Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: 37. Immortality (4)
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Riding a bicycle to a spot an hour away and killing people there wasn't all that difficult.
The night was dark, and there were no lights from the Pioneers in sight.
It was probably the result of the chaos gripping Seoul lately.
Once Incheon's situation had stabilized somewhat, the power struggles that had been lying dormant began to rear their heads.
Criticism was mounting against National Assembly members who had indefinitely extended their terms, hogging unnecessary resources and enjoying treatment beyond their station. In response, the Assembly announced plans to select a whopping 500 "People's Representatives"—pseudo lawmakers.
I wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed some Pioneers were stepping up to become these representatives too.
They must have thought they were qualified.
Well, if the number of people you'd thrown to their deaths counted as achievements, maybe they had a case for claiming their share.
Reality always turned out to be more vile and filthy than expected.
Before even reaching DragonC's bunker for the second time, I spotted some unexpected figures.
On a road quite a distance from the bunker, three men sat drinking around a bonfire in a drum barrel, chatting idly.
They were probably the crew brought by the guy claiming to be Philcrum's younger brother.
I hid for a moment and eavesdropped on their conversation.
"Those fuckers over there. Chinese bastards, right?"
"I wanna kill 'em all."
"They said the ROK-US Combined Forces swept all the landing ones back into the sea. Fucking government's full of shit, as always."
"That manga guy's wife was hot as hell. Shit. Why not just kill the bastard and have some fun with her?"
"Dunno. Up to Hyungmin to decide. But we scored a ton of food and booze thanks to him. That's a win already."
Mindless drivel.
Nothing worth paying attention to.
I pondered how to deal with them.
I could shoot them or hack them with the axe.
Before acting, I scouted thoroughly once more.
Sure enough, there was a car parked nearby.
A bulletproof electric vehicle.
A solar charger sat beside it.
No one inside, but it was loaded with booze and food that looked like DragonC's stash.
I reassessed the enemies.
Three around the bunker.
Three inside the bunker.
Assuming DragonC was already dead, of course.
I approached the car and wedged large rocks in front of and behind the tires.
Just in case.
Of course, I had no intention of letting anyone slip away without my permission.
I slowly approached the bonfire.
No one was watching their backs, so it was easy.
Without slowing, I casually walked up and brought the axe down on the neck of the man obliviously holding the booze bottle.
Squelch!
The sound of the blade slicing flesh and shattering bone rang out lightly.
The man staggered without even screaming.
Before he could fall, I swung the other axe with precise force control at the head of the guy turning around.
Crack!
The last one got lucky.
He at least got a glimpse of my face.
But unlucky too.
He had to take both axes with his body.
Like felling a tree, I buried the blades in both his shoulders and supported his body as it slumped.
Drip, drip—
Blood soaked my gloved hands but didn't stain my clothes.
I laid him down gently by the fire, as if tucking a child into bed, then headed for the bunker.
Out front sat the self-proclaimed Philcrum's brother in the camping chair where Philcrum had been, staring at the distant sea.
I glanced at him.
No gun.
Bunker door closed.
"......"
He wasn't worth talking to, but a whim stirred.
Or rather, I had questions.
Moonlight pierced the darkness, revealing me.
"W-what?! Who the hell are you?!"
His bloodshot eyes locked on me.
"Pick up a weapon."
I held up the bloody axe.
He shrank into the chair.
"You're a Hunter, right?"
"W-what?! Yeohun! Yeohun!"
He yelled toward the bonfire.
No response, so he turned desperately to the bunker.
"Hojun! Hojun-ah!"
He fired three shots from his pistol at the bunker entrance.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots and ricochets shattered the silence.
I heard screams from inside, then asked him,
"Where'd they go?"
He rolled his eyes frantically, sneaking a hand toward the dagger on the ground.
I let him grab it.
"Where'd the people who were here go?"
I figured he'd only give me the answer I wanted once he had the dagger.
"Dead."
With the dagger in hand, he spilled the truth.
As if it gave him confidence, he sneered.
"You knew, didn't you? That if you went, he'd bite it? Why didn't you stop it then? Huh?"
But confidence was all he gained.
Grabbing the dagger changed nothing.
I strode toward him, axe in hand.
He thrust the sharp blade forward, barking like a dog.
"You fucker! You crazy?! Get lost! Huh? Gonna stab you! Huh?! Stab?!"
In the end, he lunged first.
And as habit probably dictated, reached with his other hand to grab me.
Both axes sliced through the air.
Clang!
One knocked the dagger away.
Squelch!
The other crushed his elbow, leaving the grabbing arm dangling.
"Aaaargh!"
I watched him wail in agony and asked,
"You a Hunter?"
He bit his lip, face like a crying child.
No need for an answer.
I hurled the axe.
It arced indifferently toward his tear-streaked face.
Took about a second.
Plenty of time for him to realize his actions and fate.
Probably felt like eternity to him.
Crack!
Without any real resistance, he died with the axe embedded.
