WETRIED TRANSLATIONS

The Wizard in the Poncho

[Translator – Aren]

Chapter 88 - The Most Productive Week of My Life

A week had passed since we Supreme Archmages returned from Seoul.

That week had been a time for us to truly grasp just how thoroughly the Republic of Korea had been wrecked and for each of us Supreme Archmages to attempt to strengthen our combat capabilities.

Of course, we weren’t the only ones who had changed.

As restricted information was released following the Seoul expedition, public perception began to shift.

Once people learned that magic truly existed, they couldn’t even begin to imagine how Seoul itself had changed. Instead, they thought only of monsters like Amalgams and Predator Spines and began overcoming their fear with greed.

That remained true even after Human-Skin Jellyfish, Teratomas, Tadpole-bellies, Lung Trees, and Odoks were moved into the identified-species category.

There can’t possibly be that many, right?

Even if all 10 million people in Seoul turned into monsters, we’ve been shooting them dead for months, so their numbers must have gone down. And as long as we don’t run into them, we’ll be fine.

It was an absurdly complacent way of thinking, yet people genuinely thought that way.

Their mindset was that monsters could be killed with guns anyway and that everything would be fine as long as they were never discovered in the first place. The number of people going all-in on magic with that belief extremely grew.

But we Supreme Archmages, the Best of the Best who had personally made it out of Seoul alive, knew the truth very well.

Knowledge of magic? Naturally, that was necessary.

Magic items? They were damn useful if you had any.

But when it came to firepower, firearms were overwhelmingly superior.

If you possessed a weapon capable of killing your opponent in a single blow without revealing any information about your magic, why would you not use it?

You were supposed to wield magic, not depend on it.

Those who believed only magical knowledge held meaning and looked down on humanity’s most powerful weapons would never survive in Seoul. I could guarantee it, as someone who had gone so far as to inject morphine to endure magic’s backlash.

Pain wasn’t something that could ever be overcome. Human willpower was meaningless before it, and pain could only be driven away by even greater pain.

That was precisely why one needed to offer up pain more wisely and strategically.

And so, I had devoted the past week to filling in the nonmagical gaps.

While the people inside Seoul fought by relying solely on magic, we focused on devising tools and tactics for defeating monsters and improving our basic capabilities.

Together with a US military firearms instructor.

The instructor waiting for me at the shooting range removed his sunglasses and politely offered me a handshake.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Baek. My name is Song Smith, and I’ll be your instructor.”

Instructor Song Smith was an Asian man with small eyes and a prim, courteous appearance.

But the most important thing was Instructor Song’s fluent Korean pronunciation.

"Oh! You’re Korean?”

"Hahaha, I’m a third-generation Korean American. Still, my Korean is fluent, so you don’t need to worry.”

Fortunately, unlike the military generals, this firearms instructor was of Korean descent and could speak the language.

This, too, was likely thanks to the command’s active protection and consideration.

I could tell from small details like this that they were taking better care of us than expected.

After shaking my hand, Instructor Song adopted a rather serious expression and got straight to the point.

"Mister Baek. The only reason you managed to come back alive was magic. You know that, correct?”

"Yes. The power of magic was extraordinary, but its limitations were also clear.”

Magic. It truly was an astonishing power worthy of being the goal I, Baek Jemin, had chosen to devote my life to pursuing.

Unfortunately, reaching the pinnacle of magic required one to exploit the surrounding environment and available equipment to their absolute limits.

After all, magic always demanded a price, and it was also undeniably lacking when it came to raw lethality.

At least, that was how I saw it, and Instructor Song seemed to greatly approve of that mindset.

"I was deeply impressed by your tactical mindset as well, Mister Baek. Magic produces pain as feedback, and attempting to overcome that pain with psychoactive drugs can lead to a critically impaired sense of judgment in an environment like Seoul, where you must fight a wide variety of magic and monster ecologies. Therefore, in order to use magic at the proper time and place, you must also excel at responding with firearms…”

Instructor Song applauded with a satisfied expression.

"I hope the others will join us later as well.”

"Let’s start with me for now.”

The pastor and Shin Nain were out evangelizing, Lee Sejun was rummaging through the armory alone, and Hamza had been summoned by command, so there was no one else sitting around besides me. Instructor Song smacked his lips in disappointment but then began properly instructing me, and his lessons were good enough to make me glad I had decided to learn.

