Resuming Communications (11)

Shelter's drone legion could be broadly divided into two types. The first were the small drones, about the size of a kid's toy tube. Aside from their tiltrotor design, they looked like the classic drones people pictured. Their main armament was 5.56mm NATO rounds, though some variants carried only explosives for hitting mid-to-large targets. They lacked tactical flexibility, but could be mass-produced and deployed in overwhelming numbers. That brute-force simplicity was their scariest strength.

The second type were the medium-to-large drones that Artemis had iteratively upgraded amid the brutal fights against the infected. They were so massive they barely qualified as "drones" anymore, enabling a wide range of missions. The bombers that incinerated the infected horde on the road to Geno Plan. The attack drones that shielded Eugene's group from the slave cows. Those fell into this category.

"What the hell are you waiting for! Battle stations!"

The drones deployed to crush the Gohung garrison's civil war were the first type.

"Fire at will!"

A few drones plummeted under anti-air fire from soldiers who'd quickly snapped out of their panic, but that was it.

Click! Empty chambers clacked against firing pins, but the troops didn't even think to reload magazines. They just gawked up at the sky in stunned silence.

"Oh, God."

Even battle-hardened veterans lost their will to fight in the face of such numerical violence. The drone swarm blotting out the sky like a flock of migratory birds wasn't tactics—it was a natural disaster.

Soon, the whine of drone rotors drowned out the gunfire across the battlefield. No orders were given, but soldiers dropping their weapons one by one felt entirely natural.

"Those are all combat drones!"

A soldier spotting the chin guns mounted underneath through binoculars yelled it out.

"Orders from command!"

"Everybody, take cover!"

The troops split between those awaiting orders and those scrambling under cover. Commanders leading each faction felt their brains freeze under a barrage of frantic radio queries.

"Open fire!"

"Cease fire!"

Contradictory commands erupted everywhere. Few soldiers who got the order to shoot actually pulled the trigger. What if they fired first and got retaliated against? Shooting back at drones raining from above was pure suicide.

"Where the hell do I even aim...?"

Even those trying to shoot couldn't pick a target amid the endless swarm.

And then, the drones' muzzles flashed in unison.

"Gaaah!"

"Krak!"

Those crumpling amid sprays of blood were invariably officers. The drones' cameras used rank insignia and facial recognition to prioritize targets.

"Shoot! I said shoot!"

Some commanders finally barked return fire orders, but their windows were short.

"Aaaagh!"

Officer hotspots were limited, and those zones got hit first. Boom! Crunch! Far more drones hit the dirt than officers, but it barely registered. Kaboom! Armored cars and tanks turned to scrap under top-attack suicide drones slamming down from the sky.

"Uwaaaah!"

Under hails of bullets and plunging bombs, the soldiers' fighting spirit shattered. Pure survival instinct drove them to burrow under vehicles they'd used for cover, clutching their heads. Sometimes they'd bump into enemy soldiers doing the exact same.

"...!"

"...!"

A brief moment of shock, then they both squeezed their eyes shut, pretending not to see each other. They were all just desperate survivors in this broken world. Why the hell fight fellow countrymen? Even the officers forcing it were dying off.

'Just let me survive this and GTFO from Gohung!'

That was every soldier's shared thought.

The drone legion swept the field like a storm, then vanished like a passing squall. All that remained: burning armored vehicles, sparking drone wreckage, and the ragged breaths of survivors. No one dared lift their head from the ruins for a while.

"Enough! It's over!"

Once enough time passed, someone stood with a white-flag-adorned stick waving.

Click. Immediately, an armed soldier rose elsewhere, aiming at him. The two stared in heavy silence.

How long passed like that? Finally, the gunman lowered his weapon. That broke ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the dam—soldiers across the field stood, holstering arms. They eyed each other warily, but no one wanted more fighting.

"Everybody, go your own ways!!!"

The white-flag guy shouted, and cheers echoed. They scattered in small groups every which way. Those with southern hometowns headed straight there; others surrendered to pre-scouted garrisons or sought appealing settlements. Some like-minded buddies aimed for remote islands or mountains to camp out.

Not all officers were wiped out—some survived—but none dared stem the tide. Yelling "I'm in charge! Obey me!" would've drawn bullets from everywhere, turning them into Swiss cheese.

That was the Gohung garrison's final form as a functioning military unit.

"It's done."

The ruined battlefield and shattered Gohung forces filled the APC's command monitor. One big headache resolved, but no time to celebrate. Our real mission hadn't even started.

Destroying the Noise Trees blocking southern Korea. Now we could focus on that.

Lee Seong-bong expressed his thanks over the comms.

"As discussed, we're commencing Operation Flame Storm. Please handle civilian control to minimize collateral."

Operation Flame Storm was exactly what it sounded like: torching the Noise Tree line choking the south, starting with the Yeosu sector.

Even though a military operation was taking place in his garrison’s territory, he didn't mind. He didn't even ask about our identity. He simply chose the best option among the cards he was dealt to protect the citizens.

“I look forward to the day we can cooperate again.”

With that, the conversation ended. The drone bombers, which had been waiting for their window, finally took to the skies. They crossed paths with the smaller drones returning from the battle with the Goheung garrison, looking like a changing of the guard.

Artemis checked the faces of the people through the cameras mounted on the bombers.

The Yeosu soldiers standing guard.

