Chapter 278
Chapter 278
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 278
Chapter Title: 112. Faith (7)
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“How can you shoot so accurately from that far away?”
There had been a 1km sniping course back in our academy days.
I dominated the top spots in every other subject, but sniping wasn't exactly my forte.
Regrettably, I'd ceded the crown to Lee Sanghun in that one—and it nagged at me enough that later, when Kim Daram joined my team, I asked her the secret to it.
“It's not just about gut feel and firing. Like they taught us at the academy, the Earth is constantly spinning, its magnetic field exerts force on everything, and the wind affected by all that shifts every which way.”
“How do you even measure the wind?”
What I was asking wasn't about the wind blowing at my firing position.
A spotter handles that, or I could roughly gauge it myself and factor it into the calculations.
The problem is wind doesn't blow in one direction, and there are far too many variables influencing its path for the human brain to compute.
Even if a westerly gust hits my side, an easterly could be whipping the target.
No one can predict that for sure.
Those who set long-range sniping records use heavy bullets to minimize the impact of wind and other variables.
The fact that sniper rifles in circulation fire 7.62mm instead of the standard 5.56mm is a compromise born from battling nature's whims.
I mainly stuck to 5.56mm and rarely needed anything else besides shotguns, so it wasn't a huge issue for me—but there are always those moments when you have to make a long shot with a standard rifle.
“The hints are everywhere around you.”
Kim Daram answered my question with the bright, trustworthy smile she'd since lost.
“If the target's wearing clothes, watch how they flutter. If there's a tree, use that. Don't just stare at the target—observe everything around it. That'll tell you what kind of wind is blowing.”
If she'd lived by those words back then, maybe we'd have kept a smoother relationship.
Instead, it crumbled, leaving only the cold skeleton of knowledge behind.
I stand at the precarious tip of that skeletal steel frame, take a deep breath, hold it, and lock eyes on the target.
A man.
A boy. Mid-teens. Skinny and scrawny.
He has a tic—blinks intermittently—but his body doesn't twitch.
That's every thought I have about the kid.
I aim the muzzle just shy of his temple.
“Over there! We know you're hiding!”
A zealot who climbed out of the car grabs a megaphone and shouts toward Defender's position.
“You're dead either way. You can't escape us. You've heard the rumors about the Order's trackers—the Dharma Protectors, right? No way you haven't. Our followers are mixed in with your soldiers, feeding you our intel. Just like those pitiful radio broadcasts you put out.”
I scan the zealots' armaments.
A few have guns, but most are unarmed.
More precisely, no firearms.
A good number wield crude spears, machetes, and sickles—cold weapons.
They're Awakened, convinced of it, biding their time for the perfect opening.
“Surrender now, and on the High Priest's name, we'll grant you a less painful death. A decent meal, booze—at need, drugs and women too. No torture, and we'll even give you something painless for the execution. I promise.”
The megaphone guy takes a step forward as he blusters.
Bang!
No hesitation. I fire.
With the gunshot and echo—
Thoom!
A shockwave erupts.
The man behind megaphone guy triggered it.
The bullet dives into an invisible dimensional rift, emerging like a wormhole's exit to graze past my temple.
“Ambush!”
The zealot yells.
“Awakened.”
I say quietly.
And fire again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Deliberate spaced single shots.
All suppressive fire.
Not even intimidation.
This is where humans can prove weaker than monsters, at least in this regard.
Monsters only deploy reflex barriers when directly hit, but humans—unlike them—pop theirs at the mere sound of gunfire.
Thoom!
Two more reveal themselves as Awakened after the first.
But they just reveal—no more.
“Suppressive fire.”
I order Ha Tae-hoon and Cheon Young-jae.
The two hunters open up with their rifles.
Blind shots not even qualifying as intimidation slice the night sky, but the zealots reflexively trigger shockwaves with every crack.
“Drone.”
I beckon Da-jeong, who's sitting demurely behind me with the controller.
She nods and activates our ace in the hole, hidden in the dirt.
Vrrrreeeeem—
A robot vacuum cleaner.
For some reason, she'd packed one, and it had its uses.
A bundle of grenades is strapped to its top.
“Unlike regular drones, this one's primitive—plots coordinates and goes. Simple means low maintenance, and cutting the wireless link kills any hacking or jamming risk.”
No need to shrink back just because they're an Awakened group.
It's still human versus human.
We've already dragged them into our advantageous terrain—that's more than half the win.
Of course, if they've got a monster like Kang Han-min or Na Hye-in level, that's a different story, but that's always the wildcard.
A drone lifts off above us.
Mortar-equipped.
I send the vacuum to the enemy via coordinates while menacing them with the drone.
Their eyes dart everywhere.
They'd been loosely eyeing Defender's hideout, but now they form a circular formation around the cars.
I watch calmly as the zealots array themselves, waiting for their guide to break away.
“Who are you?! Who dares bare teeth at us? Kim Byung-chul's underling? You know what happened to him and you're still pulling this shit?!”
Megaphone zealot bellows toward the gunfire.
No one answers.
Only the mortar drone buzzes loudly overhead.
Bang! Rat-tat-tat!
A gun-toting zealot shoots at the drone.
One man stops them and looks up.
Thoom!
Shockwave.
At the same time, something intangible yet palpably electric slices the air.
Pfft!
The drone, buzzing merrily, starts plummeting.
Sanda.
