Chapter 226
Chapter 226
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 226
Chapter Title: 96. The Burdens We Carry (2)
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One mindset for surviving the apocalypse.
Don't be docile.
Handing over your gun just because someone tells you to is the same as entrusting your life—and everything else—to them.
So, ignore demands to drop your weapon or raise your hands.
Conversations between people who can kill each other should unfold differently.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I fired into the air.
The approaching old men hesitated.
Feeling the chill silence settle over the forest, I finally spoke.
"Looks like I took a wrong turn. I'll just head back now."
Real conversation only happens between equals.
It's not too late to talk after reminding them that we've got firepower and the means to fight.
There was no movement from the old men's side.
They were probably debating fiercely.
Whether to let me go or attack.
Soon, hoarse shouts echoed from the ridgeline above.
"Fuck you, you bastard!"
"Come out with your hands up! We'll kill you!"
"You think we can't take you down? Huh?!"
Their answer was combat.
What stood out was the depth of rage and hostility in their voices.
I'd never done anything wrong to these people.
Yet they were radiating a fierce intent to harm me in every syllable.
"Show yourself right now! Drop the gun!"
"Don't be stubborn! We know you're alone!"
Humanities scholars have proven through ongoing research that isolated groups often turn hostile toward outsiders, but you'd think it would take more than this for old folks in Gyeonggi Province, South Korea—not some remote spot in Oceania—to get this aggressive. More study needed.
Of course, I didn't come here today to investigate the old men's belligerence.
"Let me say it again: I just got lost. I have no intention of fighting you and want to avoid unnecessary conflict."
Luck wasn't on my side, that much was clear.
"Bullshit! You're here to scout, aren't you?"
"Came to steal all our crops?"
"Why? Gonna drag us off and inject us with zombie juice?"
I'd come looking for a third bunker candidate site, only to run into this hostile pack of old men.
The old men.
They were a grim mirror reflecting humanity's inescapable fate.
Everyone knew they existed and recognized the problems, but society had no sharp solution for that dark shadow.
Even in the apocalypse, the old men endured.
Obviously.
The elderly who were alive before the war wouldn't all drop dead the moment it started.
But as far as I knew, no one on the Viva! Apocalypse! boards had ever analyzed or explained the old men in detail.
They existed, sure, but nobody wanted to mention them.
Maybe it stemmed from the vague belief that the powerless elderly would die off once war broke out.
In fact, organized executions and massacres of the elderly had happened in Korea.
Everyone knew it was wrong, but no one actively tried to stop it.
It was just hastening the inevitable.
That was our typical view of the old men.
And now, that nearly vanished group was venting hostility right in front of me.
"Don't even think about escaping alive. I can see you no matter how far you hide."
"This is our turf. Try running. We're not pushovers. My stamina's better than any punk in his twenties!"
Bang! Bang!
Two shots rang out overhead.
An old carbine rifle.
I checked the terrain.
Not favorable.
They held the high ground and knew the area better than I did.
I had no idea how good their marksmanship was, but I wasn't keen on testing it with my body.
In short, highly disadvantageous.
I'd stumbled into a kill zone where I might have to risk my life.
"Thirty seconds. Drop your weapons and come out, or we'll turn you into Swiss cheese."
"Don't underestimate us just because we're old."
Dialogue seemed impossible.
They'd shown excessive hostility from the start.
"......"
Combat it was, then.
If I could capture one, negotiation might be possible, but grabbing a prisoner here—surrounded by enemies in unfavorable terrain—might be harder than killing them all.
Click!
"......"
No other choice but to fight.
Back in China, I'd seen with my own eyes how isolated old men could turn brutal and cruel.
Awakened to the harsh reality that the world had abandoned them, with no one to love or harm them, they killed people more viciously than common raiders.
These guys were probably the same.
A fight to the death.
I traced escape routes with my eyes while listening for movement on the ridgeline.
Rustling sounds of people moving.
Resupplying, maybe.
Or issuing orders?
No radios or drones in sight.
The problem was numbers.
At least fifteen old men visible from the ridgeline alone.
Some armed with rifles, some with plate killers.
Others wielded sharp tools like Korean sickles.
Couldn't see their faces, so morale was a mystery, but they didn't seem afraid of me.
One against fifteen-plus, on their home turf.
Best plan in this situation: take out the enemy leader.
One of those old men was half-zombified.
Probably awakened like Jang Gi-young or King, but low-level—nothing like King's shockwaves.
An annoying ability, but killable.
Targeting the half-zombie first would boost my escape odds.
I checked my gear.
One rifle, 90 rounds.
One pistol, three 12-round mags.
No grenades, two axes.
Grenades always tempted me on outings, but even one or two more wouldn't change much here.
Crunch—
One old man crept stealthily toward me.
Small build, but monkey-agile, with a mischievous monkey grin.
He hid behind bushes, crouching low into a crawl, aiming for my flank.
Assuming he was out of my sight.
Sickle instead of a gun.
Confident in close quarters?
Maybe that veteran bravado: a whelp like me could be overpowered by his seasoned strength.
The sudden assassin's appearance shifted my perspective.
