WETRIED TRANSLATIONS

The Wizard in the Poncho

[Translator – Aren]

Chapter 65 - Crossing the Han River on Foot

-Scrub, scrub.

While I wiped down the bolt carrier with an oil-soaked rag, the Supreme Archmages quietly enjoyed a solemn, uneasy silence.

Some of us scrubbed carbon fouling from our rifle barrels with cleaning rods. Others loaded magazines, one round at a time. Apparently, while we’d been too busy to notice, Hamza had been picking up most of the discarded magazines we’d left behind.

Most of the empty magazines had been abandoned along with their plastic packaging, but the important thing was that Hamza had managed to recover at least some of them.

With his tongue poking slightly out in concentration, he carefully pressed each cartridge into the magazine, making sure not to pinch his fingers. Every time another round clicked into place, he let out a relieved little sigh, clearly satisfied.

He’d even started reciting prayers, something he normally never did.

"Bismillahir-Rahmanir-Rahim. Al Hamdu lillahi Rabbil-’Alamin…”

Listening closely, his pronunciation sounded oddly slurred, but after that it became too quiet to make out. I figured he was just praying.

-Click.

As Hamza solemnly loaded magazines between whispered prayers, the rest of the Supreme Archmages began talking.

It was Pastor Park Yohan who started the conversation.

While cleaning his rifle, he accidentally smeared oil all over his glasses with the rag. Grumbling in annoyance, he pulled out his glass case.

"Tomorrow. If the fog still doesn’t come back tomorrow, we could all be in serious danger. It looks like the thinner the fog gets, the stronger, or at least the more unpredictable the monsters become.”

With a sharp snap, the pastor tossed the oily rag onto the floor, then wiped his hands against his pants.

He was getting ready to take out the proper cloth he’d carefully kept inside his glasses case.

Lee Sejun, Shin Nain, and I continued cleaning our bolt carriers and scrubbing the inside of our barrels while answering him.

"So?”

"We need to organize everything we've learned, just like how we pieced together theories about the 66-Society and figured out that they seem to be opposed to the government. Leaving everything to the Lord and refusing to make judgments isn’t necessarily wrong, but it won't help you survive. If we’re going to establish a framework for making decisions, we need to sort through everything we’ve learned and actually use it.”

I still find it quite hard to get used to every time someone as ridiculously devout as the pastor says something this logical.

This was the same man who’d confidently claimed that dinosaurs went extinct because they didn’t attend church. Still, regardless of who was saying it, he was absolutely right. I couldn’t help nodding.

And so, under the pastor’s direction, we spent some time organizing all the information each of us had been gathering.

It was a welcome break spent while maintaining our weapons, reloading our magazines, and eating some canned food and hardtack we’d brought with us to lift our spirits while lightening our packs at the same time.

We didn’t need a radio or music to liven things up.

Seoul itself was already dropping a beat more intensely than anything else.

-Boom.

The bombardment outside still hadn’t stopped.

Beyond the ponchos covering the window, only a few kilometers away, shells continued to slam into the city, their concussive force shaking the concrete beneath us.

Fighter jets and missiles streaked across the sky, leaving thunderous roars in their wake, trying to ignite flames that refused to die, all to burn away the endless tide of monsters.

To survive in Seoul, you had to calmly brush the dust falling from the ceiling out of your hair while eating. You had to blow gently across your rifle to clear away the grit settling onto it.

Surviving here without a foundation had never been easy.

That hadn’t changed. The only difference now was that the people of Seoul had become a whole lot more violent in 2028, and the military had apparently decided to hold live-fire drills inside the city.

The first to speak during our little debrief was Shin Nain.

True to form, Shin Nain, always precise and disciplined, was the first to finish assembling his rifle. Click. After checking even the hinge one last time, he slung his headset around his neck and spoke.

"I’ve been thinking about how one’s level in Holy Alteration Battle Arts increases. I based it on the testimonies we’ve gathered and everything we’ve experienced first-hand.”

According to Shin Nain, the method for advancing Alteration-type magic seemed to be as follows. Combining his observation with the knowledge I’d acquired and my own deductions, the picture became even clearer.

1. You can advance your stage by performing occult rituals connected to the 66-Society.

However, those rituals required Anderson Makenford, the American billionaire hailed as Korea’s savior for using his fascination with the occult to stop public support for nuclear strikes despite being unable to use magic himself.

You needed the infrastructure to obtain mystical knowledge, the offerings required for the rituals, and the financial backing to make all of it possible. On top of that, the rituals had to be performed only at specific times when the celestial bodies aligned. Time, place, and resources put extreme constraints on it.

