The Heretic of Cleric Academy-Chapter 80

Sorcery doesn’t work. In that case, I had no choice but to respond using the power of the Loa.

What I could use immediately were Bosu’s power that I had been using all along, and Marinette’s power that I had used to burn the ropes binding Kang Ji-ah.

There was a risk of putting strain on my body if I used additional Loa powers simultaneously, so for now, these two powers were all I could use.

[Tired. Offerings. Insufficient. Can’t do it.]

However, Marinette’s condition was not very good. This was because I hadn’t offered any sacrifices to Marinette recently.

It had been a retaliatory measure for betraying me and siding with Han Su-yeop, but that had instead become poison.

The moment I used Marinette’s power while passing through the gates of the ark, Marinette’s strength was already at rock bottom.

[I, Bosu, am in "perfect condition."]

On the other hand, Bosu was in good condition. In that case, I needed to make maximum use of Bosu’s power. However, first, the darkness was bothersome, and second, the unidentified liquid covering the floor was bothersome.

The sticky sounds that came with each step of the taxidermy were also because of this liquid on the floor. If I made any large movements carelessly, there was a risk of slipping and falling on the liquid. Just like Kang Ji-ah had fallen while trying to escape.

Splat, splat, splat.

In the meantime, the taxidermy were slowly approaching me. Their steps weren’t fast, but the steps approaching me as if tightening formation were threatening beyond measure.

However, I hadn’t come here to fight in the first place. I had simply come here to save Kang Ji-ah. There was no need to continue an unfavorable fight. It was right to postpone the fight for later and escape for now.

After making my decision, just as I was about to leave the room while being careful not to slip.

Thwack!

Something struck the back of my head hard. I’d never been hit by a car, but if I were hit by a car, it might feel like this - such a strong impact. A bell-like sound rang in my head, and my vision spun around. Through my hazy vision, I could see the pervert holding his belly and laughing uproariously, and a bizarrely shaped taxidermy flying around in the sky like a bird. It seemed like that bird taxidermy had hit the back of my head.

"Did you think I’d just let you escape? If I lose you too, my head will fly off. You can’t leave. Just quietly become material. Wouldn’t that be easier for both of us?"

"...Ugh."

I tried to give some response, but words wouldn’t come out well. Whether it was because my head hurt or simply because I was out of stamina, I couldn’t tell. The taxidermy were still approaching me with their sticky steps.

"Grr..."

I tried to get up from where I was. Just that alone caused rough groans to flow from my mouth.

Swoosh!

However, I failed. Even getting up was no ordinary task. When I lightly touched the back of my head after falling, it was damp. Blood was smeared on my palm. I could feel blood trickling from my head. When the blood flowing from the back of my head finally reached my nape, strength drained from my body and my hands and feet began to grow cold.

I was dying.

That was more intuition than realization. My whole body ached as if it were screaming. My entire body was crying out in agony. The taxidermy had already approached right in front of me. A taxidermy with six arms clenched three fists simultaneously.

Crash!

I rolled my body to dodge. Concrete powder scattered from the taxidermy’s fist that struck the innocent floor instead. If I hadn’t forced my body to move using Bosu’s power to dodge, I probably would have died. Imagining it made my spine chill eerily.

[My power is exceeding your limits. If you do more, you’ll die.]

"It’s... fine, ugh..."

[This isn’t an illusion. This time you’ll really die.]

It was Bosu’s advice. However, without even time to make a judgment, the next attack rushed in.

Thud!

"Gasp...!"

A spider taxidermy with eight legs but no head kicked at me. My solar plexus, hit by it, became hot while simultaneously aching coldly. It was sharp pain as if I’d been stabbed by a knife. For a moment, my breath stopped.

"Don’t die. Making taxidermy while alive is more fun-"

[The vessel is insufficient to contain all of me. If only you had exercised a bit more-]

"If you think you’re going to die, raise your hand. Then I’ll stop-"

[Still, if you really want it-]

The pervert’s and Bosu’s voices alternately rang in my head. Their words entered through my ears and left through the opposite ear without passing through my brain.

