Chapter 232
Chapter 232
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 232
Chapter Title: 98. Hero's Mausoleum (5)
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There's good news and bad news.
The bad news first: the Chinese.
At least forty well-armed soldiers have set up camp, backed by cutting-edge command vehicles, recon and combat drones, and all sorts of surveillance gear.
No matter how elite we Hunters are called—the best of humanity—three of us taking on that force is impossible.
Not unless it was the Tang Dynasty army. Those guys are probably the cream of the crop from what's left of the Chinese military.
Of course, both Cheon Young-jae and Ha Tae-hoon shot down a head-on clash with them in an instant.
I would've refused too.
But there's good news as well.
The Chinese are camped out over two kilometers from John_nenon's mausoleum.
There could be a few reasons for that, but the biggest one is probably the radiation.
John_nenon's mausoleum was already blanketed in radiation so intense that hazmat suits barely held up by the time I was last there. With the nuclear battery failing, it must now be a nightmare of even more devastating fallout.
Otherwise, those Chinese—who stop at nothing to achieve their goals—wouldn't have pitched their tents so far off.
In this situation, I could boldly propose my idea.
"What? Just send in the drones?"
"You wanna have a toy war or something?"
Cheon Young-jae's words perfectly matched my thinking.
"Good way to put it. Yeah. No humans can get in there anyway—only drones, those toys, can come and go. In a place like that, we don't need a human-vs-human showdown. The toys can settle it themselves."
Plus, I had intel the Chinese didn't: John_nenon had backed up the crucial data on a disk hidden in a secret compartment in his desk drawer.
The Chinese were after the entire Failnet server. We just needed something simpler—and easier to grab.
And I even had John_nenon's disciple on my side.
Once back at the bunker, I'd ask Valentine for the mausoleum's blueprints.
Of course, the Chinese were no pushovers.
They'd been utterly crushed in the last war by the ROK-US alliance—not a single strategic objective met, most of their fleet sunk in the Yellow Sea. But even the proud Americans admitted their drones were top-notch.
Having given up their ace monster resource, the Awakened, the Chinese had gone all-in on human tech—drones specifically—which naturally spurred massive advancements.
It was only natural for Ha Tae-hoon, their drone expert, to point this out.
"All I've got are civilian drones and a few military ones. Judging by those bastards' setup, they're a top-tier unit—mixed with Hunters too—so their drones are probably the latest models."
In the high-altitude footage he'd captured, one of those state-of-the-art drones was crystal clear.
It was humanoid-sized, bipedal like a person.
Ha Tae-hoon zoomed in on it, explaining in a gloomy tone.
"QBX-37. They straight-up stole the blueprints from a U.S. drone firm and copied it. Unlike the American original, funded purely by investors, they poured stolen tech plus state money into it. Word is, it's even better than the original."
"Terminator much?"
Cheon Young-jae chimed in.
I was thinking the same.
Our domestic combat bots ran on tank treads, but these Chinese ones walked on two legs. The tech gap was real.
"Hard to see here, but check out those hands—the manipulators. Only three fingers, but they can do pretty much any human task. And that's not all."
Ha Tae-hoon showed us various drone types swarming the Chinese camp.
"QBX-22. A suicide drone carrier. Provides air support with suicide drones for any terrain within 30km. Carries up to sixteen bladed types—straight copies of Israeli models."
"QBX-34. Budget area-control drone. Plants itself like a stake and shoots anything without friendly IFF. Cheap and numerous."
"QBX-8. High-altitude recon drone. Copied straight from U.S. models. No night vision like the originals, but daytime performance is comparable. Copycats, through and through."
Ha Tae-hoon sighed, his pessimism on full display.
"Compared to that, what we've got is junk. Even in a toy war, specs have to match up somewhat. You know, like motorcar races? The kids' ones—even there, the better engine wins."
I spotted another reason why Ha Tae-hoon got underrated.
Way too negative.
In battle, shit happens—unlucky breaks, bullshit moments. But dumping doomsaying when things look bad just kills morale and looks pathetic.
Probably why the Chinese—whom he clearly despised—trashed his evals.
That's likely how he ended up booted back to Korea from the front lines.
Senior to me, yet scraping by. Everything has a reason.
"We just gotta dodge their toys, right?"
I cut in as he kept sighing dramatically.
He looked up at me like I was nuts, but I just grinned.
"Junior Ha. We're not here to fight."
Not gearing up for a full-on brawl with those scary super-toys of his.
"We just sneak into that basement we know so well and grab one little item."
Ha Tae-hoon still looked skeptical, but this had to happen.
"First, let's head to my bunker."
Seeing my paradise might shift this pessimist's mindset a bit.
*
Ha Tae-hoon had a decent stockpile too.
Unlike free-spirited Cheon Young-jae, he'd diligently hoarded and hidden supplies.
He had a small truck—Cheon Young-jae's ride was beat—so we ditched it for his.
His gear was varied, but the standouts were drones and video equipment he'd scavenged or flea-marketed.
Three guns total, one a shotgun, with about two hundred rounds stockpiled.
Another eye-catcher: a sex doll.
"What's this?"
Cheon Young-jae joked about the wigged, nightmare-fuel squished silicone lump.
"My wife."
Ha Tae-hoon loaded his embarrassing possession onto the truck without a blink.
The trip went smoothly enough.
Gunfire erupted at the end of our route, so we skirted the Seoul outskirts.
The roads were safe, but Seoul blazed like a warzone.
