Chapter 297
Chapter 297
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 297
Chapter Title: 119. Tool (4)
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Throughout school and my active-duty days, I endured all sorts of criticism and slander, but the hardest to bear was the misunderstanding about my relationship with Jang Gi-yeong.
"Jang Gi-yeong, isn't Park Gyu really your son?"
"I'm not the only one who thinks that."
"It could be a smokescreen."
"If Jang Gi-yeong had given even half that attention to other students, there wouldn't have been so many dropouts."
I was Jang Gi-yeong's prized disciple, monopolizing his support and focus.
One person's attention inevitably breeds another's jealousy.
It was a perfectly natural progression, but deep down, I rejected the idea of Jang Gi-yeong becoming a father figure to me.
In truth, while I was his direct disciple, I didn't like him—and later, I even grew to despise him.
That loathing grew in proportion to my rising fame and the number of monsters I slew, culminating just before I left China in branding him inwardly as a complete fraud.
Yet despite all those layers of hatred, one unchanging fact remained.
Jang Gi-yeong liked me.
He had genuine expectations for me and hoped I'd achieve even greater feats.
My success was his pride.
I won't deny even that sincerity.
"Park Gyu. Your posture's slipping. Some say a rigid, disciplined stance isn't much use in real combat, but posture is a mirror to the mind—and a benchmark to steady you when you're wavering."
The image of my mentor, who used to drill me mercilessly with private lessons after classes, suddenly resurfaced.
That image soon morphed into a living corpse, its grayish-white pupils shriveled like a mummy dragging a cart.
"Ugh... nozzle... nozzle... jet spray..."
The rumor that Jang Gi-yeong still retained some awareness was true.
But in that state, wouldn't it have been better if he were a mute, ordinary zombie?
A chill without reason crept up my spine.
"..."
My condition was at an all-time low.
I could feel my emotions wavering.
"SKELTON."
Defender turned to look at my face.
"You don't look good."
I replied with hand signals.
Meaning: keep moving.
We decided to skirt around the fanatics.
To avoid any detection abilities, we took a wide detour, looping back toward Jang Gi-yeong from a distance.
Avoiding the fanatics meant encountering other enemies.
Behind a dilapidated warehouse untouched even by moonlight, a horde of zombies staggered about.
They spotted us and shambled over hesitantly—one even charged at us with surprising speed.
Defender stepped forward.
Thwack!
Blunt weapons are incredibly efficient against zombies.
Human bones and tendons are tougher than they look, and blades dull faster than you'd think.
Crack!
Ruthless against zombies and humans alike, Defender smashed the charging zombie's head in one blow, then barreled forward, toppling the next with momentum-driven forepaw strikes before crushing its skull.
I followed swiftly in his wake, handling a zombie lunging from the side.
Splat!
The zombie horde was cleared in an instant.
Defender had taken down most of them.
He approached me, his club dripping viscous blood.
"You okay? You seem off all of a sudden."
"I'm fine."
I wasn't.
I was shaken—that much was true.
The problem was the cause.
It wasn't seeing Jang Gi-yeong's transformed state that rattled me.
I already knew his reality and was prepared for even worse outcomes.
What truly shook me was the surprise.
The fact that Jang Gi-yeong—that old man I'd despised and looked down on so much—could unsettle my emotions just by appearing.
"Let's go."
Had Jang Gi-yeong been that big a presence to me?
He hadn't liked me or marked me as successor from the start.
Our first meeting, he treated me with his usual prickly, nitpicking attitude reserved for subpar students.
Like he did with Kang Han-min, for instance.
He only truly accepted me as a disciple after I began excelling in various trials.
Starting from when I first claimed top rank.
From then on, I was his disciple; before that, I was just another student he wanted expelled.
In other words, Jang Gi-yeong saw me as a tool.
"There's another group ahead. Fewer numbers, but looks like a lot of runners. What now?"
I answered Defender's question with more hand signals.
Push through.
Detours would just lead to more zombies the fanatics hadn't cleared.
"What about the fanatics?"
"No major activity. Whistling from afar—probably over 300 meters."
"Sounds carry farther and clearer at night. The whistle itself could be a decoy."
We held position, observing.
Screech—screech—
Jang Gi-yeong was still dragging his cart along the pier.
His shambling steps pulling the cart slowly had an oddly peaceful air, if mismatched to the situation.
He soon entered one of the pier warehouses.
A warehouse labeled "13B," the faded marking half-erased.
I stayed put, ears open to every sound and presence around us.
A cloud veiled the moon.
As the world darkened further, the chorus of grasshoppers everywhere swelled.
But not enough to drown our hearing.
Guns ready, trigger fingers poised, we calmly watched potential enemy entry points.
Detection ability users were once terrifying, but after facing them a few times, I realized they were just humans operating within the same innate limits as us.
Fear usually stems from ignorance.
Once I grasped countermeasures, I saw that detection wasn't a direct combat asset.
Ironically, the first to dismiss detection users as overrated was none other than Jang Gi-yeong.
"So what if you find someone? Does finding them kill them? No? Then tech can handle it. Infrared sensors alone catch most people."
Dismissed as nonsense back then, his words hold weight now.
But that doesn't mean he had foresight.
The main reason he downplayed them was because they competed for his rice bowl—low-level Awakeners.
Everything was like that with him.
My mentor.
The reason so many of his predictions panned out wasn't because he was exceptional.
He just said so damn much.
Rustle—
People.
Fanatics.
They'd spotted and tracked us.
Made sense—zombie kills make some noise.