I barely managed to get up and emit Voodoo magic power. I used restoration sorcery on the blood flowing from the back of my head and my apparently burst internal organs.

The injuries healed but the pain remained, so my legs supporting my body trembled as I barely managed to stand.

"As expected, Voodoo practitioners are good for this. Their life force is tough. Like, like eternal underground friends, cockroaches. Hahaha."

Looking at me getting up, the pervert spoke in a tone tinged with laughter. I raised my hand. The pervert raised his eyebrows as if puzzled.

"Oh, do you think you’re going to die? Should we stop? Hey, but if you surrender this quickly-"

Crack!

I twisted the taxidermy’s neck with the hand I had raised. The neck of the six-armed taxidermy stretched out like rubber.

Splat.

Soon, with a squishy sound, the taxidermy’s body collapsed to the floor.

"Shut up, you noisy bastard..."

The pervert talked too much. That chattering tone kept spinning in my head, accelerating my headache.

Suddenly I thought of Yeo Min-seo.

Yeo Min-seo also used to constantly distract me with unnecessary words during sparring. The common point between the Satan worshipper and Yeo Min-seo was that both were irritating existences to me.

Of course, the Satan worshipper was incomparably more irritating than Yeo Min-seo.

I strode toward the pervert. Targeting the taxidermy was stupid. It seemed like a wise decision to target that pervert who was commanding the taxidermy.

"Oh!"

The pervert let out an exclamation while looking at me. I ignored it and kept walking. No matter how much I walked, the distance didn’t seem to close but only grow further.

Kick!

While I was walking, something kicked my side. It was an attack from the spider taxidermy.

"Ah, what a shame. That must hurt."

The pervert spoke mockingly. I groaned and rolled on the floor. This time my ribs seemed to be broken. Blood gushed up from my mouth. Breathing was difficult. I could clearly feel blood filling my lungs.

Would restoration sorcery heal it?

It would heal for now, but I was worried about later. This time it wasn’t a matter of losing consciousness or fainting. I really could die.

No, was there any meaning in worrying about later at this moment? Death was flickering before my eyes. When I should be worrying about whether I’d live or die right now, worrying about later was foolish.

Clatter.

Then, the box I had put in my chest when leaving fell and dropped to the floor. A wooden box with no decorations, just crude and rough. A relic left by Father.

I used all my strength to raise my left hand. Fortunately, the ring on my pinky finger hadn’t come off and remained in place.

[Now.]

I heard a voice. Was it Marinette’s voice, or Bosu’s voice? Or it could have been Legba’s or Baron Samedi’s voice.

Due to the multiple impacts on my body and the resulting pain throughout my entire body, it was difficult to distinguish the owner of the voice.

But there was no need to distinguish. If not now, there would be no chance to open the box. By the time I barely saved my life through the ’Contract of the Dead,’ it would be too late. Because I didn’t know what Baron Samedi would take as payment for the contract.

Click.

I fitted the ring to the box.

Creak...

With an ominous sound, the box’s lid opened, and sorcery mist flowed out from it.

Like the faint and thin mist that had come out when the jewel cracked the first time I put on the ring. The mist soon entered through my nose and eventually overwhelmed my consciousness.

* * *

What I see is a mirror, and Father. I groom my hair. Father beyond the mirror also grooms his hair following me. I am glimpsing Father’s memories. Through Father’s eyes, looking at the mirror and seeing Father.

And a forgotten memory suddenly returns. I opened the box, and I’m seeing an illusion due to the mist that flowed out from the box. It was a belated realization.

"Huh, this feels stranger than I thought? This is trouble, big trouble."

I speak. Accordingly, Father beyond the mirror also speaks.

I, and Father beyond the mirror, seem to find this situation quite awkward.

With a slightly reddened face, Father turns his gaze here and there, then finally stares straight at the mirror and opens his firmly closed mouth.

