Fududududuk—
The rustle of the [Night Shroud Wing Cloak] whipping in the wind.
An in-between distance.
The destination is Boamdang.
It’s a bit far to travel using pure [Flight] alone.
It isn’t a spell meant for long use anyway.
In a combat situation the expenditure is acceptable, but as simple transport it’s severe mana waste.
That’s why this game even has a separate driver-specialist job.
Either way, this time it’s better to place a mark on Boamdang too.
Tap—
Finishing a leap that borders on flight, I paused on an abnormally thickened tree trunk—
[Leap]
Taat—
And sprang up again.
Fududududuk—
Trees grown to unnatural heights made excellent stepping stones for chained leaps.
With several enchantments wrapped around my body to pull up my physical specs, I alternated short [Flight] and long [Leap] as I advanced toward Boamdang.
In effect I must look like a mountain bird roaming the night’s darkness—or like the elders of the Evergreen Mountaineering Association. To do this with pure physical ability alone—those elders really are something.
Fududududuk—
“You helped us like that before as well.”
That was what Mun Seunghee said.
She didn’t add much detail, but if she said helped, she must have meant Lee Seonbin.
The day we first met.
Meaning the day we fought ghouls in the Munsan apartment complex. That day, the moment I arrived, I did something that looked out of left field and saved Lee Seonbin.
Honestly it was just a “did it because I could” kind of move.
It had no special meaning—just something I did on gamer instinct—yet it seems it left a strong impression on Mun Seunghee.
A troubleshooter who, on arrival, immediately asks for individual action? Even without thinking in [Cthulhu World] cultural terms, from an employer’s standpoint that could be infuriating.
Even so, Mun Seunghee expressed strong trust in me and said:
“You did say individual action, but since it’s the Mage speaking, there must be a special reason, yes? I won’t ask unnecessary questions. If you need anything more, please tell me. I’ll provide all possible support within my authority.”
“Well, thanks to that, things are easier.”
Fudududududuk—
But the atmosphere feels off.
Not Mun Seunghee.
Here.
Right around here.
The forest. The trees. The path to Boamdang.
Something is wrong.
Maybe it’s the effect of [Enhanced Vigilance], or maybe [Keen Observation] kicking in—but there’s a subtly awkward feel.
It’s such a dense forest.
Was it always a forest with nothing in it?
I realized the reason almost at the same time I noticed the awkwardness.
No animals in sight.
Not even small birds.
“Huh?”
I traveled this road before my regression too. It felt like this then as well, so I didn’t notice.
But this time the forest must not have the same vibe as last time.
Back then, the reason no animals were visible in this forest was...
Right, because a shoggoth was roaming.
Damn it, then what is it this time?
Is a shoggoth roaming again?
No, that can’t be.
Shoggoths are set to come out through the entrance to the underground ruin.
Vreeeeee—
Keeping my travel speed, I widened my detection radius.
There?
I found something that could be a clue. If this were a game, a message would have popped: [Observation Check Success].
It’s not far off my direction of travel.
Fududududuk—
I adjusted the arc of my leap and dropped beneath the trees.
“Khugh— kkkkk—”
“Hey, sir.”
I crouched and checked the condition of the dying old man.
Flashy hiking gear; weapons that look crude but are functional.
A troubleshooter of the Evergreen Mountaineering Association.
He lay alone, spilling blood and entrails, yet still showed unbroken pride and anger.
“In the name... of the god you serve... may you be cursed... Cursed, you cultist... The Conqueror...”
“Sir, I am not a cultist.”
“The Conqueror will... return soon. Hic— haa... The Conqueror... will hunt you. Ngh— the sin you committed at Boamdang...”
It sounded like words wrung from his last strength.
The old man exhaled while holding that stout bearing—but did not inhale again.
In the end I closed his staring eyes and stood.
“Hm. These elders aren’t the sort to abandon a comrade.”
One more.
I found another troubleshooter of the Evergreen Mountaineering Association.
No chance to speak this time. He had died burned.
“There was a fight.”
I see traces of magic around us. Cruel, lethal attack spells like cultists would use.
And the old man who just breathed his last was struck by something like that. Limbs twisted together at grotesque angles.
