Chapter 267
Chapter 267
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 267
Chapter Title: 110. Debt (2)
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I've seen fanatics active on FailNet before.
Back then, their actions felt crude—what's the word?—inhuman, almost devoid of any humanity.
Like ethnic Koreans from Joseon just starting out with voice phishing scams.
But people adapt and learn fast.
Just like how pre-war voice phishing got so sophisticated that even cautious young folks fell for it, the fanatics had leveled up from their old crude, inhuman ways into cunning propaganda machines.
In my eyes, that OneFace guy is definitely a fanatic.
Whether he committed the killings himself or just stumbled upon them, he's gotten his hands on some satellite internet gear and is now slinging his eerie tongue even on our message board.
That aside, the photo OneFace posted carried a truly shocking impact.
It was proof that the rumors were true: the Legion faction was carrying out organized massacres of fanatics.
As a hunter, I think fanatics deserve to die. But as a human being, even I have to say that level of indiscriminate slaughter goes against basic decency.
The fanatic had singled out Defender.
Defender's handsome face would leave a vivid, negative mark in people's memories.
He's been sniped multiple times already, and once even directly targeted, but this was on another level.
The countless fanatics—too many to even tally—would now remember Defender as a butcher and come gunning for him.
Of course, with the Legion faction as his sturdy shield, he might be safe from fanatic threats for the time being.
But piecing together the news trickling in from all sides, the faction itself doesn't seem long for this world.
"……."
Tap tap.
I sent a message to Defender.
Defender's been my neighbor for ages.
No matter what he's done or who he is, I don't want him dead.
Same goes for Dajeong.
Since we're building a community anyway, might as well bring in the people I like.
It'd been a while since we last talked, but King replied right away.
Is this guy glued to the internet all day too?
I was about to send a thanks when he messaged again.
King had seen right through OneFace being a fanatic.
First I'd heard of it.
That the fanatics had elites like that.
Not an impossible story, though.
The fanatics we faced in China started off disorganized and reckless, but over time, they gained cohesion and what felt like a command structure.
Considering North Korea's fanatics copied the group that wiped out China wholesale, it tracks.
King was predicting Defender's death.
I didn't give a special reply.
*
We rode the truck all the way to Sejong.
South of our turf, population was sparse, so raid risks were lower, but we spotted plenty of mutations on the not-short drive.
"What's that? Isn't it a heron?"
Varieties galore.
Even species that'd never been reported mutating back when I was on the job were showing mutation signs.
Proof the world was getting deeply corroded by rift energy.
Talk of ammo shortages for Korea's survivors had been around since last year.
Bullets were appreciating faster than apartments during the housing boom.
In an era where bullets were gold, rising mutations posed a massive survival threat.
In low-density spots like Australia, Russia, or Canada, mutations ranked as bigger threats than monsters.
Those intelligent mega-beasts actively hunted isolated folks with no backup.
Most didn't survive those attacks.
Countless people and households vanished simultaneously.
Local networks collapsed, and network breakdowns led to regional wipeouts.
Hard to believe, but tales circulated of a bear-led mutation "army" steamrolling a small town on Canada's Atlantic coast.
Korea's hasty policy evacuating rural folk to cities wasn't just about securing mutations—it was spurred by horrors like these from abroad.
"Think Judge Killer could take one of those down?"
I asked Cheon Youngjae, eyeing the nightmare heron looming over the stream like a bad dream.
"Probably impossible."
We left the mutation-choked wilds and hit open plains.
A massive ruined city loomed in the distance.
"That's Sejong?"
Cheon Youngjae muttered, fiddling with his gun.
Tension etched his hardened face.
Even the great Cheon Youngjae felt intimidated in this lawless land ruled by thugs.
"It's a place with people. Thugs around, sure, but the boss has it locked down tight. Not like the raiders you knew."
We hung a blue flag on the truck.
No blue cloth handy, and no patience to dye fabric, so we used some faded jeans Cheon Youngjae scavenged.
As we neared the city, two motorcycles pulled up on either side.
"Where you coming from?"
A guy with his face thickly tattooed beyond recognition rasped, chewing something.
"Here with King's permission to do business."
The thug's eyes flicked to the jeans flag.
"Don't try scamming."
After that surprisingly straight talk from his brutal mug, the thugs revved off to their container fortress with a roar.
"What the hell?"
Cheon Youngjae asked, baffled, finger still in the trigger guard on his drawn gun.
I grinned at him.
"Told you. It's a place with people."
Felt easier getting in than before.
At the gate, they just checked the truck's plates and lifted the barrier without a word.
"Park outsider vehicles here."
We parked as told, and the bustling street scene hit us.
"Whoa. This is Sejong?"
Excitement lit Cheon Youngjae's eyes.
"Totally different from the stories."
"Thanks to a solid leader, I guess."
Hunted down King before shopping.
Quick ID check at his underground palace entrance, and we were cleared.
"I'll wait here."
Left Cheon Youngjae behind and walked the familiar ornate hall.
Passing by, a woman in a fox mask beckoned me.
