The two, Won Young-shin, disguised themselves in ordinary clothing.
The man had disguised himself like a typical traveler, donning a rugged yet spacious backpack that one would expect travelers to carry. Naturally, within it lay ANFO (Ammonium Nitrate Fuel Oil) explosives, neatly wrapped.
In his hand, he picked up a random shopping bag found on the street, which contained substances meant to inflict secondary damage at the embassy.
The woman, on the other hand, appeared like a local.
Dressed in attire commonly worn by Japanese locals and carrying a shopping basket, she had frozen food inside. Of course, what was inside wasn’t your regular microwavable frozen meal but explosives that would detonate when heated.
Also, her chest seemed unusually puffed up, but this wasn’t her actual body shape. It was a contorted form made by insects, filled with special substances—the same as those in the man’s shopping bag, intended for terror.
Thus, they began to move.
All the while, they were being controlled from afar by Park Jinseong in Korea.
“Namah Safthanam Samyak Sambuddha Kotinam. Tadyatha Om Chale Chule Chunde Svaha.”
On the top floor of a building.
Jinseong had his arms stretched towards the sky, eyes closed, chanting the mantra.
Chundi Durga Mantra.
It was a mantra calling upon the power of Avalokiteshvara, referred to as the mother of all Buddhas.
However, although such a mantra was supposed to come from a place of enlightenment and origins, it swayed ominously, with low tones that seemed to sink into the ground—not towards the Bodhisattva but rather into the deepest pits of hell where sinners thrived.
Additionally, Jinseong’s posture was odd.
Typically, one should display humility when making a request, but there was no trace of such humility in Jinseong. Instead, an entirely mechanical vibe enveloped him.
His arms, stretched toward the sky like antennas, were stiffly held in place, while his tightly shut eyes felt as though he had always been blind. Furthermore, the images projected by the beam projector showcased countless arms flailing in afterimages, amplifying the bizarre appearance.
“Namah Safthanam Samyak Sambuddha Kotinam….”
Low tones.
Low tones that reverberated through the ground beneath Jinseong, resonating as if the very earth were vibrating.
A low tone pulsing at regular intervals.
Yet, despite being low, the tones seemed to fluctuate, rising and falling in pitch like a strange melody.
This low tone was the essence and form of magic.
In ancient times, a method created by an oppressed sect, camouflaging enlightening spells.
It appeared as an ordinary mantra while hiding the mystical secrets of the sect within.
Jinseong recited the mantra mechanically, endlessly repeating a prayer to the mother of seven hundred million Buddhas.
Except, embedded within it was not a faith but rather the shaman’s will seeking power as a means to an end.
“…Om Chale Chule Chunde Svaha.”
After chanting for a while, Jinseong abruptly halted.
And at that moment.
The video from the beam projector also stopped, surrounding Jinseong with a multitude of arms.
Arms of various colors.
Red, blue, green, flesh-colored, black, and white.
The colorful arms remained in form, arising around Jinseong like a mirage, as he slowly opened his eyes.
Three eyes in total.
Two original eyes, and the third eye was a mere illusion appeared on the pineal gland.
In that moment, Jinseong acquired the emblem of Avalokiteshvara, with three eyes and countless arms.
“The presence of the Tamtus King rests here, revealing good and bad things alike. What the three eyes see are one flesh, one soul, and one will. The body of will exists outside, vividly visible beyond distance—this is the power of Avalokiteshvara’s third eye. As if it were my own body, I can move the two—this is the strength of Avalokiteshvara’s arms.”
Jinseong muttered, eyes wide open.
“To the shape of a person molded by will, I command: Perform good deeds. Sacrifice your life and sincerely vow.”
Such a sight was truly mysterious and profoundly strange.
Wielding arms like his own, he occupied space, gazing unseen with his inner eye over the empty spaces of the building, rising towards the sky to observe elsewhere, while the darkness seemed to pour forth from the reverberating low tones, slithering out like smoke and filling the room.
How might one describe this?
