28. Raiders (2)
“The assignments of positions, ranks, and duties within the Balhut Cult have all been completed. The laws are still in progress, but now we can more precisely allocate the internal administrative staff.”
The structuring of positions, ranks, and duties within the Balhut Cult had been handled by Park Cheol-gon and Hwang Geun-chul, both former politicians. They weren't even representatives of the Gyeongju City Council representing the city of Gyeongju. They hadn't been elected through proportional representation either. To put it bluntly, they were nameless politicians affiliated with their parties, lacking the fame or power to claim seats in Korea's major parties.
Yet no one objected to these two using the names of Korea's major parties. The reason was simple.
“Good work. So, you were politicians from the Heonmin Democratic Party and Yongsinhoe, yes?”
The apocalypse had shattered not only Korea's national fortunes but also its politics, which had reached extreme conflict. In a world where even the survival of elected officials was unknown and party communication networks had collapsed, these two obscure politicians had been elected as party leaders. With survival as the top priority, there was no room for political infighting or extreme left-right clashes—and both Park Cheol-gon and Hwang Geun-chul knew that such things were self-destructive folly.
“There's no need to dwell on our party names. They're defunct anyway.”
“Just call us advisors or secretaries.”
“Very well.”
Thus, in response to Bahamut's question, they dismissed their ruined parties and styled themselves as mere advisors and secretaries.
“We pledge to offer ceaseless counsel on state affairs for the Balhut Cult.”
“I swear the same.”
The two had pledged loyalty to the Balhut Cult for survival and advancement. To them, the cult was a rising force reigniting the dying embers of Korea—a promising organization. The facts that it was a religious group and led not by a human but by a dragon gave them slight pause, but had religion ever stayed out of Korean politics? Remembering countless cult leaders scheming from outside parliament, they figured this was tame by comparison.
“...Believing in that, I have one question.”
“What is it?”
“Even with the tide turned, some refuse to surrender. Why is that?”
Park Cheol-gon and Hwang Geun-chul instantly grasped Bahamut's concern. It had been blatantly implied—what worried the dragon god.
'It's about North Gyeongju.'
'Makes sense. We've heard the raiders' momentum is rising lately. No wonder he's concerned.'
Of course, North Gyeongju's rising momentum was no real threat now. The Balhut Cult's growth was unrivaled in Gyeongju, proven by the liberation of countless towns and villages nearby through expeditions. Even if Jo Sun-do and his raiders resisted, they couldn't stem the cult's peak momentum. Above all, the cult had its god, Bahamut, whom defeat was impossible against.
“Simple. They can't let go of the power they've gained.”
“Can't let go?”
“Yes. Power, wealth, or whatever stirs one's inner desires—humans don't relinquish those easily. In this zombie apocalypse, strength alone grants all the wealth and power one could want. Word is Jo Sun-do's made North Gyeongju his personal kingdom.”
And so Hwang Geun-chul explained Jo Sun-do's defiance as primal human greed. Even with the tide set, they clung to their ill-gotten gains rather than surrender them.
“...Not wrong.”
Bahamut wholeheartedly agreed. He figured that if vast wealth or power suddenly fell into his own claws, he'd plot to keep it rather than yield. Jo Sun-do, ruling North Gyeongju, likely thought the same.
Nodding in empathy, Bahamut prompted Park Cheol-gon, who continued the explanation.
“The reason North Gyeongju ignores surrender calls is straightforward. They don't want to give up the power they've barely seized. They've likely done everything to hold onto it. Am I wrong?”
“Just so. Jeong Dong-gun reported to me: raids attacking Balhut Cult forces, or flooding Gyeongju markets with counterfeit coins to crash the economy.”
The border between North and South Gyeongju was a single bridge away—close enough for easy raids or dumping fake coins minted in the north. Counterfeits, undetectable by most civilians, were a direct economic assault on Gyeongju.
