Chapter 230
Chapter 230
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 230
Chapter Title: 98. Spirit Tomb (3)
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Robots enter places humans can't explore to investigate.
This idea was first adopted in Chernobyl during the initial meltdown—a method steeped in history and tradition.
During the Great East Japan Earthquake, robots scouted the reactor core meltdown site contaminated with radiation, confirming the situation in place of humans.
Current drone technology has essentially stalled, but even so, it's advanced to a level incomparable to what was available back then.
Humans have relentlessly developed machines to replace themselves, not just for the various wars between people, but to cope with the unique situation of the monster wars.
Unfortunately, I have no experience directly using or handling drones.
When we were on the battlefield, the Chinese troops we operated with handled the drones, and given how deliberately I kept my distance from the Chinese, there was no way I could learn or borrow anything from them.
But I do know one person who's skilled with drones.
Ha Taehoon from the 11th class.
When Cheon Youngjae first brought up that guy, I sighed, thinking he was just another burden encroaching on my territory. But now, with the need for drones greater than ever, those thoughts have completely vanished.
"Let's see. This is Michuhol-gu. Not much farther."
Cheon Youngjae and I are currently in Incheon.
To pick up Ha Taehoon.
The vehicle we chose for transport was an old clunker that Cheon Youngjae dragged in—one that could break down anytime without surprise.
He claims he tinkered with the engine, but who knows.
Still, it was better than wasting one of my precious vehicles, so we went with his. And it turned out to be a brilliant choice.
We faced gunfire at least four times getting here.
Not concentrated ambushes, but sporadic shots aiming for lucky hits. Still, no way I'd bring my valuable ride to a hellhole like this.
Though precarious, we barely made it to the spot in Incheon where Ha Taehoon was supposed to be.
As someone who once lived in Incheon, Cheon Youngjae knew not just the local layout but also the distribution of the factions controlling the area.
"That's the 13th shelter zone over there, and that side's the 34th. Both refused evacuation to Seoul. The 13th and 34th are basically gangster crime syndicates, but the 13th is a tad better. Six of one, half a dozen of the other."
Ha Taehoon was holed up in that infamous 13th shelter.
The shelters had deteriorated even further since my last visit to Incheon.
Or more precisely, this was the typical state of an abandoned group in the end times.
Once government support cuts off and people have to survive on their own strength, the boundary between crime and legality inevitably crumbles.
Only survival holds value at the top; anything secondary unrelated to it is deemed meaningless.
From the shelter entrance, the vibe of a decaying group reeked strongly.
Ragged, starving boys and girls with hollow eyes stared at us, clutching crude weapons. Men with tattoos on their faces or bodies watched us with grim scowls, weapons in hand.
Some women exposed their gaunt bodies, throwing flirtatious glances.
"Don't make eye contact."
Cheon Youngjae whispered as he stared straight ahead.
I had no intention of doing so anyway.
But we openly displayed our weapons and stayed vigilant.
"......"
It was a bit surprising.
The last time I was in Incheon was half a year ago, and even then it was impoverished, but some remnants of the societal order I knew still lingered.
Now that those were gone, it was a literal jungle of humans.
The sweltering weather racing toward summer probably amplified that jungle feel.
"Aren't you Hunter Cheon?"
A skinny middle-aged man soon appeared before us.
His head was shaved bald, skin sunburned dark even on his scalp. Gaunt in build, but the solid muscles clinging to his frame gave off a marbled beef vibe.
He seemed to know Cheon Youngjae and exchanged a few words with him.
"Ha Taehoon?"
The man jerked his head.
The grim-faced men led us into the subway station.
Inside, several men carried Panchokillers.
Probably due to frequent battles, guns themselves had become precious commodities.
You could spot guys with homemade shotguns here and there too.
Their eyes fixated greedily on the rifles slung over our shoulders.
The skinny man guided us to a woman.
She wore a flashy, luxurious hanbok from who-knows-where.
Looked mid-30s, but the heavy makeup suggested she could age even more impressively.
Even that thick makeup couldn't hide the menacing knife scar on her face.
"I heard you're looking for Ha Taehoon."
