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The Possession Sorcerer expressed gratitude to Jinseong and gazed at the hospital.

From the foothill, the hospital emanated an odd aura.

It felt as if the border between the living and the dead was distinctly divided—such a bizarre atmosphere.

And this atmosphere was precisely what the Possession Sorcerer cherished most.

The boundary between the dead and the living.

That strange sensation deriving from the boundary.

This sensation was a testament to his existence, a claim that he roamed this world with the body of a living person.

“Is it alright to harvest now?”

“Yes…”

If there were something to harvest, that would be even more rewarding.

“Good.”

Upon hearing the eerie voice that proclaimed it was time to harvest, the Possession Sorcerer began to move slowly.

A very lethargic pace.

As if a giant were taking steps, or as if he were trudging through an immensely heavy and oppressive water.

So slow was his gait that it seemed like a mirage, the afterimage struggling to form in the eyesight.

Afterimage.

An afterimage caused by slowness rather than speed.

And that afterimage overlapped and separated from his body, creating an uncanny shape.

The shadow, resembling a strange figure, twisted as it sketched shades, and the afterimage moved, giving the illusion that two legs had become four.

As those legs widened, they began to assume the form of a creature that originally had four legs.

The shadow wriggled, tinting the afterimage, adding dimension to it, and granting reality to the afterimage.

This reality, although it could scatter if touched, was solidified by the ominous sound—

Clop clop.

Clop clop.

Calling forth a horse conjured from shadows and ghosts.

“Is this… a Phantom Steed?”

“Close enough.”

“Instead of a horse, you used a person’s soul as material…”

“Yes.”

The Possession Sorcerer smiled at Jinseong as he replied.

His eyes glowed like ghostly flames as the horse he mounted tapped its shadowy and ectoplasmic hooves upon the ground. Then, as if it were time to depart, it turned its head and charged forth into the darkness.

Into the darkness.

Slicing through areas invisible to CCTV and unseen by people.

Thus, the Possession Sorcerer barreled through the darkness constructed above the ground, reaching the hospital and effortlessly gliding to the hospital room where Lee Jae-soon resided.

Hee hee—

Now, only a thin wall remained.

Just one wall with a window was left.

Bzzzz.

The Possession Sorcerer pressed his body against the wall.

As if trying to meld with it, to become part of the wall itself.

Then he opened his mouth wide, as if to detach his jaw.

Ah—

Ahhhhh—

With its mouth opened wide to a shocking degree, one could doubt if a person could even spread that far. A resonant sound, like something heard echoing in a cave, flowed from the cavernous opening. Following that eerie sound, something began to squirm and drip outside.

Something translucent.

It appeared either as a sticky liquid or a weighty gas.

Ectoplasm.

Graaah—

Ectoplasm flowed out incessantly, as if the Possession Sorcerer’s throat were a chimney, as if it were smoke. It billowed and wafted, making its way toward the window.

The ectoplasm advanced through the window, seeping through minute gaps and invading Lee Jae-soon’s hospital room…

Graaah—

This ‘invasion’ continued until the inside of Lee Jae-soon’s room was filled with ectoplasm.

It became thick like smoke from a fire.

Once inside, the ectoplasm rose as if it were a cloud. Gathering together to the point where it became difficult to discern its insides, it transformed from gas or liquid into a solid-like texture, and soon began to change color.

Black.

Silver.

White.

Like a chameleon shifting its skin, the ectoplasm began to adjust its fluffy cloud-like form and released colors depending on its position.

In one area, a blooming white similar to a flower unfurling.

In another, a black that seemed to transport the night sky.

In yet another place, a brilliant silver reminiscent of mercury.

Thus, the ectoplasm formed a singular entity.

Wielding a scythe made of steel, akin to Thanatos’s heart, drenched in shades as black as Nyx’s.

With a skull radiating a blinding white light, it resembled the Grim Reaper.

Swoosh—

The being made of ectoplasm inhaled.

With every breath, it released a chilling breeze that dropped the surrounding temperature.

Wherever the Grim Reaper moved, moisture in the air froze, leaving white particles trailing behind. The hems of its garments tainted the surroundings with ghostly energy.

