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Park Jinseong arrived in India, and as soon as he stepped out of the airplane, he was greeted by familiar scenery reminiscent of his memories before the rewind.

The moment he exited the airport, he was hit by the unique smells of India.

Vendors eager to trade with foreigners.

People passing by, staring at him as if he were some sort of spectacle.

And of course, the taxis and touts trying to overcharge him.

Countless people caught Jinseong’s eye.

But strangely, no one approached him.

“Shaman? Is that a shaman?”

“Looks like it.”

“Ahem.”

Typically, vendors would compete to rip off tourists, but they halted their steps upon seeing Jinseong’s attire.

A necklace made from the dried head of a small animal.

Clothes adorned with patterns that looked like magical symbols.

And even strange shapes drawn on his skin.

He clearly appeared to be someone not to be trifled with.

‘Scamming a shaman, now that’s something I’d rather avoid.’

‘Hmm. That previous shaman I met was quite kind… It’s not right to cheat kind people like that.’

‘A passing shaman once foretold something bad for me. Thanks to that, I managed to avoid harm… As a person, I shouldn’t forget such grace.’

Of course, those weren’t the only reasons.

Some feared the backlash after scamming a shaman, others were fond of capable people like shamans, and some remembered the kindness shown to them by shamans.

So, even those who typically cheated without a second thought did not dare to approach Jinseong.

He navigated through their indifferent indifference and successfully exited the airport without being overcharged for a car rental.

‘It’s better to flaunt my shaman vibes here.’

This was a piece of wisdom gained from his time as a mercenary.

India, with its massive population and a blend of ancient and modern times, also possessed a remarkable religious inclusivity. This inclusivity was what allowed them to maintain their unique religion of Hinduism over time.

When Christianity arrived, they would integrate their saints, angels, prophets, and even the singular God into their polytheistic worldview, making them one of their own… Just like the sea remains unchanged even when mixed with countless colors, so too does their religion seem to hold steadfast.

And because of this characteristic, their resistance to shamans wasn’t particularly strong.

In religiously charged places, one could face scorn or suspicion merely for carrying so-called “symbols of the heathens.” However, in India, such reactions were virtually nonexistent. Any unfamiliar symbol or religious icon could simply be explained away as just another of their many gods.

Additionally, perhaps due to India’s geographical and cultural traits, magics were frequently unearthed here.

Yes.

Unearthed.

In reality, there were countless magics that once existed.

Yet, when England invaded India, they labeled many of the rich traditions as “rituals of the wicked heathens,” causing a lapse in the transmission of countless magics.

Sure, the British made excuses about the savage heathen culture and maintaining public safety…

But honestly, who would fall for such obvious lies?

It was clear to anyone that they wanted to prevent the Indian people, who were being subjugated and exploited, from wielding the blade of magic.

Records did exist of British East India Company officials and governors meeting their “mysterious deaths,” indicating their desperate attempts to regulate and control this dangerous power.

However, despite their efforts, magic in India could not be effectively eradicated.

Unlike in Korea or China.

After India’s independence, magics began to be rediscovered in various places.

They were records made by those who wished to prevent the loss of magic during British oppression, stories passed down secretly, and even newly uncovered artifacts from previously unknown ruins.

Thus, India easily began to restore its magic.

And to this day, with continuous discoveries of ruins, treasure hunters, scholars, and shamans seeking magical objects and charms could often be found.

It goes without saying that Jinseong had visited India numerous times.

The abundance of ruins meant a higher chance of obtaining magics and charms.

At one point, he even stayed within India when there were no contracts to fulfill.

‘The ruins that Danbi mentioned were quite plentiful here.’

He had often visited after receiving information from the Anastasia of his past life.

‘Moreover, with a little bribery, he could secretly enter even controlled sites or monopolize them. The thriving black market also allowed for the purchase of charms or magical records.’

Wasn’t that a good deal?

With plenty of ruins, great chances for exploration, and even the opportunity to obtain results without having to search.

All those precious things that were typically hard to come by could be acquired with just a little spending.

Furthermore, when treasure hunters threatened him or attempted to kill him, it wasn’t a huge issue at all.

In rural areas, law enforcement didn’t function properly, meaning that with minimal effort, investigations could be silenced, and they could simply say the treasure brought a curse that led to someone’s demise.

If those treasure hunters held a low rank, it could be buried in no time.

On the flip side, if they had a high rank, it could get a tad troublesome…

But even then, by utilizing the brewing tensions within India, information could easily be manipulated.

So, it was indeed a fine place for him.

‘Let’s see. Even in this period, borders wouldn’t be too tight, so slipping through should be easy.’

BEEP—!

BEP—!

The blaring horns resounded everywhere.

Had the car emissions regulations been thrown out the window? The fumes even stung his eyes.

Cows wandering aimlessly through the chaos.

People meandering in and out of traffic without a care.

The pungent stench of cow dung and human waste.

And mingling in the air was the intense aroma of spices.

To Jinseong, it was all nostalgic.

The days spent as a mercenary with Danbi.

The comrades by his side who were lacking in skills compared to him.

They had passionately searched for ruins.

Those memories from the faded past…

‘Hahaha.’

Jinseong chuckled as he drove toward the border.

Whenever he spotted police along the way, he’d simply say he was traveling and move on.

If they were particularly strict, he’d slip them a dollar or two.

And just like that, Jinseong reached near the border without a single problem.

But…

An obstacle emerged on his journey that seemed like it would be smooth sailing.

A group of people stood in his path.

They were burly men, blocking the entire road like a wall.

Was this some sort of religious ceremony?

Or were they trying to cross the road as a group?

However, their feet remained perfectly still.

Moreover, even though they were staring directly at his car, even making eye contact with him as he drove, they wouldn’t budge.

It seemed like their purpose was to prevent the car from passing.

It was as if they refused to let him by, even if it meant taking the hit from a car.

Jinseong pondered for a moment.

How should he get past them?

‘Should I enhance the car with magic? Set their bodies on fire to drive them off?

Or should I create an explosion among them or melt the asphalt to get it to stick to their skin? Maybe I could control the trees on either side of the road to drag them off or toss them far away or, if all else fails, kill one person and then use the corpse explosion magic.’

Thus, he contemplated how to break through them.

Just then, something caught Jinseong’s eye.

‘Pagri?’

The varied attire of those men.

But the one commonality was the cloth wrapped around their heads.

Pagri.

The turbans worn by Sikhs.

Without exception, every single one wore a pagri.

Furthermore, their clothing was neat, tailored, and suited them perfectly.

They didn’t appear to be robbers targeting travelers.

‘This…’

Not robbers.

They had some other purpose.

And that purpose was… Hmm.

‘“The one who comes is not good, and the good do not come” (来者不善 善者不来).’

Those who come are not good, and the good do not come.

From his experiences, Jinseong had learned that those who suddenly appear like this rarely have good intentions. And even if they did, he had no obligation to respond.

Deciding to push them out of the way, Jinseong opened his mouth to chant the invocation for machine magic.

But then.

“Park Jinseong, the shaman. The sage wishes to see you.”

Someone raised a panel inscribed with Korean text.

‘Sage?’

Seeing his name along with the word “sage,” Jinseong slammed on the brakes.

He got out of the car and—

“Nice to meet you, Seeker, Park Jinseong.”

“The sage is waiting for you.”

He was warmly welcomed by those who identified themselves as his guides.

 

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