TFN C49

Chapter 49

“There is a ritual called the Madman’s Rite—an old exorcism once performed for those thought to be mentally unwell, believed in those days to be caused, of course, by possession.”

It was a rite of the East Sea coast, and Wonhyo had learned only its outer form, never its proper depth. What he could do now was little more than an imitation.

Still, he took out the straw doll, fastening to it a talisman inscribed upon black paper with shimmering golden characters.

“Cheonang-nim, please, oversee this.”

In the society that had birthed this rite, all misfortune was readily thrust upon female spirits, so originally four Cheonang—female guardians—would be invoked to banish them. But there was no time to spread mats and lay out the full array, so Wonhyo entrusted everything to a single Cheonang.

The straw doll, serving as that guardian, climbed onto the prone man’s chest and began to trample it with stiff little feet.

Straws jutted out, smudging the man’s clothes, but lying flat upon the ground, it scarcely showed.

Ten times the doll stomped. Then black smoke coiled from between the man’s lips.

Coughing harshly, he spat forth the lingering taint within him. Watching until it was spent, Wonhyo withdrew his divine power.

The talisman attached to the doll burned away, and the doll itself toppled backward lifelessly.

Careful not to let it touch the man’s skin, Wonhyo retrieved the doll and tossed it into his inventory.

“It’s done.”

The rite ended in an instant. The deputy team leader’s face showed a flicker of doubt, but he nodded and bent to rouse the fallen staff member.

“Hey. Wake up.”

Around them, the others lifted weapons, wary.

Slapped across the cheek and splashed with water in that brief interval, Kim Joogwan blinked, slowly regaining consciousness.

“Deputy… Leader?”

“You’re back, then. For real.”

“What happened to me… Ah!”

Trying to rise, Kim jolted into the deputy and tumbled down again.

The deputy groaned, rubbing his brow where their heads had knocked together.

“Hey, you! Still not in your right mind? Team Leader, Kim doesn’t look all there yet. Can I hit him with a skill or two?”

His words contradicted what he had said a heartbeat before, seeking Cheongmun’s leave to strike.

“Why are you so eager to hit me? You already kicked me in the gut earlier.”

“What? You remember? You cast a spell at me!”

“A man who shrugs off fireballs like mosquito bites. My memory’s hazy, but—hold on. Earlier, I could’ve sworn you looked like a monster. Deputy, that was you, right?”

“I may not be handsome, but I don’t look that monstrous.”

Letting go of his collar, the deputy stepped aside, and Kim sat up again.

“My apologies, Team Leader.”

He knew he had collapsed under attack, delaying the dungeon’s cleanup, and so his first act was to apologize to Cheongmun.

“It’s all right.”

Cheongmun, watching as Kim also apologized to his teammates, moved toward Wonhyo.

“Yoon Wonhyo.”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any further means to deal with those shades?”

Talismans and chants were his methods alone; the others still had no way through.

“Those things spawn whenever comments are posted on HunterNet.”

“…What?”

Wonhyo’s brow furrowed deeply at the deputy’s sudden explanation.

“You’re saying—every time a comment appears on HunterNet, those shades are created?”

He had not seen that notification. He might have neglected his quest window, but he would not have forgotten those three characters: HunterNet.

“Then… you cannot see the letters, can you?”

Was this some trick at his expense? The others claimed they could see torrents of black script surging skyward, but Wonhyo saw nothing of the kind.

Even now, looking in every direction, not a trace.

“For now, no.”

“Could it be an illusion spell?”

“But the Team Leader sees them too. How is it that an F-rank Awakener alone cannot?”

They speculated, but if the man himself had no idea, how could they?

“…Perhaps the talismans.”

“What do you mean?”

Wonhyo pointed toward the void where they said the letters were gathering in a pit.

“Before I entered, I sensed the aura of the won-gwi.”

He omitted the part where the General had shoved him here, and gave this as his reason for coming.

“But inside, the aura is not concentrated in one place. It’s scattered, diffused, spread everywhere. Like water sprayed into mist—it’s impossible to find its source.”

At this, Cheongmun lifted his eyes toward the heavens. Wonhyo followed, then added the thought most likely for why he alone could not see.

“And since my skill is talisman-making, it may be that others’ workings simply don’t affect me. Like an immunity.”

It was only a guess—he had never been caught by another’s talisman before. But if he could not see its effects, then that must be the reason.

And he knew too well of that cursed item they had encountered.

“…Can you dispel it?”

Cheongmun’s question made Wonhyo scratch his chin. If it was the effect of talisman or ritual, there was indeed a countermeasure.

“I know one. But I have none prepared—I would have to make it.”

He rarely used that type, so none had been made in advance. Away from his shrine, there was rarely a need. Still, there was no other way.

Wonhyo brought out a sacred golden cord and began by securing the space.

He pegged it into the ground with camping stakes, talismans dangling from its length. At once a protected zone shimmered into being.

Next, he drew purified water, washing his hands, rinsing his mouth.

Where it splashed, steam rose as though poured onto hot iron. He did not question it.

Once the preparations outside were finished, he stepped inside the circle.

If his rank’s seal were unlocked, he could have done this without such ritual. But now, every step mattered: purifying water, purifying paper, declaring aloud the talisman’s purpose, invoking heaven, earth, and divine spirits for their power.

“There is much evil in the world. Malignant forces wound mankind through corrupt methods. I beg for strength to strip away such sorcery, and to save lives.”

His prayer finished, he lit incense. As the smoke curled upward, he swiftly painted the Gui-gokjo-sa Ho-shin Pyeong-an Bu across the sheet.

There were countless talismans for suppressing spirits, but for undoing what others’ sorcery had wrought, this was the most potent.

He drew the symbols of Taiqing Taishan Laojun, Yuqing Yuanshi Tianzun, and Shangqing Tongtian Jiaozhu, then wrote one stroke after another beneath.

It was meant to be written in one breath, so he held his lungs tight as he swept the brush down the page.

He sealed the power within, ensuring none leaked out, then added the final figures to carry it forth.

Dropping the brush, he exhaled the breath he had been holding.

Chanting the last incantation, he passed the talisman over the incense flame to finish.

Not flawless, not the full rite, but enough to bring the desired effect.

“All done.”

He rose with the thin paper in hand. Plain though it looked, the others watched with expectation.

“What do we do now?”

“Burn it, scatter the ashes to the wind. That is… well…”

“If it’s easier to show, just do it. Need us to help?”

Cheongmun asked. Wonhyo shook his head.

This was no work for others’ hands. Nor was it difficult.

“I only need to send it upward.”

Normally one would burn it, dissolve the ashes in clean water, then drink or carry it. But here, to purify such vastness at once, he had altered it.

“I don’t know what might happen after, though.”

The special authority officers smiled faintly, waving his concern away.

“Don’t mind us. Do whatever you must.”

“We can handle it.”

Whether true or kind pretense, Wonhyo put aside doubt. He had to act.

Please, let it work.

He cast the talisman into the air.

Cheongmun cleared the swarming masses above, letting it rise smoothly.

“Higher?”

Wonhyo meant for it to reach the pit of black script none but they could see.

“A little higher.”

He tilted his head back, grasped his ritual implement, and shifted it into fan-shape.

He waved it, urging the talisman farther, farther—until it was but a faint blur.

There—he sensed it. Something foul, sticky, revolting.

At once he flared the talisman with energy and burned it.

It blazed blue, and as it turned to ash, he closed his eyes and envisioned a sword cleaving through corruption.