Chapter 31

While debating whether or not to destroy the totem, a strange purple light began descending from the sky!

A bizarre purple moon hovered above the Ice Throne, glowing eerily.

Sure, it was an odd color—but that wasn’t the strangest part. This moonlight cast no shadows at all!

Even under rocks, the light penetrated without fail.

In places where shadows should have naturally formed, the light illuminated everything instead.

There wasn’t a single shadow anywhere—it felt surreal, like stepping into some glitched-out video game with a broken graphics card!

But wait…there WERE shadows, kind of. They appeared blotchy and uneven, as if smudged across the ground.

When I looked up, those blotches matched patterns on the purple moon itself.

Turns out, the light was always spotty from the start, creating these patchy shadows.

Curiosity got the better of me—I ran toward one of them, only for it to skitter away like a frightened animal!

The totem had done something similar earlier; now this shadow was acting weird too.

“What did I do wrong?!”

I chased after the elusive shadow, trying to step on it, but it kept dodging and retreating down the street.

This cat-and-mouse game lasted until sunrise, leaving behind nothing but a snow-covered field marked by my footprints.

***

Breathing heavily, I glanced at the center of the open lot—there lay the shattered remains of the totem.

The totem was destroyed.

By collecting non-reflective mirrors and arranging them into a giant reflective surface, we managed to reflect the totem’s image back onto another mirror, revealing its true form in reality before smashing it apart.

Haha…finally.

But it was too late.

Night had fallen.

And nightfall in Dobong-gu meant danger.

All because of the “Snowfield Moon” object.

That eerie purple moon would appear wherever there was a “snowfield” when night came.

Unfortunately, no one knew exactly what qualified as a “snowfield.” It showed up in places that clearly weren’t snowy and failed to appear in genuine arctic regions.

Still, one thing was certain: the moon always rose over Dobong-gu’s snowy landscape.

Thankfully, the purple light didn’t threaten lives directly—it just caused insomnia by seeping through eyelids.

What WAS dangerous were the shadows accompanying the light.

“Moonrise! Gather together!”

We formed a circle in the open lot, facing each other while driving steel stakes into the ground to anchor ourselves.

At the center stood a makeshift device resembling a totem, imported from America to block psychic interference from objects.

It worked…sort of.

Even having such technology was impressive considering Korea still had no clue how objects functioned.

The Snowfield Moon created bottomless voids disguised as shadows.

Step into one, and you’d vanish somewhere unknown.

Fortunately, they didn’t move to attack people—but they exerted a pull, making you feel compelled to fill the void.

Imagine seeing a misaligned tile and feeling an urge to fix it.

Looking at the void long enough made it seem like the perfect fit for YOU.

Eventually, the urge became overwhelming, almost irresistible without assistance.

Night dragged on endlessly.

Please let us survive this night…

Nearby agents struggled against their bindings despite being secured by stakes.

Clutching my teeth, I closed my eyes—but the purple light still pierced through.

Even with my eyes shut, I could see the gaping hole staring right at me.

Right here…right in front of me…

A perfect world bathed in purple light, marred by a single hole.

If only I could seal it…

‘Why is there a hole here?!’

One by one, I freed myself from the stakes and stood up.

‘There’s a hole ahead that only I can seal.’

Part of me knew this was delusion—but resisting proved impossible.

I approached the hole slowly.

‘Yes, THIS is the hole meant for me!’

As soon as I touched its edge with my fingertip, the purple light vanished, replaced by the rising sun.

Startled, I retracted my hand.

Phew! Barely survived that one.

During the night, five agents disappeared.

Luckily, losing five wasn’t considered mission failure.

Our throne destruction operation wasn’t over yet.

***

After playing tag with the shadow and resting atop a tall ruin, the morning sun warmed my skin.

From below came commotion near the Ice Throne, where crowds gathered.

Wasn’t that area -100 degrees Celsius? Or does the extreme cold exist elsewhere?

People who looked sleep-deprived were setting up something around the throne.

An object.

Specifically, an explosive-looking object shaped like dynamite bundles.

They must be using the object to destroy the throne since missiles wouldn’t work.

Except the throne isn’t an object anyway—so they’re wasting their time.

I watched amusedly as they labored fruitlessly.

Someone should’ve noticed me watching, but everyone seemed distracted by the explosives.

BOOM!

Suddenly, the earth pulsed beneath me.

Turning around, I saw a massive dust tsunami rushing inland, crumbling buildings in its wake.

Concrete and asphalt turned to powder, swirling violently forward.

This was no ordinary wave—it consisted entirely of dust.

Anything touched by the wave disintegrated instantly.

Including the object bomb.

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!

A man’s scream echoed throughout Dobong-gu.

***

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

I cried out helplessly as the object bomb dissolved into dust.

Reaching out, I found nothing but ash.

After sacrificing so many agents to reach the throne, why THIS?!

Dust storms engulfed the area, darkening the skies.

Ice Soldiers carrying the throne crumbled into dust, causing the throne to fall.

Blown backward by the shockwave, I tumbled across the ground.

Through the haze, a faint yellow glow emerged.

Like volcanic ash blocking the sun, a golden light pierced through the dusty clouds.

“Gray Reaper!”

High above, the Gray Reaper loomed, mocking us with its gaze.

Could the Gray Reaper do THIS?

Not only did it obliterate our object bombs, but all electronic equipment and firearms vanished too.

This resembled phenomena observed in Seoul Forest—but we’re far away from there.

This unusual event demanded immediate reporting.

The sudden appearance of the Gray Reaper and the Strong Tower-like phenomenon.

With communication devices shattered by the blast, I’d have to deliver the report in person.

To preserve as many agents as possible, we needed to retreat carefully.

“The mission has failed. We’re going back.”

Keeping a wary eye on the Gray Reaper, we slowly backed away.

Defeat tasted bitter.

***

The pulsation felt familiar.

Ah yes, the Strong Tower.

Its power to grind civilization into dust resonated strongly.

But shouldn’t the Strong Tower’s influence be stable by now?

Never seen it pulse like this before.

Following the rhythm, the ground fractured into powder, resembling a dust tsunami sweeping inland.

Watching buildings and asphalt curl and shatter was oddly mesmerizing.

Strangely, even Ice Soldiers couldn’t resist the tide—they shattered just like everything else.

So the Strong Tower considers Ice Soldiers part of civilization too?

The pulsations ceased after a few minutes.

Dobong-gu bore even greater scars than before.

Yet amidst the devastation, strange structures remained.

Massive tunnels burrowed deep underground, resembling ant colonies.

A hunch told me the owner of the Ice Throne might be down there.

***

Seoul faced a great crisis.

Temperature drops originating in Dobong-gu barely affected Seoul overall.

Localized temperature fluctuations quickly returned to normal.

Attacks from the Ice Throne’s soldiers were effectively countered by military forces.

What truly panicked Seoul was the expansion of Seoul Forest.

Observations confirmed the forest gradually expanding outward, pulsating like a living heart.

Unlike the Strong Tower’s fleeting expansions, any area touched by its pulse instantly reduced civilization to dust.

Despite thorough preparations against the Ice Throne, Korea remained powerless against the Strong Tower.

There was simply no way to fight back.