Reaching before Lee Jae-soon, the Grim Reaper lifted its bony hand—

Click.

It dropped its jaw and opened its mouth wide.

As if the Creator outside the window had commanded it to do so.

Graaah—

Then, from its widely gaping mouth, it exhaled icy air and lifted the enormous scythe, surpassing a person’s height—

Swish!

Swinging the scythe meant for harvesting souls, it brought death to Lee Jae-soon.

* * *

Lee Jae-soon was successfully harvested.

His death served as nourishment for many things to grow.

Just as an animal’s death nourishes sturdy trees and blossoms beautiful flowers.

First and foremost, journalism was cleansed.

With the notoriously filthy journalists arrested by the police, the standard of the media became remarkably more refined, and the journalists with radical tendencies seemed to hold their breath to escape the aftermath of the immense incident.

Just like animals holding their breath until a storm passes.

Thus, the number of extreme articles and false reports diminished significantly, along with the number of articles that triggered peripheral nerves.

Of course, there was a certain focus on articles related to Lee Jae-soon due to their intense nature.

In this media atmosphere, both Korean and Japanese warriors entered a phase of restraint.

The negative sentiments sparked by tensions between Korea and Japan, further fueled by each country’s leaders planning to utilize warriors to legally kill the opposing nation’s warriors…

The skirmishes among warriors could have escalated at any moment, and within the heated emotions, Korean and Japanese warriors were expected to tear each other apart, devouring flesh…

However, the momentum was abruptly quelled due to the repercussions of the recent homicide incident in Chungju.

Reports of how the Korean inspector and Japanese fighter met their demise began circulating, and a somber atmosphere enveloped their memories.

Humans are creatures easily swept up by the atmosphere.

During such periods of mourning, it was exceedingly challenging to provoke confrontations with one another.

Unless one had profoundly thick skin, at least.

And even if someone with thick skin attempted to pick a fight, onlookers would cast scornful glances or intervene—resulting in the instigator suffering losses.

In this atmosphere, warriors naturally became more reserved.

Of course, the restraint shown by Korean and Japanese warriors was not solely due to this reason.

Another reason was…

They were embarrassed.

One Korean warrior wielding a sword and one Japanese warrior trained in barehanded fighting.

Not just one, but two.

Two individuals had met their end at the hands of a journalist, as reported on the news.

Neither had trained at a dojo nor were they capable persons…

Having lived their lives unacquainted with martial prowess, they were killed by a journalist possessing an undefined ability, without even managing to inflict a proper wound before meeting their brutally uncivilized end?

Utterly helpless against the murderer as though the powerless fell to the villain?

It was a ridiculous embarrassment for them to hold their heads high.

Especially in the societal sphere of warriors where reputation and honor are valued.

Moreover, it was not as though the ones deceased lacked skill.

They were confident in their own abilities and had come all the way to Chungju to engage in combat.

Thus, it was impossible for them to escape the feeling of embarrassment.

Would they provoke a fight in such a situation?

They would inevitably invite taunts from warriors of other countries.

“It’s pathetic that individuals, barely able to defend against a common person, engage in conflict among themselves.” “Look at those whose skills are so weak they can’t even face a civilian.” “If you’re weak enough to be killed by an ordinary person, wouldn’t you be better off secluded in training?” and so forth…

Hearing taunts like those could make one feel ill.

Wouldn’t it be better to just die?

“Forget about the government’s requests or anything… let’s just lie low.”

“Silence is the least we can do… we need to consider sitting out of any upcoming festivals too.”

“Ha, it wasn’t just an ordinary person; it was someone using those freaky powers, right?”

“So using that as an excuse? Does that mean the dead faced someone who wasn’t an ordinary person? Will that change anything? Imagine if someone from another country, who could stretch their arms unnaturally, punches you to death; how wouldn’t you feel ashamed?”

“Haah… that’s true…”

“Three months? Six months? We’ll need at least that long to shift this atmosphere. All this because of one oddball…”

Thus, the friction between Korean and Japanese warriors, which had been on the verge of igniting, was extinguished.

All due to the sacrifice of a single journalist named Lee Jae-soon.

 

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