“I have been watching over Mr. Hyundeok’s body for some time now.”
Under the dim light of the basement, Heo Sanghyun spoke quietly.
His face, higher up than mine, seemed eerie and vague, as if cloaked in ominous, rebellious shadows.
“The previous master... that is, Lord Heo’s ‘subject’ that you so desperately sought.”
There it was again—that word “subject.” Heo Sanghyun is a good man, but he often employs odd vocabulary.
As a cultist, as a priest, as the assistant to a mad sorcerer, and during his years living to manifest abyssal darkness and malice in this world, those must have been the terms he used.
“And...?”
“Therefore, although I sensed your basic mana had risen dramatically after you drank the Dream Fragrance recently, I did not expect you to achieve magical mastery so quickly.”
Heo Sanghyun did not speak as if he had fully analyzed Jang Hyundeok’s constitution. This was a more fundamental matter.
Having more mana does not instantly allow one to cast magic. Otherwise, you would have started using spells from Curtain Call onward instead of brutal Pure Mad Arts.
That is why proper mages enjoy such reverence.
And the point Heo Sanghyun was getting to...
“Mr. Hyundeok—so you artificially enabled magic by tampering with another’s body?”
I paused a moment, then answered frankly.
“Yes, that’s correct. I did exactly that.”
Heo Sanghyun wore an expression one might make upon feeling utterly deflated.
“Astonishing.”
Truly, truly astonishing—those words murmured again and again at the corner of his mouth. How could such a thing be?
Anyone could see the strangeness of the situation.
To calm him, or perhaps to understand why he was so unsettled, I called his name.
“Sanghyun.”
“Mr. Sinhwa.”
But Heo Sanghyun did not answer to my call; instead, he spoke my name. This might not even be a conversation.
“Do you know the experiment the master was most obsessed with when he was alive?”
Heo Sanghyun did not bother correcting himself to say “former master” or “Lord Heo”—he simply said “master.” His eyes drifted, as though wandering through years-old memories.
“I have seen his experiment notes, so I have some idea.”
Experiments that a necromancer transcending life and death would conduct: stitching corpses together into new forms, then animating and controlling them. Or secret arts to prolong wretched life forever—or to indefinitely defer death.
When I answered thus, Heo Sanghyun nodded.
“And through those forbidden arts, what he sought to create was a stronger humanity that could survive the coming annihilation.”
“......”
Nonsense.
If Heo Joo’s research had succeeded, something might have walked this land even after the ruin—but it could not be called [human] or [humanity].
They would have been called zombies or walking corpses.
I dared not speak that aloud, but Heo Sanghyun, as if he had already heard my reply, continued with a bitter expression.
“He was someone with different notions and a different morality from ours. Yet his ideology was unwavering, and to realize it, he killed countless humans.”
After dissecting and reassembling hundreds of corpses, Heo Joo barely produced a similar being.
And Heo Sanghyun is indeed one of those experimental byproducts.
“The reason I can use Mr. Sinhwa’s mana... is because I am not alive, but a corpse animated by Mr. Sinhwa’s power.”
“Mr. Sanghyun, you don’t need to put it so starkly.”
Heo Sanghyun is not a living person.
He eats and drinks, sleeps and laughs, walks as though alive, but he is merely a corpse mimicking the living.
A corpse moved by my mana and bound to my command.
“It’s not that Mr. Sinhwa performed the impossible. I know others, given enough time, technology, resources, and effort, could achieve the same.”
Modifying a human body to grant new abilities and talents is not impossible. Helistic and its rival Cure have already produced countless augmented humans.
“But someone who can accomplish it so simply, by sheer will and solely with their own power—none that I know.”
“No. Though it may have seemed some steps were omitted, it was by no means a simple task.”
I said that, yet I too recognized the alien nature of what I had done.
Heo Joo’s undead creation borrowed the power of the [One Who Rises from Darkness]. Cults in Masquerade did likewise, each using the power of their deity.
Even «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» Helistic and Cure, which seem to employ super-scientific methods, draw on abyssal power via alien tech or inhuman fluids.
But whose power did I borrow for these abilities?
“Mr. Sinhwa, you resurrected me from death and granted me new life.”
Heo Sanghyun, whether intentionally or not, was at heart a cultist.
“Who are you? From where have you come?”
He gazed up at me as though welcoming a transcendent being.
“Could you perhaps grant me—grant Mr. Hyundeok—the same blessing? A full resurrection, the strength to walk beyond these cursed walls on my own feet, to meet the family waiting for me—could you give me that blessing?”
A moment passed.
No—quite a long time—I pondered, then slowly reached out, touching Heo Sanghyun’s chest.
“Mr. Sanghyun. Something is amiss.”
With my other hand I touched his shoulder,
then his ear,
then his eye,
and finally his brow, discerning partial damage in the spiritual structure linking his body and soul.
“This is it.”
Perhaps mana released during [Perceive] had unintentionally harmed him.
“Do not worry. I can fix it.”
I infused mana to resolve the issue within Heo Sanghyun, then continued softly.
“You will see nothing. The moment you leave this basement, you will forget all thoughts you have had until now. You will forget these needless worries and obsessive impulses—and you will be free to think and desire as you wish.”
I also erased some memories that would cause him pain.
Heo Sanghyun stood blankly, as though dreaming, then silently exited the basement.
