Game 23: Lightning, Lies, and the Barrier
Park Min-jae (박민재) narrowed his eyes, the wrinkles around them deepening like storm clouds folding over a mountain. His voice was rough, clipped, laced with suspicion.
"What condition?"
The air between him and Han Tae-yang (한태양) felt charged, like a live wire dangling too close to water. The barrier hummed beside them, translucent and oppressive, blue light rippling across its surface like a heartbeat. Dust floated in shafts of moonlight cutting through the museum's cracked ceiling.
Tae-yang answered without hesitation, his tone calm but sharp, like a scalpel sliding through flesh.
"You have to keep channeling your lightning magic into this barrier. Continuous output. If you hold it, I can slip inside and retrieve what we need."
The old man tilted his head, skeptical. "And how long would I be stuck here, bleeding power, while you stroll in to pick souvenirs?"
Tae-yang didn't flinch. His lips twitched into something close to a smirk. "Long enough for me to go in, grab the artifacts, and come back. You just have to keep it alive long enough for me to push through."
Park Min-jae barked out a laugh, not the friendly kind, but the hollow rumble of someone used to smelling scams from three alleys away. "So what you're really saying is: while you enjoy yourself inside, I stand here, blowing out my reserves, making it easier for whatever's lurking behind that wall to eat me first. That about right?"
His sarcasm cracked like thunder, but Tae-yang stayed cool.
"Think of it this way," Tae-yang said, spreading his hands, palms up, as if balancing invisible scales. "I can't sustain the magic output myself. You can. You're the battery, I'm the key. Neither of us gets in alone. And, let's be honest, sky's already starting to brighten."
He tilted his head toward the shattered museum windows. True enough, pale threads of dawn had started to unravel in the sky outside. The world beyond was stirring. The chaos wouldn't remain confined to this building forever.
Tae-yang's voice dropped, steadier now. "We can't leave empty-handed. Not when we've come this far. I'll even sweeten the deal. You keep the map."
That hit. Park Min-jae's brows arched, just slightly.
"The map?"
"Yeah. You can have the Great Eastern Map. I don't need it. What I want is something else. Our goals don't clash."
The words hung there, bait glinting on a hook.
For a long moment, the old man said nothing. His fingers drummed against his lap, sparks of static flickering with every tap. His mind turned over possibilities, each one darker than the last. Worst-case scenario: I waste my strength, he runs with everything. Best-case: I get the map, and the boy keeps his mysterious 'something else.' But if I refuse… all of this collapses to nothing.
"You promised me," Min-jae said finally, voice like gravel dragged across stone. "Promised me that map."
Tae-yang met his gaze, not blinking. "Of course. I don't want to make an enemy of a high-level lightning mage. I like my skin un-fried."
That tiny flicker of humor softened the edges, but not by much. Min-jae studied him longer, searching for cracks. All he saw was a calm exterior wrapped around a too-sharp mind. Dangerous, but oddly reassuring.
Finally, the old man exhaled through his nose, sparks scattering faintly across his beard.
"No matter how much I think about it," he muttered, "this is the only way. It seems… I have to trust you."
The words tasted bitter. Trust, to him, was more dangerous than any curse.
Tae-yang grinned, the kind of grin that suggested he'd just sold someone a broken TV and convinced them it was a home theater system. "Then I'll rely on you, Beard-Sensei."
"…What did you just call me?"
"Nothing."
Min-jae gave him one last glare, then placed his hand firmly on the barrier. Mana surged.
The museum shook.
Lightning bled from his palm in thick streams, veins of white-blue power spiderwebbing across the surface of the barrier. Each bolt crackled with a sound sharp enough to stab ears. Sparks leapt into the air, searing scorch marks into the floor.
The barrier fought back, rippling violently, but the old mage's magic pinned it in place. Fine cracks began to spread outward, glowing lines spidering across the translucent wall.
Tae-yang's eyes lit up. His heart thudded like a gamer seeing a health bar finally dipping after hours of punishment.
"That's it," he breathed. "Perfect."
Tae-yang said a word in Latin phrase only for the system to hear him and no one else.
The system chimed in, as if trolling him.
[ Condition Triggered: Temporary Weakness Detected. Passage Time Limit: 47 seconds. ]
Tae-yang's grin widened. "That's plenty."
He crouched low, muscles taut, energy coiling in his body like a spring. The floor beneath him trembled, his shadow stretching long under the crackling blue glow.
Then he shot forward.
Every step hammered against the marble floor, shards of stone skittering in his wake. His lungs pulled tight with the sting of ozone. His vision tunneled, locked on the opening ahead.
"Move it, boy!" Park Min-jae barked, his voice strained under the effort of channeling. Lightning crawled up his arms, licking his shoulders, sparks burning tiny holes in his sleeves. Sweat dripped down his temple, sizzling the moment it touched his skin.
Tae-yang didn't answer. He just ran.
The barrier loomed like a wall of frozen ocean, every ripple sharp, alive, hungry. Its surface pulsed, light surging in violent waves as if it resented his approach.
He hit it head-on.
The world flashed white-blue. His body stretched, warped, like clay yanked through a keyhole. For a split second, it felt like drowning in lightning. Every nerve screamed, muscles convulsing, breath ripped away.
Then, he was through.
Air rushed back into his lungs. His feet skidded across polished stone on the other side. He stumbled, caught himself, and straightened, chest heaving.
Behind him, the barrier flickered, Min-jae roaring as he forced more power into it.
"Hurry up!" the old man shouted, his voice muffled through the wall but still laced with command.
Tae-yang turned, grinning through the pain buzzing across his nerves. He raised a hand in a lazy salute.
"Yes, sir. I'll make it quick."
But his eyes hardened, and his grin thinned.
I'll try my best… but in my own way.
The hall before him stretched into darkness, lined with towering relics and artifacts sealed behind glass and stone. The air was thicker here, humming with mana so dense it felt like syrup clogging his throat. Every breath carried the weight of centuries, the whispers of old gods, the metallic tang of treasures not meant for mortal hands.
And somewhere in that blackened silence… something moved.
He clenched his jaw, stepping deeper into the shadows, each footfall echoing like a drumbeat in his skull.