Bodies strung along a consistent line of travel. Blood trails. Traces of destruction.
My Intelligence stat moves, and the situation here reconstructs itself naturally.
A fight conducted at abnormal speed.
An explosion there. Elders pouring down from the trees. Frost magic triggered to counter. A curse. An attack. Another explosion.
One person died there. The old man who got the limb-tangling curse thrashed here and died. The one hit directly by the blast was flung far off. The Evergreen Mountaineering Association’s attacks—while they briefly slowed these fast-moving spellcasters’ advance—couldn’t land a decisive blow.
In the end the elders pulled back. Even as they withdrew, they set a few traps, but it seems the spellcasters used magic like [Trap Detection]. Traps undone by simple 0-tier cantrips.
“They moved pretty fast. [Natural Walk]? No, at this level maybe [Haste]?”
In short, the fast-moving spellcasters ran into the Evergreen Mountaineering Association, had a brief clash, drove them off, then moved on again without hesitation.
And the Evergreen Mountaineering Association aren’t the sort to go down easy.
It looks less like they fought because they wanted to and more like a small number ran into them by chance while moving through the area.
“I don’t exactly owe these elders anything, but...”
Leaving them tossed like trash doesn’t sit right.
Vreeeeee—
I stirred my mana and carefully gathered the visible bodies together in one place.
It wasn’t an action I loaded with deep meaning. As always—I did it because I could right then.
“Left like this, the other elders will collect them and hold a funeral. Now then...”
Judging from the visible traces, the number of spellcasters here was...
Twelve.
“So it was those middle-aged guys making a scene at the construction site.”
And they moved in exactly the direction I was heading.
If I keep on this way, I’ll reach Boamdang.
“Come to think of it, those headless corpses I saw at Boamdang last time.”
There were eleven, right?
And if I add Kim Seonghwan locked in the storeroom... that makes twelve.
It lines up well enough. Lovely.
“Moving right away was the right call. Faster than I expected.”
If I dawdle, I might miss the event.
Fududududuk—
I pushed my speed even higher and headed for Boamdang.
The moon high overhead.
Clouds writhing in sinister shapes, squirming ominously.
And an old traditional house suddenly showing itself in the forest.
Bamboo stakes set before the gate, with red cloth and white cloth tied to them.
Boamdang.
Fududududuk—
Wrapping my whole body in the [Night Shroud Wing Cloak], I blended into the night’s dark shadow and flew to Boamdang’s edge like a night bird’s flight.
I must not get careless.
Low-tier they may be, but they’re mages invested with power by beings of the abyss.
Vreeeeee—
I triggered several spells for security and stealth. Erasing all trace and presence, I climbed onto Boamdang’s roof.
I’m dead tired.
The moment I realized this wasn’t a situation to throttle in gently, I moved at full tilt.
I may be tired, but that’s a stamina issue; my mana is still fine.
I steadily calmed mind and body, then stretched my perception into Boamdang’s interior.
It doesn’t feel like I’m late—but I am late. What is this?
Men with vigorous looks for their age are ransacking Boamdang’s inside.
This game’s skin, seriously... No wonder the game died.
It’s a game where, instead of a beautiful elf defending the forest with arrows, elders in hiking gear fire boomsticks to defend Seoraksan.
I’ll have to accept without blinking that middle-aged, balding, pot-bellied men are playing the role of wicked dark mages.
Looks aside, they are cultists of the [Old Voice] who serve the abyssal being called the [Great Source].
“Where is this book, anyway?”
“If there was such a thing, you should have told us there was.”
“If we’d known in advance, we could’ve done it in one go. We ended up coming back.”
“Director Park, quit that and search over there too.”
“Ah, this is driving me crazy. Where did you hide it? This old hag’s a pain even after death.”
They’re all people someone calls boss somewhere.
A mere landlord could squeeze in here. The kind of people where “you can’t pass through this neighborhood without stepping on this man’s land.”
Keeping entry conditions closed to build a small elite order of mages who train Western-style mysticism and secret sorcery was fine and all, but in exchange they can’t secure manpower in a situation like this.
Work the people under them would normally do—they now have to do themselves...