Cheon Youngjae motioned for me to stay quiet.
He was the expert here.
I silently followed his lead.
"We were in touch with Senior Ha Taehoon until recently, but contact suddenly cut off. For reference, we're all from the academy."
A glint appeared in the woman's eyes.
"Oh?"
"Where's Senior Ha Taehoon?"
"Out hunting mutations. Hasn't come back. We fronted him a hefty advance—three full magazines' worth of ammo. But three days later, no word."
"We'll go check."
The woman nodded and gestured to her underlings.
As we exited the subway, I asked Cheon Youngjae,
"That woman's the boss here?"
He nodded.
"Kim Madam. Former pimp. Ruthless and merciless."
"Figures that types like her end up as bosses."
"Anyone who isn't has long vanished. Along with their shelters."
"Senior Ha isn't dead, right?"
In wartime, even soldiers treat prolonged absence as death, but for us hunters, the window is shorter.
If you're not back in a day, you're basically considered dead.
Our ops are short-duration and close-range, but the risk level is off the charts.
Three days overdue would've warranted an obituary notice back in my active days.
"He won't die to a mutation. Not a named one—just one otter."
"An otter."
"Why the laugh?"
"Just thinking even national treasures like that mutate."
"Otters were apex predators in their ecosystem. Not to be underestimated."
"I know."
It felt like a hassle.
Aquatic ones are always twice as tricky as land-dwellers—that's conventional wisdom.
The mutated nutria that appeared in the Nakdong River before the war gained infamy for being as hard to eradicate as the originals.
An even higher trophic level? Naturally a pain.
"Shelters hire a lot of you guys, huh?"
I asked Cheon Youngjae as we headed to the mutated otter's habitat.
"They value us highly."
He replied while checking his gun.
"......Still, we don't touch monsters. Especially entrenched ones—we don't even glance their way."
"Mostly mutations, then?"
"Who knew Korea had so many beasts?"
A stream lined with reeds came into view in the distance.
Once a spot for citizens' exercise, it retained faded, weathered walkways on both sides, carrying a decent flow toward the sea.
In this familiar yet alien waterway, we weren't here for the otter.
We came all this way to find our alumnus Ha Taehoon.
I believed he was alive, and so did Cheon Youngjae.
The battlefield aura told us so.
This place was far from any hot zone.
He could've been unlucky with a mutation ambush or a stray bullet, but we'd figure that out.
Clack- Clack-
Cheon Youngjae clacked together a bizarre tool resembling nail clippers.
Clack- Clack-
It didn't seem like a coded signal.
Just steady pairs of two.
"Weird."
Cheon Youngjae muttered, scanning the surroundings.
He asked without looking at me,
"See anything?"
"No. No people. No mutations. But definitely a monster territory across the river. And..."
I turned around.
Five zombies staggered toward us.
One approached faster.
"Mind handling it, Senior Park?"
A normal person would've fixated on the zombies, but Cheon Youngjae calmly eyed the reeds with caution.
Veteran old-school hunter vibes.
I nodded and grabbed my axe.
Chop!
No need to waste bullets.
Normally I'd use a pistol, but seeing everyone in the subway with Panchokillers and shotguns highlighted ammo's value more than usual.
No harm in conserving.
Chop!
Catching zombies helps keep the body sharp anyway.
As I finished the last one, I felt Cheon Youngjae's gaze.
He whistled.
"People from Instructor Jang's side all move so flashy. Stylish, I guess."
"......Our instructor prioritizes style."
"Speaking of, rumor has it there's a zombie resembling Instructor Jang Ki-young wandering around."
"Really?"
"Senior Jaehyeok saw it by the docks."
"Jaehyeok? Bang Jaehyeok? The one with the leg injury?"
"Yeah."
"Where's he at?"
"He went under Kim Daram. But after a week, he said it sucked, then went radio silent."
A Jang Ki-young lookalike zombie.
Intriguing, but not the issue now.
Click
Cheon Youngjae and I simultaneously aimed at the reed thicket.
Humans hiding.
Arguably our biggest fear—the most real threat to us.
Nothing more dangerous than armed humans ambushing.
