Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Sage (2)
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There had always been a heated debate even before the war, with opinions evenly split down the middle.
Should we survive in groups amid the coming apocalypse? Or go it alone as individuals?
The age-old argument was starting to tip toward group survival.
Visibility, you might call it. Groups are impossible to miss, inevitably drawing fierce challenges that lead to their collapse—that's the main argument from individualists like me.
And indeed, some have fallen.
Take the fortress of chaebol heir Park Cheol-ju, the ultimate champion of group survivalism—it got utterly wrecked.
But individualism had its own serious flaws.
Not threats from outside, but something rooted in human nature itself.
Not everyone is cut out to be a hermit.
I thought I was, but reality showed me I'm just an ordinary person who needs other people too.
Spending years holed up in a solitary room, never knowing when death might come—that's no easy feat.
Peaceful days might continue indefinitely.
But even the tiniest change in routine can snowball into uncontrollable fear and anxiety. That's a fact.
The daily grind of small pains and discomforts breeds mental illness—that's practically my motto.
In my case, I eliminate the source of danger, but most people just endure those little torments.
And they can't be fixed.
Most of the pains and discomforts in bunker life are baked in from the moment the bunker is designed.
As a result, many gave up midway or went off the deep end.
Even I, who avoided communities before the war, now suspect I might be addicted to them.
Death will look different too.
Dying someday is inevitable, but having someone fight and die beside you—or at least bury your body and mourn you—feels worlds apart from dying alone in cold isolation.
There's another issue.
The tide of the times.
I figured Seoul would end up like Beijing in China.
When cities crumble and systems collapse, tens of millions of refugees scatter everywhere, sparking chain reactions of destruction.
But Korea was different.
Whether the leaders' lies are more convincing here, or Koreans have stronger faith in their rulers than Chinese do, Seoul's citizens faced the impending catastrophe not by fleeing en masse, but by staying put to die.
They were hopelessly optimistic.
Or maybe, in an environment where imagining anything but hope feels impossible, that's just what they chose.
Unlike China, overflowing with resources and land, the Korean Peninsula is cramped, crammed with every kind of disaster.
If this trend continues, group survivalism might gain the upper hand.
It's not my fault.
No one can see the future.
Just because what happened in China didn't happen here doesn't make it wrong—that's hindsight bias.
"Hello? This is SKELTON."
I seized every chance to chat with people.
"SKELTON? Oh, you're younger than I thought."
"You're SKELTON? Your image doesn't match what I pictured at all."
"Why's a perfectly normal-looking guy posting that stuff on the boards?"
But the reactions were weird.
I know I'm not popular—hanging with bottom-feeders like unicorn18 proves that—but everyone I meet says the same thing.
"……."
Am I just bad with the internet or something?
"Hmm……."
One user stood out for showing me unusual friendliness.
Anonymous848.
Midnight, yet decked out in sunglasses and a mask—suspicious getup. Couldn't see his face well, but the bits the shades didn't cover pegged him at mid-40s at least.
"Do you know me?"
I asked casually, noticing his stare.
Just in case someone recognized me.
Probably not.
Hunter info in Korea is classified—not just for me, but nearly all hunters.
Thanks to the higher generations.
When China was flexing hard, dealing with disasters from India and rifts at home, they still meddled here.
Not with the country directly, but poaching talent.
8th, 9th, 10th generations.
Experienced hunters the nation poured fortunes into as anti-monster specialists jumped ship to China for cash.
Losing elite troops overnight, the government faced media firestorms and public outrage. In the end, all personal info on Guard Academy grads was classified without exception.
No way my face would leak.
Except for non-academy types or washouts managed more loosely.
Some of those strutted around as "hunters~" spilling tales for profit.
Like John_nenon.
"No. Just curious. Kyle_Dos mentions you sometimes."
"What'd he say?"
"That you're not as bad as your board persona suggests—could be a decent guy."
"He didn't mention meeting me?"
"Nah. Have you met?"
"A while back."
I steered the chat from Kyle_Dos elsewhere, on purpose.
"The military? I came from the west too, but that area's more neutral forces than legion-aligned."
"I see."
"Heard the legion faction had issues. Their leader, Major General Kwon Sung-tae—his chopper crashed with other commanders loyal to him aboard. Army without officers. Predictable, right?"
"……."
News to me.
Since Kim Daram went dark, the community was my only window on Seoul.
Some, like that reporter, thrive on info swaps, but users know rumors can explode into panic, so they hold back unless certain.
That's why the info lagged.
"Defender……."
"Hm? Why bring up Defender?"
"Nothing. Just popped into my head."
Is he okay?
No matter how I slice it, that guy's soldiers weren't your average looters.
Did he fall?
Him too?
Odds are high.
Unless those siblings had an Awakener, even I'd struggle against trained troops.
Anyway, amid the chit-chat, we reached the area with the Sage's bunker.
Like other outskirts, deserted, but close enough to the city to spot gloomy lanterns on the hills below.
Across from them, dull grayish lights flickered.
"……What the."
Not abandoned— a preserved city right next to an erosion zone?
Looks like a small-scale erosion from a settler-type. Gwangju area's a strategic zone, tightly managed—yet an erosion zone popped up there?
Proof they're slacking on control.
Letting killable monsters roam.
"Halt."
DSRae up front signaled stop.
"There. Matches Tough Orthopedics' tip—big vent shaft."
Sure enough, a vent.
More for subway or sewer than bunker.
Sewer stench hit hard.