Farmers tending to their crops.

Refugees working on their assigned labor with shovels, paintbrushes, pickaxes, and cleaning tools.

Fishermen rowing out to the nearby sea.

To a man, they had stopped what they were doing to look up at the sky. I couldn't zoom in enough to see their exact expressions, but I could guess. Anxiety, and an inexplicable fluttering of the heart. Everyone must have realized that the world, which had been stagnant since the Infection War, was suddenly changing.

Noise Trees are structures of the infected that block all types of radio waves. Their trunks stretch straight toward the sky, possessing long, dense branches that spread out to the sides. When they sway in the wind, they look so divine that it’s hard to believe they are part of a malicious monster.

Then, they were engulfed in flames.

A massive, blazing tree slowly tilted to its side. It looked like a phoenix falling toward the earth on its back. Burning branches bent in the opposite direction of the fall, leaving trails of fire in the air.

Thump!

The trunk hit the ground first, followed by the burning branches fanning out wide. It felt like watching a net of fire cast by a god fall upon the earth. The other Noise Trees lined up on either side were no exception. The wall of fire stretched as far as the eye could see.

The light created by the burning of the giant white trees lasted long past midnight. The grand spectacle belonged more to the realm of myth than reality—like the signal fires of the gods burning in unison for Ragnarok.

Naturally, such a massive event—a spectacular fire show—attracted spectators. In a world where entertainment is scarce and life is cheap, people flocked to see it. Despite the Yeosu garrison’s best efforts to control their survivors, they couldn't stop onlookers coming from other regions. Some even took boats from islands across the sea just to get a glimpse.

As a last resort, military vehicles drove around broadcasting warnings through megaphones and radios, but it had little effect.

Some highly responsible soldiers tried to physically pull the onlookers back, but Lt. Col. Lee Seong-bong stopped them. In this dangerous world, the spectators were armed, and attempting to drag them away could lead to the soldiers getting caught in the fire themselves.

This broadcast made the onlookers a bit nervous, but it only made them move back about twenty or thirty paces.

Two hours later.

“Aaaaagh!”

“Euaaakh!”

Inevitably, casualties occurred.

“...”

Artemis reported calmly as I clutched my head.

“I know.”

If there is one change in South Korean society since the Infection War, it’s that people have become much tougher and less sympathetic. A radio show operating out of Jeju Island covered the incident immediately.

The sound of an audience laughing was inserted as background audio. Not a single one of the twenty-six people received sympathy; the dead were even mocked with the "award."

Kids expressed deep regret at having been scooped on such a great "exclusive."

Once the planned number of Noise Trees had been cleared, we launched an airship equipped with a relay transmitter. It passed through the skies of Yeosu without any interference. It soared over the charred remains of the Noise Trees and came to a halt over the blue sea. The airship’s position appeared on the satellite map.

With Artemis’s words, waves of frequency rippled out from the airship in circles. Sending signals from the Shelter past the Noise Tree line. Receiving signals from the outside and sending them back to the Shelter.

The two-way relay function was active. The effect was instantaneous.

[Tomorrow’s weather is expected to be even warmer. However, for those going out on expeditions, please be sure to wear long sleeves and pants. Remember, a Seeker's lifespan increases the more skin they hide!]

It was a radio broadcast originating from Jeju. Not a recording delivered via drone, but a real-time broadcast.

[Goheung deserters are scattering everywhere. Nearby residents, please beware of looters.]

[Is it confirmed that Lee Man-cheol is dead?]

Larger settlements were worried about the fallout from the collapsed Goheung Garrison.

[I am a dentist available for treatment. Looking for a new camp to settle in. There are four of us in my family...]

[Recruiting teammates to start a new settlement in southern Gyeongsang Province. I’m sick of fighting and all this bullshit. Looking for friends to live quietly in the mountains]

[A squad of armed combat troops looking for a garrison to surrender to. We never participated in war crimes, we only did guard duty at the outposts...]

[As of this hour, the unlimited conscription order in Goheung has been lifted. Citizens, please remain in your places with peace of mind.]

[Any soldier not at their post will be considered a deserter and shot on sight.]

Meanwhile, the fragmented garrisons were struggling to prevent people from leaving their respective areas.

Countless radio waves traveled back and forth, including communication logs originating from overseas across the ocean.

And among them, one caught the attention of both myself and Artemis.

It was an encrypted communication being repeated at regular intervals from Japan. It appeared to be a recorded message sent by an automated machine.

The reason it caught our eye was that its encryption pattern was identical to the one found at the Cranial Nerve Research Institute. In short, it was a signal sent by the organization that had sent the alien corpses to that lab.

“Do it now.”

Upon my approval, a file appeared on the monitor and switched to audio playback mode.

[O indomitable Seekers. I have watched your exploits.]

It was Korean. The mid-to-low tone and standard accent were perfect, but for some reason, the voice gave off a powerful impression of being a foreigner.

[‘Hope is still alive.’ Perhaps you have found the message I left behind. I have waited until now to deliver that hope. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠am clinging to life, even at the cost of becoming a sinner who broke the taboos.]

The voice reciting the Korean was filled with sorrow and exhaustion.

[Please, find me. So that you may inherit the hope we left behind, and grant me the mercy of ending my impure life.]

However, in the final paragraph, there was a faint, blossoming sense of joy.