"Now, Seon-woo. By the time you see this, I’ll be dead!"

Despite the content, Father’s tone was nothing but cheerful.

"That’s obvious. I made this box to leave as a relic in the first place... Anyway. What’s Jin-seong doing these days? If your uncle tries to invest, make sure to stop him. He’s someone who shouldn’t invest. He has no luck with money."

Uncle lost money trading stocks last time.

The answer doesn’t reach Father and just remains as a thought. I haven’t entered Father’s memory but am merely glimpsing the memory Father left behind.

"Oh right, I told Jin-seong to pull some strings to get you into school. How was school? You didn’t drop out, did you?"

I hesitate to answer Father’s question. It’s because I hadn’t attended school long enough to say how it was. Contrary to Father’s expectation, I opened this box before even becoming an adult.

"From experience, high school memories last a lifetime. Friends... not a lifetime but they last long. Anyway, I hope you had an enjoyable school life. Ah, this wasn’t what I was going to talk about."

Father dry-washing his face. The hair he had carefully groomed becomes disheveled.

"Sigh..."

A sigh. His expression clearly shows his complicated feelings. This is the first time I’ve seen Father sigh.

"Right. Father... that is, your grandfather was skilled in reproduction sorcery. His sorcery output wasn’t overwhelmingly powerful, but he knew how to control the output. It’ll be helpful to know."

Father says. I don’t know why he’s suddenly introducing Grandfather’s background, but since he says it’ll be helpful, I decide to listen carefully.

"Yes, this should be enough. And..."

Father hesitates as if reluctant to speak, moving his lips slightly. His pupils are trembling faintly.

Complex emotions that might be fear or anxiety appear on Father’s face, but I can’t tell exactly what emotion it is. I cannot read Father’s emotions.

"I’m sorry for leaving too early. I’ll be waiting, so you should live as long and comfortably as possible... and come find me much later."

Father speaks after pondering. His tone is forcibly bright. For a moment, a sharp pain comes to my chest as if my heart had stopped.

I think I might meet Father too early. Perhaps I could meet Father right now.

Father runs his palm over his lips as if bitter. He seems to be trying hard to hold back tears. However, Father’s eyes are dry without a trace of moisture.

"Ah, I’m not even going to die right now but I’m already doing this..."

"Hey, mister!"

Then, at the sharp voice that struck the back of his head, Father turns around. Beyond the mirror, I see Mother approaching Father with angry steps.

’Mister’ was Mother’s term of endearment that wasn’t quite a term of endearment for Father.

"What time is it and you’re doing this. Let’s go out quickly, hurry!"

"Oh, really. I was trying to get emotional for once and you’re interrupting."

"What emotion. Just hurry up and put on some clothes-"

"Dad."

What interrupted Mother’s words was me. Me from the distant old days of childhood that I can’t even remember now.

The innocence that clearly emanates from that face and those eyes makes me feel sadness.

Father also feels sadness. Finally, moisture forms in Father’s eyes looking at young me.

"Dad, why are you crying?"

"Huh? What, crying? Did you see Dad crying? I’m not crying."

"Dad sticks out his tongue when he lies."

"...I raised a little tiger. Anyway, I’m not crying. Something just got in my eye."

Father laughs heartily as if it’s no big deal. Young me looks at such a Father. Those eyes are filled with puzzlement. The puzzlement soon disappears.

Eventually, emptiness fills the eyes of young me looking at Father. Me staring at Father with blank eyes. The gaze is deep and dark as if it would be sucked in.

"You’re crying. Right now."

Young me says. Father looks at the mirror.

"Huh?"

In the mirror is me. Not Father, but the current me. Beyond the mirror, both the current me and childhood me can be seen together.

Young me and current me are both looking at the mirror. Young me is looking at current me, and current me is looking at young me. We’re looking at ourselves from different timelines reflected beyond the mirror.

Young me. A smile full of innocence on my lips and eyes sparkling brightly. Skin without a single blemish and neat hair without a speck of dust... Current me. A mouth that has forgotten how to smile and haggard eyes. Incomparably dried skin and brittle hair. From the empty gaze filled with skepticism, a single tear is flowing down.