One of the monsters' powers that shoots anti-drone waves—a death knell for China, who poured national resources into drone tech.
Naturally discovered in China first, and named by them.
“Defender.”
I say into the comms.
“Can you sprint back?”
“Roger.”
Defender bolts full-tilt into the knee-high millet field, back to the slope.
“Run!”
The boy yells.
“Just run!”
The zealots ignore him.
They seem annoyed by the kid, even.
“Shut up!”
The situation's already razor-edged.
Any second, a bullet could fly—or another drone.
“Over there!”
The boy's constant yelling isn't inexplicable.
In a group where survival's dicey, it's thrashing for any reward.
That thrashing cracks their unity, just a bit.
Some head toward Defender, others stay by the cars.
The boy stands in the gap.
“Suppressive fire. In three.”
Three. Two. One.
Bang! Rat-a-tat-tat!
Ha Tae-hoon and Cheon Young-jae unleash hell together.
Each time—
Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!
Shockwaves burst from all sides, sending ripples, but beyond their max range lie unprotected voids.
I squeeze the trigger on the lone boy, screaming Defender's position.
Bang!
No suppression. No intimidation.
The bullet punches straight into the boy's heart.
He topples like a withered tree, still.
To Defender: “Target neutralized.”
I gesture to Da-jeong.
The vacuum's already under their car, awaiting orders.
She hits the button—
BOOM!!!
Cars fly in a ferocious blast.
Reeling from the shocks, the zealots emit that lighthouse shockwave chorus, clustering in orderly retreat.
The moment I see it, I realize.
These Awakened aren't total amateurs.
Abandoning the objective cleanly upon tactical disadvantage—that's elite organization stuff.
As the zealots withdraw, I say into the comms:
“Situation clear. Retrieve Hong Jeong-ho and RTB to base.”
Da-jeong stares at me.
“What about Skeleton?”
I point to the motorcycle abandoned in the brush far off.
“Gonna grab that.”
No need for long talks between us.
Vroooom—
The buggy bounces merrily over rough ground.
Surviving zealots pile into remaining vehicles and bug out.
Left behind: one cooling corpse and a little girl standing vigil beside it.
The girl just stares blankly at the dead boy, emotionless.
That hollow face hints she's wrung dry of feelings.
I hesitate a moment.
“......”
Temptation tugs briefly.
I'm a survivalist doomsayer.
But not cold-hearted enough to kill the unnecessary.
Even Defender feels off about his actions— I shouldn't entertain this.
The girl suddenly turns her head.
North.
Monsters incoming.
She heads to the car.
No zealot minds her, but she finds her spot and climbs in.
I hunker in the brush, waiting for them to leave.
The convoy rolls out.
By zealot faith, they should head into the monster horde from the city's north.
They veer southeast.
Preaching monsters like Buddha ideals, yet fleeing them all the same.
In that hypocritical procession, a gaze meets mine.
Too far to be sure, but the girl—leaning on the rear window, staring at the fly-swarmed boy's body—glares this way.
Hallucination from my conscience? Regret? Time will tell.
*
As our vehicles near base, the risen sun chills the abandoned yet verdant plain.
“Man, that felt good. Clean as hell.”
Cheon Young-jae dominates comms chatter.
“Never wrapped up this neat back in China or Korea days. But damn, everything goes smooth with Park hyung around. The second you said you'd leave Jeong-ho? I thought, 'This guy's ditching my bro?' Like that.”
His cheery vibe hides shadows aplenty.
As Ha Tae-hoon hinted, he's been through trauma, built invisible walls.
I've got two comms: one for Cheon Young-jae and Ha Tae-hoon, the other our custom job based on Defender's U.S. gear.
While one chatters, I key the quiet one.
“What happened to Kim Daram?”
Hated or not, she was once my most trusted junior.
First to find me when isolated.
Plus, I shelled out a million won for her wedding gift.
Of course I'm curious.
“Kim Daram?”
Defender snorts at the name.
No respect, no pity.
“That woman's a survivor anywhere. For real. Watching her, I knew—even if the world ends, she'll drag her hubby and fat kid through somehow.”
“That's a problem.”
“What? You want the team lead dead?”
“Nah.”
The endgame's mine.
Unfair for a non-doomsayer like Kim Daram to claim 'last human' glory just 'cause she's tenacious.
“Gotta outlive her.”
“Classic Skeleton.”
Defender grins and waves from the buggy's roof rack ahead.
Still that affable, handsome look.
“You, uh, not seeing any girls?”
His sister answers.
“He did. Duh. Ugh, total letdown.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Ugh... I thought my bro—er, Jeong-ho ham—was peak alpha. Y'know, slapping off clingy girls: 'Scram, bitch!' That type?”
“Sounds like me.”
“Nah, he went full simp for some not-even-pretty chick.”
“What?!”
“You gotta see it. First time I got cosmic horror.”
Defender cuts off Da-jeong's glee.
“Shut it.”
Guy turns elementary when cornered.
Anyway, the short, fierce trek ends.
Myriad hurdles await, but not now.
Beyond the empty plain, my modest domain rises.
I switch comms to open channel.
“Welcome.”
Da-jeong and Defender wave from the parallel buggy.
Their eyes brim with solid trust.
Yeah. Faith.
Pure faith the zealots lacked.
“Looking forward to it, Skeleton.”
“We're finally one!”
The Defender siblings join us.