WETRIED TRANSLATIONS

The Wizard in the Poncho

[Translator – Aren]

Chapter 62 - Reading Beneath Clear Skies

People who didn’t know any better might have rejoiced as the fog steadily thinned.

They would likely think that the damned fog was finally clearing, allowing them to shoot all the monsters now. If monsters appeared together with the fog, it was only natural to assume that once the fog disappeared, the monsters could be wiped out too.

But we Supreme Archmages had come to a different realization after meeting a certain Seoul wizard.

What Kang Areum had told us directly contradicted everything we’d taken for granted.

Cause and effect had been reversed. We’d gotten the order wrong.

According to Kang Areum, the monsters came first. The fog was both a blessing for wizards and something that weakened the monsters. The thinner the fog became, the stronger the monsters grew.

The idea had sounded so absurd that even hearing it from a local hadn’t made it easy to believe. It looked like we were about to find out ourselves now.

Not that I was eager to learn through experience.

April 19th, 2028, 6:01 PM.

Day 5 of our expedition.

The fog had thinned to the point where visibility stretched well beyond 300 meters. At this point, measuring the density of the fog was practically meaningless. The sky was almost clear.

Back before all of this, people would’ve complained, calling even this foggy weather. But this wasn’t the old Seoul anymore. This was a city where an alien ecosystem had taken root.

Beneath those unusually clear skies, we could finally see the true state of the city, which had been hidden from us by the fog until now.

The moment we turned back from the Han River and stepped into the alley between the pharmacies, I saw something springing across the rooftops. At the same time, I heard broken slate tiles and debris knocked loose by old artillery strikes, rattling to the ground.

-Claaatter...

We, the Supreme Archmages reacted instantly.

Before Hamza could warn us it was dangerous, before Shin Nain could say a single word, every one of us had already dove behind fallen signboards or into buildings with shattered windows.

I slipped into the first floor of what looked like an ordinary apartment building. A weathered sign bearing a red cross told me it had once been a church.

Apparently after the threshold breach, people had come here hoping for a miracle.

I could see half-eaten snack bags, crushed water bottles, broken chairs, and desks smashed together in a hurry. And dried blood splattered across every wall and the floor. Unfortunately, the miracle of resurrection hadn’t arrived in the form they were hoping for.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

In this place where only bloodstains remained, the bodies having long since disappeared, Hamza came in after me. He pressed a finger against the filter of his gas mask, making a shh gesture.

"Shhh."

It looked like he’d gotten so used to wearing the mask he was shushing people by touching the filter instead of his lips.

"Okay."

I did as he said.

The two of us crouched behind overturned chairs and shattered desks waiting for whatever was outside to pass. With our remaining ammunition running low, starting a fight against an unknown monster wasn’t an option.

I was itching to test my new magic, but…

With the fog thinning this quickly, I couldn’t afford to use it carelessly. I had to consider the backlash.

Besides, Cognitive Dissonance was far too passive a spell.

All I had to do was think back to senior Ski Goggles’ actual combat record.

If he could’ve inflicted Cognitive Dissonance on his opponents, he would’ve done it.

Imagine making something think ‘Huh? Didn't I already fire my gun?’ The fight would’ve ended right there.

The name Cognitive Dissonance made it sound like some lofty, impossibly abstract spell, but once you understood it, it was actually a remarkably straightforward kind of magic.

This magic was all about sheer obstinacy.

The real question was how far that obstinacy could reach.

According to the knowledge that had settled into my mind, at Stage 3, Overcoming and Denial, the stage of Cognitive Dissonance, the only thing I could alter were changes that had happened to my own body.

But even that magic couldn’t erase the cuneiform covering Ski Goggles from head to toe. Which meant a contract formed using Ritual-type magic couldn’t simply be denied.

Ski Goggles’ memories had made that abundantly clear.

So I focused on something else.

Since the fog had become much thinner than I’d expected, I only activated Eyes-branch, Stage 1 to check whether any red footprints were heading our way.

Fortunately, the backlash wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been back in Suwon.

Before, the glare had been so intense my eyes watered uncontrollably. Now, it simply felt like my eyes had been left bone-dry for 10 straight minutes. Scratchy, stinging, itchy, and uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

Was it because I’d advanced to another stage?

That was the only explanation I could think of.

10 seconds into the future, there wasn’t a single red footprint approaching us.

Instead, I could tell what was happening throughout Seoul just by listening. A scream tore through the air.

