Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: 56. Revival
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People believe what they want to believe.
The truth isn't all that important.
To them, truth is only real if it lines up with what they already think—and everything else is just worthless bullshit not worth discussing.
Dongtanmom's revelation didn't stir up as much as I'd hoped. Sure, she never posted again after that, but the real reason was that too many folks were desperate not to lose Jeju Island, their last shred of hope.
...
...
That's the dominant vibe on Failnet.
They deny doom even after seeing it firsthand.
Like ostriches shoving their heads in the sand before a predator with bared teeth.
Not everyone chose the ostrich life.
Some picked the lone wolf path.
They broke out of the government's pens, aiming for a new life in the wilds.
Reports of "new evacuees" spotting up kept flooding the boards.
...
...
Baek Seung-hyeon's splash wasn't just a teacup whirlpool.
It's coming back bigger, more concrete, crashing into our lives.
This was a disaster foretold.
The giant's death was just dragged out, delaying the inevitable.
Click-
The brief peace is over.
Now the era where man eats man truly begins.
At this crossroads, who popped into my head? My internet pal, Defender.
Could John_nenon have dodged it if he'd hung on a bit longer?
...
...
His light twisted into malice.
Folks harboring blind hate toward us or swapping inhuman info were always around.
Back then, they lurked at the bottom of the popularity rankings, in the dumps, quietly trading their creepy tastes among themselves.
But Baek Seung-hyeon's madness spread fast through Failnet, dragging those shadows into the light.
The spark? Not the Jeju fleet defense vs. anti-fleet wars, but a whole new breed of post.
Not well-written.
Content's crap and half-assed.
But life's all about timing.
Right when folks were sick of Jeju posts, this shot up the hot list and racked thousands of replies, rocketing to the top.
Us Viva! folks were never welcome on Failnet—it was fate from day one.
Uneasy coexistence lasted thanks to hope.
Now that hope's cracking, it's only natural the backlash hits us.
The reporter nailed it.
We leveled up. So did they.
Getting cozy with cruelty. No hesitation on killing. Self first. Pure selfishness.
Second evac wave won't be like the first—that's a given.
They swapped loot intel on Failnet like we shared survival tips, then hit the road.
Afternoon, the reporter dropped another pic.
Incheon exodus: all sorts of vehicles peeling out.
Bang! Rat-tat-tat!
Gunfire echoed from the far north at dawn.
From the pioneer's turf—the ones we half-forced out before.
It tapered off, then roared back threefold at morning, from three spots at once.
Pioneers flanking with reserves, or evacuees pulling the same stunt.
Bang!
Noon: sniper turf lit up after ages.
"One vehicle barreled straight here."
Rebecca radioed a quick sitrep.
"Gasoline job? Small one. Took fire and bailed. No others. Passengers: two-plus? Couldn't see the back."
Second wave trait: wheels.
Simple. Terrifying.
Vehicles mean mobility.
I'm not the only one who clocked it.
Board users hammered how the second evacuees were "mechanized."
Past lessons, probably.
Walking out of a big city? Suicide.
No more casual strolls—slow feet mean death, mutations everywhere.
A committed pack can shred dozens easy.
Reporter's "level up" likely baked in that wisdom.
Vroom—
Tractor-loud engine revved in my zone.
White van.
Unleaded hack job—belching black smoke like a crop duster, cutting through fields.
Watched to see what they'd do. Guy in glasses hops out, then lady in glasses.
Kid boy and girl follow.
Family vibe.
Pre-war picnic crew.
But guns in every hand.
Husband launches a drone.
"......"
Slipped into the bunker slow.
Soon, a junky, noisy drone matching their van buzzed my zone.
Saw something?
Dunno, but they beelined here.
What now?
Click-
One choice.
Me dead, or them.
No "some survive" option.
Survivors would bring my end anyway.
"Hey! Look! It's here! A bunker! Bunker!"