2. The more monsters you kill, and the stronger they are, the faster you can advance using the magic symbols.

It was only a hypothesis, but the Supreme Archmages had each unlocked another magical branch after spending just 6 days in Seoul.

Sure, our Stage increases had come from destroying the relic body parts of other wizards, but outside Seoul, wizards capable of wielding multiple branches of magic had practically never existed. That suggested that something else had to be going on here.

I, Baek Jemin, was cited as the prime example of this.

"Me? Why?”

"Because no one outside Seoul has fought demons as aggressively or risked themselves as often as you have, Jemin-ssi.”

"Then shouldn’t the artillery crews have learned magic first, Nain-ssi?”

"Holy Alteration Battle Arts depend heavily on perception and understanding. If an artilleryman clearly understood what he was killing, perhaps their awakening would accelerate. But if all they did was fire at map coordinates without ever recognizing what they were actually killing, then I believe they would fail to awaken because they lacked that awareness.”

That was the other theory Shin Nain offered.

Monsters killed by blind fire didn’t count.

Just judging from Ski Goggles’ Eyes-branch, Stage 3 [Cognitive Dissonance], it was obvious that perception and understanding were fundamental to magic.

If an artilleryman had first awakened Ears-branch magic, detected monsters from afar, located them, and then shelled them, that might be different, but simply firing blindly before ever recognizing the target wouldn’t earn them any experience.

In other words, the rewards were much greater if you fought up close.

Assuming, of course, that killing monsters really was what sped up leveling.

3. Kill a higher-stage wizard of the same branch and destroy the corresponding body part, the relic, and your stage increases.

That knowledge came from killing the Dubai Sticky Witch.

For example.

Normally, if a Heart-branch wizard killed an Eyes-branch wizard and destroyed their eyes, they wouldn’t suddenly acquire Eyes-branch magic. On the other hand, a Heart-branch, Stage 2 wizard could kill a Heart-branch, Stage 3 wizard and advance to Stage 3.

When you leveled up, you also inherited the slain wizard’s knowledge, but if they weren’t from the same magic branch, you gained nothing.

There were only two exceptions. The first was the inverted Alteration-type, Tongue-branch, Stage 1 [Predation], and the second was Ears-branch wizards stealing the memories and knowledge of the wizard they killed.

Shin Nain added one final theory.

"We don’t know whether someone at Stage 2 can absorb the power of someone at Stage 4, but considering how dramatically Holy Alteration Battle Arts become stronger and more versatile with each Stage, it seems unlikely a Stage 2 wizard could even defeat a Stage 4 one. And because lower-Stage magic becomes less effective against someone of a higher Stage, their abilities would probably barely work at all.”

Alteration-type magic revolved entirely around one’s Stage.

The pastor had theorized before that the only magic capable of overcoming that difference and functioning at full effectiveness would be Dogma-type magic.

It was then that the pastor, who had been quietly listening the whole time, finally spoke.

"Types. That’s exactly what they are. We now know from Kang Areum that there are at least four major types of magic. Incantation-type, Ritual-type, Dogma-type, and Alteration-type. We still don’t know their true essence, but it’s obvious they each function differently. The rules governing the Alteration-type differ from those governing the Dogma-type. And the fact that they’re so difficult to combine only reinforces that.

“So each type follows its own rules and they’re not fully compatible with one another?”

When I raised the question, the pastor finished polishing his glasses and let out a sigh.

"Alteration-type magic is far too heretical. It’s steeped too deeply in occultism. It’s arrogant. If Alteration-type magic truly seeks the soul through a sixth branch in the end, then it’s not a kind of magic that clergy devoted to orthodox doctrine can bear. No, it’s a magic we must not bear. It would shatter our faith.”

"But Father Jeong Yonghwan used both, didn’t he?”

"Kid. And that’s exactly why he got slurped up! Weren’t you the ones who shot down that gurgling monster he turned into?”

Hm. I suddenly remembered the priest’s dying cries calling out to the Lord while an Amalgam’s jaws dragged him away.

If the pastor’s theory were correct, Dogma-type magic and Alteration-type magic could be used together since they were technically compatible.

But using both would weaken them, or more specifically, it would cripple Dogma-type magic.

Unless someone absolutely had to pursue Alteration-type magic despite sacrificing the strength of their Dogma-type magic, it would be incredibly difficult for a priest, or anyone with genuine faith, to make that choice.