I pulled it from his forehead, wiped off the brains and blood, and headed into the bunker.
Inside, rough male breathing mixed with a woman's screams and a child's cries.
Any others?
Didn't matter.
Pistol in one hand, axe in the other, I calmly addressed the closed door.
"Open up. Before I kill you all."
The door opened.
A terrified family appeared before me.
No other enemies, as feared.
I checked the corners in case someone hid, but they were all.
As I swept the pistol around, scanning the bunker, Philcrum knelt before me.
"I'm truly sorry! Please spare us! At least my family, just the family..."
"Where's my friend?"
DragonC.
The man who'd brought vitamins of joy to our community board met a mundane end.
I saw him rotting under a shallow layer of dirt on a rice paddy ridge, barely covering his face. No shred of respect.
His decaying face, ironically, wasn't much different from life.
A dusky, deathly hue.
Philcrum begged for his life before the corpse.
"I didn't kill him. Hyungmin did. Hyungmin said to..."
"Bury him again."
I tossed him a shovel.
"Politely."
I stepped back and watched Philcrum rebury DragonC.
"Hold up."
I halted the work.
Something rolled off the body.
No doubt about it.
A plastic-wrapped paper bag with a bundle of sheets inside—DragonC's manuscript.
Titled none other than "The Remnant".
His final masterpiece, the one he'd hung his hopes on for immortality.
I stood still and read his manuscript.
It was more a string of text than a storyboard.
DragonC built stories with words first, then drew storyboards from them.
I think he mentioned that before.
"......"
Now I understood.
Why his hands were slow.
Double the work.
Yet his words held a power that pierced the heart.
While Philcrum dug the grave, I entered the bunker.
The family eyed me fearfully, but I ignored them, surveying the space.
The atmosphere had changed drastically.
The biggest difference: all of DragonC's posters torn down.
One more reason to kill. I sat at his workbench.
"......"
This the laptop of the deceased?
I stroked it and glanced at the monitor.
PaleNet tabs open—mundane posts Philcrum had been browsing.
As I closed them, a small window in the corner caught my eye: our board.
I checked our community under DragonC's account.
The usual mildly chaotic, mildly doomsday little world.
Something caught my eye absentmindedly.
Draft list.
One post awaited completion.
I opened it.
"......"
DragonC's final post never went up.
But it reached me clearly.
I knew what he wanted to say.
"You have one way to live."
Inside the bunker.
To Philcrum, half-exhausted on his knees, I said flatly,
"Become DragonC."
"What?!"
I handed him DragonC's manuscript.
"Finish this under his name."
"Th-this?!"
Faint shock crossed Philcrum's face.
"The sequel to what I drew?"
I nodded slowly.
Philcrum's face shifted from confusion to the papers, then to shock.
"Th-this?"
He looked up seriously.
"Honestly, it's good!"
I turned away, leaving him.
"Take as long as it needs. Finish it. That's my condition for forgiving you."
I wanted no more talk.
Or I might kill him and his whole family.
The fake goldfish in the tank on the desk thrashed wildly, turning its dumb face toward me.
"......"
I pocketed the tank and left.
DragonC: "The Remnant" Episode 2
The latest installment of DragonC's masterpiece The Remnant hit the board two weeks later.
It was during the pointless election of 500 parasitic "People's Representatives" in Incheon, stoking everyone's rage, and amid rumors of Legion faction elites targeting the regime again—a time of turmoil.
“In that stifling climate, DragonC’s new chapter brought the same sense of emotional impact to the disparate crowds of PaleNet and Viva! Apocalypse!”
Amid the flood of praise, I read his final entrusted work, lost in the dizzying aroma of coffee.
SKELTON
In the doodle-like storyboard, a man stood axe in hand.
Online, he was naive; in reality, sharp, loyal, and a fighter.
I read his scribbles like sharing classmates' comics back in school.
"Eh, no way."
DragonC must've been impressed by me.
Seeing Park Gyu solo mid-tier beasts like mules and finish large ones with killer moves evoking sword auras.
I'm no Awakener, and I'd never heard of Awakeners using sword auras.
But it wasn't entirely far-fetched.
"Ah, fuck, a dream!"
From Skeleton's final monologue in the story.
I smirked—half wry, half genuine?—and opened notepad.
A pure white eternal space unfolded.
Absentmindedly, I typed two letters into the blank page.
Immortality.
The word vanished under senseless backspaces.
"......"
Two creators.
One died, one remained.
To become immortal.
To remain immortal.
To leave immortality behind.
"Immortality..."
I shook my head.
Reducing DragonC's intent to the trite word "immortality" felt like lazy oversimplification.
The fake goldfish turned toward me as if agreeing, staring blankly.
I tapped the desk lightly; coincidences of physics followed, but seeing it sparked a dream-like thought.
This situation, this flow—isn't this DragonC's intent?
Completed by his death itself, like an eternal masterpiece.
Or maybe we're fish swimming in a dead man's dream.
If our world joined his work, it was possible.