The Shaman Desires Transcendence

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The moon waxes and wanes.

The stars move and change their positions, the flora grows and withers, marking the passage of time.

And throughout this time, Park Jinseong quietly secluded himself in his building.

—O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodiisti, attingens a fine usque ad finem, fortiter suaviterque disponens omnia—-

—-come to teach us the way of wisdom—-

The grand music echoed throughout the entire building.

Lyrics praising the deity wrapped the building in the voices of the choir.

O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodiisti—-

Oh Wisdom, word of the Most High.

The repeated phrase said,

Grant us wisdom.

With power and grace, instruct us in wise intent.

And amidst that grand music, Park Jinseong quietly closed his eyes in meditation.

The windows adorned with colorful acrylic paper cast radiant light into the building, resembling the stained glass of a cathedral, while the cross painted in sheep’s blood glowed red, making its presence felt.

Countless small cross necklaces hung from the ceiling, twinkling as they reflected light, weaving a sacred luminosity as if stars floated in the sky. And the floor, blackened from burn marks, melded into that atmosphere, invoking a delusion that this place might as well be a universe.

Colorful lights settled down, and the sacred symbols shimmered in the sky, while darkness filled the earth.

Even with my eyes closed, I could feel its warmth—this must surely be His embrace.

I will praise that great grace and continue to do so.
I will sing praises and give thanks.

Park Jinseong continued his meditation with eyes shut.

He oscillated back and forth between a fuzzy mind and a clear one.

And then, a sudden pop resounded.

To outsiders, it would be a sound too small to notice, yet to Park Jinseong, it was uncomfortably loud. In truth, one could say it was a sound of fracture only he could distinctly hear.

It was a sound from within Park Jinseong himself.

‘It’s from the epidermis of my left foot.’

An explosive sound, a sound of bursting.

What Park Jinseong heard was the sound of his own instep bursting.

Just like when a water balloon filled beyond capacity bursts in a loud explosion, so too did his instep burst. The pus that had pooled there, unable to escape, finally erupted forth.

With a small yet pronounced sound, the burst pus sprayed around, mingled with blood, and began to stink. Blooming like a punctured wound, it started to bleed profusely.

But at that moment, a sound reverberated.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

The sound came from the cross necklaces hanging from the ceiling.

The silvery crosses swayed and produced a gentle clattering sound as they bumped into each other.

That clear sound harmonized with the hymns echoing throughout the building, warming Park Jinseong’s wounded instep amidst a cascade of colors.

And with the overflowing smell of blood, a miracle occurred.

The wound on Park Jinseong’s instep rapidly began to heal.

The foul odor dissipated, and the bloodied spots on the floor melted quickly into the ebony surface, leaving no trace behind.

Thus, Park Jinseong once again freed himself from pain and resumed his meditation.

But that respite was brief.

Boom.

Once more, the wound burst open.

And once again, it healed.

Pop.

Pop.

From his arms, his legs, his feet, his neck.

While Park Jinseong continued his meditation, the wounds kept appearing and healing in an endless cycle.

This was continuous suffering.

This was the reason Park Jinseong sequestered himself in the building over time, a trial that threatened his life.

This was the cost.

The cost of the magic that Park Jinseong performed in the collective unconscious.

The incessant pus pooling in various parts of his body would burst forth, threatening to corrupt him, and any slight impact or scrape would induce agony. Moreover, as if signaling his impurity, the pus emitted an exceptionally vile odor, attracting countless flies like greedy fish drawn to the sweet scent of wine.

To contain the harm caused by this cost, Park Jinseong set up what could be described as a sanctuary.

By covering a specific space with divine spells referred to as holy magic, he aimed to enhance his recovery and eradicate impurities, thus maintaining a perpetually clean environment.

Of course, utilizing these divine spells also burdened him with the cost of impaired blood clotting and an increased risk of bruising from minor shocks, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay.

And besides, there was no major issue in not moving around much.

Sizzle—

Sizzle.

A large wall-mounted TV began to turn on by itself, crackling with noise.

“[ Have you awakened, Deity? ]”

After the static cleared, a beautiful woman’s face appeared.

She had long black hair and a bluish tail.

Saigo Rise.

She was a shamaness serving Park Jinseong, managing affairs within Japan on his behalf.

The actual owner of the shrine without a god, and a seeker serving Park Jinseong.

And she was another eye, another representative of Park Jinseong.

Her face appeared on the TV in 8K quality, and she smiled brightly as she gazed upon Park Jinseong’s face, which also appeared in 8K. She then subtly straightened her posture, as if trying to present her attire better.

Was it an unconscious gesture, or a conscious seduction?

Thanks to a preset zoom setting, her skinny denim pants and sheer shirt—typical of college students—filled the screen, enhancing the prominence of her upper body as she moved.

“Looks good on you, Rise.”

Park Jinseong praised her, observing her appearance.

Perhaps due to the cost of magic, his voice was somewhat muffled, but what he said was clearly communicated to Rise.

Rise beamed at Park Jinseong’s compliment, her translucent tail swaying playfully.

With that, Park Jinseong continued the conversation with Rise.

It was a very mundane conversation.

Rise shared that those blessed by Park Jinseong wished to deepen their relationships, carrying their lineage to the shrine, even mentioning how the golden touch of Yasaki Tokitaka had increased the number of worshippers visiting. Politicians and businessmen nearby had donated generously, thus boosting the number of tourists.

The dialogue between Park Jinseong and Rise felt truly like that of a deity and shamaness.

Especially since their conversation never strayed from the topic of the shrine, it felt even more so.

“[ Among the visitors, there seems to be no special ones. Thanks to the TV promotion, the visitor count has increased, but… in fact, it seems that as it became more crowded, the famous ones are hesitating to come. Perhaps they fear being buried in the crowd? ]”

“That could be the case. The famous desire attention but paradoxically seek tranquil routine as well. If they’re not visiting the shrine with some purpose, then they likely wouldn’t want to burden themselves with the risk. Excessive crowds always carry risks,” said Park Jinseong.

“[ Ah, politicians have come by a few times. But most just heard about the ‘blessings’ vaguely, or they were merely sniffing around for a chance to mingle with those who were blessed. As your deity-ship mentioned, these half-hearted gatherings only dilute quality and weaken bonds, so I sent them away politely. ]”

But as the conversation continued, that mundane feeling began to fade away.

“[ However, everything has light and shadow. The once quiet shrine has become noisy and bustling, making it difficult for the blessed to visit… But on the flip side, the coins in the offering boxes are now piling up rapidly. Fast enough to create several ‘artificial lakes’. If you command it, we can get started right away. ]”

“Not yet. The heat hasn’t fully dissipated,” replied Park Jinseong.

“[ Yes. In the theory of the five elements, it is said that fire generates earth, but if that fire affects the ground and condenses, calamity is inevitable. In fact, there have been instances where the land purchased for the artificial lakes has cracked or landslides have occurred. ]”

“Is the number of water ghosts to be released in the artificial lakes sufficient?”

“[ Not really. It seems we could fill one or two artificial lakes, but anything beyond that might be tough. Raising water ghosts is… a bit challenging. But I’ve thought of an idea while watching Seitani. ]”

“What’s that?”

Rise looked radiant as she shared her idea sprung from observing the evil being Seitani.

“[ What do you think about an underwater tunnel? ]”

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