Chapter 315
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 315
Chapter Title: Hiding a House in the Apocalypse
Message from Deadman_working: It's a mobile broadcasting vehicle. French-made. Something the European folks often used.
Message from Deadman_working: Yeah. This should be enough to tap into the voices of the dead.
Message from Deadman_working: But that gear can't run the broadcast equipment on its own power alone. It'll need an external generator—one that pulls a massive amount of electricity. It was designed from the start assuming the broadcast station gets destroyed in wartime.
Message from Deadman_working: It'll need to run for three days straight while supplying power. Not an easy task. Plus, there's one minor issue, but we'll talk about that later.
The problem, of course, is the lethal defenses inside.
Emgu doesn't know the full details either.
All he saw from afar was Ji Chang-su's group forcing open a seam with a welder, entering inside, and then scrambling out covered in blood.
A government-level organization sharpened their knives and set up deadly traps to ensure no one could touch it.
Going in with half-baked preparations won't end well.
Luckily, I have someone to consult about this issue.
No idea why, but Unicorn overreacts whenever I say I have something to ask.
Thief got cold feet or something.
Doesn't matter. It's probably good news anyway.
My colleague and online acquaintance, unicorn18, seems to know a bit about the government's hidden assets.
A nasty joke.
But not an incomprehensible idea.
It'd be pretty frustrating for the creators if their meticulously prepared defense system got neutered by a few mouse clicks and keystrokes.
So they set up a brutal trap: only someone strong enough to kill the dragon in the warehouse can take it.
"A form of absolute evaluation."
I fully agree with Ha Tae-hoon's assessment.
The issue is that we've ended up having to take that absolute evaluation test.
Of course, this is purely to satisfy my personal desires.
No intention of dragging everyone into it.
So for this mission, it's just me and Valentine.
I'd prefer to go alone, but operating the comms equipment and data links requires specialist skills that only Valentine can handle.
"Hey, SKELTON."
Hong Da-jeong doesn't usually attend meetings, but for some reason, she's shown up personally in the central bunker plaza today.
She stares straight at me and asks.
"That Necropolis thing. Do we really need to bring it here to our country?"
"It's not something worth risking our lives over."
"Then why?"
"Well."
It could be grand reasons like humanity's universal welfare, a network for all, salvation from the coming cold snap, and so on.
But I think such lofty values lack persuasive power.
I pondered for a moment.
No need for long thought.
I already know the answer.
I shrugged at Hong Da-jeong.
"Communities, you know."
"Yeah."
"The more people, the better, right?"
In other words, increase the user inflow.
Just like my role model, John_nenon, did.
"Honestly, when the PaleNet folks joined, the boards really livened up, didn't they?"
Hong Da-jeong smirked.
It clicked.
My persuasion worked.
Well, there are other big reasons, but no need to mention them.
"Then count me in."
With a subtle smile, Da-jeong raised her hand.
"I'm not great with guns, but I can provide drone support. Looks like you'll need a ton of drones there. You'll need your big sis then, right?"
If Da-jeong steps up, that's great.
As she said, scouting the dragon's lair thoroughly with drones—expendable lives—instead of blindly sending people in seems safer.
"If my little bro's going, I'm in too."
The set with Da-jeong, Defender, also raised his hand.
He's reliable against humans, but I glanced at Valentine's expression.
Sure enough, his mouth twisted awkwardly.
Yeah, that tracks.
Valentine doesn't like the Defender siblings.
Well, who does that guy like anyway.
"SKELTON. Can I come too?"
Here's another volunteer Valentine doesn't care for.
Su.
Appreciate the sentiment, but Su's not suited for this.
Su pulls more than her weight in defensive missions, but even that's a heavy, burdensome load for her—she's still growing.
"Sorry, Su. You and your mom stay behind and guard the place."
Honestly, this is plenty.
More than enough manpower.
To satisfy my petty greed.
As I was wrapping up volunteer recruitment, one more hand went up.
"You'd hurt my feelings leaving me out."
Cheon Young-jae.
Secretly hoped he'd volunteer.
But taking him would leave a gap in our defenses.
"Cheon Young-jae. No need for you to go too."
His sensing abilities are as vital for defense as they are for offense.
He lives outside the territory, making him a joker card if it's attacked.
"Nah, I can step away for a bit, right? Hasn't been a proper raid since I got here."
"That raid could come tomorrow or the day after. You know that."
As I bantered good-naturedly with Cheon Young-jae, a lazy yet clear-voiced interjection cut in.
"Don't worry. Go and come back safe."
Ha Tae-hoon.
"Just two Hunters. Protected by Sentry Guns. Won't crumble easily even if attacked. And besides."
Ha Tae-hoon glanced at Rebecca, sitting off to the side, and added.
"We've got new allies now, right?"
Rebecca glanced our way, gave a thumbs-up, and Su mimicked her mom.
"Come back safe, SKELTON."
I nodded to them.
Returning safely.
That'll be my true way of repaying them.
With the team set, we didn't head out right away.
Valentine made a suggestion.
"Given the schedule and the timing, shouldn't we at least throw a tarp over the truck?"
This trip involves a lot of electronic gear.
Drones galore, generators, satellite equipment for comms with Deadman_working.
It's early autumn.
Showers come frequently, including sudden downpours.
The cold snap is fierce, but excluding winter, the seasons still follow the old subtropical warming patterns.
Meaning frequent downpours.
"Then let's do this."
Might as well prep thoroughly since we're going.
