parted.

Footprints appeared.

My head throbbed.

My eyes burned.

Tears streamed from pain and exhaustion.

Yet the footprints remained crystal clear.

"It's climbing onto the buses! It's splitting apart!"

That was enough.

I had done my job.

I ran again.

The soldiers recovered and resumed firing.

Bodies hit the ground.

My heart felt ready to explode.

The people who'd been running beside me had long since scattered.

I chased the flashes of muzzle fire through the fog.

Then I felt something.

A terrible certainty.

The future footprints.

They were already ahead of me.

It was catching up.

***

"Survivor confirmed!"

"It's behind us!"

I was so close.

After all this hell.

After finally reaching safety.

Was I really going to die like Father Jeong Yonghwan simply because I wasn't fast enough?

I gritted my teeth.

Adjusted the selector switch.

Then grabbed the still-hot barrel with my wounded left hand.

The pain was unbelievable.

Hot.

Cold.

Burning.

Everything at once.

I didn't care.

"Survivor! Get down!"

I obeyed.

Throwing myself to the ground.

Rolling onto my back.

The creature was right there.

Hundreds of faces fused together.

Twisted human limbs thrashing wildly.

Its mouth opened.

No.

Its mouths.

There were dozens.

Rows of zipper-like teeth lined the slits.

Hundreds of compound eyes rolled toward me.

The creature looked happy.

Excited.

Ready to devour me.

Then I raised my rifle.

And screamed.

"AAAAAAAGH!!!"

The brass casings bounced beside my ears.

Each muzzle flash illuminated the fog.

The barrel burned deeper into my ruined hand.

The pain intensified.

Gun smoke replaced the fog.

Tears poured from my eyes.

Yet I refused to blink.

The barrel's heat increased.

My suffering increased.

Alteration Magic — Eye Type.

Second Stage: Sorrow.

My pain is longer than any era of my life...

"IT... IT STOPPED!"

The seemingly invincible monster froze.

Then machine-gun fire struck.

It had advanced too deeply.

There was no time left to split apart.

Heavy rounds smashed into its bloated body.

Tearing.

Shredding.

Pulverizing.

Only then did I finally allow my eyes to close.

One blink.

One blink to end the nightmare.

Blink.

The monster screamed as it collapsed.

"Fire! Fire!"

THUDDUDDUDDUDDUDDUD!

The machine guns unleashed everything they had directly into the creature's head.