It sounded like a kid. Even giving the benefit of the doubt, they couldn’t have been older than an elementary school upperclassman. Their young voice scraped raw with panic as they cried out.

"Mom! Dad! Help me!”

Help me…Help me…

The child’s screams echoed through shattered windows and empty alleyways. It reminded me of yelling ‘Yoohoo!’ from the hills behind my neighborhood when I was a kid waiting for the echo to come back. Except this wasn’t a mountaintop. Yet the child’s voice kept bouncing back, over and over.

A kind-hearted person might’ve been overcome with guilt.

Someone driven by justice would probably have sprinted out there already.

But we were the Supreme Archmages.

We were the people who’d blown away Teratomas, monsters that lured humans with the cries of babies, without hesitation.

There was no way an elementary schooler’s plea for help was going to shake us now.

Partly because we all understood the reality of the situation.

The only people who could survive in Seoul were wizards and those clinging to them.

That screaming child, at best, was another Seoul wizard. Most likely, it was simply a monster pretending to be human, though.

And once again, it was the latter.

Right after the scream of a child too young to have even reached puberty came the desperate cries of a young woman. She sounded like she might be in her mid-20s.

"Aaagh! No!”

Then countless dying screams overlapped.

Get away, sobsob, Dad, no, stay back...

As dozens of voices piled on top of one another, the sound of glass shattering and doors splintering echoed through the streets. The truly optimistic, the ones who still believed in happy endings, might’ve imagined survivors fighting monsters.

But Hamza and I, huddled behind a desk, trembling, heard what came next. And we knew this wasn’t humans fighting monsters.

Hhhhhk...

From an alley now visible beneath the thinning fog came the unmistakable sound of air escaping. Not the sigh of someone catching their breath, but the weak, ragged wheeze of someone with a hole punched through their lungs, someone no longer capable of speaking properly.

That wheezing sound crushed every other scream beneath it.

-Crunch.

If it had stopped after crushing the bones, that would’ve been bad enough, but it didn't.

Have you ever tossed a picked-clean chicken bone to a wagging farm dog out in the countryside?

Some people will tell you never to feed dogs chicken bones, but those old country mutts absolutely went crazy for them.

When I was little, I once tossed a fresh chicken bone to my grandparents’ yellow farm dog.

Its tail wagged furiously. It snapped the bone up in a single bite and then started drooling before crunching it apart without hesitation.

I can still remember the sound of chicken bones splintering between its teeth.

And now I was hearing the same sound again. Only this time, it was something licking the bones with its tongue before crushing them between its teeth.

-Cruuunch!

That bastard was really savoring it.

-Crunch, cruuunch!

Apparently it’s found a particularly large bone. It kept turning it around, grinding it apart with its teeth, sucking every last drop of marrow from the inside. Thank God I couldn’t actually see it from where I was hiding behind the desk.

But sounds make you imagine things, so I desperately cling to that childhood memory instead. To the image of that country mutt chewing on a chicken bone.

-Slurp, slurp.

Thick saliva coated the scraps of meat still clinging to the bone, stripping them clean.

-Scrrraaaape.

Its teeth slid against a section that was too hard to bite through, scraping loudly.

-Cruuuunch!

Finally, finding a weak spot, it clamped down, shattering the bone, before greedily sucking out the marrow inside. That was the memory I desperately held onto.

But once the dog in my memory had finished every last bone, it slowly licked its muzzle and looked up at me.

As a child, I’d thought it was looking at me expectantly. Now, inside the ruins of this collapsed church, that same look felt completely different.

In the end, my desperate attempt to keep thinking about the farm dog collapsed the moment I heard what came after the last bone had been crushed.

Hic…sobsob…

The thing that had painstakingly chewed every single fragment of bone began to cry.

Somewhere beyond the broken desks and shattered windows, something unknown moved across the rooftops overlooking the desolate alley, quietly sobbing to itself.

Its voice was weak, like air leaking from a punctured balloon.

Even as it sobbed, it sounded like it was licking something.

Hack, cough…sobsob…

Something was caught in its throat. It kept coughing, yet never stopped licking.

Feeling cold sweat running down the back of my neck, I looked over at Hamza. He was seconds away from completely breaking down.

His face had gone deathly pale. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut. His legs were twisted together.

He looked like he was about to piss himself, but he was desperately clenching every muscle he had because he was terrified that if he actually did, the smell of urine would draw that thing to us.

Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. I’d emptied my bladder hours ago, and even I suddenly felt like I had to go again.

Then, after all that crying and licking, the unknown creature finally broke into a hoarse scream.

Aaagh, AaAAagh…

Had it lost its humanity? Was it screaming in despair after realizing what it had become?

I almost wished it were something as simple as that.

The unknown creature using a human voice, the ruined voice of someone whose throat had long since given out, wept as it poured out grief it could no longer contain.

The cry echoing through that nameless alley was neither a plea to be saved nor a desperate wish to be killed.

Hungry.

The monster let out that all-too-human scream, then started moving again.

Sound tells you a lot.

I could practically picture it. Bounding across the green urethane roofing and slate tiles covering the villas, its footsteps loud and carefree as it hopped from rooftop to rooftop.

Following the footsteps, more screams overlapped.

Don’t come over here, run, what’s wrong with you?! Why are you acting like this?! Oppa, you’re acting weird today…

I stayed where I was until the countless dying cries faded into the distance and the punctured, wheezing sobs disappeared completely.

A sharp smell of ammonia suddenly drifted over from beside me. It came from Hamza, but I didn’t give him a hard time for it.

This wasn’t exactly the time to expect someone to master the advanced art of peeing a little at a time so it dries before anyone notices.

A few seconds after the unknown monster disappeared, I heard footsteps approaching our position. There were still no footprints.

Only then did I cautiously peek my head out and spot the familiar faces.

Pastor Park Yohan, Shin Nain, and Lee Sejun.

The moment our eyes met, we all came to the same conclusion. Not a word was spoken. One glance was enough.

With the fog this thin, staying outside any longer was basically suicide.

* * *

We Supreme Archmages chose the third floor of the church as our temporary hideout.

The church looked much like an ordinary gray apartment building. Including the glass structure enclosing the rooftop, it stood about 4 or 5 stories tall.

The first floor was far too vulnerable to monsters. The rooftop we ruled out immediately. It was part of the route used by that bone-chewing monster we’d just heard.

The only obvious entrance was the staircase.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t find any way into the basement.

One section had a shutter pulled down, so maybe there was one, but with no idea when that monster might return, we weren’t about to start searching.

We’d become so cautious that even speaking felt dangerous. Making unnecessary noise was out of the question, so, following the pastor’s silent gesture, we slipped deeper into the building.

Indoors was exactly the kind of place where Predator Spines or the Amalgam subspecies, Bloodcord Delta, liked to nest.

Fortunately, there weren’t any Predator Spines in this building.

Maybe that strange creature we’d just heard crying about being hungry had something to do with that.

We slowly and carefully climbed the stairs, watching every corner.

Dagger already drawn, I was prepared to swing it at a moment’s notice. I used my magic to scan ahead, enduring the backlash every 10 seconds. Lee Sejun beside me absentmindedly flexed his bloodstained fists.

With Hamua trembling too badly to do much, Shin Nain and the pastor tucked their rifles beneath their arms and helped cover me while I searched.

Whenever I checked the next area, the pastor would quietly turn a doorknob, then aim his rifle through the opening first before anyone else moved.

I looked back at Hamza, hoping he might have recovered enough to warn us of danger, but there was no chance.

His eyes were squeezed shut. He tried to speak, but all that came out was ragged breathing.

"Hhk, hhuk..."

"Yeah. Just focus on breathing.”

Hamza had completely broken down mentally. He couldn’t even manage a danger warning anymore.

Simply breathing without making too much noise was already taking everything he had, so none of us pushed him.

Instead of whispering detailed reports, Shin Nain chose another method.

He stared at me, tapped the side of his headset, and blinked.

I stared at him, wondering what the hell he was doing. Shin Nain let out a long sigh to that.

He then pulled out the Magic Crash Course booklet from inside his jacket.

He tapped his headset with the booklet, then opened it to the page showing the single for Ears-branch magic and held it out for me.

Only then did I realize what he was trying to say, so I focused.

Ears-branch, Stage 1. Mind Reading.

'Jemin-ssi, can you hear me?'

I can.

'It seems practitioners of the Ears-branch Holy Alteration Battle Arts can communicate secretly like this if they recognize each other as allies. It only works between people of the same stage, apparently. I think it’s because you reached Eyes-branch, Stage 3, putting you at the same level as me.’

Looks like Shin Nain had been giving his own magic some serious thought.

But the moment I heard that, I realized just how horrifying and utterly evil Ears-branch magic really was.

