Warlords (2)

There's a saying called "backing mountains and facing water." It means the ideal spot for building a south-facing structure is one with mountains at your back and flowing water in front. In winter, the mountains block the cold northern winds, and the river provides easy access to daily water and supply routes. It's famous wisdom passed down from our ancestors, but it doesn't apply to Shelter.

First off, even if there's a river in front of the shelter, you'd need to lay pipes to bring the water in—and extending structures outside carries risks. The best case is when the site itself ties into a water source. Our shelter draws seawater through intake pipes from the rear cave tunnel leading to the ocean. Groundwater isn't ideal for large-scale shelters. It recharges slowly or not at all, risking depletion, and overuse can create voids that lead to ground collapse.

Second, the surroundings should be wide open for easy transport, far from population centers, and in barren wilderness. That prevents refugees or raiders from swarming and makes it easier to dispatch teams outside in emergencies.

Third, stable ground. Easy enough in Korea's granite bedrock.

Fourth, mountains. It's better to hollow out under a mountain like a lid than dig straight down from flat ground. The soil, rock, and trees provide natural insulation. You can use the mountain's interior space and limit enemy attack routes to the main entrance. No worries about drills boring from above or getting bombed, at least. The peak can even serve as a helipad or observation post.

Our nest checks every one of these boxes perfectly. Why bring this up? Because after going into emergency lockdown, we're finally considering outside intruders for the first time.

"They're coming this far out?"

A sealed mid-size standard vehicle, a cargo truck, and two civilian trucks had pushed into the outskirts of Suncheon City, raiding a gas station. Lee Man-cheol's scouting party out of Gohung.

Of course, countless miles and infected hordes still separated them from our nest. But this was the first time we'd observed a sizable detachment operating inland beyond the Noise Trees.

Five Walkers charged them but got turned into hives and dropped. A captain with insignia led active-duty soldiers into the store. Moments later, yellow flashes lit the darkness inside.

This was a mixed unit of uniformed soldiers and middle-aged civilians in regular clothes. Weapons varied wildly: standard-issue rifles, old K2s, even M16A1s still handed out to civil defense geezers abusing elders. Still, everyone armed with full-auto meant serious firepower. A far cry from the Yeosu garrison's two rifle-toting grunts, one airsoft grandpa, and two unarmed middle-aged guys siphoning gas from an abandoned car.

"I figured the cold would slow them down, but it's the opposite."

When the heavy snow started dumping, survivor camps lit up with cheers.

Not just Gohung. Plenty of survivor camps saw the snowfall as prime time and sent out aggressive scout teams. Military units from other regions too. No real cooperation, but none seemed set on full rebellion like Lee Man-cheol. More like each ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fending for themselves now that government links were cut.

Lee Man-cheol was clearly trying to recruit them, but they stayed lukewarm.

Civilian-heavy survivor hunter teams often clashed over spoils. Military units meeting, though? All gentlemanly.

At a marketplace, two soldier groups had guns trained on each other—commanders from both sides immediately reined in their men. The first group held the counter inside, using toppled fridges and shelves for cover. The latecomers hunkered behind abandoned cars outside.

A man emerged from the store, hands raised, walking slow. First group's commander, a lieutenant. The other side sent out a sergeant.

Tsssk! The lieutenant lit the sergeant's cig with his lighter. The guy puffed appreciatively. They chatted idly awhile, then the sergeant eyed the market wistfully.

When soldiers bumped into each other, things usually defaulted to yielding to the first arrivals tacitly. Firefights meant losses either way, and in this shithole world, no one wanted to shoot at fellow rice-eaters from the same pot.

"At this rate, other groups will creep north past the Noise Trees too."

The deep south had partial infected-free zones, and even up to lower Honam and Yeongnam, risks were manageable. Well-armed groups staying cautious could farm supplies. Push into central regions, though, and danger spiked; north of that, massive infected hordes dominated. Hoseo onward? Just call it hellscape beyond human ken.

Even Lee Man-cheol's scouts stuck to lower Honam without probing higher. Hell, they looked ready to U-turn. Target was obvious.

"Aiming for Yeosu?"

"And defenses look soft."

Straight shot via southern bridges, but try it and Lee Seong-bong's Yeosu garrison blows them sky-high. So they'd loop around via northern land routes. Not attacking in those numbers yet—pure recon.

"That would be an even worse tragedy. If they had completely split apart into two nations like South and North Korea, maybe, but soldiers of the same country shooting at each other..."

I didn't actually think they would go that far. But when the world itself is going mad, you never know what will happen to the people living in it.

