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There is one who chants the invocation, wishing to push his sled, so how could one who intends to help possibly turn a blind eye? When a traveler seeks assistance, hoping to find shelter for the day, would anyone cruelly abandon them? Is there truly anyone in the entire world who would not invite a traveler into their home and offer them a warm meal?

Thus, it is said to treat guests generously.

This is because when you become a guest, you hope to receive that very same treatment.

*Swish.*

And so, Jinseong willingly pushed the sled down the slope. For those who desire kindness must also show kindness, and it’s the golden rule that those wishing for hospitality must first offer it. Therefore, it is only natural for one who seeks magic to assist in magic, and how could one who longs for magic disregard those thirsty for it? Is that even possible? Can you genuinely ignore that help? Could it be possible for someone who wanders the world bearing violence, obsession, and desire to overlook such assistance?

And so, Jinseong pushed the sled, sending Kenneth tumbling down the slope.

The sled carrying the old man gathered speed as it rolled down the slope, swiftly moving as if gliding over lava.

*Zing.*

Where the wood made contact, glimmering light was left in its wake. The red lava shimmered, exposing flesh, flowing as though imitating the Milky Way in the sky. Though slender compared to that of Hera, the goddess of old, it was thick and lengthy enough to be likened to the threads of a woman turned into a spider, crafted by human hands. It imitated the divine flow, and thus, its slenderity was a mimicry of its essence.

Ah, that is a river.

It is a human-made sculpture imitating a river.

Though it resembles a brook, it imitates a river, thus it is a river and a path of lava.

Following the road of the galaxy made of lava, Kenneth journeys forth.

With a *sizzle*, the flames clinging to the sled leave marks in the air, flowing past the lava, leaving a bright red glow on the ground as he moves onward.

As the sled leaves its trace in the snow, its likeness is quite lighthearted.

Oh, goddess of snow, fairest of goddesses, are you satisfied?

Here stands an unfamiliar one, borrowing your sled and gaining speed.

This sight is truly adequate for you, who take pleasure in sledding. In terms of bravery offered in tribute, there is nothing better; behold the appearance of this warrior speeding down the path of lava. How could one not sing praises to your beauty? Surely, only those captivated by your splendor would strive to honor you and dedicate their hearts to you; otherwise, how could one ride like this? Oh goddess, oh goddess, look upon this pitiful one! See this valiant stranger! Bless the challenger from the opposite side of the volcano!

“Bless me!”

Jinseong, as if in admiration, bent at the waist and repeatedly straightened up. He raised his arms high to the sky, as if unable to keep his feet still, stomping about. He kicked the frozen ground as if to crush it, leaping in a way that echoed a sound, as if to carve the ground into cracks. He raised his arms high and twirled slowly, almost bouncing around. It resembled a spiritual capable person invoking a ghost; it evoked visions of ancient religious priests.

Thus, while moving, Jinseong abruptly stopped all motion.

He then bowed his head deeply and raised both hands to grab at his hair.

The hands gripping his hair pulled it downward.

He lowered his head as if to draw his hair lower, hoping to let it fall loose.

His head drooped low, and his hands began to tousle his neatly arranged hair into disarray.

In that manner, Jinseong’s hair had taken on the appearance of a madman’s locks.

And then.

“Papa Chitah Dusta Chitah Raudra! Papa Chitah Bidvesa Chitah Amitra Chitah Utpada! Yanti Kila Yanti Mantra Yanti Japanti Joanna! Ozhahara Garbhahara Rudharahara Medaharah Mamsaharah Matzaharah Jataharah Jivitaharah Balya Harah Gandaharah Pushpaharah Palaharah Sasyaharah Papa Chitah Dusta Chitah…”

As though reciting a dialect, words of varying pitches and astonishing speeds began to flow from him.

