[Immovable Seal]
[keeeeeeeening—]
I roused mana to suppress the pitch-black lightning leaping in all directions, and at the same time unfurled the long sleeve of the [Winged Cloak of the Night Veil]—covering Lee Seonbin’s face.
‘Looks like the [Great Source] expected Mun Gyeongnam to fail.’
So, per the classic playbook, It shoved Its influence into the person nearest the player whose mind was most precarious.
With her claustrophobia, Lee Seonbin wouldn’t have been able to resist the [Great Source]’s horrific voice rising from the deep underground dark.
Left alone like this, Lee Seonbin would soon become a cultist brainwashed by the [Great Source].
At the right moment, she’d take Mun Seunghee hostage, attack me—whatever. No doubt It storyboarded the traditional plot.
‘How old-fashioned. Are you so lofty that you don’t even “network” with other Abyssals?’
Ever since I started wandering the [Cthulhu World], I’ve solved this sort of thing a number of times already.
Honestly, if I’d had time with Mun Gyeongnam, I could have turned him back into a person too.
“Chief. I’ll fix this in a flash, so please step outside for now.”
“Please—”
Muttering something like please—wizard—help—she staggered out.
I drew the [Butcher’s Hook], the [Four-Sign Execution Sword], and the [Blade of Flesh], let them hang in the air—then set them orbiting to amplify my mana.
The [Butcher’s Hook] has the power to siphon a target’s mana and wicked energy, and the [Four-Sign Execution Sword] will enhance effects of magic aimed at the good—in this case, Lee Seonbin.
And the [Blade of Flesh] is a blade made from the [Great Source]’s own flesh.
[Voice of Authority]
『Ancient, rotten mana—return to the body of your master.』
[keeeeeeeening—]
Mana itself has no will. The [Great Source]’s mana lodged in Lee Seonbin can’t tell the [Great Source] from the [Blade of Flesh], and it slowly slips out of her body, drifting toward the blade.
“Good. That’s it. Come on—more.”
Spells trigger in tandem.
[Baleful Gaze]
[Sanctification]
I press the separated mana with a baleful gaze and flood the tent with a consecrated air so it can’t flee.
[Absorption of Essence]
[Immovable Seal]
[Crystallization]
Unlike usual—rather than storing the mana in the [Butcher’s Hook]—I pulled out a few high-purity mana-stones and fused the mana into them.
[krrrrrrunch—]
The unseen, abstract energy slowly changes into a transparent crystal form.
Like a cheap CG clip, the writhing mana flash-hardens at speed.
“Now that my tier’s higher, this is a lot easier.”
I’d tried similar stunts a few times before, but each time I had to endure my brain blazing with pain and an extreme crash.
“But now I can do it this easily.”
[krrrrrrrrk—]
Done.
The mana-stone’s shape changed. Now it’s an [Avatar Stone] containing the [Great Source]’s power.
“Packing even this for me? Truly the generous sort.”
With the [Blade of Flesh] and, now, an [Avatar Stone] of the [Great Source], I can prosecute fights with Its avatars on far better terms.
Lee Seonbin has fallen asleep with a peaceful face, and when Mun Seunghee saw it, she hugged me and burst into tears—leaving me flustered for a good while.
“Thank you.”
Mun Seunghee rubs at her reddened eyes and thanks me. Her usual strict tone is gone—what comes out is a damp, mumbling voice.
“Think nothing of it.”
“If anything more had happened to Seonbin, I—I would’ve had no reason to live.”
Pretty extreme. Why is everyone in this world so extreme?
“What can I do for you, Wizard?”
Her voice carries the nuance of “I’ll grant any wish.”
I dipped my chin, then said:
“Well, it’d be great if you could start wrapping this site up. And if you can secure a sturdy vehicle and a competent driver, even better.”
“Are you heading somewhere else?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you’d go to Paju.”
“Mm. I’m going to Buyeo. Depending on how things go, maybe Ansan.”
Mun Seunghee looked at me for a beat, then—more composed—said:
“I see. Understood. I’ll get the site cleared fast so you can move comfortably.”
“Thank you.”
Mun Seunghee immediately began coordinating with headquarters to wind down the site, and I stepped back outside.
“Shouldn’t take long, right?”
Ugh. Honestly, I just want to drop everything, go home, eat the meal Mr. Sanghyun makes, and rest.
Thinking that, I was wandering the perimeter when a brusque voice suddenly flew in.
“Kim Sinhwa, what are you doing?”
Curtain Call, huh.
Despite the ruckus, her red leather jacket still gleams sharp and cool.
“Ha-ha—Kim Sinhwa, hi? Hear Coally out for a sec.”
The shaggy man, Baukalak, chimes in with a grin.
“What am I doing? Waiting for the site to get cleared.”
I stopped the descent, handled the cultists, finished the cleanup, took the rewards.
Now I want to leave Sokcho and move on.
But system-wise, I’m still a guard for Yeonam Construction’s site, and to close this situation out I need Mun Seunghee’s formal declaration.
“No, not that. Kim Sinhwa, I mean what are you going to do.”
“Me? What are you trying to say?”
Send someone who can actually hold a conversation—
Thinking that, I glanced at Baukalak. Catching my drift, he hurriedly asked Curtain Call:
“Uh, so—Coally, sorry, can I say it?”
“Yeah.”
With her permission, Baukalak stepped up and spoke to me.
“Kim Sinhwa. What are you doing after this site wraps?”
“Ah, after this?”
When I answered that way, he nodded, came closer, and lowered his voice.
“Whatever your plan is—can we come along?”
Ah. I get it.
Mun Gyeongnam’s a director of Yeonam Construction, and we’re people who came on Yeonam’s dime.
