186. A Day on the Korean Peninsula
Even without issues like feminism or political correctness, there were plenty of reasons to establish the special forces Hwarang. The news of Serabeol's founding had drawn the eyes of countless warlords across the Korean Peninsula straight to it.
Most coveted Serabeol's wealth and plotted invasions. Those who still had their wits about them muttered in disbelief.
"To think they've already founded a nation."
None had dreamed a single faction could dominate a region and declare a country so soon. After all, the Republic of Korea still hung on in name, and though Seoul's hero Kim Su-ho had suffered one defeat, he'd been on an unbroken winning streak ever since. Doubts about him evaporated quickly. No one believed they could stand against him, so they bowed before his power.
It was wiser, practically speaking, to bide their time under him, waiting for a moment of carelessness, than to challenge the man holding Korea together outright.
But a faction strong enough to found a nation? That changed everything.
"The Korean Peninsula is entering Serabeol's era now."
It was proof enough that Serabeol held true sovereignty. Even if not the strongest force, Serabeol had become the richest—and in this apocalypse, wealth meant usable resources. More resources naturally meant more Awakened who could fight. Smart warlords turned away from Serabeol's path of expansion, heading in the opposite direction.
They knew clashing with Serabeol now would be like getting hit by an 8-ton truck—sent to another world as the hero of some isekai tale.
"Serabeol's swimming in riches, huh? Boys, it's hunting time!"
"Ooh!"
Blood-drunk warlords, driven by beastly hearts, lusted after that wealth. Not fearing it, but seeing it as the key to longer survival in the end times, they marched toward Serabeol.
Of course, Serabeol's heartland in Gyeongju was blocked by Daegu, Pohang, and North Ulsan. Most warlords targeted Daegu—Serabeol's shield—but...
"Wipe them all out."
Heo Jin-ho, appointed governor of Daegu, defended ruthlessly against the invaders. Using abandoned outskirts buildings as barricades, he repelled the assaults. Word spread, and the warlords' movements shifted.
They'd realized a frontal breakthrough was impossible.
"Then can you handle all of this?!"
"You mad bastard!"
They had to shatter defenses with tactics that made enemies recoil in horror. Compared to the warlords Heo Jin-ho had faced—like Gyeon Gwan-im, who almost seemed angelic—these were pure evil.
Gyeon Gwan-im had at least ruled Daegu by winning public support, building foundations, banning looting among his men—preparing to inherit as a proper warlord. But these attackers barely qualified as warlords. They didn't care for Daegu's hearts and minds; they were just ravenous scavengers, ripping resources to survive another day.
The scariest part was their madness. Among their deeds...
"To think they'd lure undead all the way here!"
They weaponized undead—humanity's enemies—as siege engines against Daegu. Luring them was risky for the warlords too, but exploiting undead's tendency to chase larger human groups, they dragged hordes near Daegu, then passed the aggro to the city.
Daegu's citizens plummeted in morale. Resentment grew toward the lurers—and suspicion toward Serabeol, which stayed silent without policy.
"Argh! Conscription! Switch to conscription! Force all dissenters into basic training!"
"Poor bastards."
To quash such doubts, birthing the professional special forces Hwarang was inevitable. They needed soldiers for targeted decapitation strikes against rampaging warlords—and to defend Serabeol itself.
Prime Minister Hwang Geun-chul hadn't switched from volunteer to conscription in a rage for nothing. Even Park Cheol-gon of the rival Heonmin Democratic Party turned a blind eye.
"They've founded a nation called Serabeol already? The Balhut Cult sure is greedy."
"What can we do about it?"
The news reached even Kim Su-ho. Holding the Han River defense line from Seoul, blocking all foes from beyond, this was like a hostile nation popping up in his rear.
Successor to the Republic of Korea, he should've been shocked or outraged at the de facto independence declaration. But...
"Huh. Not bad at all."
"Excellency?"
Kim Su-ho judged it favorably. The man who should rage most smiled as if pleased by Serabeol's founding.