Turning the truck into a fortress sounds good.
Common sight among road raiders and scavengers on the Gyeongbu Expressway.
Armor plates won't block everything, but they'll definitely stop stray bullets—the most common threat.
Problem is the truck's power.
A standard 1-ton electric truck can't handle all the gear plus armor weight.
Plus, EVs are inherently glitchy electronics; breakdowns are hard to fix on the fly.
Gas vehicles can limp along with jury-rigs; EVs just die and stay dead.
For reference, I never turn on the truck's heater, no matter how cold.
Turn it on, and the motor often shuts down.
Fine for a simple trip, but not for a combat-expected, minimum-three-day mission.
"I've got something in mind."
Defender offered a solution.
Headed with Defender to a barn not far from the bunker.
The roofless barn looked precarious, frame exposed, ready to collapse, cluttered with junk and mystery trash blocking entry.
Hidden inside that abandoned barn: a truck.
3.5t domestic model, common as dirt on pre-war highways.
50k km mileage, solid engine and drivetrain.
"Just needs a tweak. Lucky bastards booby-trapped the spark plugs so others couldn't take it."
If Defender, with his mechanic background, says so.
One concern: old bloodstains around the driver's seat.
"Oh, that?"
Defender caught my gaze—like he has eyes in the back of his head—and explained first.
"Roadside abandonment. Raiders and driver had a shootout; both died. See the holes?"
"Pistol kill?"
"Yeah."
Sure enough, faded driver's seat bears marks of crude shotgun blasts and worn crossbow bolts.
Pre-firearm proliferation fight.
"Got others besides this?"
"Stashed a few, but no clue how many are left. Scavengers are fewer now, but the real pros remain—hiding spots like this won't cut it anymore."
"I see."
Clang!
Defender lightly taps the cylinder block with a wrench, then suddenly chuckles.
"..."
This guy laughing out of nowhere scares me.
"Why the laugh?"
"Nah. Just remembered another vehicle I stashed ages ago."
"What kind?"
"Sports car."
"Sports car?"
"Yeah. Everyone's dream ride."
The wrench in Defender's hand spun like a greatsword.
"Wanted to take it for a spin, but drivetrain issues. Trucks like this? Parts are easy. Sports cars? Parts are like stars in the sky."
Defender's voice brimmed with unusual excitement.
I see.
Car guy, huh.
Makes sense. Never met a mechanic who hated cars.
Loving them must make enduring the tough work worthwhile.
I know some maintenance, but damn, it's no easy job.
"Someday, if we get breathing room."
Defender muttered while fueling the truck, voice still carrying that faint fever.
"I'd love to blast down an empty highway in that car."
His hand trembled lightly on the nozzle.
"200km/h, 300km/h. Faster than the wind."
For a split second, a vivid spark lit Defender's eyes, then vanished.
No mind-reading talent, but I could vaguely sense his thoughts.
Something he'd want to do even if it killed him.
Bucket list, right.
That's what he's talking about.
Whether a prolific killer like him deserves it, I don't know—but as his friend, I'm happy to help make that dream happen.
"I'll lend you the fuel."
Defender eyed me expectantly.
I grinned and added.
"If it hasn't rusted out by then."
Tzzzt—
Tzzzt—
Truck modifications kicked off immediately.
Combined scavenged car doors, molded steel plates, even slate roofing to build a sturdy enclosure in the cargo bed, installing chargers and outlets inside.
On the roof: a hatch for one person to man a simple gun nest, ready for potential ambushes.
Wanted to mount a machine gun up top, but securing it properly proved too tricky, so scrapped that quick.
Maintenance done, gear loaded, ready to roll.
Of course, loaded the most crucial part last.
The Obelisk.
Carefully placed satellite gear for Viva! Apocalypse! in a corner of the cargo bed.
Account joining me: Roxannegirl, representing my feminine side—but to hide my multiple personalities, set the nickname to Anonymous.
"Alright then."
Before climbing aboard, waved to those staying behind.
Not off to die, so a casual wave suffices—but one had a special request.
"SKELTON! Necropolis! Connect it no matter what!"
Rebecca.
Even Su shoots her a look—shameless ask—but I respect Rebecca's wish.
I've seen people withering away without connection.
Their fate doesn't sadden me, but living where people vanished must be hell. Tough as nails.
Deadman_working, preaching last humans, ultimately built a community.
Connect people.
With that simple yet profound wish, we head into danger.
(Though note upfront: that wish isn't entirely noble.)
Only my close pal Valentine knows the true wish.
"About linking Necropolis and Viva! Apocalypse! as requested. Yes. With infiltration experience, and Necropolis being data flows, we can probably bridge the channels if done right. Of course, it'll connect to that Red Archive board you hold a grudge against."
"Oh? Really?"
My grudge hasn't cooled.
"SKELTON!"
Da-jeong called over the comms.
Frantic typing echoed through.
"Just checked the boards."
"Yeah."
"Dongtanmom posted?"
"Really?"
Baek Seung-hyeon.
Still alive, huh.
Figures. That stubborn bastard won't go down easy.
Felt a twinge of pleasure, responded calmly.
"Let's roll."
The truck lurched forward.
Beside us, Cheon Young-jae sped ahead on his now-personal motorcycle.
"Comms active. All clear."
"Launch drones?"
"Nah, not yet."
Four years since the war began.
Our biggest mission yet.
Felt the cold, hard weight of the rifle between my legs and axe on my belt, took a deep breath.
"..."
Condition's solid.
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