The faint option of capturing a prisoner reignited in full color.
Holding my breath, I tracked his presence and watched the old men's actions.
Sure enough.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
They were laying down suppressing fire.
Whoosh—
Some loosed plate killer bolts too.
Watching one quiver right in front of me with its whirring spin, I felt a strange mix of emotions.
When ammo ran dry, would they all fight with cold weapons like this?
Hard to imagine.
War without bullets.
While I pondered, the flanking old man closed in fast.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Rat-tat-tat-bang!
The old men fired furiously, trying to pin my soul down.
But suppression fire only works if you're scared.
Spotting their shadows halt the barrage, I timed it perfectly and targeted the old man lunging at me.
A sharp sickle flashed before my eyes.
Clang!
My axe whipped through the air, smashing the sickle away.
In one strike, it flew into the sky.
"?!"
I bashed the stunned old man's temple with the axe handle, dropped him, grabbed his head, yanked him toward me, and pummeled his face and gut mercilessly with the rifle butt.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
"Gaaahhh!!!!"
The beating continued until screams turned to pleas for mercy.
When I paused and he twitched to resist, I hit harder until he was fully subdued.
"Grrrghhh......"
With his jaundiced, yellowed face beside me, I scanned for movement.
No gunfire.
They'd figured it out.
Their assassin got taken down easily.
Their awakened probably sensed it best.
I didn't use the old man as bait for negotiation.
Instead, I waited for my unconscious prisoner to come to.
"......K-Kill me!"
He rasped coldly through labored breaths.
I raised the rifle butt.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Beatings correct most behaviors.
And nothing imprints who you are on others faster or more efficiently.
After two brutal rounds, he finally showed signs of talking.
"......D-Don't kill me. I-I won't do anything!"
I glared coldly and said curtly.
"I don't want to fight or kill you. Tell your friends that."
The old man raised his hands and stepped out from cover.
He relayed my words roughly.
"E-Everyone, cease fire! He's not here to fight us! No intent to fight or kill!"
I told him again.
"I'm just lost. Not here for scouting or recon. I could fight if I wanted, but no mercy after that. Tell them I can kill everyone here alone."
He passed it on to his comrades.
No movement from the ridgeline.
I didn't know details, but they seemed to value their comrade.
Otherwise, a bullet would've punched through his head by now.
While they froze, I stared down my prisoner.
His face was a mess of wounds.
I pulled a disinfectant swab from my pocket and tossed it to him.
He caught it with a bewildered look.
Fear still lingered in his eyes.
"......I didn't hit you because I wanted to."
He said nothing, just dabbed his wounds.
No reply from above.
Occasional shouts suggested divided opinions.
They held the knife, after all.
My safety hinged on the hostage's value.
Since I couldn't set that price, I waited silently.
"How'd you end up here?"
Talking to the guy I'd just beaten half to death felt absurdly funny, but in warzones, these ridiculous Q&As were routine.
He had tried to kill me, after all.
He muttered while wiping his face.
"......They didn't pick up."
"?"
"Didn't answer the phone. Or rather, calls wouldn't go through here."
As I stared, he gathered his thoughts and explained.
"The kids were supposed to pick me up here, but no signal."
"Before the war?"
"Before it all went down. Phone should've worked, but no number."
Classic parental abandonment, I figured.
Then he glared into space with bulging eyes and added.
"After the war hit, the old number rang again! Said they'd come get me."
"Huh? Wasn't the number gone?"
"It came back. But by then, shit was chaos there too. So I've been stuck here."
He smacked his lips and eyed me.
"No clue where they went after. Heard Jeju, maybe they're there."
"......"
Old men's words were incomprehensible.
Hard to grasp.
They saw and judged the world differently from us.
"Tak-soo! Send him up! We won't shoot!"
A shrill voice rang from the ridgeline.
The half-dead old man's voice.
"Hurry! Before we change our minds!"
Even now.
Release the hostage first and run.
Made no sense to me.
But I got his value.
They didn't want him dead.
I used him as a shield, stepped from cover, and backed away slowly.
No shots fired, as feared.
At a spot where blind fire was unlikely but aimed shots improbable, I released him.
"S-Sorry about this. Go."
He stared at me.
"Hey."
He said.
"You got parents?"
I shook my head.
He grinned.
No need to guess his intent.
Leaving the discarded old men behind, I departed the eerie mountainside.
Curious as I am, their future held no interest.
Returning empty-handed always left a bitter aftertaste.
My third bunker search seemed destined to end with the sour realization that unknown threats still lurked.
There was someone at my bunker.
"Sunbae! Park Sunbae!!!!"
Guess it wasn't my day to die.
I knew him.
"Sunbae! Heard you pulled off something huge in Seoul?"
Cheon Young-jae.
My not-so-close junior.
Still better than Kim Daram, I thought.
This slick guy had extra gear today.
He'd even brought a car.
Bad vibes as I asked.
"What're you here for?"
Cheon Young-jae grinned, scratched his head, and glanced around my perimeter.
"You know. Park Sunbae knows the world's about to go to shit, right?"
"No clue."
"That's why. How about alumni from our school form a group?"
"A group......?"
The last word that fit me.