Chapter 298
Chapter 298
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 298
Chapter Title: 119. Tools (5)
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Parents, siblings, friends—people we knew better than anyone, whom we believed would never change. But when they transform into someone completely unrecognizable, someone entirely different from the person we knew, how are we supposed to see them?
"Ughhh... Yeah. Yeah. Hwang Jang-uk. The thirty million won you borrowed from me. You still haven't paid it back. I'm done with lawsuits now. Just seeing the courthouse makes me want to puke."
"Research on the rifts is still being steadily updated even after the war. Anyway, our predictions were spot on. Spots, disease, skipper. Bear soup. Man, I could go for some bear soup. Boiling hot in a stone pot, loaded with kimchi juice."
"Has my damn daughter still not taken her college entrance exam? Why hasn't she shown her face? I'm her dad, for crying out loud. Always like that. Sides with her mom every time. And every damn thing she's wearing from head to toe was bought with the money I earned."
It didn't take long to realize that Jang Gi-young had lost his mind.
He wasn't the Jang Gi-young I knew.
His insides had rotted and decayed just as much as his zombie-like exterior.
He was already insane, beyond any hope of recovery.
"Let's go."
One of my key strengths as team leader is making quick decisions.
"What? Already?"
Defender, who had been standing guard at the door, reacted with surprise.
I glanced sideways at Jang Gi-young and replied.
"He's already gone."
"I get that, but..."
"What? Got an opinion?"
I stepped outside the warehouse in Defender's place to keep watch and waited for his response.
Defender took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.
"Isn't this a bit too hasty?"
"Maybe. But do you really think... that guy's recoverable? Like, as a person?"
"Hard to say. I'm no doctor. But isn't he still your mentor?"
Mid-conversation, a wry smile tugged at my lips.
The roles felt reversed.
Defender, the community-recognized psychopath, was acting like the reasonable one, while I—your average but capable user, Skeleton—came off like the cold-hearted psycho.
"What if we give him a little more time?"
Defender offered his suggestion.
"I know he's off, but at least he recognized your voice, right?"
"Does that matter?"
"Yeah."
Defender nodded.
"My grandpa couldn't even do that. Didn't recognize his own kids or grandkids."
I unintentionally learned another piece of Defender's family history.
"At least he's making something, isn't he?"
Defender stared at Jang Gi-young with impassive eyes.
I could read some of Defender's emotions in that gaze.
He wasn't worried about Jang Gi-young.
The old man's fate meant nothing to him— no different from some intruder in his territory.
What Defender was worried about was me.
After dragging ourselves through danger and distance to get here, he didn't want me cutting ties after less than a minute. He was suggesting more time to spare me any potential future regrets.
Feeling a twinge of gratitude for his consideration, I looked back at Jang Gi-young.
He was still tinkering away at something.
I didn't even want to know what.
Probably some rocket axe or other junk from his outdated fantasies.
As I stood there silently, Defender approached Jang Gi-young.
"Principal! How much longer?"
True to his psychopathic nature, Defender could play the sweet young man whenever he wanted.
"Huh? Principal. Whatcha making~?"
Jang Gi-young, who I'd thought wouldn't react, suddenly responded.
"Who is it? Hong Jeong-ho?"
Defender shot me a stunned look.
He couldn't believe the old man remembered his name.
"Yeah! Hong Jeong-ho here."
"Wait an hour. Parts are all done—just assembly left."
Defender whispered to me.
"I'll take a quick peek at what he's making."
While I kept watch, Defender sneaked a glance at the workbench from behind Jang Gi-young and returned.
"No clue."
"Powered suit or something? Like what those American kids wear."
"Nah, not that either. Hard to describe. Wanna see for yourself?"
"If even you can't tell, what chance do I have?"
"Maybe you'd get it."
"How long you think it'll take?"
I couldn't wait forever.
Even an hour, as he claimed, felt like plenty of time already.
"Just a bit longer. Almost done! Almost there!"
Another issue cropped up.
Jang Gi-young had dabbled in everything like some all-purpose candy, but he wasn't truly expert in any of it.
The classic jack-of-all-trades type—shallow and broad.