That said, while I wasn’t sure about the Incantation-type magic, Ritual-type magic itself seemed compatible with both Dogma-type and Alteration-type magic.

After all, Ski Goggles had already proven that Ritual-type and Alteration-type magic could coexist.

That was about as far as we could go with our discussion about Alteration-type magic. We simply didn’t have enough evidence or enough knowledge to speculate any further.

Instead, our discussion shifted to something much more practical.

This time, it was Lee Sejun, who was unusually focused on cleaning his rifle, who brought up the next topic.

"The Dubai Sticky Witch…Damn it. Why is her nickname so stupid? If that department store wizard really belonged to the 66-Society, then the military frequencies themselves are compromised.”

Absentmindedly scratching at his rough stubble, Lee Sejun wore a troubled expression. He was probably thinking about the soldiers whose bodies we’d cremated.

"She could make walkie-talkies start transmitting on their own. We have to assume the military’s communications frequencies have already been compromised. Even if we got our hands on military radios or other communications equipment, it wouldn’t help. No, for the military’s own sake, I don’t think we should even try.”

"Eavesdropping. It’s dangerous.”

-Click.

Still loading rounds into a magazine, Hamza spoke up with his eyes squinted.

"The Seoul wizards already know what’s happening outside. There’s a high chance they’re listening in on military radios and communications too. A-and before we left, back in the tents, they already proved they could harm people if they knew their face and name.”

"That Thousand-Mile Eyes guy you thought was somewhere in Gangnam?”

"Yes.”

Without ever taking his eyes off the magazine, Hamza continued speaking while concentrating with all his might on not pinching his fingers.

"We don’t know what the Seoul wizards are planning. I think…we’ll only get one chance to send a message.”

"But everything we’ve learned so far is already valuable enough, right?”

At my question, Hamza’s expression darkened.

"If it isn't enough, they’ll break through."

"Break through where?”

"Everywhere."

"That’s your opinion?”

"The Angel said so too.”

Because we all understood what Hamza’s Dogma-type magic [Angel’s Intuition] was, none of the Supreme Archmages could make an easy decision.

The 66-Society already possessed Incantation magic, or whatever other methods they had at their disposal to gather information from outside of Seoul. And with the Dubai Sticky Witch confirmed to have used Predation to suck the knowledge straight out of soldiers and officers, there was a very good chance that at least part of the military’s classified information had already been compromised.

If we tried sending information over military communications in a situation like this, the 66-Society would probably be caught off guard, but only once.

After that, however, even an idiot like me could see the inevitable chain of events. They’d take measures to neutralize that frequency or cripple military communications altogether.

We might even have to push all the way to Subway Line 3, where there was likely still a WiFi network for operating drones. And to do that, we’d have to break through Gangnam, where the most dangerous Seoul wizard of all, the Thousand-Mile Eyes, was waiting.

Either option was completely insane.

So whether or not we even possessed military communications equipment was beside the point. Even if we did, we would only get one opportunity to relay information outside.

And Hamza’s warning implied something even worse. If we failed to deliver the most critical pieces of information during that one chance, everything would be lost.

Naturally, using the spell phone was out of the question.

Even Lee Sejun, who usually looked like he didn’t have a wrinkle in his brain, was wary of it.

"The spell phones are probably distributed by the 66-Society in the first place. At this point, that’s basically confirmed. There might even be some kind of tracking built into them.”

"So that’s why they always seemed to know where we were?”

For a moment, I seriously considered throwing my spell phone away.

Because I finally understood why the 66-Society distributed them. They gave you information that helped you survive. The information was so valuable, it was practically a must-have item.

But if the 66-Society could also determine the location of anyone carrying one, then the influence they wielded over Seoul’s survivors would be nearly absolute.

The problem was the information the spell phone provided was simply too valuable.

Valuable enough to make you consider accepting such a fatal weakness.

The ordinary smartphones we’d brought with us had been dead ever since the cell towers had been shut down.

At that moment, the pastor slipped his freshly cleaned glasses back on and spoke.

"You know, we’re in an age where satellite internet exists. Even with the fog blocking everything and the cell towers gone, how do you think information about all this still spread?”

"You’re talking about Starlink."

Shin Nain nodded in agreement, his expression sharpening.

The pastor nodded back.

"I used to do missionary work in remote mountain villages. There are still places where the internet barely works. So when I heard there was a service that let you get online from practically anywhere, I looked into it. It was pretty expensive. But out of Seoul’s 10 million residents, don’t you think at least a few people would’ve bought one when things started getting serious? Back when everyone thought the military and police were just putting down riots?”

