The carving on the motel wall was still hot.
Not glowing. Not smoking. Just hot. Like the words themselves hated being read.
Jung Min ran a hand across them. Burnt flesh smell hit his nose. He didn't flinch.
Azari stood behind him, barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, still clutching the relic in one hand like it was her last connection to reality.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
He didn't turn.
"It means we don't have time."
They left the motel ten minutes later. No bags. No plan. Just guns and bad decisions.
The city had shifted.
Not visibly. Not audibly. But the shadows were longer. The lights more fake. Even the stray dogs avoided the streets like they knew what was coming.
Jung Min led them into the old subway line—long since shut down, blocked off by rusted fencing and concrete warnings.
He shot the lock. It didn't echo.
Azari followed in silence. Down the stairs. Past torn posters of saints turned martyrs. Past dried blood and forgotten graffiti.
She finally spoke.
"Where are we going?"
"To see someone worse than me."
"Is that possible?"
Jung Min didn't smile.
The door was metal. No handle. Covered in chained rosaries, padlocks, and glyphs scratched by hands that shook while they etched.
Jung Min knocked three times. Then once. Then twice.
The door hissed.
And opened.
Smoke poured out. A figure stepped forward.
Thin. Eyes bagged like grave dirt. Bald. Sleeves rolled. Holding a teacup.
"Bullet Saint," he said, voice dry and bored. "Didn't think you were suicidal enough to come back here."
"Hi, Tae Kwon," Jung Min muttered. "Nice robe."
"Nice relic," he replied, looking at Azari. "You know what that is?"
Azari nodded. "Deus Machina."
Kwon stared.
"Shit."
He turned back toward the darkness.
"Come in, then. Before God notices."
Inside, it was chaos wrapped in incense. Relic pieces dangled from strings like charms. Candles lit in places that shouldn't need light. A map on the wall pinned with knives.
Jung Min dropped into a chair. Azari stood awkwardly.
Kwon pointed to her. "She activated it?"
"Yes."
"She alive?"
"Barely."
He nodded. "Then you're out of time."
He tossed something onto the table.
A photo. Grainy. Satellite-view.
It showed a church.
Upside down. Floating above a crater.
"The Order's assembling the Choir," Kwon said. "Saint Elders. Fallen Ones. Anyone who survived your massacre."
Jung Min leaned forward.
"Why?"
Kwon didn't answer right away.
He walked to the map. Pulled a knife out from where Seoul used to be.
"They're not trying to summon God," he said.
"They're trying to replace Him."
Azari stepped back. "That's insane."
Jung Min stood.
"No. That's exactly the kind of stupid shit they'd do."
Kwon lit a stick of incense.
"You want my advice?"
"No," Jung Min said.
"You're getting it anyway."
Kwon looked dead into his eyes.
"Kill the Choir before they finish the song. Or we all become part of the chorus."
Jung Min holstered his gun.
Then picked up the relic. It didn't resist.
Azari grabbed her backpack. She didn't ask where they were going.
Because now they knew.
Back on the surface, the wind was colder.
Not because of the season.
Because something had shifted in the sky.
A crack. Small. Barely visible. But there.
And from it, something was watching back.
Jung Min didn't look up.
He just lit a cigarette and walked toward war.
End of Volume 1
"No gods. Just lead."