---

Beee—

The ringing buzz surged like waves.

Blood surged up like a volcanic eruption.

An uncontrollable cough erupted from my lungs, as if it had sprung from a thermal vent.

My gaze swayed, as if caught in a whirlpool, feeling dizzy and gradually sinking downward.

My body felt heavy and damp, like it was submerged in the deep sea.

“Park, Jinseong.”

Michisige flailed like someone sinking to the ocean floor.

He struggled to swim upwards against the heavy, suffocating weight of the water filling his lungs, fighting to maintain his sanity as the oxygen dwindled. Lying collapsed on the ground, he reached out, opening his mouth to cough up the gushing blood, managing to let out a muffled sound, all while lifting his head with excruciating effort to gaze up at the man observing him.

“Park Jinseong… is that you? Or perhaps, Chon? Yeah, only Chons would use such a name…”

*Cough.*

Even amidst the coughs, he spat out words of disdain, trying to get a grip on his senses, summoning all his strength to control his trembling body. Yet his muscles quivered uncontrollably, as if in spasms, while his innards twisted and churned. Rivulets of blood flowed from his nostrils, possibly the result of his nasal membranes being amped up to the max, and his vision turned fuzzy and distorted.

The chaos was so intense that breathing through his nose seemed impossible.

“Damn the Yin-Yang, ugh, bastards. The shaman, the magic, are all here…”

With a sound barely escaping his lips and blurred sight, Michisige silently questioned.

Was all of this your doing?

Why in the world would you commit such acts?

“To say, to finish the festival, drag out the Choganes, toss them to the ground. Strip them of their clothing, exposing them naked so they can’t move properly. Just ensure they remain alive so that before the breath leaves, a rope will be set around their neck, and they’ll become a spectacle for all to witness—showing off their ridiculous form to Bel Marduk.”

Yet Jinseong dismissed Michisige’s unspoken questions.

Was it ignored because it didn’t reach him?

Or was it simply not worth articulating?

“Why, why…”

Michisige squeezed out a question with his fading thoughts, his brain now too numb to form coherent ideas.

But Jinseong didn’t answer this time either.

There was no need to respond.

No butcher would answer the questions of the animal to be slaughtered, and no hunter offers kindness to prey beyond what’s necessary before the kill.

To Jinseong, Michisige was merely food, a sacrifice waiting to happen.

Thus, with a serene smile still intact as if untouched by struggle, he brandished a stone knife with delicate hands that hadn’t known hardship, slicing it through the air to form a pattern, sparks dancing in the air behind the knife’s path.

Then, as soon as the pattern was completed, Jinseong thrust his empty hand into its center, igniting Samādhi True Fire at his fingertips and propelling it toward Michisige.

*Whoosh!*

The small flame launched from Jinseong’s hand like a shooting star, trailing behind it, and latched onto Michisige’s garments. As if fed with oil, the flame surged instantly, devouring his clothes, reducing him to nakedness, and as there’s nothing left to burn, it vanished into the air like a mirage.

“Stop, no…”

Michisige felt the end approaching.

He instinctively grasped that stripping his clothing was akin to blindfolding an animal before slaughter, realizing that soon his life would cease to exist in this world.

Therefore, he summoned every ounce of willpower to resist.

He struggled to gather the unruly mana within him to bolster his body, fighting desperately against the ‘something’ consuming him, quite literally risking his life for it.

But the mana wouldn’t budge.

Refusing to heed the orders of a feeble creature, it remained unmoving.

The mana he’d accumulated over his lifetime did not respond to his will and seemed to merely wait for his demise, existing almost mockingly.

“Choganes Hiramoto Michisige has been dragged out, stripped of his clothing, and beaten until he can’t move; all the procedures are complete. Therefore, in the name of the reclaimed king, Park Jinseong, I command: Gather the straw from the grains harvested under Bel Marduk’s abundance, weave it into twine, twist the wool from livestock into thread. Then bind it into an unbreakable rope, wrapping it around the prey’s neck like a serpent, ensuring it doesn’t come undone. Once the noose of death is placed around the neck, hang it high to meet its end.”

*Snap.*

Jinseong spoke with detached calmness, as if he were following standard procedure, snapping his fingers.

Then something slid from beneath his long shawl.

Smoothly.

It was a seemingly unimpressive rope.

Yet it glimmered here and there, suggesting it contained reinforced fiber.