Alone in the dark, damp cellar, I muttered to myself.
“I can do this too.”
Truly remarkable.
Ignoring his desperate pleas, I had repaired his “malfunction.”
How did things come to this?
I do not know.
Countless urgent tasks await—there can be no delay. Worry and doubt can wait.
After this moment passes, I will have more freedom to ponder and fret.
In the end, Kim Sinhwa chose to set aside burgeoning anxiety and tackle urgent matters first.
Whether it was the best decision, even Kim Sinhwa could not tell, but for some it brought about the worst consequences.
“Why, why—how did it come to this? Does no one have an answer?”
Even cultists steeped in blood, madness, and wicked ideology must include strategists among them.
Yet none of those gathered before the Blood Empress could offer a clear answer.
They were precisely those who had flocked to her banner.
“.......”
“.......”
Moreover, they were among those most grievously affected by Kim Sinhwa’s choice.
“Why! Why are all of you silent? If you remain sealed like clams, I will pry open your mouths the way one forces apart a clam’s shell!”
Prising a clam’s shell is simple: insert a blade, or roast it over fire.
At last the cultists of the Blood Demon Sect began to speak up.
“No matter how we look at it, their movements are utterly... unpredictable.”
“Perhaps they are using future-sight abilities?”
“Those ruffians?”
Those ruffians.
The ones driving the Blood Empress to madness were the Bong Ilcheon Faction and the Cheongho Faction.
Their actions were chaotic. Why they moved in such order, at that point, to those places—none could anticipate or comprehend.
They surged and swarmed, seized meaningless buildings, attacked random sites, and sometimes bombed empty spots.
Their behavior seemed the ravings of madmen, but...
“Yet it grows more serious. There must be a scheme behind this.”
Because they “happened to” appear at sites, rituals were canceled.
Because they “coincidentally” occupied candidate strongholds, new bases were lost.
Because they “ironically” attacked there, altars painstakingly prepared were destroyed.
And then—
“Damn it!”
The latest incident was an absurd bombing. The Bong Ilcheon Faction’s fireplay, in a maddening twist, spread to the Blood Demon Sect’s secret stronghold, reducing decades of spiritual assets to ash in an instant.
As a result, despite an alliance with the Red Do Faction, the Blood Demon Sect was immobilized in bizarre ways.
At this rate, the sect’s long-cherished desires and plans would crumble into ruin.
“Curse it!”
The Blood Empress smashed nearby objects, stamped her foot, cursed at the sky, and after calling upon the Blood Demon King’s name several times, spoke with subdued resolve.
“Yes, you are right. There is something behind them. But what is it?”
One cautious cultist finally offered a new suggestion.
“At Sangbulsa, they point to Kim Sinhwa.”
“Kim Sinhwa? That brat is controlling those ruffians?”
“They seem to think so.”
“Kim Sinhwa... that sacrifice at the feast. Yes, it makes sense. It cannot be coincidence.”
Indeed, that sorcerer had wrought horrific harm on the sister orders [Gourmet Expedition Party] and [Sangbulsa].
That Kim Sinhwa stole abyssal knowledge to incite those ruffians, and abyssal power to arm them.
“If we eliminate that Kim Sinhwa, those ruffians will revert to their former, mindless sheep.”
“As you know, he is a vicious, terrible being. Do you recall the unrest at Paju Samneung and Paju Central Hospital?”
The Blood Demon Sect did not participate in those riots.
True, the Blood Demon King’s power was involved, but unlike other incarnations based on the Predator of the Mountains, the Blood Demon King did not command his followers.
And that decree remains unchanged.
“Moreover, remember the Blood Demon King forbade any approach to that sacrificial at the feast.”
“Ugh...”
As the Blood Empress’s groans of anguish deepened, one finally conceived a meaningful plan.
“Currently Sangbulsa has lost its stronghold. Without sufficient marshland and stable earth, their oracle, Gyuseongmawa, cannot be born.”
“I know that. So those frogs have been useless to us, correct?”
“On the contrary?”
“Contrary?”
“The reason Sangbulsa could not properly resist that Kim Sinhwa was surely because they lacked a rallying point. If we provide Sangbulsa with a stable base, ample marshland, and offer blood, they could finally birth Gyuseongmawa.”
“I see. And then we would strike back at him centered on Sangbulsa?”
“Gyuseongmawa is an ultimate being imbued with Sangbulsa’s long history and vision. Even Kim Sinhwa would not dare face it lightly.”
“Indeed, sound words.”
“Furthermore, the Gourmet Expedition Party has likewise lost its base. By supporting Sangbulsa and drawing in the Expedition Party, if things go well, we need not act further.”
“Hah—good. I like it. I like it very much.”
With direction set, the Blood Demon Sect’s cultists began to propose plausible stratagems.
“I have heard that among the abandoned factories in the old publishing complex, there is a grimoire created by great abyssal revelation. How about finding it and restoring our lost power?”
“There is said to be a stone imbued with the power of the [One Who Drinks Fear] on some rock in Tanhyeon. What if we borrow its power?”
“I too have scouted a new stronghold: a secret church once used by the now-vanished [Descendants of Formalhaut]...”
The cultists’ plans coalesced into one grand scheme to inflict a horrific defeat upon Kim Sinhwa.
Now all they had to do was set the trap and draw Kim Sinhwa in.