“Raudra Chitah! Deva Grahah! Naga Grahah! Yaksha Grahah! Rakshasa Grahah! Asura Grahah! Garuda Grahah! Kindara Grahah! Mahora Grahah! Preta Grahah! Pisacha Grahah! Bhuta Grahah! Kumbhanda Grahah! Skanda Grahah! Umada Grahah! Chaya Grahah! Apa Smara Grahah! Daka Dakini Grahah! Revati Grahah! Jaka Grahah! Sakuni Grahah! Mantra Nandika Grahah! Abamba Grahah! Hanu Kanta Pani Grahah! Jzvara Ekā Hika Dvaiti Yaka Traiti Yaka Chaturtakā Jzvara…”

In the darker forest, inopportune breaths spewed forth. The chant provoked an eerie sensation, suggesting a sinister rite rather than a simple prayer. Thus, Jinseong, head bowed low with disheveled hair mumbling the invocation, brought forth an otherworldly atmosphere that was deeply unsettling.

“Nityā Jzvara! Visama Jzvara! Bhattika Paidika Sresmika! Sam Nipātika! Sarva Jzvara! Shirohoti! Arda Aba! Badaka! Akshi Rogaḥ! Mukha Rogaḥ! Hṛda Rogaḥ! Gala Surama! Karna Surama! Danta Surama! Hṛdaya Surama! Marmā Surama! Parsvā Surama! Prṣṭha…”

The invocation continued.

“Surama Udara! Surama Kati! Surama Vasta! Surama Uru! Surama Janga! Surama Hasta! Surama Pada! Sarva Anga! Trat Yangga! Surama Bhuta! Beta Da! Dakini Jibara…”

The chant gained a strange pitch and speed.

“…Daduru Khandu Kitiba! Ruta Vaisarupa! Roha Lingaḥ! Susā! Trāsanā! Kara Visā! Yaka Agni! Udaka Mara! Vira Kantarā! Aḥkira! Mṛtyu! Trayamubuka! Trairatā…”

It flowed forth with an increasing velocity, as if imitating Kenneth’s movements while sledding down the hill.

And finally.

“Bhrichikasarvanakurashinhavikarahrakshatrakshachamarijivasthamsasarbhesamsitadapatharamahabodhranashmāhapratyangirambayabaddvadbadhanyathremavidhyavandhamkaromīnsasarobandhadhihambandhamkaromīparavidhyavandhamkaromītejovanbandhamkaromīhastabandhamkaromīpadabandhamkaromīsarvanga pratvungagatadyata! Om Anarevisadevirabajiradarebandhabanadhivajrapanīpatuhumtrumasabhā! Namostatagataya sukhatayahārshanemāksamabuddhistimṭumāntarapadasvāhā!”

At a speed so rapid that it makes one question if he is even breathing, Jinseong spewed forth words in an instant.

Ah, it’s much like watching a broken doll.

It appears as though a malfunctioning doll is spewing words without a breath to be taken…

Look at that disheveled hair.

Behold that head hanging low.

The head slowly rises, revealing the hidden face previously buried in darkness.

And as his head returns to its original position, his face emerges.

Ah!

Look at that pale countenance!

The skin is now smooth and white as snow!

It shines under the moonlight, resembling porcelain crafted with care!

In the hollow sockets of his eyes, there are no pupils, only bright red emptiness, while his mouth is grotesquely stretched wide, filled to the brim with perfect teeth. The nose seems to have decayed, leaving only traces, while the bright red gums hold white teeth, forming a grin that elicits horror.

Adorning his head is a band with five blue and red pearls.

Atop the pearls, there’s a skull resembling his own face, smiling grotesquely.

“Pādmaṃ jaṅgho” Swiha! (Padmasambhava!)

Ah, how well he shouts with that skull-like face!

He keeps chanting the name of Padmasambhava, the one who made him like this.

Scratching at his skull-like face which has transformed in the heated waters created from melting snow, he continues to call out Padmasambhava’s name…

 

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