Considering most of that knowledge came from the internet, I doubted this zombie-fied version of my mentor could produce anything worthwhile just by fiddling with machines.
But still...
"This is incredible. A historic discovery. Something that'll change paradigms!"
A mere echo of my old teacher was getting this excited.
"Professor! Hang on! Custom gear to take down General types! Just watch. Kang Han-min, that monster-bragging bastard, thinks he's the best? Nah, the professor's always been number one! My disciple, the professor!"
I thought for a moment.
"..."
Looks like my heart's weaker than I thought.
Past me would've dismissed it outright.
But now, a sense of duty was rising from deep inside—insisting I at least see the finished product.
"Paradigm shift, huh?"
I shot a wry smile at Defender, who was eyeing Jang Gi-young, and said,
"Fine."
"Changed your mind?"
"Yeah. Guess we'll wait for the instructor's masterpiece to be complete."
And so began the wait with no end in sight.
Clank! Thud! Bang!
Jang Gi-young hammered and fitted scrap metal without pause.
Defender occasionally checked progress, returning each time with a baffled expression.
An hour slipped by in mounting anxiety.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The old man's hammering showed no sign of stopping.
Defender tried chatting him up amiably.
"When's it gonna be done, Principal?"
Jang Gi-young slammed the hammer down again and grumbled.
"Said an hour, didn't I?"
Guess it was a fool's hope after all.
Defender finally faced reality, his friendly face icing over.
"He's... really off, huh?"
The situation had shifted.
Now Defender was the one itching to leave.
And he was right.
We'd spent long enough in this danger zone.
No zombie or zealot threats so far, but zombies blanketed the area, and the zealots knew we were here.
Dragging this out wouldn't help.
But...
"Instructor."
I just didn't know anymore.
"Why? Park Gyu? Did you try that caracole tactic I emailed? Perfect counter for those dancer types giving you trouble."
"Excellent strategy."
Why was I even doing this?
"Right? Of course. My tactic, executed by you!"
He wasn't right in the head.
I'd never even seen a caracole tactic, let alone used one.
Feeling my patience fray, I asked,
"...How much longer till it's done?"
Jang Gi-young checked his wristwatch.
"Thirty minutes. Thirty! Go watch TV or something."
He flicked on the remote, and a TV in the corner—with a long antenna wire dangling—flickered to life.
Jang Gi-young muttered at the screen.
"What? Pickle still performing? Back in my day, he was dancing and singing too. Guy doesn't age, huh."
I'd already sensed it was over, but that nailed the coffin shut.
The ancient TV showed nothing but endless gray static hiss.
"..."
Correction.
Jang Gi-young wasn't crazy.
Because that wasn't even Jang Gi-young.
The withered, babbling corpse before me was just the remnants of my mentor.
Like a broken phonograph endlessly replaying a scratched record.
Defender muttered,
"You were right. We should've left from the start."
Too late for that now.
Bang! Bang!
Gunshots echoed nearby.
Only we and the zealots had guns around here.
Weeee—
A whistle blew.
And then...
"Over there! They're hiding in there!"
The zealots had found us.
They knew our exact position and were closing in.
"What now?"
Defender asked, polishing his dagger on his sleeve.
"..."
Who knows.
No clever plan came to mind.
The obvious fallback was the simplest: run and put distance between us and the zealots.
But that wasn't easy in this ruin.
Our enemies weren't just zealots.
Zombies, mutations, monsters.
Plenty hated humans.
And besides...
Weeeee—
A whistle from the opposite direction.
Calling in reinforcements.
"Back in the Legion days, how many zealots were around here?"
"At least over a hundred."
"I see."
We were surrounded.
Defender's curiosity started this, and my sentimentality locked us in.
Even as things looked hopeless, my mentor was thrilled.
"Look at this spray nozzle. Shiny, right? But that's just the handle of the knife. The real sharp blade? Essence of modern chemistry. Even monsters can't handle the smokescreen!"
He gleefully pounded away with his hammer.
Voices drifted from beyond the entrance.
Right outside.
"Hey, you rats. In the jiangshi warehouse?"
"Jiangshi warehouse? For real?"
"Yeah. Dong-cheol spotted 'em. Three inside, jiangshi included."