After examining my shooting stance and correcting various parts of my posture, Instructor Song declared,

"Mister Baek, for now, forget the way the Korean military taught you to shoulder a rifle.”

"I scored a perfect hit rate with this stance, though."

"I’m not saying it’s bad, of course. But that style drives the stock deep into your shoulder. It’s excellent for precisely aiming at a stationary target, but because the rifle is planted into your shoulder, it has the fatal drawbacks of slowing torso rotation and delaying sight alignment. According to your testimony, you encountered hostile wizards with superhuman mobility.”

Jeong Nari, the Dubai Stucky Witch.

The moment I recalled the wizard I had first encountered at the department store near Jangji Station, I found myself nodding unconsciously and listening closely to Instructor Song.

"Mister Baek, don't drive the rifle into your shoulder. Pull it closer toward your body’s centerline. Bring both elbows down.”

After repeatedly practicing the awkward stance several times, he began criticizing the way I aimed as well.

"Don’t close one eye. In an environment like the one you described inside Seoul, you need to keep your field of view as wide as possible. Start by practicing keeping that closed eye open. If you use Eyes-branch magic, then learning to aim with both eyes open will broaden your tactical options even further. One-eyed aiming is an outdated method now, so let it go.”

The method I had used to improve accuracy was declared obsolete.

It left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I decided to accept it for the sake of survival and began practicing aligning the sights with both eyes open. Because closing my left eye had become a bait, the eyelid kept twitching, but every time it did, Instructor Song grabbed the barrel and shook it, forcing me to snap back to attention.

"Maintain your posture. Stance.”

"Hmm..."

"Good. Now let’s try it with a gas mask.”

Once I put on the gas mask, he demanded an even stranger posture.

Back when I was in the military, I thought I had been taught to use point shooting, but Instructor Song accurately pointed out things I had never even considered, all while pressing firmly against the back of my neck.

"You’re lowering your head too much. Mister Baek, you shouldn’t bend your neck just to press your cheek against the stock. Raise the rifle and align it with your jawline instead of your cheek. You were probably taught this already. Don’t twist your body to fit the weapon. Move the weapon and slot it into your posture. Let’s try again.”

Getting chewed out by Instructor Song wasn’t limited to learning marksmanship.

My AR-15 and gas mask also received equipment upgrades.

Captain Kim Howoon brought me a freshly serviced AR-15 and the latest-model gas mask while explaining various things, but I was no gun nerd, so to summarize it roughly:

"So the gas mask won’t fog up anymore?”

"Yes, well…”

"The rifle has been treated so it won’t corrode from moisture, it has folding iron sights, and there’s a low-powered light on the vertical foregrip to illuminate the ground beneath me. Isn’t that all I need to know?”

He made a huge fuss explaining every little detail about what kind of grip it had, what the receiver was made of instead of stainless steel, and what treatment had been applied to it, so I cut him off cleanly.

The reason I had specifically obtained the latest-model gas mask was simple.

I didn’t want to walk around Seoul with my face exposed, so I chose a gas mask as the most convincing accessory.

On top of that, I could enchant it on the spot with Hand-branch, Stage 2, [Blood of the Left Hand], so it would likely prove useful in all sorts of ways.

But whether it was Lee Sejun making a huge fuss over cringey names like Delta Force or the soldiers themselves, military types seemed to get strangely eager to talk about the oddest things.

Captain Kim Howoon protested as though my reaction was unfair.

"Jemin-ssi, you only say that because you have no idea how many MPCs it takes to customize an AR-15 for you.”

“You said this much would be included as a service. Wasn’t it free under the name of operational motivation?”

"I miss Sejun-ssi. He would appreciate it. Why does he say he won’t enlist? I heard he had applied for long-term-service screening before.”

I could have crushed Captain Kim Howoon’s hopes by telling him about Lee Sejun’s sordid ambition, but I decided not to.

I didn’t have an interest in sullying someone else’s hopes and expectations.

I wanted Captain Kim Howoon to go on living with his dream of “Captain Korea."

Of course, there were also preparations that stood on the boundary between the nonmagical and the magical.

"Jemin-ssi! Just one more lap!”

"Hah, huff. Fuck…”

I hated myself for being unable to argue while getting dragged along on a run by Lee Sejun, a former NCO who had annoyingly boundless stamina.