Finally, what he'd hoped for had arrived.
At last. The one to end this Republic of Korea has appeared. Haha. The end is finally coming!
A nation to finish off this rotten Korea. A force to grant the undead-worse-than-undead Republic a peaceful, honorable end. With that thought, Kim Su-ho turned to his adjutant.
"Sure, a new nation suddenly in our rear. But it'll create a buffer with the warlords and undead in Chungcheong. Serabeol's founding isn't a problem for us. If anything, it's Honam, Hoseo, and Chungcheong that should worry."
Cold logic: Serabeol, having conquered Gyeongsang, had no reason to eye Gyeonggi immediately. Chungcheong buffered Seoul and Serabeol, swarming with undead blocking any path north. If expanding earnestly, they'd target unconquered Busan or Ulsan—or consolidate internally.
"The undead and warlords in Chungcheong that gave us headaches might head south toward Serabeol. Could be good friends lightening our load."
It could even shoulder some of Kim Su-ho's burden managing Chungcheong.
Though he called them "good friends," the worried adjutant advised again.
"Still, they've conquered most of Gyeongsang. Even without Busan or Ulsan..."
"Yeah, it could be dangerous. But is it more dangerous than demon-infested Seoul right now?"
"That's..."
The adjutant had a point. But for Kim Su-ho, Seoul's transformation into a demonic realm from internal politics mattered more than buffered Serabeol. Endless political chaos, power struggles making people vanish or drop dead routinely.
When Kim Su-ho said Serabeol seemed safer, the adjutant had no retort. It was true—for him, current Seoul was riskier than distant Serabeol.
"Well, it's my fault for abandoning oversight. But if the Balhut Cult—no, Serabeol—is truly the nation to end Korea... let them come as a worthy opponent."
"Come as...?"
"Or we lose. If Seoul falls, we could ally under them."
Thus, Kim Su-ho began viewing Serabeol as Korea's ender. If they reached here or Seoul collapsed, he'd defect quietly, voicing his intent.
"Seoul's collapse...? With you alone, Excellency, it won't fall."
"I don't plan to fall easily. But..."
The adjutant boasted Seoul wouldn't crumble under Kim Su-ho's talent. But Kim Su-ho sighed with trembling eyes, sharing recent news.
"A report from our border agents. They've spotted undead descending from the north."
"Excellency, that means... North Korea has fallen?"
The adjutant's face paled. Korea's northern foe was one, still surviving the apocalypse without much worry. But after a year, undead from the border meant...
"Yeah. Seems trouble finally hit them. We should be grateful they endured this chaotic end times longer than expected."
"Has Pyongyang fallen? Wasn't it sturdier than our ragged Republic?"
North Korea's regime collapsing? But the adjutant argued: unlike faction-riddled Korea, the dictatorship under the Kim family wouldn't crumble easily. Pyongyang safe meant the dynasty endured, even under sanctions. Sudden collapse after a year felt off.
"But wasn't it more contradictory than our Korea? Before or after the apocalypse."
"Ah."
If Korea fell from disunity, North Korea brimmed with more contradictions. Even a solid Pyongyang could crumble from other issues—especially unknown apocalypse variables the regime missed.
"If Pyongyang falls, the regime is done. Time to prepare our hearts."
"Excellency..."
Not certain yet. Maybe Pyongyang was just dumping undead southward. But if truly collapsed, Seoul would inherit their undead burden. Barely holding with the Han line, adding Yalu River hordes could chain-collapse everything.
"Don't worry. No confirmation of full collapse yet. We have agents in Pyongyang—let's wait calmly for their report."
Kim Su-ho reassured, mentioning dispatched agents. But inwardly...
Fast or slow, once Pyongyang's resources run dry, collapse is certain.
He foresaw inevitable downfall.
Unlike us with mechanical farming, could they even manage it?
With Seoul facing food shortages after a year, North Korea's weak light industry made solutions unlikely.