Bizarre yet intriguing, mystical yet ominous—how could one express this?
Something that could scarcely be articulated.
Unfathomable.
This is precisely what magic is.
Through Jinseong’s invoked consciousness, a thread bound everything across space to the insects.
This thread tied like string through a doll’s joints, binding each insect into the human shape they constructed, infusing that form with an overwhelming vitality.
This vivacity was so rich it seemed impossible to find in any single life. It drew everyone unknowingly to turn their heads towards it.
Thus, those filled with life force began to move.
First, the man moved.
“Oh, excuse me. I’m a traveler who seems to have lost my passport….”
The man approached the embassy, pretending to be an ordinary traveler.
He exuded a troubled demeanor as if truly believing he had lost his passport, his expression the epitome of what a distressed traveler should wear.
He slowly advanced.
And right behind him followed the woman.
Not someone one could consider conventionally pretty, yet her innate vivacity drew curious glances, as if her presence compelled one to look. If her face were just a tad prettier, she probably would have amassed a considerable fanbase.
The woman seemed to be returning from shopping, clutching a shopping basket, trailing behind the man to support his claim.
“Yes, that’s right. This man seems to be really distressed. So, I guided him to the embassy.”
With a gentle smile, she looked at the man with empathy. It seemed she believed that having arrived at the embassy, everything would be resolved.
Ordinary people.
They appeared to be the type one would commonly see at an embassy.
Those who had lost their passports due to circumstances—mistakenly dropped, pickpocketed, or robbed—who knocked on the embassy’s door for help. And those extending hands of compassion to such individuals were also commonly seen.
No matter how harsh the world had become, there were always kind-hearted people ready to lend a hand to someone in trouble.
In a world where many would risk their very lives for others, helping a troubled traveler get to the embassy was… nothing extraordinary.
Thus, the staff treated them without a second thought.
Without an ounce of suspicion.
Consequently, they were able to enter the embassy without any resistance, and once inside….
Suddenly, their expressions hardened, and they began to shift the positions of their bags. The man unbuckled his backpack and brought it forward, while the woman tightly hugged her shopping basket to her chest, scanning the embassy with an expressionless face.
Then both moved at once.
The man opened the zipper of his backpack and pressed the switch on the mechanical device enclosing the explosives, while the woman pressed the switch hidden deep in her shopping bag. And simultaneously, they shouted.
“His Majesty the Emperor, long live! His Majesty the Emperor, long live! His Majesty the Emperor, long live!”
“His Majesty the Emperor, long live! His Majesty the Emperor, long live! His Majesty the Emperor, long live!”
A cheer for the emperor.
Such strange behavior.
The moment the staff in the embassy noticed them, their faces turned pale.
They didn’t know exactly what these two intended to do, but it seemed like a disaster if they were left unchecked.
However, sadly, the chaos had already erupted, and they were at a considerable distance from the duo.
Even if one were to leap, they couldn’t reach them before chaos ensued.
Realizing this, they chose to safeguard themselves rather than attempt to stop the duo. Those in positions of authority activated the protective artifacts provided to them, creating a barrier of defense, while others hastily sought cover, triggering safety measures to shelter the staff.
Thus, as they barely managed to avert danger.
BOOM—!!
The explosives detonated.
The explosives situated in the man’s backpack and the woman’s shopping basket roared with thunderous sound, shaking the very ground, sending flames erupting in chaotic dispersal, rattling the embassy. Because they had used a concoction typically employed by Jinseong during his mercenary days, the force was far greater than ordinary ANFO explosives, followed by a fierce shockwave.
Thanks to the special additives, flames began igniting everywhere. Sticky substances adhered to the walls, roaring spirals of flame as if to set the building ablaze, and no matter how the sprinklers poured water, there was little sign of extinguishing. Quite the contrary, the water seemed to fuel the flames, as they wriggled chaotically, flaring even brighter.
“Shit, this… this is a bomb terror…”
Terror.
This was indeed terror.
