"Where the Codex breathes, memory burns; and those who write its truth must bleed ink, faith, and bone."
The Harbor Of Shifting Fog
Busan Harbor lay submerged beneath a shroud of fog so thick that the cranes appeared ghostlike against the mist. Sirens wailed from an unseen distance, while floodlights pulsed against the vapor, failing to penetrate its depths.
From the rooftop of a rust-scarred control tower, Marian Dela Fuente observed smugglers loading containers destined for a sealed tunnel beneath the docks. Her Sundang thrummed against her palm, its rhythm syncing with her heartbeat.
Through her earpiece, a low voice emerged.
Min-jun: "지하 터널로 들어가고 있습니다."
(They're moving it into the tunnels.)
Marian: "지금이 기회입니다. 네가 앞장서요."
(This is our window. You lead the way.)
They met at the pier's edge—two silhouettes framed by sodium haze. No handshake was exchanged; instead, they shared a mutual glance, professionals prioritizing necessity over trust.
They slipped through a maintenance hatch beside Pier 16 and descended into the darkness.
On the surface, two dockworkers smoked behind a stack of containers. The shorter one muttered, "형, 이 안개… 이상하지 않아?"
("Hyung, this fog… doesn't it feel wrong?")
His partner shrugged until the harbor lights flickered thrice, revealing shadows moving where no people stood. Both men bolted, leaving their burning cigarettes on the concrete.
Descent Into The Undercity
The spiral staircase creaked with each step. Rust and salt fused the handrails into crusted shapes; dripping water echoed like a metronome. Faded Hangul along the wall read: Do Not Enter—Dead Air. Their relics cast a pale glow, one gold, one silver.
Min-jun: "이곳은 오래된 도시의 그림자입니다."
(This place is the city's shadow.)
Marian: "유물은 그림자와 같습니다—기억이 견딜 수 없는 것을 감추죠."
("Relics are like shadows—they conceal what memory cannot bear.")
At the base, the Undercity opened before them—collapsed tram tunnels half-submerged in brine, flickering emergency lights painting the rails blood-red.
Dozens of smugglers were hauling a glowing crate onto a rail cart. The faint hum was unmistakable: Codex energy.
Min-jun: "그 안에 조각이 있습니다."
(The fragments are inside.)
Marian drew her Sundang; vapor bled from the blade's edge. Min-jun crouched beside a rusted column, signaling a three-count with his fingers. On the third count, they moved.
The first guard never saw the strike—Marian's Mountain Mist Form burst outward, transforming her shape into vapor. She passed through a beam of light, re-forming behind him with a muffled choke and a quiet drop.
Across the chamber, Min-jun's Haechi Resonance Cut cleaved a rifle in half; the arc of his blade produced a high-pitched ring that distorted sound itself. Alarms blared.
"좌측 방면!" ("Left flank!"), Min-jun barked.
Marian rolled behind cover, kicked a valve open. Steam blasted outward, obscuring their positions.
Bullets ricocheted wildly, sparks biting into the damp walls. She countered with a palm strike, converting the mist into a concussive burst that hurled two men into the flooded rail pit.
"밸브 닫아!" ("Close the valve!"), he shouted. She twisted the wheel; pressure reversed, condensing steam around her as a protective veil.
The firefight intensified—close quarters filled with flashes of steel and light.
Each movement followed commands: "오른쪽!" ("Right!") "지금!" ("Now!"). Their rhythm sharpened with every exchange until they moved as a single entity.
A stray round pierced a transformer. Blue arcs of electricity crawled along the ceiling, igniting old oil. Flames flickered; smoke rolled back toward them, filling the space with copper and ozone. Marian slid beneath the sparks, driving her blade into a control panel.
The subsequent surge detonated the overhead lights; the shockwave flung debris across the tunnel.
When silence finally settled, the air tasted of ash and burnt metal. The smugglers lay scattered, moaning.
The crate split open, its interior glowing like a heartbeat trapped within crystal.
Marian approached, her eyes reflecting the pulsing light. Min-jun's blade hummed beside her.
"조심해요," he warned softly.
("Be careful.")
She reached toward the fragment—and the light recoiled, as if alive, breathing her name.
The Shadow Awakens
The heartbeat of the crate quickened until the glow fractured. Ink poured from the seams, initially like smoke, then like oil infused with thought. The fragments lifted into the air, rotating, glyphs crawling over their surfaces in black fire.
