Chapter 263
Chapter 263
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 263
Chapter Title: 108. Swamp (2)
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Valentine glanced at them.
After a moment of hesitation, he shouted loudly to the people beyond the wall.
"If you want to get out, do it now. Didn't you say you wanted to escape from Teacher Ryu?"
He immediately whispered to me.
"Not in my territory."
"I know."
Valentine winked and spoke to the people again.
"Didn't you say you want to leave? Huh? You said you can't possibly stay under Teacher Ryu anymore? Then get out now. You won't get another chance later."
After raising his voice like that, Valentine dragged his luggage and descended below the conveyor belt.
With plenty of luggage still left, he stood guard, eyes scanning the surroundings.
The man who had fallen flat on his ass finally snapped out of it. He rubbed his ears and staggered to his feet.
He avoided meeting my gaze from then on.
The other armed men were just as subdued.
They slunk behind the pillar, trying to hide their bodies.
As the man called Teacher Ryu limped back to his gang hiding behind the pillar, Cheon Youngjae approached me.
"What're we doing?"
He glanced at the people peering at us from beyond the wall and asked.
"Nothing."
Today, we'd come for one person: Valentine.
Taking in anyone else had never crossed our minds, and we had no desire to do so.
Even embracing group survival didn't mean recklessly swelling our ranks—that was a one-way ticket to doom.
Even in a group, we'd only accept those I approved of or who could genuinely help us.
In this era, sympathy was no different from the luxury brands that had claimed the department store's high-end floors before the war.
"Last one now."
Valentine hoisted the final carrier and made his way down the conveyor belt.
Vroooom—
A vehicle engine rumbled from the distance.
"Gasoline."
Cheon Youngjae said.
Not ours.
Our truck ran on an electric motor.
Vroooom—
The sounds kept coming—static-laced roars tearing through the air.
Not just one or two.
At least ten vehicles, maybe more, passing nearby.
"Valentine."
I called out to him as he descended.
"That noise—could it be their gang?"
Valentine shook his head.
"No. These folks have no cars or fuel left. They burned through what little they had last spring."
The engine noise cut off.
Cheon Youngjae and I exchanged looks.
The sounds didn't fade into the distance.
Meaning at least a dozen vehicles had stopped right around here.
"Who d'you think?"
Cheon Youngjae asked.
"Raiders, most likely."
"Same thought, hyung?"
The engines sounded rough—probably running on the cheapest synthetic oil, no proper maintenance.
Keep driving like that, and they'd break down soon enough.
Not something you'd see in the Legion faction, with their full maintenance crews.
"Want me to scout?"
"Can you get a headcount?"
"Not from here."
I signaled Cheon Youngjae to hold position and called out to Teacher Ryu, still crouched behind the pillar.
"Hey. You."
No response.
I kept going anyway.
"Those car sounds outside—what are they? If you know anything, spill it. Might help us all get out of here faster."
Still no reply, though I caught faint whispers.
Then Teacher Ryu's voice drifted from beyond the pillar.
"Raiders."
Figured as much.
"They roam in convoys, killing folks, looting gear. Spot a car? They take that too. Straight-up bandits."
"They got business here?"
"Nah. Haven't clocked us yet."
"Then why'd they come?"
"What else? Watering up or passing through."
"How long they sticking around?"
"Two, three hours?"
"Guess we're hunkered down till then."
Silence from the other side.
They clearly weren't thrilled about us lingering.
Tough luck.
Not a single reason to tangle with raiders in a dump like this.
The raiders' sudden arrival forced us into an unplanned, awkward truce.
The conveyor belt to the second pillar marked the line: Teacher Ryu's turf beyond the corridor, ours on this side.
To double-check, I asked Valentine about the raiders too.
"Huh. Now that you mention it, yeah—engine noise pops up regularly. Dawn sometimes."
"No clue who they are?"
"Nope."
Valentine leaned in, whispering while eyeing Teacher Ryu's crew stealing glances our way.
"Ryu's gang tries to micromanage every damn thing these people do. 'Don't go out. Don't peek outside.' Starts there, escalates to 'No pissing at certain hours. Sleep with your head that way. One wash a day.' Everything. Wants 'em all under his thumb."
"You managed contact somehow."
"Pretext of alarm systems. Fired up the generator, hooked into satellite gear. Otherwise? Computers banned outright."
Valentine hadn't joined Ryu's gang willingly.
"Was at Shelter 152. Bucheon lowlands. Decent spot. Chief was young, sharp. Even that brutal winter—tons froze elsewhere—we held steady. But y'know how it is. Every group's got 'em: folks who swear they'd run it better, can't live without the throne."
Shelter 152—some 1,500 souls—fell apart.
Legion pullout, rebel uprisings, big shifts like that played a part, sure. But Valentine pinned the kill shot on Teacher Ryu.
"Name's Ryu Hyeonbu. Pre-war, high school vice principal—won't say which one. Apartment rep for sure. Everyone here's from the same complex. Anyway, he eyed that chief spot. Schemed hard last year. Lackeys spreading smears, nitpicking every move, stirring shit nonstop."
Cheon Youngjae, listening in, let out a snort.
"Ah, those assholes."
I glanced at him.
"Dime a dozen?"
"Everywhere. Think they'd crush it as top dog. End up tanking it every time."
Valentine nodded along.
"Ryu finally booted the chief. Guy had skills, but woman trouble—forced thing with some lady. Morally fucked, yeah. Deserves the boot. But this ain't a sane world anymore, right?"
Shelter split down the middle.
Chief's backers stuck with him, misconduct be damned—they trusted his chops and leadership. The rest? Ryu Hyeonbu.