As someone who believed exercise was bad for your health, the fact that I was now jogging along the roads of a US military camp behind Lee Sejun felt so surreal that my vision began to blur.

That was when several American soldiers who had burst out laughing at the sight of Lee Sejun and me running approached in their shirts, jeering as they joined us.

"Jemin-ssi! The American soldiers are running with us too! Let’s do one more lap!”

"Hell yeah, let's do one more!"

"Huff, huuuff… Shit…”

I never would have run if awakening Heart-branch magic hadn’t been at stake.

Just as we passed the barracks where we Supreme Archmages were staying, the pastor and Shin Nain grinned and waved at us.

"Hey, Baek Jemin. Looking good!”

"Jemin-ssi, you can rest. You already possess four branches of Holy Alteration Battle Arts.”

-Grrrrrrind!

There was no way I could rest.

I steadied my breathing and continued running after Lee Sejun and the American soldiers, who were too busy laughing.

Great Archmage Baek Jemin.

This was the first time in my life I had ever worked this hard!

* * *

Naturally, we didn’t spend all our time training.

Hamza and I spread a picnic mat across the rooftop of a requisitioned building near the US military camp in Pyeongtaek and were leisurely enjoying the warm afternoon sun.

We used an empty ammunition can as a side table, with two cans of Spam and a container of kimchi set on top.

Beside the ammunition can, Hamza was diligently boiling a pot of ramen, and it smelled incredibly.

Even while cooking the ramen on a portable gas stove he had brought, Hamza seasoned it perfectly and performed delicate little tricks, lifting and lowering the noodles with his chopsticks.

"To cook ramen well, you need to let the noodles touch the air. That makes them chewier. Since we added Spam, using a little less of the seasoning powder should make it taste just right.”

As he spoke, Hamza lifted the ladle and poured some of the ramen broth into a small bowl as though it were generations-old seed soy sauce from a prestigious family. The moment I accepted it and slurped it down, an exclamation naturally escaped my lips.

"Khaah~"

The ramen Hamza cooked really was different.

Hamza and I continued lifting noodles one strand at a time with our chopsticks, blowing on them, and slurping them into our mouths. The reason we weren’t doing this inside the US military camp was that, although it was technically working hours, we were slacking off under the protection of the command.

Below our feet as Hamza and I ate ramen and loudly crunched on kimchi atop the roof, tanks and soldiers ominously rolled through the surrounding alleyways.

And the ones standing before their gun barrels were civilians suddenly being forcibly evicted.

One middle-aged man, driven to fury, shouted on behalf of the crowd.

"Hey, you fatherless bastards! Who the hell are you to drive us out of here?!”

"This is an evacuation measure for the safety of the area surrounding the cap. You may refuse to comply, but if you fail to follow evacuation instructions, you will automatically be classified as infected and shot in the event of a future incident.”

"Can the military even do this? You shot the people of Seoul dead, and now you’re saying you’ll shoot us too?!”

In ordinary times, the soldiers would have repeatedly bowed their heads and apologized.

But the soldiers who had returned from the blockade line were already thoroughly broken.

Those who had endured the monsters’ assaults, survived, and successfully rotated out openly displayed the murderous intent built from terror behind their gas masks.

-Click.

The instant a civilian took a single step closer, the soldiers from the blockade line raised their rifles.

But the civilian, having failed to sense the killing intent, only raised his voice further.

"Shoot me! You damn…Go ahead and shoot! I’ll have you know I’m—”

-Ratata!

The first gunshot drew screams.

After the third shot, everyone clamped their mouths shut and swallowed their cries.

Amid muffled, choking sobs, the gunfire stopped, and acrid gunsmoke drifted all the way up to the rooftop.

Expressionlessly, I slurped down another mouthful of noodles and watched from above.

Only after the shot civilian was left crawling like an insect, choking in pain from the single bullet lodged in his leg, did the soldiers lower their weapons.

At least they weren’t so far gone that they turned him into a beehive.

Just as one of the soldiers raised a walkie-talkie, a cold report came through ours beside the ammunition can.

[At 10:41, fired upon a subject who disobeyed instructions and attempted to approach military personnel. Confirmed to be an ordinary civilian.]

I picked up the walkie-talkie and looked toward Hamza.