Clack- Clack-
The brief tension dissolved with the familiar signal.
The clacking echoed from the brush, and Cheon Youngjae raised his clipper-like tool to reply in kind.
Soon, a man in combat gear and jungle helmet emerged slowly from the brush.
Ha Taehoon.
Senior two classes above me.
Camo paint and all, he looked thinner than before, but his visible health seemed decent.
"Youngjae. And isn't this Professor?"
Ha Taehoon raised a hand toward me.
"Senior Ha."
Calling him senior made him grimace visibly, shaking his head vigorously.
"I'm not academy alumni, nor do I want to be. Drop the 'senior' bit."
"What should I call you then?"
"No formal speech either. Just 'hey mister,' 'excuse me,' 'hold up, let's see.' That kinda thing."
'Hold up, let's see'? What country's that from?
Whatever.
The Ha Taehoon I came to fetch was alive.
Perfectly fine, even.
I stated my business.
He listened stone-faced, but midway through, a bad premonition hit hard.
And sure enough.
"No can do. Can't go."
Ha Taehoon shot down the offer flat.
"What're you doing in a dump like this? If Kim Byungchul abandons Seoul, this already gutted neighborhood turns full safari."
Cheon Youngjae protested immediately, but Ha Taehoon was stubbornly opinionated in many ways.
Cheon Youngjae eyed him slyly with a knowing look.
"Because of your ex?"
Ha Taehoon scowled.
"No."
"What's left to stay for?"
"Plenty of reasons."
Ha Taehoon turned blankly toward the brush.
"I made a promise with Kim Madam."
"No need to honor a deal with human trash like that."
"I know Kim Madam gets a lot of hate, but what can I do? I like her."
Cheon Youngjae looked incredulous.
"A woman like that? What's to like?"
"Her strong-willed side clicked with me. Great survival instincts too."
Ha Taehoon trudged toward the reeds, Cheon Youngjae close behind.
"She threatening you or something?"
"Nah, nothing like that."
We followed him deeper into the brush.
His tent came into view.
Inside, a tablet stood sideways, its screen filled with dozens of small feeds capturing different areas.
All streams.
Under bridges, near exercise equipment, tiny islands between channels—varied spots, but all real-time views of the stream before us.
Ha Taehoon yawned, eyes on the screens.
"We've cornered it. Quitting now would be a waste, right?"
Cheon Youngjae gave a wry smile and glanced up at me.
"Our Teacher Ha's got an obsession, as you see."
I silently examined the screens and the assorted gear in the tent.
He'd invested heavily.
It gave me a sense of who Ha Taehoon was.
A thorough prepper type.
Over-invests in ops, then recoups based on that.
Not the type Chinese like much.
They call them leisurely, but I've never seen Chinese relaxed when profits are on the line.
Probably why his promotions lagged.
Our evaluations in joint ops largely depended on the Chinese we worked with.
I never spoke a word of Chinese or pandered, but that's fine.
Overwhelming results make personal impressions irrelevant.
Eying a fish-like aquatic drone amid the tent's clutter, I sat beside Ha Taehoon and spoke.
"I get you hate 'senior,' but I'll call you that anyway."
"Why?"
"Other nicknames feel too chummy."
He stared at me, then probed casually,
"......You need a favor?"
Sharp instincts, as expected from an elder.
"Got a job you need to do."
I didn't deny it.
"What is it?"
"A radiation-soaked spot. Want to borrow your drones to retrieve an item."
"Folks don't seem to know—radiation affects drones too."
"I've got resources. Name what you need after checking."
Ha Taehoon rolled his eyes thoughtfully.
Then blurted,
"I've got a proposal too."
Just then, a sensor in the tent blinked.
Motion detector. I had them too.
Ha Taehoon zoomed in on one screen.
On a rock in the stream, a massive black beast dripped water, torso reared up.
An otter. Mutated.
But what caught my eye was the stuff before the rock it perched on.
Human heads.
Not one or two—over ten, stacked neatly on the rock like an offering.
Ha Taehoon watched blankly and said to me,
"Can you help?"
I nodded.
Click
Easy hunt.