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Long ago, the people of Peru believed that touching a rainbow would bring illness upon them.

Later scholars interpreted this as the deification of a natural phenomenon commonly observed around the world, suggesting that such superstitions arose from a fusion of cultures that saw the rainbow as a snake, along with snake worship. Some even speculated that it began from cases of individuals falling ill after coming into contact with harmful substances that emit a rainbow hue.

What could the origin be?

Isn’t that the essence of superstition?

Superstitions often arise from trivial reasons and stubbornly persist for ages.

As long as humanity exists, they will be born anew, transformed, and die only to be resurrected again, coexisting with lives in myriad ways.

Superstitions cling tenaciously to us, while magic simply exists, cradling those superstitions, requiring no one’s understanding—existing solely for the sake of being used.

Thus, what Park Jinseong accomplished was simply throwing out one of those myths that were born and faded away at an opportune moment.

“Environment, environment, environment. The environment is a serious issue. Life blooms anywhere, but can there truly be no fondness or aversion? Just like how one grows grand where there’s plenty of oxygen, or how various life forms thrive in favorable climates — the environment remains an undeniable problem.”

What Park Jinseong provided was merely a tiny bit of help.

Just a slight assist to those who were frantically destroying the city and killing people in madness.

Some might ask.

Did they seek that help?

But Park Jinseong would say that such a question is indeed foolish.

To comprehend someone’s intention, one must observe their actions, not merely their words. No matter what they claim vocally, or how they incite through writing, their actions clearly align with the destruction of the city and the slaughter of people, isn’t it? Thus, if their actions reflect their will, then it is hardly different from the multitude he witnessed during the Third World War.

In that context, how could there be any hesitation in utilizing them? How could one fail to respect the will of those fighting, risking their lives against one another?

It’s merely a slight nudge, how could one not engage in such an act?

“Let’s see… things have gotten messy, but ultimately, it’s not bad. Not bad at all….”

With a smile, Park Jinseong disassembled himself once again, transforming into a swarm of insects.

* * *

“…Something’s mixed in.”

The Polluter, gazing at the sky, felt something and grimaced.

His furrowed brows traced a line toward the multicolored meteor streaking down, while the swirling magical energy in his eyes captured a rainbow-colored line, similar to the colors within his own gaze. Yet, it also retained an alien quality and sensation, making him realize that the magic he’d performed had been tampered with by someone.

Mixed in.

Just as the Polluter had uttered, something had been mixed in.

Something that was distinctly different from magic.

It was a substance that didn’t easily blend, like oil and water, infesting all the spheres in the sky simultaneously.

In every sphere, at once.

‘This is…’

The characteristic of that sphere is pollution. Not merely biological contamination but a sphere imbued with the power of magical pollution. Touching it would leave even the weak sorcerers at the mercy of that pollution, likely leading to severe bodily abnormalities.

Clearly, something definitively distinguishable had become mixed within that polluted magic.

‘Is it magic?’

It can only be magic.

Using energies that are rarely seen, the Polluter, casting the spell without sensing a thing, could act upon all those spheres simultaneously—there could be no force other than the bizarre and unpredictable ability known as magic.

‘Is it the lunatic wizard flailing around with octopus tentacles?’

Focusing his magic, he looked beyond to the Shaman.

A bizarre existence shrouded in seaweed, flailing like an octopus.

Like a grotesque figure covered in barnacles, it looked as though it had been submerged in the depths of the sea for decades before crawling onto land.

‘If that’s the case, what could their intention be?’

To reduce the power of magic?

To reverse-utilize magic?

But even if strange energy has entered, the polluted magic should remain unchanged.

The Polluter’s mind became complicated in this unknown situation.

‘I can’t figure it out.’

But soon, as the ‘mixed in’ magic was destined to touch the ground, bursting forth to taint everything, the Polluter had no choice but to realize why someone had meddled with his magic.

Boom—!!!

With a sound akin to a huge water balloon bursting, the sphere exploded.

Rainbow light erupted like fireworks, diffusing widely, staining all manner of objects with a glorious rainbow hue as if coated in grease.

Mixed with liquid was a disgusting substance reminiscent of what insects regurgitate; what landed on the concrete seemed like something extraterrestrial; and what struck living beings naturally penetrated, exposing them to the polluted magic, initiating severe abnormalities.

“Cough.”

“Gack.”

“Ugh, ugh….”

The sounds of groans echoed from all around.

Voices born from fear, inadvertently uttering words while swiftly covering their mouths—sounds of despair before death.

The magic was successfully cast.

Even surpassing the Polluter’s intention.

‘This is… beyond what I expected?’

So extraordinarily successful.

‘Multiple organ failures, peculiar skin diseases, anaphylactic shock symptoms that could suffocate, psychogenic shock….’

The magic he cast wasn’t at that level.

Certainly not weak, but it wasn’t so overtly geared toward lethality. It was at a level where it could induce illness and lead to death, sure, but it shouldn’t have resulted in immediate symptoms causing many to drop dead left and right.

‘Strengthened, you say?’

Now he understood.

Finally, he recognized the role of that strange energy mixed in with his magic.

It was to enhance the magic he employed.

As if to cheer him on.

Ha.

“Cursed parasite….”

Wasn’t someone helping him a good thing?

The magic had grown stronger; wouldn’t that be a positive outcome?

Not at all.

That wasn’t done with pure intentions but rather infused with clear malice.

An intention to utilize the Polluter thoroughly. Meanwhile, transferring the blame entirely onto the Polluter for casting the spell, pursuing their own objectives—such intentions felt sinister, shady, and overflowing with evil.

As if it were an evil being seeking to exploit the souls of humanity.

“This filthy, parasitic scumbag…”

The Polluter spat each word, laden with hatred.

Wishing to be heard by the Shaman who dared to utilize him so openly.

…The fact that the truth lay hidden in carelessly uttered words is quite peculiar, indeed….

* * *

The rainbow rain that fell from the sky devastated the city.

While the physical destructive power was not tremendous, the tainted magical energy within unleashed a level of devastation beyond mere physical destruction.

Products of magical science that operate via magic began to deteriorate upon contact with the tainted magic; unless it was suitably armored military equipment prepared for such events, everything turned to scrap metal.

The formerly ordinary streets became tainted with pollution, causing skin diseases or necrosis upon contact, akin to the effects of a biological weapon.

“P-please… save me…”

Behold.

One soldier, afflicted by the magic.

A robust man of the Central Empire, merely touching the magic temporarily had his whole body dyed in multicolored light, and as that light faded, he vomited internal organs mixed with blood, writhing on the ground. Isn’t that more dreadful and effective than any poison gas could be?

“…Let’s go.”

“But!”

“…We have no means to save that soldier’s life.”

The more dreadful reality was having to merely observe such agony unfold before them.

Under ordinary biological weapons, one could at least use atropine or oxime as a treatment. For typical poisons, one might raid a hospital for antidotes or drag a warrior in to detoxify.

But what to do against this horrid thing enforced by magic, one simply didn’t know…

Moreover, with each breath, an elegant glow wafted up.

It was almost devilishly enticing, as if hunting prey while laying a trap…

“And… don’t you sense it? There’s bound to be contagiousness with that.”

An attack laced with malice.

One couldn’t deliver such an assault thinking of simply targeting soldiers.

To erase the city itself, intending to kill every civilian, one couldn’t achieve something so horrific without that mindset.

“…Cursed parasite.”

Thus, the soldiers flared not with fear of this dreadful magic, but instead with a furious hatred.

Toward the caster of the spell.

The Polluter.

 

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