The moment he noticed my gaze, he popped a piece of kimchi into his mouth and nodded.

"Mmhmm."

"Confirmed. There’s still nothing dangerous nearby.”

-Beeep—

Once I finished the transmission and put the walkie-talkie down, the soldiers began moving again.

While civilian laborers responsible for handling the wounded jumped down from a truck and carried him away, the tracks of the tank brought out as a show of force began rolling toward another location.

The infantry wandered through the area in three-man teams, fully prepared to mercilessly shoot civilians who disobeyed military orders. Once the civilians understood what it meant for these soldiers to have come from the blockade line, they followed in deathly silence.

I put down my chopsticks, took a sip of the broth Hamza had ladled out for me, and savored its spicy warmth.

"Kahaaah."

Nothing beats doing something else while you eat.

Naturally, I pulled out that artifact of 21st-century civilization, my military-authorized phone, and watched the news of the world with my own eyes.

Of course, with everything gone to shit like this, there was no way portal sites or news outlets could still be functioning normally. Powerful censorship was undoubtedly in effect, yet the reality of Korea pouring out through the internet and countless foreign news reports was still dramatic.

[How does the Korean-US Combined Command differ from the Korean-US Combined Forces Command? Citizens voice concern over US military government under permanent martial law and the permanent collapse of local autonomy and democracy.]

[Field commanders under Martial Law Command attempt extrajudicial detention of civilians protesting the mobilization order and martial law… Whereabout of detained civilians remain unknown.]

[Testimonies of atrocities committed by soldiers from the Seoul blockade line continue… An individual affiliated with the Korean-US Combined Command refused an interview, stating that such incidents were only natural when military orders were disobeyed under martial law. Citizens advised to avoid soldiers wearing armbands covered in dangling dog tags, who reportedly show no hesitation whatsoever in killing civilians.]

[Blockade Operations Command under the Korean-US Combined Command announces strategy redeployment to secure safe zones throughout Gyeonggi Province and prevent infection. Controversy erupts over its coercive evacuation measures after hostile remarks directed at civilians inside Seoul: “We are at war.”]

[Korean-US Combined Command decides to commission reconnaissance and exploration missions inside Seoul through civilian contracts… Are civilians trapped behind the blockade line effectively being given no other choice?]

Naturally, the final part caught my attention. Reconnaissance and exploration inside Seoul was already gaining momentum.

Blowing gently on the noodles, I asked Hamza.

“I heard a bunch of bastards have already rushed into Seoul. Can they really manage with nothing but the standard-issue equipment?”

"Apparently, they went in without training or learning any specialized knowledge. They said that since all they had to do was shoot guns or learn magic anyway, the preparation process was meaningless.”

"Tsk. Guess their lives became meaningless too.”

It was exactly what you would expect from people who considered preparation and rest meaningless and rushed after immediate rewards.

Once the dopamine rush of striking it rich or winning freedom burned all the way into their marrow, they lost the ability to think rationally in life-or-death situations and did idiotic things like that. Learning was a long-term battle.

They had become living proof that anyone who approached magic hoping for an easy ride would never achieve greatness.

With the situation this bad, overseas communications were restricted, so contact with my parents, who had gone to the United States, was limited as well.

Not that we had much to talk about even if I called them.

Still, now that I had earned the right to be called a great Archmage outside of Seoul, I unblocked my parents and contacted them for the first time in a while.

I had no idea that the first thing awaiting their only son upon his triumphant return would be a torrent of abuse.

[Baek Jemin, you worthless bastard! Does it make any damn sense to hole up in there because you want to become a great Archmage or whatever? And why did you block us? Do you want to see your mother collapse? I heard you can’t eat properly, can’t leave, and do nothing but fight over there! Are you at least feeding yourself?]

"Dad, I’m actually eating well and doing fine. I’m cooking ramen right now.”

[You can at least cook ramen?]

"Ugh, of course."

I glanced down at the shoulders of the sobbing residents being forcibly evicted crossing past those of the civilian laborers rushing in to clean up the aftermath. Then I clicked my chopsticks together and lifted another mouthful of noodles.

"How’s Mom?”

[They gave us resettlement money and even a house, so what else does she have to do? It’s near Koreatown, and she’s already met other people and is enjoying herself. Even now, she went out to gossip with a bunch of women who wanted to ask how things were going in Korea. She’ll raise hell again once she finds out you called.]