Regular joe spots my decoy.
But to them? Gloomy ruin.
"What the hell. This bunker's weird."
Wife-type says.
"Toilet's in a funky spot. Pervert lived here?"
I pondered.
"......"
Killing 'em all ain't bad.
But kids' voices cooled my trigger finger.
"Dad, this it? Our new home?"
"What about the old owners? You kill 'em?"
Kids "leveled up" too, huh.
Makes sense in apocalypse upbringing.
Stayed quiet.
Motion sensors blinking nonstop, but I froze, gun ready, watching intruders.
Uninvited, but welcome in a way.
Perfect chance to test decoy bunker stealth from total noobs' eyes.
But this couple...
Green as hell.
"Honey, live here?"
"Hell no. Look at the stale water. Obvious—attacked, wiped, abandoned. Nothing works."
"Yeah. Not like Failnet pics?"
"Find a full house instead. Way better than musty basement."
Sudden bird flaps up behind 'em.
Flutter!
"Kyaa!"
"Wak!"
They spin, blast away.
Till panic fades.
"What. Nothing."
"Yeah, wasted good rounds. Only two mags left."
"Shitty hood. This place."
They slump, deflated.
Kids whine to parents.
"My candy's gone! My candy! Who took it?"
"Check the car. Gotta be somewhere. Candy ain't got legs."
"Looked everywhere. Nada."
"Mom, tired. Sleep in car again? Can't we just go to shelter?"
"No."
"Don't wanna. Miss my friends. Why's our sheet black?"
"Don't blame me. One more day scouting. Might find a real bunker."
Right there, urge to pop out the secret passage hit hard.
Wanna tell 'em.
Go back to Incheon.
Death awaits, sure—but you won't last a week in this brutal wild.
Who knows.
Might buddy up with survival pros there, form a team.
But this pair can't protect themselves, let alone kids.
Can't step up, though—ties to that choice.
Reveal means death.
I'm the type who'll sacrifice others before dying myself.
They poked around the decoy disappointed, then left.
Even gave me ideas.
"This bunker’s off, right? No vent? Manuals say every one has at least one."
"Ripped off when abandoned."
"Should be some hole at least. Nothing."
Decoy vent plan: instant greenlight.
Easy job.
Bury PVC pipe, slap on busted duct. Done.
"Fuel left?"
"Half gone already. Why so fast?"
"Bad gas."
Couple who sparked good ideas peels out in their smoky tractor-van, leaving my zone.
Stared at tire tracks.
Wipe or leave?
Wipe 'em.
Camouflage works once or twice—not against endless guests.
They headed west.
Defender's turf, ironically.
Radio on, ping him after ages.
"Yo, Defender. Vehicle inbound your way."
No reply.
Sis same.
Chill down my spine, but ignored.
Erasing tracks more urgent.
Brooming 'em away, spot cheap candy can.
[Provided by Republic of Korea Government]
Kid's lost candy?
Thought to return, but nah. Popped it for energy.
"......"
Cheap as dirt.
Spoiler: That family—decoy testers, peace-breakers, candy-leavers—turned ice-cold corpses hours later.
Seeing someone you just saw turned into dead meat—and common internet bait—ain't fun.
Defender's back.
With uncharacteristic wall-of-text defense.
Timing's everything for hot posts, sure enough.
His return blew up with invisible likes, topping charts.
Come to think—his name rise was during peak evac drama.
Board-flamed and booted before, now he reclaims spot same way.
"......"
Internet buddy's flashy return didn't ease my mind.
"Yo, SKELTON."
Defender radios.
"What happened? We were slammed earlier."
"Yeah. You on Failnet? See our posts? Kids' reactions?"
Dunno what to say.
"Yeah. Congrats."
Tossed fake cheers, cut the line quick.
That "Republic of Korea Government Provided" candy wrapper from the kid? Still on my desk.
Burn or trash tomorrow.
Tonight, just crash.