184. Serabeol's Bizarre Days (2)
As just mentioned, far more people than expected refused to follow Serabeol's lead—and the prime example was the low number of citizens enlisting in the military.
There were all sorts of excuses for not joining up, but if you boiled it down to one phrase, it was simple: "It doesn't pay."
In the end, that's what it came down to—money. Enlisting certainly offered a shot at promotion. Opportunities were handed out fairly, and Jeong Dong-gun, the supreme commander, was impartial when it comes to merit. If you proved your worth, he'd promote you on the spot. So for anyone with real talent, the military was the fastest path to rising through the ranks.
But that speed came with strings attached—unavoidable restrictions. In this era of rampant individualism, the military's rules clashed hard against it. Citizens who hated having their freedom curbed started turning away from enlistment.
"Just take a salary and live like that? You gotta be kidding me."
This was mostly from talented Awakeners. The untalented ones ended up as regular grunts, scraping by on basic pay. Sure, as Awakeners, they earned more than a typical small-business owner—but wealth is relative. When skilled folks were raking in cash and climbing the ladder while you toiled as a foot soldier, resentment built up whether you liked it or not.
"And no looting allowed on top of that? Who do they think they're fooling?"
Without even the side perks of plunder, it looked downright unappealing. In the modern world, allowing looting would be outrageous—but the grim truth of this apocalypse was that spoils went to the victor. Stripping the loser of their assets was standard practice everyone engaged in.
Most warlords even permitted pillaging civilians to boost troop loyalty, turning theft from the weak into a societal norm. But Serabeol rejected that custom outright. Profit-driven soldiers grumbled louder as a result.
"Come on, though—our pay isn't that bad, right? It's not like we're a conscript army; we're all-volunteer level."
"Pfft! Kim Tae-hyeon's making a killing in civilian business!"
Cold hard facts: military salaries weren't low. To build an all-Awakener force, they'd modeled pay and benefits after volunteer armies, not conscript ones. But most Awakeners griped that it wasn't enough for "proper" Awakener treatment—they wanted more.
They'd point to fellow Awakener Kim Tae-hyeon earning big bucks and claim Serabeol neglected the military. But from Serabeol's perspective:
'That guy's not looting either. Hell, he's a voluntary collaborator with the army.'
Hearing these complaints just drew sighs. Yes, Kim Tae-hyeon made bank through business—but he'd earned it by partnering with the military, personally hitting high-risk zones. They trusted him to handle logistics and ops, and he never betrayed that faith, growing into Serabeol's top private enterprise.
How could you compare his solid contributions to these petty gripes?
"I don't wanna join the army! I don't wanna die! I wanna suffocate in the arms of a beautiful girl!"
Not just greed—some just plain hated the military. That was understandable enough. Nobody likes the army; valuing your life is human nature.
The least bad take among them:
"Why not skip the army and go for police instead?"
They preferred policing Serabeol's internals over frontline combat. From Serabeol's view, this was good news—especially post-Daegu merger, when they desperately needed more cops. These recruits gave them a boost.
"Police work looks way safer, right?"
Similar pay to the military, but internal security instead of the battlefield—it naturally ranked higher.
But their expectations were dead wrong. Police duty was anything but safe. Compared to army outposts or stray monster hunts, it was a hotter fire.
Why would dealing with fellow humans be riskier than the military?
"It's all humans anyway, right? Zap 'em with a stun gun and done."
In the modern world, subduing one person sounded easy. A stun gun shot would drop anyone—Serabeol even had those mystical Bahamut Bullets. Lightning rounds that could floor an Awakener. What threat?
"Nah, it's not like that."
"Huh?"
"Humans are more dangerous than wild monsters—especially bloodthirsty Awakened ones."
Of course it was dangerous. Humans were the deadliest creatures around, and subduing them was no joke—especially packs of raiders who'd tasted blood.
"B-but I heard you can handle Awakeners too. They can't be that common."
Wishful thinking. Despite police warnings about monster-level threats, many signed up figuring it couldn't be that bad.
'No, really—the wild Awakened who've tasted blood are everywhere out there.'
They dismissed warnings as exaggeration, but outside Serabeol, blood-mad wild Awakeners were as common as stumbling into them on a stroll.
"Man, this is a total cushy gig!"
As if sweet deals existed in the apocalypse, you rice-munching slacker.
"Kieeeek!"
Regret hit the second they were deployed. Those pre-enlistment warnings weren't for show. Too late now—they wished they'd picked the army instead. But now they had to survive against Awakeners deadlier than monsters.
And finally...
"I wanna be an apocalypse warlord! Like Gyeon Gwan-im! Like Jo Sun-do!"
"You lunatic!"
Serabeol's budding warlord wannabes. It wasn't like there were zero candidates inside; rising warlords showed they could live like kings. That allure planted seeds of ambition. Folks figured they wouldn't follow the same doomed path and dreamed big. Naturally, the army and police rejected them outright.
"There's already guys living like kings! I want in too!"
"Serabeol's already founded a nation—think that's possible?"
These views were rare outliers, mostly dismissed as impossible in Serabeol. Still, some clung to the dream.
"All you need is Bahamut's appointment!"
"Damn... that kinda makes sense!"
Their logic: with Bahamut's nod, they could be warlords anytime. Sure, Serabeol might object, but divine approval would let them hold power. Bahamut wouldn't allow it—having picked his Dragon Priestess proxy, he'd never endorse disruptors. It was self-serving nonsense, but oddly compelling.
The group that fully bought into it:
"Right! Choi Yu-na had nothing special! She just lucked into Dragon Priestess and became Balhut Cult leader!"
"Why no Ministry of Women and Family? Uphold political correctness!"
"Protect women's rights! Give every woman a shot at Dragon Priestess!"
Feminists and political correctness zealots. Extreme fringes formed activist groups, questioning the Dragon Priestess monopoly and demanding shared contracts with Bahamut.
"Th-th-th-those ungrateful scum!"
Hwang Geun-chul, Yongsinhoe leader and Serabeol Prime Minister, nearly collapsed clutching his neck. Government-backed groups stabbing them in the back? Had lead shot lodged in their brains? Feminism and PC in a survival apocalypse?
The ideologies weren't inherently evil—properly applied, they could vent social steam. But here, pre-apocalypse extremists were attacking Serabeol's foundations. Hwang wondered if these were truly 21st-century civilized folk.
"Knew it'd come eventually, but not this soon! At least wait a year post-founding!"
He'd anticipated demands under the apocalypse excuse for Serabeol's strict civilian policies. But the timing sucked—right after declaring nationhood and setting up ministries.
Hwang sighed amid endless crises.
"No helping it."
After agonizing deliberation, his choice:
"Turn 'em all into Marines or Army grunts."
He'd shoulder the karma himself. From now on, anyone opposing Serabeol became fresh recruits.