So now… Because of Ears-branch magic’s penalty, I had to hear Shin Nain's inner voice too, not just Lee Sejun’s?

At least my Ears-branch magic wasn’t that advanced yet, so I only heard thoughts once in a while, which was a relief.

I swore never to focus on Shin Nain unless we’d agreed on a hand signal first.

'There aren’t any demons inside. There were, but after seeing that bone-chewing demon earlier, they seem to have run away.’

What if they come back?

'I don’t know. But we can’t afford to move recklessly right now.'

Agreed.

Using telepathy with Shin Nain had been an utterly unpleasant, revolting experience, but I couldn’t deny how useful it was.

With Shin Nain and me able to coordinate far more closely, the risks from Hamza being out of commission were at least somewhat reduced.

Eventually, we reached the 3rd floor, where a dusty room greeted us.

Honestly, a room covered in dust was preferable. Monsters weren’t likely to waste days hiding in a place no people ever came to. At least I prayed that were true. Without delay, we started preparing it as our hideout. The first thing I did was shift my combat knife into my left hand and then slice open my right palm once more.

-Slash!

"Ah, shit.”

Something had gone wrong.

I stared at the cut across my palm, unable to stop myself from making a miserable face.

Lee Sejun, who also used Hand-branch, Stage 1 magic, glanced over and titled his head.

"What’s wrong, Jemin-ssi?”

"I cut too deep.”

"...There’s not even any blood though?”

"Could you at least pretend to sympathize?”

To use Hand-branch, Stage 1 [Blood of the Right Hand], I had to cut my hand.

Wasn’t it normal in this situation to be slightly upset?

My delicate humanity and refined sensitivity were being worn away by these cold-hearted concrete blocks masquerading as people.

But then I remembered how urgent the situation was and clenched my teeth.

Right. I, Baek Jemin, had learned another lesson today.

Just because something looked cool didn't mean doing it was cool.

Copying those edgy guys who slash open their palms because it looked badass didn't make you cool. It just made you an idiot.

Everyone has their own method.

Ignoring the shallow mark left by the blade barely grazing my palm, I used the sword tip to prick my right index finger instead.

"Hnnngh…”

"I don’t get how you, who usually acts like a total lunatic in battle, turn into the biggest baby when you’re not in battle, Baek Jemin.”

That bible-thumping pastor would never understand.

The sorrow of a real man who was so terrified of needles he skipped his flu shot every single year instead of getting vaccinated!

Still, I’d bleed like that, so it was enough.

I immediately smeared the blood all over my poncho, set my combat knife down, pulled back my hood, and lifted my gas mask.

"We’re using the ponchos to cover the windows. Smear them with blood and pin them in place. Everyone, take your ponchos off.”

Everyone moved quickly.

Since there weren’t any proper curtains, using our already filthy ponchos to block the windows was the obvious choice. Those capable smeared Blood of the Right Hand on each of our ragged, torn ponchos and then pressed them against the window.

We didn’t have thumbtacks or screws, so we simply stabbed our combat knives through them to hold them in place.

They looked like they could fall at any second, but I got around that by drawing blood from my left hand and writing ‘Secure’ onto the blades.

Thankfully, the 3rd floor of the church still had most of its windows intact, so we didn’t have to worry too much about the ponchos flapping wildly in the wind.

While Lee Sejun and I reapplied Blood of the Right Hand to the ponchos and secured them, the pastor and Shin Nain quietly stacked dusty desks and chairs in front of the door, taking care not to make any noise.

Lastly, Lee Sejun and I smeared Blood of the Right Hand over the barricade blocking the entrance.

That completed our temporary hideout.

Compared to a basement, it was far more exposed and vulnerable, but considering the power of Hand-branch, Stage 1 [Blood of the Right Hand], it ought to hold for at least a few days.

We fastened our gas masks to our upper arms like military police armbands so we wouldn’t lose them and kept our rifles nearby with magazines already loaded and only then let out relieved sighs.

At last we had time to discuss the knowledge and loot we’d obtained.

Right then, the spell phone vibrated.

-Bzzzzt—.

"Check it.”

"Yessir!”

Following the order from the pastor, who somehow looked like he’d aged another several years, I picked up the spell phone. An anonymous message greeted us.

[Fog density decreasing. Outdoor operations extremely difficult. Support unavailable. Endure as long as possible.]

[Unusual military activity detected. Exercise caution.]

Once we’d all read it, everyone reacted differently.