"So the 66-Society might’ve been using Starlink to gather information from outside…I see. I completely overlooked that.”

Even Lee Sejun slowly nodded. It was something he hadn’t considered either.

But for Shin Nain and me, the existence of Starlink suggested something even more unsettling.

"As far as I know, ordinary civilians can use Starlink. So, despite that information about the fog or these unidentified monsters still never spread outside. The fact that almost no information escaped Seoul really bothers me.”

"The only thing we can say for certain is that the military has already lost the information war.”

When I added that to Shin Nain’s observation, the pastor smiled bitterly.

"Seems pretty obvious. The 66-Society is the one keeping people alive inside Seoul. Either they’ve completely taken control of the survivors or they’ve secured most of the Starlink terminals.”

"Do you think Go Ryeoha, the girl at Konkuk University, will help us?”

"At the very least, she was still friendly toward the military the last time anyone was in contact with her. So she probably hasn’t been recruited by the 66-Society. At least that one girl hasn’t.”

The moment the pastor finished speaking, every one of the Supreme Archmages understood the implication hidden beneath his words. We quietly finished our meal.

The clinking of forks and spoons scraping against empty cans echoed through the room.

After all, no group of people ever thought exactly alike.

If we were going to be wary of the 66-Society’s growing influence, then we had one more reason to cross the Han River and reach Konkuk University as quickly as possible.

* * *

April 21st, 2028, 4:13 AM.

Day 7 of the expedition.

The sun hadn’t risen yet.

There was still no sign of the Gaze monster. If it had started moving, the spell phone would’ve been going berserk with alerts. So at least for today, it seemed we could rest easy on that front.

But while artillery barrages and airstrikes continued through the night, we Supreme Archmages woke up one by one, wiping our faces with damp clothes and preparing for departure.

-Thudthudthud...

An incredible barrage of heavy footsteps. It sounded like someone sprinting through a marathon at full speed, thundering across the cracked, filthy asphalt.

At the same time, faint voices overlapped from beyond the window.

Daddy, where are you going, our Yeryoeng’s hands feel so nice, kiss~...

I looked toward our human monster detector, Shin Nain.

"Faces."

As he blew warm breaths against his gas mask filter to check its condition, he answered lazily.

"They’re faster. The stronger ones are clearly about twice as fast as they were in the fog.”

None of us Supreme Archmages bothered commenting.

Instead, before taking down the ponchos that covered the window, each of us inspected our backpacks, checked the chambers of our firearms, and mentally reviewed both our equipment and our magic.

"Islam, how many rounds do we have left?”

"7-760 rounds…”

We’d used more ammunition than I’d realized.

I reached for a magazine, then flipped it over and tossed it to the pastor instead.

-Snap!

He caught it like a seasoned baseball player, turned it over a few times, judged its weight in his hand, then slipped it into one of his magazine pouches.

The empty food cans from our meals. The crushed water bottles. The disposable plastic forks and spoons slick with saliva. The urine stains on the walls. The piles of waste we’d covered with filthy cloth.

If these became the last traces we ever left behind in this world, then those traces would be nothing but trash.

I stared at the mess for a moment, then picked up my gas mask. The inside of the rubber was marked with as single word. [Purify]. Taking a deep breath, I pulled it over my face. The world immediately became obscured behind scratched lenses.

-Huuuuff...

The familiar sound of breathing through a gas mask echoed in my ears. As I tightened the straps, stray locks of hair stuck out around the edges.

After checking the seal with a few forceful breaths, I picked up my rifle and gave it one last inspection. Lee Sejun apparently had no intention of using his K2C1 today. Instead, he was carefully examining that ridiculously oversized revolver of his.

A moment later, our eyes met through our gas mask lenses. He holstered it.

His rifle had already been passed over to Hamza.

Not because anyone expected Hamza to suddenly become an ace sniper, but because simply having a rifle in his hands would probably help calm his nerves.

And so, without another word, we continued making our preparations.

We listened until dawn to the endless artillery, the bombing, and the cries and shrieks of monsters that had become stranger and stronger than before. Then a familiar voice echoed in my head.

'Son, what are you doing?'

It was an auditory hallucination.

At a moment like this, everybody would probably hear their mother’s voice in their ear.

'What do you mean, Great Archmage, you brat!’

Then I imagined what my dad must’ve shouted after I hung up on him.

I’d never actually heard him say it, yet somehow I could. Hallucinations that felt like memories.

