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“How could a person know everything?”

A person can only accumulate knowledge through experience and learning.

To claim omniscience would be utter arrogance.

Even transcendent beings, who have surpassed humans, do not know everything; ignorance is not a source of shame.

“The ways of the world are utterly bizarre. One can be as ignorant as a child about things they don’t pay attention to. That’s why learning must be relentless…”

Thus, Jinseong felt no shame.

Instead, what arose was a realization of something.

“However.”

From his utter ignorance, a thread of understanding emerged.

“No matter how much I claim to know nothing, can I truly not grasp even a fragment of it?”

In his days as a mercenary, Jinseong did not view conflicts negatively.

Those who seek world peace might be appalled, while those advocating for anti-war sentiments would foam at the mouth; for those who despise bloodshed among people, it would be enough to gnash their teeth—

Yet, that was not Jinseong’s primary goal.

The purpose of Shaman Park Jinseong was magic.

His goal was to learn and master magic.

Wasn’t his aspiration for transcendence rooted in that same desire?

To learn magic, and if possible, to know all the magic of the world.

And so, Jinseong yearned for transcendence.

To chase the possibility of claiming he had reached the end of magic, thus he wandered the world, his long journey twisting and turning.

In his pursuit of magic, conflict was an asset relating to his job as a “mercenary,” and when the world was engulfed in strife, there lay opportunities to obtain or steal magic, thus it was also an advantage, a chance to bring forth what he had kept hidden in times of crisis.

That was why Jinseong showed interest in the conflicts he encountered while working as a mercenary.

To seek out the openings he could slip through.

To actively utilize his insignificant position as a mercenary for the reasons he had chosen that path.

And thus, the question emerged.

Could he be completely unknown?

Was he so inexperienced and ignorant that the important facts whispered to him by his elevated spirit and soul went unnoticed? Was he truly that incompetent and insensate that he merely brushed aside those realities without catching even a glimpse of them?

Is that truly the case?

And did that incompetence linger on until the memory of that incident faded completely from his mind without him noticing? Was he truly so utterly ignorant, incapable, and dull that he felt no hints of suspicion? And was it right that everything from his head, his intuitions, and his predictions felt no sense of incongruity at all?

If not, what were his current understandings and the whispered truths of his soul conveying?

What significant information led him to realize his ignorance?

If so, what meaning does it hold?

What significance does it bring for him?

“By breaking the black stone, forming it into a sharp blade stained with blood, red and black become fitting offerings for the gods. Oh, gods, guide me and grant me whispers. May the sun’s light gently land upon my head like feathers, flowing through the blood and opening my eyes.”

Jinseong recited the invocation while grabbing the obsidian from the shelf.

He crushed the small piece of obsidian between his hands as if breaking a snack, and brought the sharpest edge of the broken piece to his index finger.

Swoosh—

And then dragged it straight from the tip of his finger down to his palm.

The sharp obsidian easily sliced a deep line into Jinseong’s finger. As he moved his finger, the line widened, and blood began to flow, yet his dexterous touch ensured the muscles beneath his skin remained unscathed.

A delicate hand that only cut the skin.

Wasn’t it reminiscent of a priest who gained enlightenment by repeatedly offering human sacrifices?

Jinseong raised his bleeding finger high.

Then, he energetically moved to let more blood flow, and when he felt it was enough, he swung his arm.

Like splattering paint against the wall, vigorously.

Splat!

The blood completely drenched his finger and reached the wall, creating stains.

As if a blooming flower, it turned bright red, leaving a line like countless tiny feet.

Splat!

With every motion of Jinseong’s arm, lines formed on the wall.

From left to right.

From top to bottom.

Horizontal and vertical lines were drawn, diagonals too.

As the dots spread, eventually losing distinction as they morphed into a distorted shape, the concentrated trajectory expertly coordinated the blood flowing from his finger into a singular figure.

And only then did Jinseong stop his sweeping arm and head towards a drawer to retrieve something.

What he picked up were items for first aid.

With familiar deftness, he started to staunch the bleeding.

After cleaning the wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, he tore a piece of absorbent gauze made from a special substance developed by alchemists from chromic material. Mixing antiseptic and recovery medicine in a suitable ratio, he soaked the gauze and stuffed it into the long gash in his finger. Though the pain came without anesthesia, Jinseong remained unfazed, expressionless as he repeated the task.

Once the gauze was fully in place, he took out a medical device resembling a stapler.

Then, he crudely stitched the wound, securing the ends with three metal clips, one at the beginning, one in the middle, and using a needle and thread, silently sewed up the wound.

Unlike typical stitching, it formed a pattern reminiscent of various symbols.

Swoosh.

Jinseong kept moving the thread as if his finger were a carpet.

Colors of thread were woven into his finger.

The shapes and colors… reminiscent of a carpet.

Yes.

It looked as if a model of a carpet had been torn apart and stuck to his finger.

Once he finished sewing, he poured an extraordinarily potent 90-degree vodka onto his finger. Enduring the pain as if nothing mattered, he approached the wall he had splattered blood on and slowly began to draw a circle.

Slowly.

Slowly…

“—-”

Then, closing his eyes, he began to recite the invocation learned in the Middle East, extending it… so long that it felt nearly beyond the grasp of language, stretching it out endlessly. With each breath, he exhaled sound along with air, squeezing his lungs, expelling every last bit of air… then paused before continuing with the next invocation.

Long.

Very long.

“——”

When the invocations and his dance with the blood finally concluded.

The stains that had existed on the wall transformed into a single pattern.

The blood left in Jinseong’s wake aligned itself, connecting the dots into lines that created a picture as if it had always been there. And the blood that had been hidden in the areas untouched by Jinseong, envying and yearning, joined in, deepening the color and thickening the lines, clarifying the pattern.

Thus, a single eyeball was drawn upon the wall.

A round eyeball.

The pattern seemed as if the eyeball had been plucked out and directly painted on the wall.

A bright red eyeball drawn in blood!

Simple yet so vivid, it felt as if it were staring right back at you.

The uneven lines, not smooth at all, created an illusion that the eyeball might be twitching, and the subtly lingering scent of blood and alcohol made one feel as if they stood in the very midst of a battlefield. The painting of the eyeball, etched on the rough cement wall without wallpaper, had the eerie, lifelike quality of a real eye protruding from the surface, with the pupil prominently fixed in the center.

The eyeball.

Rolled.

Moves.

The painted eyeball.

Just drawn in blood on the wall.

It moves.

Rolling, rolling…

“Haha. Well, well.”

…Jinseong’s gaze met the eye.

And after a second, then another second, locked in that gaze—

Impact!

As if to crush the plucked eyeball beneath his foot, the pattern burst apart.

The blood that had so recently formed a neat painting of the eyeball exploded outwards like a bomb, staining everything and leaving only empty space as a testament to the fact that an eyeball had once existed there.

“What kind of magic deceived me, rendering me ignorant and foolish?”

Seeing the remnants, Jinseong smiled.

A truly radiant smile.

 

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