"Is it livable over there?"

-Crunch, crunch.

After I chewed some kimchi, my father let out a deep sigh.

[Anywhere would be better than where you are. That’s what you wanted to hear, right?]

"That’s my dad."

[You bastard. If you come back in one piece, I’m taking a baseball bat to your thighs.]

"Better prepare 10 bats. I’m hanging up.”

-Click.

My eyes met Hamza’s. He had been quietly picking up pieces of Spam and eating them while I was on the phone.

Hamza gave me an awkward smile and quickly held out two slices.

"They’re cooked well.”

"Yeah."

Just as I picked up the steaming Spam with my chopsticks and skimmed through my smartphone, my gaze happened to land somewhere unexpected.

Familiar usernames greeted me with unfamiliar profile pictures.

The Discord Shut-In Gamer Guys.

They were the kinds of bastards who used anime girls or pictures of themselves flashing peace signs at tourist destinations as their profile images.

But unlike the name I had given them, every one of them was now staring straight ahead with solemn, grave expressions that didn’t suit them.

[GameSlave: Obituary) April 23rd, 2028. Apologies if you knew him. I won’t be accepting messages.]

[Gamer: 2003.08.21~2028.04.21]

I was just about to turn off my smartphone after deciding that, should we ever happen to meet again, I would put a bullet in them.

That was when Shin Nain came up onto the rooftop carrying grape juice in one hand and paper cups in the other.

"Alright, everyone, clear the space and get up.”

"Why?”

Couldn’t he see I was busy killing time?

Shin Nain paid me no mind.

The bastard naturally sat down beside us, picked up a piece of Spam with his bare hand, popped it into his mouth, and began chewing.

I was just about to give him a piece of my mind.

"The results of Go Ryeoha-ssi’s interrogation are out.”

"Did she spill the details of Hand-branch magic?”

Go Ryeoha.

That woman had promised to make me a Four-Tiger Sword or some other awesome magic item, only for the military to detain her and let her coast for an entire week. If she had been beside me, I would have buried her in dirty looks and hounded her nonstop for my gear.

At last, the opportunity had come to badger Go Ryoeha under the military’s lawful protection.

But before that, hearing about Hand-branch magic took priority.

As though he had read my expectations, Shin Nain poured grape juice into a paper cup, handed it to Hamza, and raised three fingers.

"Thank you, Nain-ssi.”

"It’s the precious blood of the Lord. May the Lord’s gospel reach even a heretic such as you. In any case, Jemin-ssi. Hand-branch, Stage 3 is telekinesis."

"Telekinesis is only Stage 3? Then what’s Stage 4?”

Remembering Go Ryeoha swatting monsters away with invisible hands only made me more curious.

Why was an insanely powerful ability like telekinesis merely Stage 3?

As I blinked, wondering what Hand-branch, Stage 4 could possibly be, Shin Nain raised his pinky as well, making the number 4.

"Hand-branch, Stage 4 is Material Substitution."

While Shin Nain held up his hand, I poured some grape juice he had brought into a cup and asked.

"Material Substitution? What? Can she turn whatever she touches into gold?”

"Apparently, she can alter blood shed from her left hand and transform it into other substances or use it as a substitute for specific materials in magical rituals.”

-Crush!

I crumpled the paper cup I had poured the grape juice into with my grip and opened my eyes wide.

Then I felt fiery passion surge up from the depths of my heart.

"Hamza, clean this up."

"What? There’s still plenty of ramen and kimchi left.”

"You heartless bastard. Ryeoha-ssi is being detained, and you can still stomach ramen?”

"What?"

I hurriedly stood, wiped my mouth with my sleeve, and prepared to pack everything away.

Then I turned toward Shin Nain and firmly warned him.

"You need to stop snapping at Ryeoha-ssi too. She had her circumstances, you know? Circumstances. Don’t you know people are exempted under extreme conditions?”

"Jemin-ssi.”

Regardless of Shin Nain’s contemptuous gaze, I’d already awakened to the spirit of tolerance and benevolence.

So what if she seemed a little insane and always felt like an outsider?

"Go Ryeoha has been a Supreme Archmage ever since the moment we rescued her at Konkuk University. I’m going to command to file a protest.”

I could never hand over the golden goose capable of churning out magic items one after another to the military!

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