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The artillery shells raining down as if to completely erase the Polluter and the Meat Chunk from the world.

It was as if it demonstrated why the artillery of old was dubbed ‘the God of the Battlefield.’

The God of the Battlefield has descended upon this place once more…

Boom—!!!

Countless shells fell, merging into a single colossal sound.

Ziiiiiing—.

What followed was a ringing in the ears and a sense of dizziness.

A confusion of sensations that felt detached from reality.

The formidable destructive power slammed down in one spot, leaving not even traces of the concrete-reinforced buildings, and the repeated explosions shattered everything into mere dust.

What poured from the sky was not hail but a rain of stones and metal chunks, reduced to tiny fragments.

And at the center of this explosion was a single Meat Chunk.

“O welche Marter, welche Pein!”

The Meat Chunk, battered by the shells, refused to disappear.

Even having been ripped to shreds, it continuously swelled its body, with the gaping holes almost instantaneously filling, like water filling a void. It bore the appearance of a supernatural, cosmic monstrosity more suited for an SF film or a B-grade creature feature rather than a typical living being.

An existence that regenerates immediately upon taking damage.

That being is likely the closest thing to the word “immortal” in this city right now…

“Haben Mitleid! Verschone mich!”

The Meat Chunk opened its bizarre mouth and sang.

It was in agony from the wounds on its body as it loathed those who had mutilated it.

With an oddly contorted voice, it sang.

As if it were opera.

The Meat Chunk was the opera singer, while those aiming weapons at it were the audience.

This place had become a grotesque stage.

The relationship between the Meat Chunk and the military was precisely like that.

And this was neither voluntary nor escapable.

As long as the Meat Chunk sang within the range of its song, they were bound to that relationship.

“Haben Mitleid! Verschone mich!”

The thick dust was akin to the stage’s decor, and the gaping street resembled the props of a theater.

The artificially created background of ruins appeared even more deliberately staged, standing tall alongside the solitary Meat Chunk, which sang its opera as if it were a singer or actor on a prepared stage.

It was like a ceremony forcibly conducted.

Few could escape from the established stage.

That bizarre voice hypnotized people.

With the power of song that left no room for escape if certain conditions were met.

It seemed to possess the ability to direct people’s consciousness to one point… to forcibly concentrate their gaze on itself.

It was not something easily resisted.

Especially if one had been mindful of that Meat Chunk from the start; it became even tougher.

Ah.

Is it inevitable to be captivated by the shining star on stage?

Whether one desires it or not, if one sees the star radiantly shining on the stage, it seems one’s fate is to concentrate on it.

Is it an unavoidable human instinct to feel awe for idols and to lose oneself in them, singing their praises?

If such instincts truly exist, then there would be few who could refuse it.

For example, yes.

Only a wizard who escaped to hide after rapid movement before the shells fell might deserve the chance to break free from that Meat Chunk.

“…Huff. Huff. Hoooff.”

Fwoosh.

The wizard exhaled blue smoke from outside his gas mask while gasping for breath.

Was it from the shockwave caused by the explosions? Or perhaps the immense noise?

Thin streams of blood flowed from both of his ears, and he was left with a mixture of blood and mucus flowing out of his nose from a burst membrane.

‘My eardrums burst, my nose is broken, making it hard to breathe, I almost bit my tongue in half, and I’m also dealing with full-body bruises from the shockwave.’

The wizard panted as he assessed his own condition objectively.

A piercing noise rang in his ears.

Tinnitus that sounds when the ears aren’t functioning properly.

In a good condition, it should have faded, but the ringing grew worse as if someone was poking his eardrums with fingers, and there was the sensation of his hearing becoming muffled. On top of that, whether it was his body shaking or aftershocks causing vibrations, his vision continued to sway as well.

‘But it doesn’t seem like a bad situation…’

No, it’s not bad.

Bruises?

A burst eardrum?

Just the fact that he managed to dodge the torrent of shells poured down with the intent to turn his country’s city into a wasteland was a price worth paying. No, it was practically a gift.

‘If I had blocked it with magic, I wouldn’t have sustained bruises at all… but if I’d done that, I’d have depleted my mana, so it would have been a loss instead…’

The Polluter operated its magic to temporarily numb the pain and activated the microneedle patch filled with narcotic painkillers it had attached beforehand. In an instant, the agonizing pain dissipated, replaced by a sensation of his body feeling limp and a choking feeling around his throat.

It was a phenomenon caused by swelling from an allergic reaction.

‘…Now I have one more allergenic substance.’