Phase 1, which collapsed society with a catastrophic infection rate, is over. Form is temporary, but class is permanent. Even if they are weakened and fragmented from repeated defeats, an army is still an army. And this is the South Korean army, which possessed one of the world's top land-based military forces.

It would even be possible to swallow up the entire southern region under the leadership of the Yeosu garrison and form a brand new government. Unless the infected colonies suddenly start moving south en masse, that is.

But that's not all.

"From those folks' perspective, this place is practically a treasure trove."

Artemis seemed to be imagining humans storming into the shelter with weapons and dirty combat boots. She shuddered as she talked about our pristine nest being looted and defiled. However, my thoughts were a bit different.

"I doubt there's any real risk of looting. The higher-ups will probably want to move in here themselves. They won't want supplies to leak or facilities to be damaged during a messy raid. When the world was fine, they bombarded the public with advertisements about this place."

Anyone with a bit of money—meaning bureaucrats or field-grade officers—would have heard of this place at least once. They might have seen the ads, or streamers and broadcasters might have come out to film content. There are countless threads attached to this place, including legal issues and taxes. Because so many jobs were created here during construction, several local politicians also came and went.

If they are still alive now?

'I wonder if that place is still intact?' 'I should just make a mad dash for it without looking back.' Naturally, they must have thought this at least once.

Regardless, the survivors in the south are welcome news and a beacon of hope, but simultaneously a potential threat. Places like Yeosu, where people are currently dying, will require humanitarian aid, and we will interact with other organizations as well. But we shouldn't just look at them through rose-colored glasses, thinking, 'Oh, those poor survivors!'

Artemis was absolutely right. It makes no logical sense to be more enthusiastic than anyone else about eliminating the infected while simultaneously thinking, 'They can't come anyway because of the infected.'

"We can shoot, bomb, burn, and even gas the infected without hesitation, but it's a bit tricky to do that to actual people."

Furthermore, I doubt they'll only send soldiers. Based on our reconnaissance, the southern warlords and the Jeju Island government seem to have no qualms about using citizens as cannon fodder. They will likely mix various temptations and threats to arm starving boy soldiers and desperate fathers with no way to feed their families, forcing them to march forward. It's a ridiculously low-probability scenario right now, but it's not something to be ignored entirely.

"This is giving me a headache."

Until now, our focus had been on securing technology and resources, driving the infected out of our territory, and annihilating them in the long run. But now, the complex problems beyond that are starting to feel very real.

"If we aren't careful, we might even get called traitors."

I'm not joking. Without even needing to involve the military, the Jeju Island government could legally order the requisition of this shelter in the name of the state.

This worry wasn't exclusive to the leadership. Surprisingly, many of our residents also held negative opinions about outside survivors.

"A-bso-lute-ly not."

Her laughter rang out.

I looked up at her askance. She was repeatedly calling me a traitor, yet she sounded exceedingly delighted.

"Now isn't really the time to be pointing fingers, is it? Do you want to see the upper residential areas swarming with old politicians, administrative bureaucrats, and their entitled families? They'd be smoking and spitting phlegm everywhere. Or maybe the madams will walk their dogs and let them shit all over the pristine streets."

Artemis clamped her mouth shut, looking as if she had just imagined a horrific, apocalyptic sight.

The Harsh Reality of Winter

We continued to review the observation footage from the south.

Jeju Island had no snow, and the water temperature was relatively mild, so even the haenyeo (female divers) were actively diving into the sea despite it being winter.

In contrast, most fishing activities in the southern mainland region had ceased. With the bitter cold and relentless snow, going into the sea right now was practically suicide. Only the brave search parties wrapped themselves in the veil of snow and ventured deeper than usual.

The remaining personnel gathered in groups of three or four in tents, survivor camps, basements, and buildings with drawn shutters. They built fires to warm their hands and placed food over the flames. Depending on the situation at each survival camp, the food varied drastically.

Dried fish ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or canned goods were common, and some places roasted potatoes, sweet potatoes, or corn. The worse-off places shared watery stews containing unidentified roots and a meager handful of rice.

"Hah, which side is more pitiful?"

What made me sigh was the sight of several adults tearing open a few bags of snack chips to share. It seemed they had completely run out of staple foods. It was hard to gauge who was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠more miserable compared to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠those eating the watery root stew.

While what they ate was different, their actions while eating were exactly the same. They all prayed for the safe return of their comrades.

That sight was far removed from a 21st-century civilized society. It felt even more distant than the Joseon Dynasty. It was akin to the primitive age.

Stepping out of the cave meant risking one's life, but the family's survival depended entirely on it.