Strictly speaking, no matter what Mun Gyeongnam did to Mun Seunghee—our job was to stand external guard as ordered.
But the fixers Yeonam called in didn’t act that way.
‘One. The protectee list didn’t include Mun Gyeongnam, so he’s not a protectee.’
‘Two. Yet Mun Gyeongnam attacks a protectee, Mun Seunghee?’
‘Three. Therefore, kill Mun Gyeongnam.’
Curtain Call did argue that kind of blunt three-step logic, but in practice it isn’t that simple.
Even so, the reason the fixers here chose to ignore the messy complexities and follow her simple syllogism—
“I checked again with Tudor. Including the part about compensation.”
—is because I promised them a payout so good they’d think of nothing else.
From Mun Gyeongnam’s perspective as a Yeonam director, he effectively made a guarding contract with us—then a second contract to have himself assassinated. Double-booking.
In short, fraud.
Cost me a pretty penny too.
“Our favorite kind of client is the generous kind, but Coally’s picky about jobs.”
Curtain Call snorts at Baukalak’s comment.
“Still, Coally agreed to join if it’s something you want to do. Well? Whatever your next plan is, can we work together?”
I turned my head. Curtain Call’s crew watched us from a modest distance—eyes glittering with expectation and greed.
Looks like Tudor already wired the bounty.
“The next plan, huh?”
If I say I’m going to look for Jang Hyundeok, all their faces will fall.
They seem convinced I’m about to wade into Yeonam Group’s succession fight—to run some grand project to seat someone as the next chairman.
I eyed Curtain Call, then whispered to Baukalak:
“Is she actually clear on this? It’s not the kind of project she usually likes.”
“Well, Coally likes killing rich people.”
“...”
So she’s convinced herself in a very different way.
I looked them over again.
Right now they’re grimy, worn out, and shell-shocked from a massive disaster—but in Paju they’re a pretty famous team.
They’re famous first for Curtain Call’s vicious temperament, and second for her peculiar appetite, and only after that for their skills—but no one says they can’t get a job done.
Come to think of it, perfect timing. I needed people to help anyway, and these ones will do.
“Yeah, I’ve got a plan. Listen up.”
I laid it out, and the moment I finished, Curtain Call lifted her chin and scowled.
“What is that? No!”
“Knew you’d say that.”
Before she could pile on more complaints, I took a small, shrunken item from my coat and handed it to her.
“What’s this?”
“A gift. I said I’d give you something to stand in for the true demon blade.”
I released the shrink-magic—and it became the [Merciless Landslide] I’d taken as a reward earlier.
“This is that thing the rhino guy was swinging, right?”
“Recognized it? I grabbed it for you. Well?”
For small-framed Curtain Call, it’s absurdly huge. The haft alone is taller than she is, and the rock and metal at the end have fused with mana-stone in a grotesque way—forming a lump bigger than her torso.
Common sense says she couldn’t even lift it, let alone use it...
[whoooOAAANG! vwooooom!]
Curtain Call whirled the [Merciless Landslide] with glee.
Now that’s a sound.
Wearing a brilliant smile I’d never once seen on her, she said:
“I’m satisfied. Thanks, Kim Sinhwa.”
“Don’t mention it. So—how about now?”
“Fine. No complaints.”
“Good.”
That side’s settled too.
Everyone here is filthy, exhausted, and dazed from escaping a colossal disaster.
Someone mutters nonsense. Someone screams out of nowhere. Someone stares at Seoraksan’s utterly changed landscape and lets out a hollow laugh.
We’re all tired, but someone among us has to get a grip and take charge.
So Mun Seunghee gathered those still somewhat intact and, standing straight and steady, declared:
“Under the authority of the site lead, I am halting this project.”
It may look like a meaningless formality, but it’s more important than it seems.
She then bowed her head to the crowd.
“I apologize for failing to prevent this accident. As for your damages and the wages promised in advance...”
No matter who did what, none of this could have been stopped—but she apologized for her management lapses and laid out compensation and next steps.
People cheered—simply at the fact they could leave this hell called Seoraksan, or at the promise of full compensation.
Watching from a good distance, I soon got a message window in front of my eyes announcing a quest clear.
[Quest complete!
Reward: 5,000,000 XP (+Money promised by °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the broker is separate.)]
That’s that.
Now I can shake this off and move on.
Vehicles began arriving to transport personnel, and I was waiting on a car for my own move when...
[brrrrrrrrrr—]
“Hrm. That’s a little too on the nose.”
Park Gwangrim—the one I sent to find Jang Hyundeok.
It’s the call I’ve been waiting for, but...
Why does this feel bad?
“Hello?”
— Mr. Kim Sinhwa! Mr. Kim Sinhwa! Ah—this is Mr. Kim Sinhwa, right?
Park Gwangrim sounds... not just rattled—unhinged.
“Ugh—Gwangrim? Breathe. What happened?”
— The Jang Hyundeok you told me to find. Jang Hyundeok! The hundred billion won!
“Yeah, that Jang Hyundeok.”
This mood is familiar.
In the last loop too—different details, similar phone call.
— He might... already be dead.
You’ve got to be kidding me. What now?
But this isn’t exactly like with Yang Seoho. I kept my composure by a thread and asked:
“When you say ‘might be dead,’ that means he might be alive, right? Explain.”
On the other end, I heard Park Gwangrim’s rough, deep breaths.
— The orphanage you mentioned. It’s not normal. Everyone here is too happy—way too peaceful! Something is wrong with this place, Mr. Kim Sinhwa! A place like this can’t exist! Jang Hyundeok—he’s probably dead. Everyone’s so very kind...
Kind.
Peaceful.
Happy.
Listing those lovely words, Park Gwangrim’s voice trembled with a brittle, unstable fear.