Even Lee Sejun, who’d grown up an orphan, had his eyes closed, standing solemnly as though listening to the same kind of phantom voices. The pastor, Hamza, and Shin Nain seemed to be doing the same.

For this one moment, everyone silently stopped what they were doing.

-Bzzzt.

The spell phone vibrated.

I picked up the dark blue phone, an anonymous message waiting for me.

[Fog density has not recovered. Outdoor activities impossible.]

But that wasn’t all I saw.

April 21st, 2028, 7:01 AM.

Day 7 of our expedition.

Light began seeping through the edge of the ponchos covering the window.

Without anyone needing to say a word, we pulled the combat knife free from where it had been pinning the poncho in place, caught the falling fabric, and immediately put it back on.

Beneath the pale, cloudless sky, we saw thick columns of smoke rising in the distance, faint fires still burning, shattered windows, and deserted apartment blocks and villas.

And finally, the hordes of monsters racing madly through the streets, across the roads, and over rooftops covered in green urethane, crying out as though they were celebrating.

Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands...

Perhaps all 10 million people who had once lived in Seoul were now charging toward the outskirts, toward the palace where the artillery shells were falling. Some looked familiar. Others I’d never seen before.

Everything the fog had hidden was moving with terrifying vigor beneath the sunlight.

At that moment I realized to my very core that the sun had not risen to save humanity. The area around Lotte Tower, where the Yellow Gaze monster lurked, was still blanketed in thick fog, but that alone wasn’t enough to reassure us. The pounding of monsters battering against buildings was far too intense.

The only reason we hadn’t been discovered was because they were too busy rushing toward the outskirts of Seoul, and more importantly, the instant sunlight poured, we had dropped low enough to disappear from view.

We Supreme Archmages looked into one another’s eyes, practically lying flat against the floor.

Every single one of us was trembling violently with terror.

Heroic resolve or whatever was not something we, who were hiding beneath a concrete roof while that tidal wave of monsters thundered overhead, possessed.

-Clench.

Each of us tightened our grip on a weapon. A rifle or a combat knife. I was clutching my combat knife.

At that moment, without saying a word, we silently recited the Supreme Archmages’ motto.

-Hungry.

When an Odok’s cry echoed through the city, I pressed myself flat against the floor and repeated it.

Madness against madness.

When I heard the roar of a fighter jet, muffled as if it had crashed into foul, filthy flesh, I closed my eyes and continued.

Absurdity against absurdity.

As autocannon fire tore through cursed flesh and the thunder of artillery and bombing swelled once more…

I opened my eyes, and for the first time, I said it out loud.

"We shall enter hell before it encroaches upon us."

At that moment, we stood.

We kicked open the door beyond the barricade we’d prepared in advance, struggling desperately to overcome our fear.

-Bang!

The door burst open beneath our kick, and we immediately fell into formation.

We raced down the dust-filled stairwell, sunlight pouring through the window the fog could no longer conceal, until we reached the ground floor.

Brilliant sunlight streamed through the glass entrance doors. Instinctively, we all raised our hands to shield our eyes.

A few seconds later, once we realized it wasn't the Yellow Gaze, we started moving again.

Lee Sejun took the rear. His hand brushed the grip of the ridiculously oversized revolver holstered at his side before he pulled up his gas mask, bit into his right hand, and coated his fist in blood.

Hamza carried Lee Sejun’s K2C1, awkwardly aiming it around our surroundings. Even through the gas mask, I could see sweat running down beside his eye sockets.

The pastor gripped the cross hanging around his neck, recited a prayer, and then shouldered his rifle with far steadier form than before. He gave Hamza’s shoulder a reassuring pat, telling him to stay close.

Shin Nain put on his headset and began singing a hymn. He just hummed the melody without the lyrics.

As for me, Baek Jemin, I checked on every one of them first. Only then did I draw the edge of my combat knife across my right hand.

-Slice!

I cut a little deeper than I’d intended.

Even so, seeing [Blood of the Right Hand] coating the blade gave me a strange sense of reassurance.

I gripped the combat knife once more with my right hand, ready to use my staff, which was my left hand, as well if necessary.

I deliberately avoided biting my tongue. I would need it intact if I had to use Tongue-branch magic.

With no fog to cushion the backlash, I had to spend my pain carefully.

A day without fog.

The monsters, rejoicing beneath the sunlight, still hadn’t noticed us.

But it was only a matter of time.

-Huuuuff...

The familiar sound of breathing through gas masks filled the ranks of the Supreme Archmages.

I didn’t hesitate any longer.

"Let’s move."

I would take the lead.

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