Every time they move, grumble here, gripe there—an endless stream of complaints.
Thanks to that, gathering intel isn’t hard.
So... it wasn’t today.
I wasn’t late.
The [Guardian of Boamdang] has already been murdered.
If I put together their sloppy slips of the tongue, the [Guardian of Boamdang] died at a time I couldn’t have saved them even if I’d moved earlier.
At the earliest three days ago; at the longest as much as a week.
Only, back then they didn’t know the [Boamdang Secret Tome] existed, so they’ve returned late to Boamdang.
“Mun Gyeongnam, that dog of a bastard. And you’re telling us this only now?”
“Barking orders from afar. Does he think we’re his underlings?”
Mun Seunghee said a little while ago she’d just received contact from Mun Gyeongnam too, didn’t she? Because I pounded Mun Gyeongnam, these middle-aged guys must have gotten the message late too.
“Found it, this is it!”
It’s about time to decide my next move.
It’s a shame I couldn’t save the [Guardian of Boamdang], but given how things stand now... securing the [Boamdang Secret Tome] alone will be enough.
Sssssss—
Something appeared beside me where I was crouched on the roof.
“...?”
I nearly made a sound.
A granny’s faint silhouette in a pure white shroud.
We met like this last time as well. The [Guardian of Boamdang] who has protected this land for long years.
I couldn’t speak aloud, so I conveyed it to her.
“Do you have something to say?”
The reply that returned wasn’t language either—only impression laden with meaning and feeling—but it can be rendered as follows.
A child carrying power humans cannot bear.
From the guardian’s white spirit body come fear, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» concern. Compassion. Sorrow.
What do you carry so much for? I fear you may burst.
I scratched at the head under my pitch-black hood and answered.
“I’m fine. More importantly, how did this happen to you?”
I thought it an important question, but the Guardian of Boamdang, as if she had no interest in her own death, pointed at the chattering cultists and conveyed:
In the name of Cheongeumdang that dwells in your body, I ask you. Stop them.
“I was going to anyway.”
Stop her.
“Her? What do you mean?”
Even if I forcibly include Mun Gyeongnam, the cultists of the [Great Voice]—all thirteen—are a group made up entirely of middle-aged men.
And middle-aged men are, by definition, males above a certain age...
Stop her wrath and sorrow.
Sorrow, concern, fear.
Damn it, I don’t know what that means.
Even as the [Guardian of Boamdang], she’s now a wraith. Without proper medium traits, I can’t have a more detailed conversation.
In the end, I gave up on talking with the guardian’s wraith.
Either way, what I need to do right now is clear. And I’m short on time. There are now less than twenty minutes to midnight.
I have a feeling the magic phobia won’t recur—but just in case, I should handle this as quickly as possible.
Even if it isn’t magic phobia, they’re targets that need clearing anyway. For the sake of the [Guardian of Boamdang], who became a wraith because of their malice...
“Just burn it! That’s simplest!”
“Good, move. I’ll do it!”
One cultist with strikingly red skin steps up and triggers magic.
“O purest power of destruction, burn its soul in the dance of ruin.”
[Flame......]
[Mana Loss]
Fsssshsshh—
Holes open in the flame formula blooming at the cultist’s fingertips, and the mana he’d gathered scatters.
“W-what the—? My mana...?!”
The cultists fluster and fumble.
But one with quick wits shouts,
“No—someone cast a [Spell Counter]!”
Whoooomph— wicked mana flares up.
“Who’s there!?”
“An enemy! Everyone be alert!”
“Where are you! Who dares hinder our great work!”
Faces flushed, the cultists shout.
Crash!
Five who were already in the courtyard.
Four who dash out to the yard in a panic.
Three still lingering in the main hall.
“There! That one!”
“Look there! On the roof!”
“Believe it or not, I’m the sort who has qualms about killing human-form life. If you hand over the book and repent your past wrongs, I can be lenient—say, stop at a couple of punches.”
“Shut up!”
“Do you know who we are!”
“Grab that bastard and kill him! Drag him down!”
Mutter mutter, babble babble.
Spells launch in a simultaneous volley amid the uproar.
Take down twelve cultist mages within twenty minutes?
“Well, that’s simple.”
