31. The Black God Cult

* * *

Crossing the quarantine wall proved trivial. The miasma here was negligible compared to Kim Seung-jun’s concentrated malice – like comparing background radiation to a nuclear blast zone. Not that it mattered to me.

Government indifference toward reclaiming these zones made sense. Why bother with Incheon’s lawless wastelands when North Korea’s gate-infested territories promised greater rewards? Chairman Choi’s push for reclamation always clashed with President Ha’s northern ambitions.

As I flew toward Incheon, the miasma thickened until the air itself seemed to curdle. “Demon Realm Incheon” indeed – the internet meme made manifest in this world. My White Flame purged the corruption in sweeping waves, leaving clean air in my wake.

A dog-like mutant attacked. I crisped it absently. Scavenging its miasma would be beneath me – a dragon doesn’t grovel for scraps. Especially not the mightiest of dragons.

Michuhol District’s epicenter held a derelict church – the Black God Cult’s former stronghold. Light still spilled from its windows despite the abandonment. Interesting.

Shifting my uniform into nun’s robes with a thought, I entered.

“That bastard Kim Jae-su stole our people! The ones we needed to rebuild!” raged a grizzled elder. “We should’ve known when he acted alone!”

So Jae-su had betrayed them too. Amateurish, relying on a single rogue element. Their incompetence almost made me reconsider using them. Almost.

“You have gate-openers among you,” I remarked, stepping into the light. “With them, striking the academy would’ve been trivial.”

“Who goes””?!”

Golden eyes gleaming, I silenced them with a glance. “Your so-called god.”

Their shock tasted delicious. I elaborated with Chaos magic – the same spell Azhidahaka used during the China massacre. Cultists drew weapons…only to turn them on each other in frenzied slaughter.

One minute later, I resurrected them with fresh miasma. Their newly awed expressions confirmed my hold.

“L-Lord Azhidahaka?”

“I’m no god. Just another creation.” Unlike my author, the real Yoo Eun-ha.

Yet they prostrated themselves. “To us, you are divinity!”

“Then why attack my academy?” I demanded, radiating menace.

The elder trembled. “The president condemns all mutants! Even those trapped behind the Wall by his policies!”

He wasn’t wrong. Korea had abandoned millions to mutation rather than evacuate them properly. The Cult fed on that resentment.

“And you became the monsters they feared,” I countered. “Now choose: serve me in uniting mutants against true criminals, or die wallowing in hatred.”

White Flame danced in my palm. They chose wisely.

“Songdo remains intact?” I asked.

“Yes, Lord.”

Perfect. The new city’s luxury penthouses would suit us better than this ruin. And keep us clear of Jin-seok’s territory. As we prepared to depart, one girl stood motionless amidst the bowing cultists – her eerily placid face triggering my meta-knowledge.

Ah. Her.