The pastor spoke first, his voice filled with concern.

"That monster earlier…let’s call it Odok¹. It’s a monster nobody’s ever mentioned before. And I think Odok was eating Amalgams. You know those deceptive human voices Amalgams always make, right? They got buried under Odok’s sound and then disappeared.”

"I can't be certain, but I believe so as well. The demons called Amalgams are characterized by their discordant voices. But from the demon the pastor named Odok, I heard stomach growling. As the growling became louder, the discordant voices gradually faded away until they stopped completely. It appears to feed on, or at least kill, them.”

With the testimony of our wizard with Ears-branch, Stage 2, Monster Mind Reading added on top, everyone grimaced.

Hamza, who had only just recovered his composure, clicked his tongue.

"So monsters aren’t all on the same side? Were they just ignoring each other before because there was so much prey around, and now that food’s running out, they’ve started hunting each other?”

"Most likely.”

Shin Nain answered so matter-of-factly that somehow it made everything feel less real.

Back in the Suwon Station restroom, he’d insisted the monsters shared a sense of kinship. Now he was saying the exact opposite. That was when I realized that their definition of kin was far narrower than we’d assumed.

"So Amalgams only consider other Amalgams kin, and Predator Spines only consider other Predator Spines kin.”

"Ugh. That’s even more disturbing…”

Lee Sejun shook his head, making a show of gagging.

Yeah. Up until now, we’d talk about this place as if it simply wasn't a human city anymore. At the very least, we’d thought of it as a city of monsters.

But today, watching monsters devour each other—without me even using Tongue-branch, Stage 2, Desire Amplification, Hunger, made me realize calling it a monster city was far too narrow a way of looking at it.

This palace was an entirely alien ecosystem.

The timing of Odok’s appearance, together with the thinning fog, was suspicious enough that I couldn’t dismiss it as mere coincidence. Uneasy as we were, we had no choice but to move on to another topic.

Ski Goggles’ backpack.

The guy had carried a small triangular crossbody pack so he could move around easily. There wasn’t much inside, but what was there was obviously valuable loot.

Because sitting inside was a book covered in cuneiform.

Every page was packed with V-shaped cuneiform characters, spiraling counterclockwise in chaotic lines. The instant Shin Nain saw it, his face twisted. Then he clamped a hand over his mouth and started dry-heaving.

"Uugh, blegh!”

"Hey, I don't think that’s something we should mess with. Put it away.”

When it came to things like this, our Super Detector had an uncanny knack for being right.

If Shin Nain suddenly started vomiting out of nowhere, there was usually a damn good reason. Without hesitation, we shoved the cuneiform book back into the backpack.

That was when we noticed the dried, shriveled hands.

No joke. Actual human hands.

Each one had cuneiform painstakingly carved into it in neat, orderly patterns. Someone had meticulously covered them with those symbols, then arranged them with almost obsessive tidiness.

Even Lee Sejun couldn’t help sounding impressed.

"Guess he’s really from Seoul. The guy sure knows how to keep things organized. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen human hands stacked this neatly.”

“That has nothing to do with being from Seoul. Ski Goggles was just a tidy guy.”

"You two are unbelievable. Baek Jemin, Lee Sejun! You’re rummaging the backpack of a lunatic who hacked off people’s hands and carved them up, and you’re complimenting his organizational skills? Would you two get a grip already?!”

Woops.

Apparently my humble belief that everyone has something worth learning from didn’t sit well with our hopelessly close-minded fanatic pastor.

I let out a belated sigh of regret for Ski Goggles’ fate.

If only he’d realized we weren’t soldiers. If only we’d had the chance to clear up the misunderstanding and actually talk, couldn’t we have formed a friendly, mutually beneficial relationship?

I had killed him with the mindset of getting to Eyes-branch, Stage 3 as fast as possible, but now that I’d actually reached it, I couldn’t help feeling a little regret.

"Jemin, want to get burned at the stake for heresy? You seriously think we should’ve sat down and had a nice chat with the guy who chopped off people’s hands and made a contract with demons? Have you lost your damn mind?!”

Sadly, my civilized belief that conversation should come before violence was never going to fly with a zealot.

And that was exactly why people called them zealots.

Meanwhile, having finally gotten his nausea under control, Shin Nain approached with a pale face and silently pointed at the backpack.

_________________________________________________________________________

¹ The name is derived from 오도독 (Ododok), which is basically the sound of crunching bones.

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