"Lure them."
Defender and I headed for a warehouse with a collapsed wall.
Dozens of zombies inside.
Most stood motionless, dormant.
They awaken to human breath.
Sure enough, as we appeared, zombies stirred, murmuring.
Waking up.
Normally, we'd run—but here, a gamble was viable.
I pulled out a handkerchief, clamping it over nose and mouth.
Research shows zombies react most to noise, especially gunshots, but nearly as much to human breath.
Not the CO2 itself, but gases matching average exhalation composition.
Thus, muffling breath with a cloth reduces their reactivity in dormant zones.
Of course, entering a zombie-packed space is mad.
Standard is bypass or firepower sweep.
But here, we needed the gamble.
Breath muffled, presence minimized, I scanned the warehouse.
Luck held.
A prefab staircase led to a catwalk-like walkway near the roof.
"Up here?"
I nodded at Defender's question, testing the first step.
Creeeak—
Old, but not rotted through.
Would hold two fully geared adult men easily.
"Ambush from here."
Breath still muffled, I eyed zombies with one eye, structure with the other, briefing Defender succinctly.
Jeju proved it: detection isn't invincible.
They sense location only—not identity.
Whether we're scavengers or trained hunters, detectors can't tell.
So we turn them into moths to flame.
Here, in this death trap.
"They're inside."
Fanatic voices from beyond the wall.
Footsteps suggest three.
They must underestimate us badly.
Maybe no real fighters around here boosted their confidence.
The fanatics entered.
First thing they'd meet: the zombie horde.
Gasp!
"Dormant zombies!"
Most carried blunt weapons; only one had a shotgun.
Did that guy have to be here?
Bang!
He did.
And he screwed up.
"Ughhh..."
"Grrr..."
Startled by the sudden horde, he woke the dormants.
About fifty.
Best to wipe them quick, but prolonged fights draw more zombies.
Not too many in this pier, but overwhelming for five fanatics short on automatic weapons.
"Run."
Breath muffled, we climbed the catwalk and hurried along.
Midway, a ladder to the roof.
Observe from there, then straight to Jang's warehouse.
"Grrr!!!"
Zombies fully awake.
They went straight for their awakener.
Bang! Bang! Bang!!!
"Damn it!"
The fanatic's curse echoed beyond the wall.
We seized the gap, racing up to the roof.
Steep gabled roof; we observed below.
Thud!
Shockwave hit.
One tracker was an Over Level 5 Awakener.
Crackle!!
Gray-white lightning and sizzling—likely an offensive power too.
But zombies pressed hard.
Ooooh—
Ooooh—
Responses echoed from everywhere.
They sensed kin under attack and were signaling reinforcements.
Fanatics weren't dumb; they retreated.
Defender and I descended the ladder, sprinting to our target warehouse.
[ 13B ]
There.
My mentor Jang Gi-yeong was there.
The closer we got, the heavier my steps felt, inexplicably.
"..."
Was it really that?
No matter how much I denied and ignored it, was a bond— the absolute weight of affection and attention—something a single cynical breath couldn't just dispel?
I was Jang Gi-yeong's tool.
That's fact.
Let me add one line.
I was also his pride and boast.
I know that.
Every time I discovered, slew a new monster, grasped new weaknesses and patterns, he rejoiced like it was his own feat.
I hated that.
Why?
Because he was shallow?
Because he was a know-it-all fraud pretending without knowing?
The warehouse neared.
Dead breaths so close they clung to my goosebumped skin.
One more step, and a voice I knew intimately—one I thought I'd never hear again, stern, strict, inflexible—drifted from the open warehouse door.
"Hersonfree-style relied too much on machines. My method is refined for humans. Machines are mere tools for manpower. Tools presuppose humans. Forgetting that simple truth leads to the same mistakes."
Jang Gi-yeong.
My mentor Jang Gi-yeong.
Spouting utter nonsense with dead seriousness, like always.
"..."
I felt Defender look at me.
He spoke softly toward me.
"Go in. I'll hold here."
I nodded in thanks and entered the warehouse.
And I saw it.
A mountain of junk, indescribably cluttered.
The vast pier warehouse brimmed with scrap metal and gear piled into hills everywhere, and at the center, before a slanted workbench, the back of a shabby middle-aged man with patchy, balding hair twitched like a seizure victim.
"..."
Words failed me.
Back when he was human, he'd spout off endlessly in that cramped rented apartment.
My mentor still rambled his trademark profound drivel without pause.
"That supposedly invincible Kraken-type armor, said unbreakable without nukes by human tech? Worn down by relentless barrages. That's monsters for you. Me too. Woo Min-hee too. Should've expelled her. Kang Han-min. You're a bad one. Real bad. Don't curse me. I did nothing wrong."
For a fleeting moment, I dared hope.
Maybe my mentor was still sane.
Or perhaps, Awakener powers in hand, he'd impart new lessons he never taught me.
Recalling the black certificate beside Su's in my room, steeling myself, pushing down waves of emotions I couldn't name, I spoke to my mentor's back.
"Instructor."
Jang Gi-yeong's movements halted.
Slowly, the zombie turned to me.
I was a little curious what he'd say.
He spoke.
"What? Park Gyu?"
My mentor turned back to the desk.
"Remember what I said the day before yesterday?"
"Pardon?"
"Said I'd make you a secret weapon! That general-type bastard. We'll thrash it!"
"..."
"Almost done. Yeah, almost!"
Jang Gi-yeong laughed aloud.
I had nothing to say.
It happened. That's all.