The zealots were calling my mentor a jiangshi.
Having survived the erosion zone so long, they knew about zombies that retained some reason.
Footsteps followed.
I roughly estimated their numbers from the sound.
"At least ten."
"There's a decent path behind the warehouse."
"Yeah?"
"I'll check it again."
Defender returned.
"No enemies. Seems even they don't know about it. Tough for people, but doable if we don't slip and get spotted climbing."
I followed Defender to the back of the warehouse.
Passing my mentor, I glanced at what he was building.
"?"
What the hell is that?
No wonder Defender kept tilting his head.
I had no idea.
Not what it was, or what it was for.
Just two metal cylinders joined together, as far as I could tell.
"Just a little longer."
Even now, my mentor flashed a creepy smile.
"Professor."
"..."
Defender and I checked the rear path.
There was a way out.
A precarious climb over debris from a half-collapsed building on the slope—but that's why the zealots wouldn't know it.
"Shall we?"
Defender said.
We should.
I was about to.
Until the next zealot voice.
"Take out the jiangshi too."
I froze.
Standing still, I replayed their words.
"..."
They'd said it.
They were going to kill my mentor.
Sure, in a sense, he was already dead—but these zealots were openly declaring they'd eliminate my old teacher right in front of me.
The zealot conversation continued.
"By doctrine, jiangshi are those on the boundary of life and death, who've seen the truth. In the broad sense, comrades sharing our faith. We left him alone till now for that reason, right?"
"That jiangshi doesn't cooperate anyway. Saw the truth and still ignores us?"
"His mind's not fully intact yet."
"It's cosplay. Bastard's faking crazy to avoid helping. Gil-wan saw it—chatting and trading with that Comparison guy like it was nothing."
Some disagreement, apparently.
But it resolved quickly.
"He's been a thorn anyway. No forgiveness now."
Movement from the zealots.
They'd decided.
Deal with us and my mentor together.
"Let's go."
Defender headed to the back path as planned.
But I didn't move.
Defender, ahead, turned back with confusion.
"Skeleton?"
"..."
"What's up?"
"Go on ahead."
"What're you talking about?"
I sighed and looked back.
There was my transformed mentor, blissfully engrossed in his work.
"...Dunno."
I couldn't just leave him.
At the very least,
"I'll see Instructor Jang's work finished."
"Wait, you said ignore him and go earlier? What changed?"
Defender pressed, a bit heated, but he knew me well.
He soon read the resolve on my face.
"...Man."
He let out a hollow chuckle.
"Always seem so cold, but you've got these random stubborn streaks."
Defender came back.
I eyed him quietly, and he grinned.
"Can't be helped, right?"
He'd stick with me.
Match my selfish stubbornness.
"No need to push it. This is between me and Jang."
"You've saved my life how many times? Mine and my sibling's share too. Even if we die here, the others are still out there. Means I can go easier now."
Defender was firm.
No reason to turn down his goodwill.
"...Thanks."
A quick thanks, then I laid out my plan.
"They don't know who we are. Hunters? Soldiers? Scavengers? Complex residents?"
"Misjudging our strength?"
"They know our numbers—that'll make 'em cocky."
Defender knew it too: zealots were mostly untrained civilians lost in fanaticism.
Weak to shock, clueless on tactics.
Like any untrained mob, they'd crumble under quick, heavy losses.
Lure them in, maximize damage.
The worse the hit, the more time we'd buy.
If it went to plan, better survival odds than just fleeing.
We had to assume sensor-types could track us anyway.
We were cornered the moment they spotted us.
Step—
Zealots approaching.
I angled a mirror to check them out.
Five.
Clumped together.
"No guns."
One Awakened over level 5 mixed in.
Identity unclear.
Two pairs of eyes faintly glowing.
Weapons check.
One guy with shining pupils held a domestic submachine gun; the rest had bladed weapons—blunt ones, actually.
Bats, aluminum bats, chains, even knuckles.
Planning to capture us alive?
I smirked.
How arrogant.
Signaled Defender.
He nodded and positioned at the back.
Shing—
I drew my axe one-handed.
"..."
Time to pay the price.