Chapter 85
Chapter 85
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: 46. Messiah (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Unlike Seoul, where solid evacuation facilities and plans were in place, the provinces seemed to lack the manpower and resources for proper evacuation strategies.
Among the countless cities that suffered this fate, one in particular stood out for its rotten luck.
Around the time war broke out, a small monster slipped into somewhere in that city and killed an unlucky soul.
Coincidentally, that monster was a Necromancer type that turned the dead into zombies.
While nuclear strikes, chemical weapons, and all sorts of mass destruction armaments rained down across Korea, that city quietly transformed into a city of the dead without a whisper.
IAmGJesus lived on the outskirts of that dead city.
A city once known by another name, now called Je Phong-ho City, home to the horde of undead.
Wooooo—
Even on the outskirts, the zombies' chorus echoed through the air.
No one knows why zombies howl like wolves.
Scientists speculate it's their degenerated brains randomly twitching their vocal cords to produce primal sounds, but I wouldn't know.
From what I've faced, zombies aren't all that different from beasts, but they seem to retain at least a tiny fragment of their memories from when they were alive.
Vrrrrm.
I cut the motorcycle's engine.
Regardless of Baek Seung-hyeon's humanity, his gift had proven incredibly useful.
It ran on any fuel, handled rough terrain like a champ, packed serious power, and honestly, I'd been a bit jealous watching him ride it around.
Tap tap.
I gave my trusty steed, now dubbed "White Beauty," a light pat before double-checking the address.
Somewhere in this suburban mishmash of cafes, warehouses, small factories, farmhouses, studio apartments, and tire shops lurked IAmGJesus's bunker.
A few zombies shuffled about.
Ssssh—
I sprayed myself with so-called "Zombie Spray."
It had a minty scent, supposedly one zombies instinctively avoided.
Its actual effect was negligible, but humans cling to even slim chances when push comes to shove.
More than Zombie Spray, I trusted my hefty two-handed hammer.
Axes surprisingly weren't that efficient against zombies.
They could split a skull in one go, but the blade dulled after a few swings, and their reach wasn't great.
A hammer, on the other hand, had no edge to dull, and if you struck first, you could smash zombies indefinitely.
The method: sneak behind a dazed zombie and...
Thwack!
Smash the nape with all your might.
Zombies were ultimately dead humans forcibly animated by mutation factors.
Without a functioning brain and nerves controlling the body, they couldn't move.
The one I'd just clocked convulsed a few times before going still.
She looked like a young woman in pretty clothes—maybe caught off-guard on a date.
Dwelling on a zombie's former life wasn't helpful in combat, so I quickly erased her image from my mind and scanned for the next target.
Thwack!
Number two.
Thwack!
Number three.
One by one, I granted them peace as I reached the bunker where IAmGJesus waited.
It was inside an empty lot surrounded by temporary fencing.
A single-story chicken joint on the right, a two-story adult shop on the left.
Beyond the collapsed fencing—whether from planned construction or a shady contractor's leftovers—piles of pipes and rebar towered in layers.
I peered beyond the fence.
No one around, but a red-marked stub protruded like a stake.
Looked like a factory bunker's ventilation shaft.
And it wasn't alone.
Pipes and wires of unknown purpose plunged straight into the ground.
To me, it screamed, "Bunker here!"
If this weren't zombie territory, IAmGJesus might've been dead already.
I was about to hop the fence into the lot when...
"Grrrrowl!"
Two shadows lunged from the shadows.
Zombies.
They'd hidden without a sound and attacked the moment they spotted me.
Sharp assault.
But...
Crack! Crack!
I'd been through this dozens of times.
Before the axe-embedded zombies hit the ground, my dropped hammer clanged loudly on the pavement.
I checked the zombies.
One in a suit, one woman in flowing luxury clothes.
I yanked the axes from their skulls, wiped the brain matter on their clothes, and listened.
Wooooo—
The distant zombie chorus droned on, but no reaction to the noise.
Still, close ones might perk up, so I froze and observed.
A few twitched into the street but lost interest and staggered off into the distance.
I took a deep breath and headed to the bunker entrance.
There was a plywood cover.
That was the hatch to IAmGJesus's bunker.
Dust and grime layered thick atop it.
Looked untouched for years.
Surely he hadn't stayed inside the whole time without ever going out?
A fleeting doubt crossed my mind as I lifted the plywood, revealing a metal hatch.
I rapped the handle with my axe.
Clang clang, clang-clang-clang, clang-clang-clang-clang.
A 2-3-4 rhythm knock.
The code we'd agreed on beforehand.
I held my breath, waiting.
"S-Skelton?"
His response came quickly.
His voice was thinner and weaker than expected.
"That's me."
Click.
The lock disengaged.
"S-Sorry. Too weak to open the door."
I hauled open the heavy hatch myself.
A ladder led down.
Prepping for trouble, I unclipped my pistol for quick draw and pocketed it before descending.
But a more sudden crisis hit before any threats.
"...!!"
The stench.
An indescribable reek poured out from below.
Not corpse smell.
The living's stench.
The pinnacle of what a living human could produce.
Ssssh—
The odor was so foul I had to spray Zombie Spray up my nose.
At the ladder's base stood a man awkwardly holding a phone for light.
Easy to ID as IAmGJesus.
A faint glow emanated from his eyes.
A grim, grayish light like a monster's hue—the unmistakable mark of a high-level Awakener.
I sighed inwardly in relief as I reached the bottom and stood before him.
"Gasp!"
In the darkness below, a gaunt figure like a zombie—wild beard and tangled hair, hollow eyes—stared at me.
But...
"Wh-Wh-Wha...!!"
He was terrified of me.
"Ughhh...!!"