Smoothly.

The rope slithered like a snake toward Michisige, who writhed feebly on the ground, coiling around his neck and tying itself tightly.

*Gasp!*

The striped compulsion around Michisige’s neck hounded him to instinctively claw at it, but with a momentary lapse, his hand trembled and fell limply to the ground.

And with his last act of defiance crumbling, the rope leaped high into the air, darting up toward the underground ceiling, puncturing through it as if skewering through tofu, hoisting Michisige into the void.

“Oh, the once king is now departing to you. Bel Marduk! Bel Marduk! Here goes Choganes!”

Jinseong shouted, watching Michisige ascend slowly through the air.

“Bel Marduk, Bel Marduk! The master of storm and fate! The greatest god! The greatest lord! I offer this righteous sacrificial offering; grant me your bounty and power! Bestow upon me the storm’s ferocity and the thunder that strikes within it, the brilliance that lights up all things, and the authority given by that light!”

And in the midst of this crazed proclamation, Michisige rolled his eyes back, thrashing around.

*Gasp!*

He swung his legs, attempting to find purchase in the empty air.

*Gasp!*

He flailed about as if desperate to free himself from the encroaching rope.

*Huf, huff!*

He strained his well-trained neck muscles, desperately attempting to pry away the rope.

Yet, no matter how a baited animal struggles against its trap, the only fate awaiting is death.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty, then thirty.

In the chilling dark of madness.

Led to multiple organ failure from Jinseong’s Corpse Explosion magic.

Life being devoured in real-time by the relentless illness creeping through him.

And alongside this, the noose squeezing tighter.

He could never overcome death.

Rolling his eyes and extending his tongue, he became nothing more than a piece of meat dangling limply, only giving the slightest of sways.

“The Sacrea Festival has come to its end.”

Jinseong murmured, closing his eyes briefly.

Then he advanced toward the statue shaped like Bel Marduk, treating it like a prized jewel that he held dear, until he knelt before it, lifting the idol high with both hands and shouting.

“Bel Marduk! Bel Marduk! Through this statue, I beseech you, grant great power to your servant, the king! Allow this power to be contained here!”

As he shouted this, a bluish light began to emerge from Michisige’s body.

The ethereal glow poured out as if alive, flowing towards the idol, and soon, those rays morphed from fine threads into thick ropes, and from the thick ropes into streams, continuously entering the innermost part of the idol.

Moreover, not just the mana, but the life force overflowing within Michisige joined together, flowing toward the statue.

The mana Michisige had amassed.

The life force he possessed.

Everything flowed harmoniously into the statue under the laws crafted by the ritual of magic.

Leaving behind only the bare minimum vitality needed to maintain his corpse.

“It’s finished.”

Jinseong smiled contentedly, cautiously placing the statue filled with the essence of mana and life force down on the ground before unleashing Samādhi True Fire.

Then igniting Michisige, now rendered a lump of disease and filth thanks to the effects of Corpse Particle Explosion, with flames.

*Whoosh!*

With the power of his enhanced Samādhi True Fire after his coming-of-age ceremony, Michisige’s body, left with nothing but a shell, was consumed instantly, turning into a handful of ash.

“What a useless person has been rightly utilized.”

He murmured softly with a faint smile.

“Like a sprout emerging from a seed, he too had no reason to remain alive, unable to fulfill his purpose. Had there been a reason even a sliver of fate brushed against him, he would not have perished.”

His words were a lament for the dead Michisige, who left no mark in history or minds, erased in a future before the rewind.

“Items are valuable when used, and people hold value by leaving their existence behind. Having transformed a meaningless future into something of value, how delightful it is indeed! So, in this relief, I chant my prayers for a peaceful return to the heavens. Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Mani Padme Hum.”

His words bore the joy of proving Michisige’s value, as well as the mana and life force he had acquired.

“Om Mani Padme Hum (ॐ मणि पद्मे हूँ).”

With his third invocation, Jinseong gathered an ember in his hand and spread it around. The embers burst into flames, igniting the underground space throughout. Soon, the flames spread like a serpent engulfing everything, brightening the dark space with its licking tongues, reminiscent of a sun.

Jinseong walked forward, enveloped by the cold, braving the billowing flames as if they would consume the entire area.

As if carrying jars filled with honey gathered by bees as spoils.

And so, Jinseong headed toward the surface, bearing the idol.

 

---