The Shaman Desires Transcendence

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A missile painted entirely white.

The missile, inscribed with the characters “Iye Baeksi,” begins to slice through the sky.

“They say there was a figure named Ye in ancient Chinese mythology.”

A hero who shot down nine out of ten suns with a bow.

The name of the mythical hero who achieved his great feat with a crimson bow and pure white arrows.

The missile plummeting toward the city bore that name from mythology.

Just as the ancient hero pierced the sun with his arrows, this missile implied it could penetrate everything, too.

Someone might call that name absurd, but…

“Not really.”

If one were to take a few hits from that missile, they would realize.

The name of that mythical hero attached to the missile held no inadequacy.

With a jolt,

The flames that propelled the missile died down, and its forward momentum halted. At the same time, the magical device inside the missile activated, shifting its center of gravity forward and guiding it into a descent.

The image of something soaring majestically then suddenly dropping seems like a ship swept over a waterfall. Especially since the missile had soared above the clouds before falling.

If the clouds were rivers and bubbles, then a descent from there would be no different from a plunge over a waterfall.

Thus, the missile Iye Baeksi began its fall to the ground.

Just like the arrow that Ye shot toward the sun, piercing it and sending it crashing down.

And the sound it produced was indeed immense.

It resembled the noise of a gigantic iron mass or boulder plummeting rather than that of a missile.

A sound that echoed throughout the entire city, as if something with massive mass were falling.

Alongside it, a bluish light of magical energy escaped the missile, leaving a trail and drawing a line from the sky.

The character for “Shaman” denotes a connection between heaven and earth and the people who bridge that gap, doesn’t it?

If that’s the case, the missile currently falling is surely heaven responding to that call.

Divine Punishment.

Just as has been the case in countless disasters, it is a form of retribution meted out by the gods upon humanity.

The divine punishment has fallen.

The massive white arrow forged by magical science penetrated the ground with incredible weight and piercing power.

Easily burrowing deep into the soft mud, the white arrow pushed the surrounding objects outward, scattering waves of stone and dirt in all directions.

If a person were to artificially create an earthquake, wouldn’t it resemble this?

Cracks spread out from the point where the white arrow struck, and buildings teetering precariously began to collapse. The ground twisted and contorted, while debris flew everywhere, as tanks got swallowed into gaping fissures all around.

And then, a colossal sound that seemed to test the limits of human hearing reverberated.

The delayed fuse, designed to activate after a bomb embeds itself in the ground, finally responded.

The earth shook.

Buildings leaned.

And then…

The ground began to collapse.

The white arrow that burst forth from the earth created an enormous sinkhole, its diameter seemingly exceeding several meters.

As if a sleeping giant had just yawned, a colossal hole opened in the ground, and everything began to plummet into it. Buildings collapsed into the hole like matchboxes, and the slumbering people fell into the abyss without even a scream. The buildings that Ashtosh Singh had been igniting were also beginning to vanish into the darkness of the bottomless pit…

“An improved earthquake bomb, Iye Baeksi.”

An earthquake bomb.

A device used during World War II to shake the ground and collapse structures.

The most famous example was the Tall Boy used by the British.

China improved upon the earthquake bomb, and that is precisely what Iye Baeksi is.

An upgraded item utilizing the latest magical scientific technology.

“And… it also has the nickname ‘Sinkhole Missile’…”

In China, it is referred to as a “precision strike earthquake bomb”—

“Well, it does strike the target accurately…”

That much is not incorrect.

After all, it does hit the target.

“And… since it definitely hit, saying it’s precise isn’t wrong either…”

Park Jinseong thought this as he looked up at the sky again.

A sound that seemed to slice through the sky.

Two more white arrows flew in.

Like the preceding white arrow, they halted midair, their warheads pointed downward as they began to descend. And then, like the preceding white arrow,

With an enormous roar, they plunged into the earth.

Like worms tunneling through soft mud.

Like snakes slipping into water.

* * *

A ringing in the ears shakes the head.

Dizziness distorts vision, rendering it ineffective.

Pain surges throughout the body.

And the body, crushed beneath stones, struggles to move.

* *

Blood mingles with the cough that escapes.

The gas mask he wears fails to do its job as it fills his lungs with airborne dust. A space buried in rubble and dirt feels akin to a grave, and the taste of iron in his mouth as he licks it resembles the foul smell of a corpse that erupted from a coffin.

“If I hadn’t used defensive magic, I’d be dead.”

Yet the pain that overwhelms his body speaks.

You have survived.

You still breathe.

You lie in a grave, on the verge of entering the grave, but—

-Despite that, you are alive.

The Polluter clung to the joy of being alive, even amid terrible pain and the worst surroundings.

Simultaneously, spotting the missile in the sky, he praised his judgment in summoning magic to activate defensive magic.

