An artifact is an object created through the use of magic.
It is not merely a charm mass-produced in a factory that only appears to be effective; rather, it is a genuine object imbued with magical powers. The nature of these “magical effects” varies depending on the purpose for which the artifact was created by the shaman, as well as the type of magic used in its creation.
It may enhance the condition of the one who holds it, bring about minor good fortune, possess the power to repel evil, or even exorcise malevolent spirits that have possessed someone.
However, it could also carry a curse, bringing terrible calamities upon the holder, causing death either to those around them or to the holder themselves. Alternatively, it might act as a kind of “mark,” drawing evil spirits and malevolent ghosts to it as bait.
Thus, artifacts are objects with a wide range of powers and abilities.
Of course, such objects are not treated lightly, as if they were mere pebbles on the ground.
Dangerous artifacts are often managed under strict supervision, while those with abilities that the common people covet can be sold at high prices, becoming treasured possessions for the wealthy. And in times of war, artifacts with strategic value may be treated as important military supplies.
These objects function on mechanisms different from those of magical artifacts. Naturally, they can sometimes demonstrate efficiency surpassing that of magic artifacts, even serving as a key to turning the tides in moments of crisis.
For this reason, valuable artifacts are often directly managed by nations or large corporations.
The powers contained within an artifact.
Alongside its value as a relic and its academic worth.
Artifacts deserve such treatment.
But Jinseong did not particularly approve of how artifacts received such treatment.
Or rather, while he acknowledged the reverence artifacts were given, he was not pleased that they were managed in closed-off, secretive places where no one else could access them.
Why?
It’s simple.
If artifacts are locked away in such secluded locations, they cannot be accessed.
Jinseong acknowledged the artifact’s value as a relic.
He acknowledged its academic worth.
And he acknowledged the worth of the powers it contained.
However, such value is meaningless unless the artifact is used, studied, observed, and experienced.
What difference is there between an artifact locked in a warehouse and a mere stone buried underground?
For this reason, Jinseong waited for the right moment to act.
Also, this activity provided him with a bit of extra income.
A small side income generated during the process of averting full-scale war between South Korea and Japan and turning future tragedies into minor disputes.
“Om Bazra Pahra Gagana Mala Hum.”
Perhaps this side income was not so minor after all.
*
Gyeonggi Province’s Paju was peaceful.
The ceaseless movement of soldiers along the Gyeongui Line, the lives of Paju’s residents, and the presence of foreign tourists roaming the streets with tour buses—all was as it had always been.
Paju seemed entirely unchanged, peaceful, and tranquil.
Soldiers moved about, their faces revealing their inner emotions. Those brimming with anticipation were likely on leave, while others showed reluctance, likely returning to their units. Tired soldiers were often officers, and those appearing physically or mentally fatigued had likely faced ghosts on the frontlines.
Foreign tourists wandered the streets of Paju with eager anticipation, riding buses, subways, and rental cars to visit the city’s famous tourist spots, taking in the exotic scenery. Some explored deep underground tunnels that were once set to spy on North Korea, then emerged to stretch their backs and necks. During daylight hours, they used telescopes, set up to observe the northern territories, exploring a fully cleared DMZ either on foot or via monorail.
In the midst of this, foreigners would occasionally scream at the sight of massive moths clinging to trees or the ground, the size of a human head. They gasped and yelled at the sight of brightly colored, hair-covered insects resembling jungle creatures. They were startled by the eerie “squeak” sound emitted by large grubs and nearly fainted when an enormous decorative moth flapped its wings, creating a threatening noise.
And yet, Paju remained unchanged.
Unchanged, it appeared at first glance.
“Hey, Paju isn’t such a bad place.”
“Is it Paju? Faju? Pajyu? Who cares, right? It’s not that important, is it?”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Could anyone know?
That an alien presence had infiltrated the serene everyday scene?
“Isn’t it more important to gather intel about the location than its name?”
They had infiltrated the daily life of Paju disguised as foreigners.
Blending seamlessly with the foreign tourists, their robust and rugged appearances were convincingly masked by casual travel wear. Like venomous snakes hiding among the earth and fallen leaves, they concealed themselves.
Casual tourist garb.
Bright, flashy, and practical clothing.
Their suitcases looked well-used, as if they’d seen frequent travel, with stickers covering their surfaces.
Even their large backpacks, slightly worn but visibly sturdy and filled to the brim, matched the profile of seasoned travelers.
But who could know?
That weapons were hidden in their clothes.
Explosives and materials concealed within their suitcases.
Forbidden equipment smuggled inside their backpacks.
“We have little time left before EENT (End Evening Nautical Twilight).”
They blended in innocuously, concealing their sharp blades and venomous fangs, waiting.
Waiting for their client.
For the employer who had hired them as mercenaries.
So they waited, and waited.
Until the sky grew dim, the world shrouded in blue twilight, and everything blurred.
And finally, the time came.
Rustle.
An unnerving presence moved between the shadowy trees.
It moved with the sound and manner of a wild animal but lacked its scent. Its movement mimicked living creatures but emitted noises akin to an insect with multiple legs.
Despite the subtle sounds, its body was large, its passage noticeable. Pushing through leaves and branches, this presence revealed itself.
It was human-like but not quite human.
The figure wore something akin to armor, but it gleamed black as though it were one with the darkness. This mysterious armor shimmered strangely, reflecting light in shifting hues depending on the observer’s perspective, evoking a repulsive association with cockroach shells.
And between its blackened plates, glimpses of gleaming gold appeared. Brilliant yet subdued, the gold only shone when exposed directly to light.
Crowned atop this armor was something far more grotesque—what should have been its head.
It was a monstrous, oversized mask that resembled an enlarged insect’s visage, utterly bizarre and repugnant.
Were this creature from a low-budget horror movie, it might resemble the insectoid monsters often depicted in such films.
Emerging from the shadows, this figure was as alien, grotesque, and revolting as something from a horror film.
Moreover, its posture was unnatural—its hunched back suggesting a grotesque deformity, with leg-like appendages akin to a spider jutting from its back and thighs.
These spider-like appendages weren’t simply decorative—they moved organically, assisting the creature’s movement, pushing aside branches as it carved a path forward.
Thus it moved.
This humanoid or insectoid being crept forward.
Its empty eye-holes emanated a fierce, blue fire, illuminating the darkness like lanterns as it advanced with its spider legs and bowed torso, crunching leaves and branches underfoot.
“Ah. All present… it seems.”
-It spoke.
“Are preparations complete…?”
Its voice grated, like nails on metal, and its question pierced the ears, embedding itself deeply in the brain.
Has everything been prepared?
Are there any hindrances to the impending operation?
Any variables overlooked?
In response to these questions, the team leader, addressing the client, affirmed.
“Of course. All preparations are complete, client.”
The team leader declared with certainty:
Everything was perfectly prepared. All requisites were secured, there were no variables, and everyone was in peak condition.
Upon hearing this, the grotesque being grinned.
Its fiery eyes curved into a half-moon shape, mimicking a smile, and it exuded a satisfaction tinged with malicious glee.
“Hmm…”
Then the creature looked upward, toward its target.
At a building surrounded by electrified fences.
“The timing… is perfect.”
And with that, the monster and the mercenaries moved.
To raid the building and take what lay inside.
“Let’s go.”