"Ah."

Young me and current me. At the stark contrast shown by those two people, indescribable sadness washes over me.

However, only a single tear flows. I resent that single tear. The emotions that have washed over me are too thick and heavy to be completely expressed in a single tear.

"...Seon-woo."

I wipe away tears and call myself. Young me looks at me with round eyes as if puzzled.

From my mouth flows not my voice but Father’s voice.

"Make choices you won’t regret. Always."

Crack.

Father’s advice, and also my advice. And the mirror breaks. The cracks in the mirror flow to the wall and flow into the air, eventually breaking the world. The familiar darkness that flowed out from the cracks in the fissures welcomes me.

Crash!

The world collapses. Mother who was prettier and more beautiful than anyone, Father who hid his sadness with humor, young me who hadn’t lost innocence - all of them.

They all collapse and disappear along with the collapsing world. Light disappears and darkness fills my vision.

"What’s that? A box? Was there a final weapon inside the box, that kind of story?"

Someone’s voice. Not Mother, not Father, not young me, but a Satan worshipper. The voice of the pervert wearing human skin over his face.

The sweet illusion collapsed, and cold reality arrived. The pain that had disappeared wrapped around my body. At the surging pain, my fingertips trembled. My mouth opened involuntarily.

"...Ugh..."

From my open mouth flowed bizarre groans that didn’t seem human and drool trickling down.

There was no part of my body that didn’t hurt. Arms, legs, everything - it felt like all the muscles in my body had been torn to shreds.

Pain.

The problem was pain. Even using Bosu’s power, even healing injuries with restoration, the pain remained. My body was refusing to move due to the overwhelming pain.

I tried to lift my head to assess the situation, but even that was impossible. Rolling my eyes was all I could manage.

"Ah..."

Taxidermy staring at me with unfocused eyes. Beyond the taxidermy, the pervert bastard giggling and mocking me. The unidentified liquid abundant on the floor. The thick and sticky darkness and dim blood-red lighting.

Below that, white powder was pouring out from the open box. What had originally been white had taken on a somewhat yellowish tint from age.

"Make choices you won’t regret."

The advice Father had given me. Also the advice I had given to my childhood self flashed through my mind.

Choices without regret.

Whoo.

The last strength I mustered with all my might. With that strength, I blew air toward the powder spilled before my eyes. The powder scattered.

"Is it drugs? What you’re doing while dying is just-"

Whoosh!

The pervert’s words couldn’t continue and disappeared. Mist erupted from the powder. The mist soon became Voodoo magic power, and the Voodoo magic power gradually took shape as a temple.

Eventually, a temple emanating the eerie aura of death appeared before my eyes. In the center of the temple, someone was sitting on a chair decorated gorgeously with gold and bones.

[We’ve been meeting often lately. Well, your intentions are obvious but I’ll ask out of courtesy.]

Baron Samedi.

The Loa of death.

In the darkness created by the brim of his pressed silk hat, his red eyes flickered like flames.

I was kneeling before him. There was no pain. On my palm, the white and yellowish powder that had been contained in the box was piled up softly.

[What brings you to call me this time?]

Baron Samedi’s question.

Swoosh.

There was no need to answer.

I simply scattered the powder piled on my palm into the air.

Then a smile formed on Baron Samedi’s lips. It was cold and bloody, as if containing the chill of death. It wasn’t just the smile. All the scenery of the temple surrounding Baron Samedi suggested death.

Yet I didn’t feel afraid. Rather, it was comfortable, familiar, and cozy.

"I offer the flesh of my ancestor to the Loa of death."

The identity of the powder I scattered was the bone powder of Do Jun-gil, the first cult leader of Voodoo and my grandfather.

"I request that you twist death and perform the ’Succession Ritual.’"

It is the material for the ’Succession Ritual’ and also the only sacrifice that can be offered to Baron Samedi.