“That's just the flailing of jealous underlings envious of the top dog. Honestly, the Balhut Cult holds an overwhelming position in Gyeongju despite their attacks, doesn't it?”
“...True.”
Park Cheol-gon dismissed it as petty jealousy. It seemed to downplay the threat at first glance, but the logic held firm, earning Bahamut's solemn nod.
“With South Gyeongju secured, we've liberated farmlands there for ample harvests and food supply. Internal cult issues remain, but we're steadily acquiring the means to resolve them.”
“No gaps in your strategy. If conquering North Gyeongju is feasible, how much force would the cult need?”
“...Excluding Jo Sun-do himself, Jeong Dong-gun's expeditionary force alone would suffice.”
“Wow.”
Even Jeong Dong-gun's forces alone could conquer North Gyeongju. Park Cheol-gon and Hwang Geun-chul stared at Bahamut in shock. Jo Sun-do styled himself Gyeongju's king with real power to back it—yet the cult could crush him with one commander's troops. It drove home the Balhut Cult's might.
'Strength is everything in this world.'
'And the cult has the strongest forces in South Gyeongju!'
Reaffirming the South Gyeongju army's supremacy, the two politicians pressed on with eager expressions.
“Then our army is Gyeongju's strongest.”
“Now I understand why you asked, Bahamut-nim.”
If he willed it, Bahamut could crush Jo Sun-do and his raiders anytime. Yet he hesitated. Why?
'Conviction? Or...'
'That Q&A answer from before.'
Before Gyeongju's survivor camps unified into the Balhut Cult, Park Cheol-gon and Hwang Geun-chul had witnessed camp leaders questioning Bahamut. He'd preferred dialogue over combat to resolve issues—a lip service to reassure them, they'd thought. They hadn't expected him to honor it.
The politicians gazed at him admiringly, but...
'Huh? So extermination isn't the way. I thought persuasion without fighting was best.'
In truth, Bahamut had no such grand thoughts. Nothing was the correct answer. Expecting political ideology from this fool of a dragon would lead to bitter disappointment. His timid nature persisted; he merely delayed, wary of risks—especially humanity-turning-against-him scenarios—granting leeway without ruling out eventual action against Jo Sun-do. He wasn't foolish enough to negotiate with the irredeemable, though.
“If we're truly that strong, their refusal to surrender boils down to three reasons.”
“First, as we said, no one easily discards power. Humans cling pathetically to what's in their grasp.”
Unaware of Bahamut's true motives, the two tailored advice to his apparent ideals. A comedy from afar, a tragedy up close—this fit perfectly.
“Second, those who've calculated the costs. They might be worse than Jo Sun-do—kingmakers, or scum inflating their price for the highest bidder.”
“Finally, those who hate your enforced peace and choose war. Low odds, but possible.”
Unlike the dim-witted dragon, the seasoned politicians offered three plausible reasons, all sounding reasonable. Bahamut nodded thoughtfully but tilted his head at the last.
“I grasp the first two, but the last eludes me.”
“It's the same story. What’s hell to us is heaven to others in this disaster.”
“Heaven? What reason could they have?”
Bahamut inwardly shuddered—madmen—but stared impassively, demanding explanation.
They smiled warmly and continued.
“Surprised? Hard to fathom, even for us. But hell for one is paradise for another. Why? Because the old peace was their hell.”
“Social status, jobs, money woes, family troubles—countless miseries in reality, all swept away by this unprecedented apocalypse. Now, strength alone buys wealth and power unbound. For them, this disaster is heaven.”
“Humans struggle to resist temptation, especially when morals and restraints vanish.”
It was the dark underbelly of modern society. Even in advanced Korea, the weak and society's tragedies abounded. The poor, the regime-haters, the troublemakers—for them, this national crisis was opportunity. A chance to score big or seize dreamed-of power.
“Terrifying.”
To Bahamut, the shut-in dragon, it was a distant yet chillingly brutal reality.