"Alright, let's move. We'll scout first. Everyone else, threat fire if hostiles flank."
DSRae was a seasoned soldier, no doubt.
"Hold up. Booby trap? I'll check first."
Rich war experience, multiple proactive victories.
Where'd he operate?
North Korea?
Korean forces briefly retook Pyongyang after its fall.
Age and experience point to that era.
"Bunker spotted. Footprints say five inside. Shoe sizes: two women, three men?"
Faces hardened.
Battle imminent.
They could lose their hard-prepped bunkers, futures beyond, reduced to cold corpses on the floor.
Tension froze breaths—but it didn't last.
Laughter echoed.
From inside the bunker.
"Hahaha!!"
"Keehyahaha!"
"Whoa, fuck! Epic!"
Belly laughs.
The kind we'd lost.
A group of guys and girls cracking up at something together.
"Kill 'em all?"
A guy asked, greed in his eyes.
Probably Chochu user.
Rare poster, first time seeing him, but his intent was obvious.
"Not the girls, right? They probably posted that under duress from the guys."
Sounds like defending the women, but he just wants them.
Likely eyeing the cute girl from the first verification pic.
The later girl's face wasn't even remotely cute.
What did DS Rae think?
"Kill 'em all."
No hesitation.
"Bit of a waste, no?"
Chochu pressed, serious.
DSRae showed subtle irritation.
"Fine, rape 'em first then."
He'd clocked the intent instantly.
Obvious anyway.
Horny dogs tend to march straight to ruin.
"No."
Chochu feigned innocence, but it flopped.
"We'll cover you. Just wrap it up quick."
"I just said spare 'em."
"Rape then kill. Aftercare ain't as simple as you think."
"Who said rape? Just spare 'em— that's worth hating?"
"Then you grab the girls, drag 'em off, rape or gut 'em, whatever."
I knew DSRae had killed all his dogs—even pups with mild mutations, faint hopes.
He's no ordinary guy.
"Let's begin."
No pause—he seized the entrance with his squadmate, moved troops silently via signals to the vent.
Three fingers up.
Start in 3 seconds.
"Hahahaha! Look at this fucker! Loses his shit when I say the comic sucks."
"Fuck, I know who that asshole is. Can't even hit the weekday webtoons, draws lame power fantasy shit on some no-name board?"
"Hey! Dragon dude! Your comic sucks, bitch!"
Boyish and girlish shouts pierced the bunker's heavy door, booming out the vent.
DSRae clenched his fist.
His squadmate in tactical mask shoved a tear gas canister in.
Laughter cut off; violent coughing leaked out.
"Kuhk! Kuhk!"
"What the fuck?! What is this?!"
"They really came?!"
"Those boomers?!"
"Don't open the door!"
"No! I'm dying! Gonna die!!!"
Amid screams, the door swung open.
DSRae signaled.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
His rifle and his partner's spat fire.
Not even burst—single aimed shots.
Acrid smoke filled the air; shapes crumpled one by one.
"Spare me!"
A girl crawled out, face a mess of tears and snot, clutching DSRae's boot.
He glanced back briefly.
Straight at Chochu.
Gauged his face a second—then pressed the muzzle to her head.
"N-no! Don't kill the girl!"
Chochu protested, but the trigger squeezed without mercy.
Bang!
The shot rang; her head snapped back.
"Why kill her!!!! Fuck!!!!!"
Chochu bellowed.
Some might call it murder.
But mercy, in my eyes.
Chochu's lingering, gleaming stare on the corpse said it all.
"……."
This scum's on the community too.
I knew, but didn't want to.
DSRae and his partner plunged into the lingering tear gas.
Bang! Bang!
Two more shots.
"Clear."
Battle over.
The irritants mocking us—gone.
"……Grab what you can. Talk later."
DSRae, this party's host, and his partner took nothing.
Content to watch guests revel, like a generous host.
People probably matter more to him.
Like chatting aside with presumed doctor, farmer, engineer.
True goal: scout talent for his group?
A guy emerged loaded with condom boxes and food; I checked inside.
Something underfoot.
Chochu.
Squatting by the entrance, groping the cooling girl's body.
Bodies littered inside; I didn't look at faces.
No guilt.
Just fatigue.
These guys showed the apocalypse's gritty truth.
They'd become part of it.
My interest: the lone laptop.
"SKELTON, right?"
DSRae, who'd ignored me, finally engaged.
"What's that? Those?"
While others grabbed food, meds, clothes, TP, condoms—essentials—I snagged the laptop and sat gear. Kinda useless.
"You already have one?"
"Yeah."
"Gonna like your own posts?"
First smile from DSRae.
"……I'm not that guy."
I shot back, stone-faced.
A week since the new Sage died.
No word from Defender.
Messaged, no reply.
"……."
A chilly afternoon in the bunker.
Another miracle on the boards.
The twice-dead Sage returned!
Just respawned elsewhere this time.
The third Sage spammed the English board, committing the sin of flooding.
"……."
I flicked on the radio.
"SKELTON? What's up?"
Told innocent-sounding Suu,
"Put Mom on."
"SKELTON? What's wrong? I'm busy."
Sighed and said,
"Begged for that gear, and this is what you post on the boards……?"
"……."
A new English board post popped up.
"……Happy now?"
"Delete that shit and change your nick. Now."
Cut comms, pulled a paper from my pocket.
Staring at my little sister's drawing on the wall, I clasped hands in prayer—first time in nearly a year.
May they live like that sniper mom and daughter.
May this barren apocalypse not claim them.