Out of 1,500, a thousand backed Ryu.
Five hundred held for the old chief.
Valentine picked Ryu.
Bigger crowd felt safer—fireproof, y'know? Didn't know the guy back then.
New boss Ryu Hyeonbu's first move: relocate the shelter.
Fanatics closing in, so ditch the spot, head near Legion HQ in Seoul for backup—that was his pitch.
Plan crumbled from jump.
Unidentified cat mutations ambushed the caravan at night. Then Legion shells rained down—spotters mistook 'em for rebels.
From a thousand down to a hundred. Fast.
Half dead, half cursing Ryu, limped back to the old shelter.
Last holdouts? His diehard apartment crew... and reluctant tags-alongs like Valentine.
"Raiders circling us—what choice we got? Scatter, and we're chow."
Near Seoul suburbs, Ryu spotted the swamp and its stilted ruins.
"There. Perfect."
Why perfect? He couldn't spell it out.
Like any overzealous everyman, one reason: looks safe.
It was.
For a bit.
That's all she wrote.
Apocalypse solo survival demands endless calculus. He picked a swamp ruin on "safety" alone.
Shelter stockpiles stretched awhile, but hygiene tanked. Disease hit.
Bodies piled up.
Dumped 'em in the swamp.
Summer loomed; supplies cratered.
His supporters griped openly now.
Ryu handed guns to loyalists. Started cracking skulls to keep control.
The swamp he'd chosen was slowly dragging him—and everyone—under.
"...But that bastard? Never admits fault. Just 'bad luck' for him."
As his tale wrapped, ferocious engines roared outside.
Fading now.
Raiders pulling out.
Cheon Youngjae slipped to the gap for a peek.
"Yeah. Gone. All clear."
"Which way?"
"West."
"Good."
Time to bounce.
No reason to stick.
I eyed Ryu Hyeonbu and his crew behind the pillar, hyper-aware of just us.
Locked eyes with the uniformed guy poking his head out.
Fate or whatever. Asked him.
"Which legion?"
"Seventh."
"East front? That zone?"
"Yeah."
Bullshit.
Pre-war, Seventh Legion reserves got thrown into the North meltdown. DS elites "policed" NK... then butchered locals like dogs amid the disgust. Numbers? Nobody knows.
Monster turf blurs human and beast anyway.
"Let's roll."
Valentine picked up the pace.
"Dunno if I'll be useful, but SKELTON's bailed me out plenty. Won't let you down."
"Nah. I'm the one counting on you."
Before we split, I scanned the folks past Ryu's gang.
Despite his threats, all ages, both sexes—staring at us with desperate eyes.
"..."
No plans to take 'em.
No bandwidth.
But they're human.
Surveyed the scene.
Pinched my nose. Breathed.
That stench? Plague central.
This swamp rotted everything alive.
Under Ryu? Mass grave.
No debate.
Venturing out? No survival odds boost. But beats rotting here—clutch at straws.
Wished 'em luck. Turned to Cheon Youngjae.
"Refugee spots nearby?"
"Wonju, Gangneung safest bets. Roads? Might hit Legion patrols. Bastards, yeah—but they skip civilian kills. That shelling? Shitty luck. Or karma? Thousand-strong mob on the move."
"Legion encounter = survival shot?"
"Maybe?"
Not sold, even he.
Times like these.
Beats nada.
"Hold up."
Set my gun aside. Walked to Ryu bare-handed.
His crew tensed—no aim since I was clean.
Rounded the pillar. Found Ryu.
Looking up, cowed. Why? all over his face.
"Stay put, you all die. Your move?"
"None of your business."
"Fair. But..."
Glanced at the wall-folk.
"They get a say."
Ryu's mug twisted. Ordinary joe, though.
His armband enforcers? Same boat.
Us proven killers? They folded like cheap suits.
"You lot."
To the wall-folk.
"Wanna bail? Come on. Raft priority."
"Who the hell—?!"
Ryu bellowed.
Stepped up.
Muzzles swung my way. I didn't flinch.
"Ryu Hyeonbu."
Stared him down. Clear as day.
"Their call."
He shook. Eyes dropped.
Shot glares at the gunners. They yanked muzzles away, heads turning fast.
Path clear. To the people.
"Go. You're free."
Can't vouch for tomorrow. But choice? That's yours.
Old me? Steamroll past. Now? Different world.
"Hyung."
Back with Cheon Youngjae—he whistled.
"Got moves."
Eyed the crowd.
"..."
Their faces hit me: I knew this crew's endgame.
"Teacher Ryu!"
"Teacher Ryu, chin up!"
"We're staying."
"Shit happens, but you got us here!"
"You outsiders! Piss off! Why trust you?"
"Yeah—what makes you worth following?"
Figured Ryu oppression left 'em broken, death the only out.
Off by a mile.
They backed him. Hard.
Cheers swelling for Ryu, jeers raining on us. Valentine shook his head, sidling up.
"...After all that trash-talk."
Stared at 'em, baffled.
"What the actual fuck?"
No point parsing. No time.
"Move out."
Nothing left here.
I offered choice. They picked staying.
Swish-swish—
Valentine tugged the rope, raft nosing shore. Cheon Youngjae and I watched the swamp as dusk bled in.
This patch was a sports park once. Not swamp.
Random quirks turned it.
No solo act, a swamp.
Needs clay that won't drain. Depth shy of lake. Inflow Goldilocks—just right.
Stack those rarities: swamp born.
Ryu's mob? Same recipe.
Coincidences—or inevitables—clumped. Like their swamp squat, self-sinking into the mire.
Won't swing back. If ever? Skip the ruins.
One way or t'other, they're swamp now.