I glanced, not recognizing—then she doffed the mask with a smile.
The same woman who'd snuck into my room before.
King was in his office.
Daytime, so mask on.
The incense filling the room smelled thicker—not just my imagination.
"Hey. Skeleton."
King stood to greet me.
"King."
His voice was off.
Not just sickly—death clung to it.
"Ah! Ah!"
King cleared his throat and tried again.
"Throat's dry."
Better than before, but the thick incense barely masked the stench of corpse rot, and death shadowed his voice. I figured Sejong's king didn't have much time left.
"City looks improved since last time."
"Yeah."
King slowly approached, offering me a seat.
I sat; he sat opposite and clapped.
Masked women brought chilled bottles of various drinks.
I picked water.
Surprisingly, lemon slices at the bottom.
Small thing, but I saw that fresh lemon as an icon of the city's prosperity.
"It's chugging along. Not to brag, but we're the top city in central Korea. Even those arrogant Legion generals ask if we don't have a spot for them."
Pride in his voice drowned out the shadow of death, if just for a moment.
"How's the body holding up?"
I asked, savoring the faint lemon.
"Hanging in there, more or less."
"Hate to say it, but the stench seems worse. Anyone complaining?"
"Told 'em straight—I'm sick. Well, not my real condition, but diabetes, high lipids, hypertension, that sorta cover story. Means I quit the strong stud cosplay with the girls. No need anymore."
Something new in King's room.
A detailed acrylic-cased miniature of the city.
Quite different from current state, but shaped like Sejong City.
King stood, mask on, staring at the model for a beat.
"……It's on track."
He said with conviction.
"Time to find a successor."
"No good candidates among your men?"
"Plenty talented. Ivy leaguers, ex-corporate bigwigs. But factions have formed."
"Factions."
"When I go, they'll tear each other apart, wage stupid wars over the city."
King sighed, turning.
"Back to roadkill hell."
His masked eyes bored into me.
The intensity shone through.
"How about being this city's king?"
"Me? Me?"
"Wouldn't be bad."
King chuckled.
He returned to his desk, swiveled the monitor my way.
A click, and a familiar scene unfolded.
Twelfth Square.
The mythic man's battle replayed.
"Nergy?"
King stated flatly.
No urge to deny it.
If anything, I wished for more like him.
"How'd you know?"
"Fought alongside you. And among folks I know, only one wields dual axes that well."
"Then why not drop a hint on the board?"
"Felt wrong."
"Why?"
"Skeleton and Twelfth Square should be different people. Figured you thought the same, staying anonymous."
"?"
What.
Why do these opinions keep popping up?
Was Skeleton's rep that bad?
Wasn't he at least the fun vet?
"Something wrong, Skeleton?"
"Nah, nothing."
"The offer?"
"Honored, but pass."
King stared.
I explained.
"Think about it. Could Skeleton really run a city like this?"
"Good point."
"……."
King chuckled softly, perching on the desk and switching screens.
Next up: the scene he'd shown before coming here.
Bodies piled under concrete walls, crisp and huge on his monitor.
"Your take?"
"Dunno."
"To me, it was necessary. Manryu Gwigyo. The more you learn about those fanatics, the more they piss you off."
"That girl from back then. Still here?"
"Got her locked up. Kid's tough as nails. North Korean, maybe."
"Still not changing her tune? Eating okay?"
"Three squares a day. Does exercises herself. Something about Nine Breaths Divine Art? Spouting nonsense."
"The cult founder was a wuxia nut."
"Anyway, like I said before."
King switched screens.
Now filled with OneFace's revealed killers.
"Fanatic rep declared it—they're all dead men. So I'm watching. To gauge the fanatics' real power. Legion's got networks too."
"Isn't that Defender?"
I said, pointing at one handsome guy taking up space in the photo.
"Here?"
"Defender?"
King tilted his head.
"Who's that? Oh, the early kill-cert spammer?"
Nothing lasts forever.
Not even board fame.
"He still alive?"
Even Defender.
"Huh, that's Defender? Oof. He cleans up nice."
"We're personally tight."
"Yeah? With you?"
"……Yeah. Want to save him."
"If he's your friend, city's open to him. But after confirming those Dharma Guardian fanatics' strength. They announced it, so expect a raid on Legion soon."
Like I'd noticed, King's intel was top-tier.
Not just net—people, secure comms, connections. Way beyond me.
Makes sense for a city boss with endless traffic in people and goods. Info's just another commodity.
I met the city lord's gaze straight.
"So, once fanatic combat power's verified, you could take Defender in?"
"Obviously."
"That okay?"
I meant Defender's record.
Killer. Involved in massacres.
Life tied to murder.
Only raider packs take guys like that.
King read the subtext easy.
"If he's capable. We ignore pasts. We started as raiders anyway. What matters is resolve going forward. If massacres are the issue, I've got way worse under me than Defender."
"Yeah?"
King tapped keys.
A man's face appeared.
Stranger to me.
Plain features, but something chilling in them.
King eyed him.
"Seol Chando. The guy called the Butcher of Pyongyang."