Min-jun: "무언가 깨어납니다."
(Something is waking up.)
The ink struck the floor, forming limbs. Letters peeled from the walls and reshaped into ribs, claws, and a mask that screamed without sound.
The Codex Shadow stood—ten feet of scripture wrapped in wind.
Marian steadied her stance.
Marian: "목표는 고체 질량이다. 관절을 노려라."
("Target mass solid. Aim for the joints.")
"Copy," Min-jun replied, already in motion.
He lunged, Haechi Resonance Cut igniting in a streak of white heat.
The arc cleaved through the creature's arm, sending glyphs that burned holes into the concrete. Marian followed, her Mountain Mist
Form dispersing her into vapor that coiled around the monster's other limb. When she re-formed, she snapped the Sundang upward, severing fingers made of ink.
The creature retaliated, slamming a claw through a column. Rebar exploded outward, water flooding in from broken pipes.
Shockwaves rippled through the floor. Min-jun called, "후퇴, 재정렬!"
(Fall back, re-align!)
They dove behind a half-collapsed service platform as the ceiling tore open. Water poured in, filling the chamber waist-deep. Lights shorted out one by one, plunging them into a strobing darkness.
In a side corridor, a maintenance worker—a second civilian—stumbled toward the noise, his flashlight trembling. For an instant, he beheld the impossible: two humans battling a creature composed of living calligraphy. He turned to flee, but the floor split beneath him; concrete consumed him entirely.
"그럼 역사를 멈춰야죠!" Marian shouted.
("Then we stop history itself!")
Together they charged. Min-jun struck low while she struck high; the impact forced the Shadow backward into a pillar.
Glyphs screamed, blinding flashes of language spiraling outward. The relics in their hands pulsed in sync.
Dual Resonance Bind -The Sundang's mist entwined with the Bonguk Geom's light; both relics fused their energy into a spiraling spear that drilled through the Shadow's core.
Ink exploded across the chamber. The shockwave hurled them into opposite walls; water and debris cascaded down.
When the haze cleared, the creature had vanished—only the fragments remained, drifting like burned leaves into deeper tunnels.
The Keepers Of False Truths
From the silence emerged laughter—low, measured, and feminine.
Magda: "Still chasing ghosts, anak? Still pretending the Republic tells you the truth?"
She stepped from the smoke, the whip of the Tanikala ng Guniguni trailing sparks across the flooded rail. Her hair clung to her face, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.
Beside her floated Mia, the Aklat ng Katotohanan, its pages glowing with inner fire.
Min-jun: "누구냐?"
(Who are you?)
Magda: "기억의 여사제들. 너희가 숨긴 진실을 되찾으러 왔지."
(Priestesses of memory. We came to reclaim the truths your nations buried.)
Marian lowered her blade. "You shouldn't be here, Magda."
"Oh, but I should," Magda purred. "You carry what belongs to us."
Mia's book flipped open; ink dripped upward. Illusions unfolded across the tunnel walls—alternate histories flickering like newsreels: empires that never fell, heroes who never lived.
Magda cracked her whip, each strike collapsing one vision into another until the air itself warped.
Min-jun raised his sword, light stabilizing the scene. "이거 전쟁이야."
("This is war.")
Magda: "그럼 싸워라."
("Then fight,")
Magda: Illusion Rewrite.
Mia: Truth Inversion.
The world convulsed. The rails twisted into serpents of steel; the ceiling melted into sky. Min-jun's reflection multiplied a dozen times, each attacking from a different angle. Marian spun through them, her mist form flickering between copies in search of the real foe.
Magda's whip caught her arm; pain coursed through her muscle. "Still the soldier, still the obedient child."
Marian yanked free, the Sundang leaving a silver scar across Magda's shoulder. Steam hissed from the wound—illusionary flesh unraveling.
Mia tore pages from her book, chanting softly. Each sheet birthed phantom soldiers—colonial uniforms marching through the flooded corridors. They fired muskets of light; walls cracked, water boiled. The entire Undercity trembled.
Marian: "민준, 오른쪽 측면!"
("Min-jun, right flank!")
He vaulted over a crate, sword flashing in an upward diagonal. The Haechi Ward Formation erupted from the impact, white sigils spinning into a shield that deflected spectral bullets. The protective ring collapsed inward, releasing a pressure wave that shattered glass conduits along the wall.