Overwhelmed with uncontrollable fear.
Fear of what?
Well, a fit guy like me becoming synonymous with terror was old news.
If he hadn't seen someone like me in ages, fear was natural.
To calm him, I deployed my secret weapon.
"Mam mam."
No hasty smiles.
Straight-faced, I uttered our private code with reverence surpassing any holy scripture.
"?!"
The tremor in IAmGJesus's hollow eyes stopped.
"Mam mam mam."
"Mam mam?"
"Maaam~."
IAmGJesus sighed in relief, shoulders slumping.
He'd calmed down.
But he didn't speak first.
Let the fearful one open up.
Part of the civilian manual I'd learned and applied since my China days.
"S-S-Skelton. You're really Skelton, right?"
With a shrill, wind-leaking wheeze and slurred speech, he finally spoke.
I nodded slowly.
"IAmGJesus?"
He nodded.
Finally met him.
This guy.
But seeing him up close, despite the wild hair, beard, and emaciated frame, he looked young.
Not even mid-twenties.
Early twenties.
That young IAmGJesus eyed me accusingly.
"Why do you look so fine?"
"What do you mean?"
"Weren't you supposed to be like me? That's why I called you!"
I didn't know what to say to his outburst.
"..."
As I stayed silent...
"Got any food?"
Drool trickled from his mouth as he asked.
I smiled faintly and showed him the provisions I'd brought.
Cup ramen, 3-minute meatballs, and a thermos of hot water.
*
Crunch! Slurp!
Bringing hot water in the thermos was a stroke of genius.
No boiling tools in sight here.
I surveyed his setup.
Microwave, trash piles, faucet, shower-curtained toilet, sink.
Tested the tap.
Whoosh—
Water flowed, amazingly.
Sniffed it.
Faint rust, but definite tap water.
"How'd you manage this?"
"Huh?"
IAmGJesus looked up from his ramen.
"The water."
"Construction guys hooked it up."
"What?"
I checked the toilet.
Interior caked in filth like dried shit, but it flushed fine.
"Sewer too?"
"Yeah."
"..."
Seems the contractors' ignorance and sloppiness saved this kid.
Who connects plumbing to a shelter bunker?
Even electricity and gas.
They'd built it like a regular house, hooking up all the utilities.
One question lingered.
"Electricity?"
"Solar."
"Solar?"
"Next building over. Dad's too. On the roof."
"Ah."
Makes sense here.
With elite zombie bodyguards swarming outside.
The bunker was surprisingly spacious.
Closer look: four identical factory models linked together.
Yeah, modular prefab bunkers like this existed on the market.
But the space was useless.
Three of the four units brimmed with trash, save the one he lived in.
Source of the indescribable stench.
Probably once stocked with food and supplies, but like dung beetle larvae devouring shit and filling the void with their own, he'd emptied and refilled it similarly.
"Never left once?"
I asked, aghast at the garbage mountains like something from the news.
"Nope."
His slurred reply.
Short attention span or starved too long—he'd barely eaten half the meatballs and ramen, already rubbing his belly.
Beside him, grotesque adult toys from online sprawled on a filthy mattress.
Stains around it caught my eye, but no need to dwell; I told him:
"Let's go."
I'd take him to my turf.
Not sure how to handle him yet, but he deserved it.
Sorry to the sniper mom and daughter, but I'd endure minor inconveniences for this guy.
That's who I am.
"Where?"
He blinked in confusion.
"Outside. To my place. Bigger, better. Clean air, no zombies."
"..."
IAmGJesus stared at me.
His dimly glowing eyes in the dark fixed on me for a while.
"Can you move the computer and satellite gear?"
"Yeah."
"Gaming console too?"
"Of course."
Bike? No. Motorcycle? Yes.
His console was an ancient "ROM cart" type from 30 years ago.
Slot in the boxy cartridge and play.
He had dozens of retro games.
"Can't take 'em all."
"R-Really?"
"Pick five."
"Six okay?"
"Sure."
That settled his whims.
One more thing.
"...Dad's church."
He stuffed an adult toy into his pocket and mumbled.
"Can you take me there?"
Irritation hit me instantly.
"Where?"
My tone carried an edge.
But even that tiny sharpness made him flinch and avert his gaze.
"N-Nothing."
This was trouble.
He feared me.
I'd barely turned him around with "mam mam," but wariness would ruin everything.
"Where? If I can, I'll take you."
I tried my softest voice.
He refocused his glowing eyes on me, fidgeting fingers before speaking haltingly.
"Downtown."
"Downtown's zombie central."
"R-Really? Yeah, probably."
Deep disappointment shadowed his immature face.
Suddenly, I sensed one pillar of the madness gnawing at him.
Curiosity about his family.
But he couldn't go out.
No courage to open the hatch, let alone fight zombies.
Desperate longing clashing with utter helplessness birthed the forum freak IAmGJesus.
"Where exactly?"
I knew it was risky.
But granting his small wish seemed better.
For my own grand ambitions, even.
"Where? We'll check and decide."
Of course, bail if too dangerous.
"R-Really?"
"If doable."
Effort matters.
Showing the impossibility firsthand beats empty words a thousandfold.
"O-Okay!"
IAmGJesus showed me a photo.
An oversized, gaudy palace of a church.
Like Versailles with a cross slapped on.
Seeing that opulent building jogged a pre-war news memory.
Second Coming, Rapture, salvation nonsense—a cult church condemned as heretical by the Presbyterian Church.
Didn't know details, but even I, who skimmed news, knew their leader's unspeakable depravities with female followers.
His outlandish sex crimes spread through every channel.
IAmGJesus pointed at the beaming cult leader in the photo.
"My dad."
His eerie glowing eyes held an indescribable mix of love and hate.