“Besides, I narrowly missed it… I was lucky, just lucky…”

The tremendous shock that shattered buildings like cheese.

As if he had swung a bat against block toys, the building that the Polluter occupied crumbled just as easily. And fallen, the building crashed into the sinkhole below.

“…About 40, maybe 50 meters underground.”

He was fortunate.

He was far enough from ground zero that he didn’t take a direct hit from the shockwave and instead was sucked into the sinkhole, landing atop it rather than beneath it.

Of course, even atop the ruins, the height wasn’t insignificant, so he suffered some impact—but it was significantly better than being buried beneath that pile of dirt and stone.

Had he been trapped below, he would have faced a high probability of death.

“Crushed to death or trapped to die.”

If his body were in normal condition, he wouldn’t know.

But at present, he was missing an arm, and the flow of magical energy within him was disrupted.

Furthermore, in his effort to shield himself from that mindless bomb, he had overexerted himself with the defensive magic, making his already poor condition worse.

In a situation like this, could he really crawl up from beneath that thick mound of dirt and debris?

Could he have dug through to emerge elsewhere?

It would likely have been tough.

“If only I could clear this rubble…”

But what of the present?

He was positioned atop the sinkhole.

If he could just clear that mound of dirt, it would all be over.

By calming the polluted magical energy surging through him and gathering just a little bit more…

Even using simple two-dimensional magic, he could easily clear that mound of dirt and reach above the sinkhole…

The Polluter thought this as he summoned what magical energy remained, enhancing his body.

Then began to cautiously extract his legs pinned beneath the rubble.

“Seems fine.”

Could it have been divine intervention?

His legs, trapped beneath the stones, appeared unscathed.

While it seemed his bones might be slightly cracked due to the impact, at least it seemed he could operate his magic without much trouble.

“Oh?”

The Polluter’s lucky streak didn’t end there.

As he began to clear the stones that had trapped his legs, something came into view.

A hole presumed to be a sewer.

A hole large enough for a person to pass through easily appeared fortuitously in front of him.

Luck.

Incredible luck.

A passageway without needing to clear the rubble to escape presented itself before him.

The Polluter began to clear the rocks with delight.

Carefully moving the debris to avoid collapses, he created a pathway through which he confidently slipped into the foul-smelling sewer.

“Sewers… There might be gases trapped inside. Many places could be oxygen-deprived… Nonetheless, fortunately, I can deal with it with the magic at my disposal…”

He thought as he cautiously moved forward.

Not being in optimal condition, his steps were slow.

With every step, pain surged, periodically blanketing his mind in white; his faltering body could only lean against the wall.

It would be wonderful to take a proper rest.

But the sewer was too filthy, and resting was nearly impossible due to the refuse strewn across the floor.

Leaning against the wall was the best he could do…

“Should I have taken a moment to recover before entering?”

The Polluter wondered amidst the pain.

Perhaps he had made a wrong choice.

Considering that taking a moment to collect himself, gather more magic, and perform some first aid might have been wiser.

Yet, the luck that had assisted him before assured him.

His choice had indeed been correct.

An explosion erupted once more from the sinkhole he’d just occupied.

A colossal sound and tremor.

And a wave of heat radiating from the passageway.

“This must be a bomb.”

Cannon fire? A bomb? A missile?

He couldn’t discern precisely.

But he understood that it wasn’t solely intended to create the sinkhole but that someone had poured explosives into it to finish the job.

“If I had been down there, I would have died or sustained serious injury…”

His judgment was correct.

“Ha ha ha. What luck, what luck… Ha. It feels as if some deity is aiding me. As if they are looking out for my survival, rescuing me…”

The Polluter thanked his good fortune and began to move again.

To distance himself as much as possible from the sinkhole.

How long had it been since he began walking?

“…An exit?”

A ladder appeared.

Was it simply a passageway?

Or perhaps an escape route connected to a manhole?

No markings indicated where it led.

“Ha. It feels like a ladder to heaven.”

But to the Polluter, that ladder seemed like a signpost that could save him.

“How fortunate I am.”

Grateful for the luck that was protecting him, he smiled slyly.

Then, cautiously, he began to ascend the ladder.

“Light, light is visible. Is it connected to the outside?”

His heart brimming with hope.

Could it lead him out of this city that had turned to hell?

Or perhaps connect him to a place safe enough to hide…

The Polluter ascended the ladder, harboring such hopes.

And when he emerged from the top of the ladder, what he saw was…

“Hmm? A monitor? And that, what is that?”

A monitor displaying a strange wooden object.

Bizarre patterns drawn across the floor.

And a lone man standing at the center.

“Oh.”

The eyes of the man and the Polluter locked.

“Just in time… I needed a human…”

What had Moore been dissatisfied with?

The man’s face, once twisted in scorn, began to relax.

With a vibe that suggested ominousness, he smiled broadly and said,

“How fortunate…”

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