Electricity arced into the water, frying half the illusions instantly.
"You call that history?" Marian spat. "It's propaganda."
Mia smiled. "Truth is perspective."
The fog thickened again, glowing from unseen sources. The air reeked of burnt oil and ozone, and the floor trembled beneath their boots as another section of the ceiling crumbled.
The Clash Beneath Busan
The collapse was total. Reinforced concrete screamed as girders snapped, sending rust and dust spiraling down. Steam vents erupted; boiling water surged across the tram rails. Min-jun grasped Marian's shoulder, shouting over the cacophony.
Min-jun: "좌우 협공!"
(Flank them!)
Marian: "로저!"
("Roger!")
They separated, flanking the Babaylans through the wreckage. Sparks rained from the ceiling. Magda swung her whip in a wide arc.
Magda: Memory Coil.
The strike split into three afterimages, each darting toward them from different angles.
Marian dropped, the lash slicing the air inches above her head. Min-jun intercepted the second strike with...
Min Jun: 해치 공명 카운터.
(Haechi Resonance Counter.)
He deflected energy back in a concussive pulse that shattered nearby glass.
The chamber erupted into chaos. Pipes burst; jets of flame illuminated the mist. The ground trembled underfoot. Mia raised her book.
Mia: Truth Script Burst.
Glyphs exploded outward like shrapnel, each carrying a half-formed reality. Images flickered—battlefields, burning temples, the weight of centuries colliding.
Marian slammed her hand to the floor.
Marian: Mountain Mist Form — Second Veil!
Vapor surged outward like a living entity, shielding her body and spreading across the battlefield.
Marian: "민준, 두 시야!"
("Min-jun, two o'clock!")
He dove through the mist, his blade blazing white. Together they moved with tactical precision—fog masking his approach, light marking his targets. Each command came sharp, military: "Advance!" "Rotate!" "Cover left!"
Their rhythm merged into a singular heartbeat of motion.
The Babaylans retaliated in perfect unison.
Magda cracked her whip into the flood, transforming water into liquid mirrors that reflected endless corridors.
Mia inscribed sigils in the air, each one rewriting gravity.
Marian's boots slid across walls that no longer recognized which way was down; Min-jun anchored himself by stabbing his blade into the steel floor.
Min Jun: "우리 동기화해야 해!"
("We need to sync!")
Marian: "해봐!"
("Do it!")
Marian and Min Jun: Skill Synchronization Initiated —
Fog-Light Resonance!
Marian dissolved into mist. Min-jun focused, channeling the Bonguk Geom's light through her vapor.
The tunnel glowed as fog refracted the brilliance into a spiraling column. When they struck, it was akin to lightning striking water—pure kinetic fury.
The spiral cleaved through the illusions, through the mirrored water, through the rail itself. The blast rocked the entire district; seawater surged in from ruptured conduits.
Magda and Mia staggered under the assault. The Aklat's pages ignited; the Tanikala's links glowed molten red. Yet, even amid their injuries, they smiled.
Mia: "이건 끝이 아니다."
(This isn't the end.)
Magda: "다음엔 진실이 우리 편일 거야."
(Next time, truth will side with us.)
Marian lunged, but the fog folded inward, engulfing both sisters.
Their laughter echoed as the Undercity crumbled around the combatants.
The Silence After
The last remnants of the roof gave way. They dashed through falling debris, diving behind a collapsed wall as the chamber flooded completely. Steam and silt choked the air. When the tremors subsided, only the hiss of cooling metal remained.
A faint glow pulsed beneath the water. Marian waded in and retrieved a half fragment of the Codex—still warm, its glyphs fading. Across from her, Min-jun retrieved the other half.
They faced one another through the mist.
Marian: "끝났다고 생각하나요?"
(Do you think it's over?)
Min-jun: "이건 시작일 뿐입니다."
(It's only the beginning.)
She nodded, exhausted, both relics humming faintly as if echoing the same thought. Water dripped from the ceiling in a steady rhythm. The two operatives climbed the broken incline toward the service shaft, emerging into the pale dawn.
Busan's skyline smoldered faintly where the harbor had ruptured.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Somewhere amid the fog, a crow perched on a rusted beam, its eyes reflecting shifting glyphs. It tilted its head once, as if taking inventory of the living, then vanished into the gray.