Bang! Bang! Rat-tat-tat-tang!
The city was at war.
Sporadic shots rang nonstop, occasional cannon fire ripping the quiet night.
"Heard rumors the evacuees who went to Seoul are heading back to Incheon. Makes sense."
Ha Tae-hoon muttered, eyeing the battlefield city.
The truck cut through the dark toward my turf.
"I'll take the wheel from here."
I never used lights for night drives.
Headlights scream from afar, and their cutoff point tips off unknown watchers.
Thump! Thump!
Guided by feel and faint outlines, we tackled a rough incline.
Sad to see Old Man Kim's house gone, but it opened up the narrow dirt road a tad.
The slope leveled into a gentle plateau.
The truck parked dead-on at my bunker entrance.
"This the place?"
I nodded and flung open the hatch.
"I don't show this to just anyone, but today it's a special reveal."
My bunker wasn't for public tours.
Not even for academy alumni.
But I was prepared to abandon this cherished haven, vital as my own life.
I knew too well a future where it couldn't guarantee my safety.
This bunker—holding years of my life—was now unveiled to men from my school, my path.
"Whoa."
"...A palace."
The Hunters marveled, eyes scanning every corner sharply.
"That central toilet a trap? Decoy for drawing eyes?"
"Weird cover. Or a booby trap?"
Guys reacted differently from the women.
After a quick tour, I showed them what they'd love: my garage.
Strictly, the reforge heart making my bunker truly elite.
After everyone else died, expanding and tweaking it—that set it apart from other top bunkers.
But damn, humans are tenacious.
Wouldn't put it past some to writhe on even after Earth got Ebon'd.
Anyway, the garage hit the Hunters a hundred times harder than the bunker itself.
"Senior Park. Guessed it, but this is insane."
"...You could build a fortress here."
Cheon Young-jae had visited before, so milder reaction. But Ha Tae-hoon's eyes burned with greed.
"We need to talk."
I gathered them back inside.
"Time to explain why I'm pushing a toy war in that radiation-infested, Chinese-swarmed hellhole."
I laid out my real goal: retrieve the disk from John_nenon's mausoleum and head to Jeju.
Jeju wasn't the paradise postcard anymore—no birds, dystopian wasteland vibes. But there, I could dodge humans gunning for me.
"...Kim Daram's got a bunch of academy grads under her. Once her org crumbles, they'll come for me."
"At your level, couldn't you take them all?"
"Day's twenty-four hours, week's a hundred sixty-eight. I can stay awake that long, but no human lasts a hundred without sleep."
"We've got your back. Rally more people—worth a shot?"
"...You know we can't fight forever."
Both Cheon Young-jae and Ha Tae-hoon got it deep.
No eternal war.
My bunker had thousands of rounds, but combat burns through 'em fast.
Get hurt? High odds it means death.
Human-vs-human always ends ugly, pathetic, treacherous—unless one's overwhelmingly dominant.
"But that Jeju guy—trust him?"
Ha Tae-hoon eyed me sharply.
"The scammer promising Jeju trips? Haven't seen him lately, but he hustled Hunter Street hard."
"...He's legit."
Unicorn18.
His true ID: either Kang Han-min or Na Hye-in.
Or maybe not certain.
Still, I had to bet on him.
Some inexplicable urgency drove me to Jeju.
"...If I go to Jeju, you two manage this bunker."
Ha Tae-hoon and Cheon Young-jae exchanged looks.
"Ah, minus the laptop and net gear."
Ha Tae-hoon nodded.
Hours ago, he'd been whining about dying to the Chinese. Now, he laughed hearty, a changed man.
"Managing a bunker like this? Includes using it, right? For that rent, I'll bust my ass."
"Sucks you're heading to Jeju, Senior, but snagging this palace? Solid deal."
I shot back at the pair sipping kimchi soup.
"Just management. Not handing it over outright."
But if I left for Jeju, it'd be theirs anyway.
My senior and junior were now aligned with me.
They'd back the mausoleum raid to get Park Gyu to Jeju.
Like my survival DVDs and Blu-rays, Ha Tae-hoon had drone books and docs.
His were in Chinese characters or Beijing-accented audio, though.
As unfamiliar tongues echoed in the bunker, Ha Tae-hoon hauled a box from his truck's depths and unpacked it before us.
It eerily resembled the Chinese drone from the aerial footage.
Donning a welding mask, he repaired its damaged, unassembled parts.
"...Chinese bastards copied the Americans like crazy."
Magic sparked wherever his hands went—new parts blooming.
"So we copy their shit? No crime there."
Ha Tae-hoon ditched the mask with a grin.
Beneath stood a bipedal drone mimicking human form, legs firmly planted.
He worked the remote; it strode the bunker like a man, reverse-jointed legs flexing.
The gait was startlingly spry and nimble.
Whirr-
Its three-fingered manipulator spun, effortlessly lifting the fake goldfish bowl from my desk.
"Ooh."
"Hmm..."
Cheon Young-jae and I let out admiring gasps.
Ha Tae-hoon proudly unveiled his creation.
"KBX-69. One hundred percent domestic drone."
Performance was solid.
Near-new condition, repaired perfectly with Chinese manuals.
As it zipped around the bunker in a show of force, Ha Tae-hoon whispered.
"...My real ace."
This was probably his biggest asset.
True to named form, I filmed every move with my camera.
And then.
The map arrived too.
John_nenon's once-distant mausoleum now stepped right up to our doorstep.