The Polluter sighed softly at the thought of having to discard a once-useful painkiller, and began to siphon magical energy to sprinkle magic around him.

Pale blue dots.

Beautifully glowing dots reminiscent of Earth shimmered in the air and began to come together, transforming into a three-dimensional form. Just as dots and dots create constellations, giving rise to meaning and shapes.

Dots to dots.

Lines to lines.

The magic of the Serpens constellation, featuring an unbroken body of the snake with a head (Serpens Caput) and tail (Serpens Cauda), began to emit a rainbow glow. The triangular tip on its head sharpened like a spear, while its jagged body longed to move according to its master’s will, glowing brightly.

‘The Rainbow Serpent.’

One of the magics that could be called his signature.

From attack to defense, from passive operation to autonomous defense.

This versatile magic did not shy away from the label of being all-purpose.

If it weren’t for the drawbacks of giving the body powerful subordinates, lowering the purity of mana depending on usage time, and risking irreversible changes in the body due to ‘mana pollution’ with overuse, there wouldn’t be such an efficient and powerful magic available.

Of course, as previously mentioned, it’s not an easy magic to use, since it strongly resembles sorcery, but in this situation, assistance from it was essential.

Bam—!

Bam—!

Bam—!

“Lost is the enemies’ effort, The gods themselves protect them—!!!”

‘What a mess…’

…The shells incessantly pouring down.

The Meat Chunk’s song influencing the mind.

The existence of a sniper targeting his head.

Drones that had been flying vigorously, making air holes in people’s bodies before the shells came down.

And the shaman he had encountered not long ago, and so on.

If one overlooked any of these, they would undoubtedly face something horrific right here and now.

“Fire!!! Kill those corrupt terrorist bastards!!!”

“Don’t hold back the bullets! Kill those yokai disguised as humans—!!!!”

Park Jinseong muttered to himself.

‘What a mess…’

Anyone witnessing a city being shattered in real-time would undoubtedly exclaim this.

‘It’s truly chaotic.’

Buildings turning to dust.

Perhaps deeming even their houses unsafe, citizens were crawling into the sewers after prying open manhole covers.

The Meat Chunk singing away, and the soldiers who were in a daze, mesmerized by it, only grasping their guns after getting hit by those around them.

Tanks, spraying shells in a flurry as if to claim they weren’t mesmerized themselves, and drones that crashed and broke apart after being knocked about from the shockwave. Special Forces waiting to enter the city in exoskeletons created by mad science, and fighter jets soaring above the city, preparing for bombing runs.

If anyone saw this scene, they might mistake it for two mortal enemies waging war against each other.

It wouldn’t be easy to stage something like this unless there was a desire for vengeance sufficient to erase the city with bombing and shelling.

‘Mobilizing the army is serious business…’

Of course, it was a matter that warranted such mobilization.

The Polluter had contaminated several water sources and committed acts of terror, making their relationship with China akin to that between sworn enemies, while the shaman who had seized the city’s secret research institute needed to be eliminated by any means necessary to shut him up.

Considering the entanglement of those two, it wasn’t strange at all to deploy the military.

In fact, it should go beyond just the military; they needed to erase the ‘terrorists’ and turn the secret research institute into ‘nothing’ even using missiles.

But.

‘I have a feeling they’re sure of it…’

It’s truly an odd matter.

Clearly, the Polluter and the shaman were in this city.

But how did the Chinese government know about it?

Sure, they could know.

With CCTV implanted everywhere and surveillance satellites, it’s possible they could have captured it by chance. Or perhaps, with some special device unknown to Park Jinseong, they recognized the existence of the terrorist and the sorcerer.

But.

‘Knowing the exact location of the wizard, and according to their words—not just recognizing them, but also identifying those who could be labeled as yokai in human form… that’s clearly suspicious.’

Someone has intervened.

An unknown someone.

It feels like the same hand that had caused the yokai he dispatched to perish.

Something manipulative, artificial, imbued with a strange obsession.

And yet, performed subtly and indirectly.

That feeling loomed…

‘Hmm.’

Is it a contractor wielding the powers of transcendent beings?

Or an oracle buried in time?

A capable person squeezing their brain to the limit?

Or perhaps…

Park Jinseong’s gaze deepens as he looks over the city.

Not metaphorically, but the insects that composed his body began to reassemble, enabling him to observe the city more closely.

Once this transformation was complete, he would be able to scrutinize the city in detail with vision as if he were donning a telescope…

“Hey. Twisted insect, how dare you disturb my wishes?”

…As long as there are no uninvited guests to interrupt his contemplation.

 

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