138. The Severe Cold
While the Balhut Cult's main headquarters enjoyed a measure of peace—sharing diplomatic gains from the international organization—the opposite held true at Ulsan Airport, which had become a fierce battlefield against the Immortal Cult.
What tormented the frontline soldiers most was...
"Goddamn undead! They move just fine in this freezing cold!"
"What a pain in the ass!"
The undead legions pressed their assaults on the Ulsan front without end, unfazed by the brutal cold wave. Of course, if it came to a head-on clash, the Balhut Cult forces—fortified at Ulsan Airport and shifted to defense—could easily dispatch the approaching hordes using traps and defensive weapons at key chokepoints.
"Looks like the enemy isn't stupid!"
"It's weird they're even fighting us if they're not idiots!"
The real problem was that the enemy didn't stubbornly charge straight ahead like fools. No matter how expendable the undead, pointless human wave attacks wasted available troops right now—and the Immortal Cult knew it. Even with endless numbers, losses exceeding ten thousand would strain them. So naturally, they sought ways beyond direct assaults on the fortress. Their most efficient option?
"They're flanking us!"
"Bypassing a fortress locked in bypass defense? Well, it's obvious, isn't it."
Simply put: skirt the fortified Ulsan Airport and hit the coalition's supply lines. With all major bridges north of Ulsan secured, the Immortal Cult had plenty of detour roads. They struck supply routes via these paths. If lucky, detachments could even threaten the Balhut Cult's home base—a tantalizing ploy they couldn't ignore.
"We'll protect our own food trucks!"
"You undead bastards! Even dogs don't bother you at mealtime!"
But the coalition wasn't blind to their supply lines' vulnerability. In a defensive war, sustaining supplies was paramount—the lifeline from the cult's HQ kept them alive, and the brass knew it well. That's why...
"The commander foresaw this and set up checkpoints!"
"Hey, undead! This is a bulletproof checkpoint!"
Jeong Dong-gun had installed checkpoints and outposts at critical points along supply routes even before arriving. Now, their value shone through. With sentries at key spots, Immortal Cult movements were spotted fast. Patrol teams dispatched instantly upon detecting detachments, wiping out flankers. For small Immortal Cult units bypassing with few troops, interception meant certain doom. Surprise attacks were their only shot, but early detection killed that.
"Annoying."
"We have to keep units on standby constantly."
Still, constant patrols tied down troops, reducing Ulsan Airport's garrison. Soldiers got no proper rest, stuck on alert. Long-term, it could erode morale and combat effectiveness.
"Now they're trying to come over the mountains."
"Forgot about Korea's rugged mountains? And the monsters inside."
This made supply raids and HQ strikes appealing for the Immortal Cult. They now openly targeted logistics, ignoring the fortress. Assuming the coalition wouldn't fight until winter passed, they hammered detours relentlessly. Roads were tricky, but sneaking through mountains proved thorniest.
Coalition leaders and troops had mocked them, figuring Korea's brutal peaks and monsters would handle it naturally. But...
"What the—!?"
"The monsters... they're gone?"
Don't count on it—expectations breed betrayal. The coalition shouldn't have banked on monsters at all.
Against expectations, mountain monsters couldn't block the undead. Worse, the Immortal Cult harvested their corpses to replenish legions—a nightmare for the coalition.
The reason was absurdly simple: "They're all frozen dead?"
"Monsters freezing to death? What kind of bullshit is that!?"
"No way!"
The mountain monsters hadn't survived Hell Peninsula's infernal cold snap. Summers brought torrential rains and stifling humidity, so invaders assumed it was tropical—no winter prep. While native Korean life hunkered down instinctively, monsters squabbled over turf as usual. When winter hit, most froze or starved without stockpiles. Locals knew Korea's winters were merciless; the coalition wrongly assumed monsters did too.
"Emergency! Priority alert!"
"Deploy mountain troops to scout the ridges now! Launch surveillance drones!"
The news triggered alarms at Ulsan Airport and even in the cult's election chaos. Imported U.S. drones and trained mountaineers scoured for detachments, eventually crushing them.
"Now we have to watch the mountains too?"
"Expands the front line."
Balhut Cult realized monsters as a neutral buffer were useless; they'd need winter's end to recover. Not all perished, but survivors holed up in caves, leaving only the cult to block mountain flankers.
"Target spotted."
"Alright. Let's go purge them."
They formed dedicated mountain strike teams: drones scouted first, then teams mobilized for kills—an efficient system. (Drones were viable post-apocalypse thanks to U.S. imports via cult diplomacy.) Monitoring mountains was feasible; pre-apocalypse, Korea's Forest Service used drones for rescues, poacher hunts, dumpers.
Cult admins recruited ex-Forest Service experts from national parks, gaining their know-how.
"Get out of our turf!"
"Thanks to you, we're hiking multiple times a day this winter!"
Trained teams crushed undead climbers handily. Thus, Balhut Cult countered every Immortal ploy.
These clashes dragged on until elections ended and Bahamut attended the international body. Coalition and Immortal Cult traded moves in a deadlock.
"At this point, shouldn't a negotiation team show up?"
Even for Balhut Cult, endless pointless fights grated. They knew immobility until winter thawed, but this was too passive—garrisons thinned, troops dispersed. Coalition pondered a real truce with Immortal Cult.
"We've won every exchange, so they must be more exhausted than us?"
"Yeah, yeah."
They'd foiled every enemy gambit. Defensive success equaled victory; Immortal brass must be getting antsy. Coalition hoped for envoys.
But "Undead incoming."
"Do they have unlimited supplies? Or do they even tire?"
Even tough humans crack under repeated defeats. Plus...
Most troops were undead, hard to spot, but Immortal leaders were human. Humans needed food, shelter—especially high calories for this cold. War stress demanded comfort food pleasures. Balhut Cult spotted this edge first.
"How much are these guys eating daily?"
Their own troops weren't overeating—enemy must be hurting.
"Undead don't eat."
True, undead legions skipped rations. But "Even undead have brass, mid-ranks, civilians, right?"
"Huh. Yeah."
Leaders, officers, civilians were living humans craving calories for stress and cold. Coalition troops, geared for winter, still griped: "Even bundled up, it's too cold to move."
Soldiers prayed for a winter truce envoy.
"Commander."
"Good news?"
"No. Another detachment spotted. They never quit."
Jeong Dong-gun knew morale was slipping. Commanding Ulsan-wide from the airport, he begged Han Seong-geun for hope—but got persistence instead.
"Sigh. No envoys, then."
"Left messages on Ulsan comms suggesting talks. Ignored."
Immortal Cult had zero interest in negotiating. Jeong Dong-gun sighed at Han Seong-geun's report—no counters available. Baffling, even.
No intent to talk. What are they after?
They'd expected clashes upon invasion, then talks post-power demo. But no envoys at all.
Do they plan total annihilation?
Destroying a faction took resolve. Immortal gains from crushing Balhut? Minimal.
"We've never even seen their brass. What's this grudge?"
"No idea."
Jeong Dong-gun sought Han Seong-geun's input on the mystery; he shrugged cluelessly. No envoys meant no desire to engage coalition—or Balhut Cult.
What grudge fueled such rejection?
"Guess we'll force them to the table."
Jeong Dong-gun's choice: kick Immortal brass there with force, before too late.