Ulsan Airport (3)
Jeong Dong-gun dodged the thrusting strikes with focused desperation, his eyes wide with shock. Each blow came so fast it blurred, heavy enough to knock the breath from his lungs if it connected fully.
"W-wait a second. C-calm down...! Just calm down!"
He pleaded desperately with the opponent whose face was hidden behind a motorcycle helmet, all while evading the onslaught.
"Calm down? I'll calm down once I've got you pinned!"
"No, we didn't come here to fight...!"
The foe charged in close without a word, thrusting with the sharpened stick in hand. The superhuman stabbed repeatedly with the pointed end, clearly far too accustomed to battling people. Zombies had been humanoid monsters from the start, so familiarity with human combat came inevitably, whether one wanted it or not.
This one's fought live humans plenty of times!
Unlike zombies, where smashing the skull was quickest, this opponent targeted human vital points instead of the head—eyes, throat, groin, heart. Strikes that could inflict irreversible damage. Occasional feints at shoulders and arms heightened Jeong Dong-gun's sense of mortal peril.
"Not bad... at all!"
"Please calm down a bit!"
But Jeong Dong-gun had surpassed level 20 himself. Caught off-guard at first and taking a hit, he now tracked the superhuman's spear precisely, dodging what he could and parrying the rest with his weapon. Once he settled into a proper response, the fight evened out.
Skill-wise, they're superior. But our gear advantage is overwhelming.
Pure talent favored the enemy slightly, which irked him, but their crude weapons paled against Jeong Dong-gun's military-grade kit. It looked like they'd scavenged trash from the roadside.
Damn it. Where'd this monster come from? Even my old post wasn't this cushy.
The superhuman sensed it too. They'd held the edge in their initial clash, confirming their skill superiority. Yet Jeong Dong-gun matched them blow-for-blow thanks to superior equipment. Their stick looked pathetic next to his gear—a flimsy wooden rod, no steel core for weight or power, crudely sharpened with a pocketknife at best.
Play it safe, and we win. Careful fighting seals it.
Not just the spear: aside from the helmet, their "armor" was rags padded onto clothes. Nothing like Jeong Dong-gun's tactical combat uniform.
The saying went that a craftsman didn't blame his tools, but in the apocalypse, strong gear meant survival. Even America traded massive resources with the cult for Bahamut coins to secure powerful magic weapons.
With gear this shitty, even full-power thrusts won't penetrate this bulletproof vest. A few direct hits? No problem. Subduing them's feasible.
From their clashes, Jeong Dong-gun confirmed no magic imbued the spear—just a mundane scavenged tool relying on the wielder's prowess. He slung his rifle, drew his holstered knife, and induced a standoff to prevent reckless charges.
"Hah. Think I'm scared?"
The superhuman spun their spear threateningly, unfazed by the knife, but hesitated to rush in blindly now.
Good—it's turned into a leaders' duel. The rest are just spectators.
The foe's brief pause let Jeong Dong-gun glance around. It was a classic one-on-one showdown: their subordinates eyed each other warily, his team under Son Sang-hee's command holding formation to de-escalate without letting anyone charge.
No shots fired yet.
At least no one's pulled a trigger. Calm this one down, and we end this pointless fight.
Subduing the leader would open dialogue. Confident they hadn't crossed the line, Jeong Dong-gun moved to take them down.
"Eyes elsewhere?!"
Sensing his glance away, they lunged with another thrust. Jeong Dong-gun deflected with his knife, grabbed the shaft to wrench it free—
"What!?"
It yanked back instantly, followed by another stab. Faster than expected, he ducked without parrying, backflipped, and retreated a step. Undeterred, the superhuman shifted from thrust to vault grip, leaped skyward, spun mid-air, and swung down with centrifugal force.
"Got you!"
"Damn it!?"
But Jeong Dong-gun, the cult's top awakener, lived up to his rep. He recovered instantly, deflected the downward strike, seized the shaft, and hurled the airborne foe aside. Disarmed, they abandoned the spinning spear without hesitation, landing lightly like a feather.
"We're not here to fight."
Weapons gave him the edge now. Jeong Dong-gun tossed the spear far outside, approaching the kneeling superhuman slowly.
"Don't make me laugh. You know how many in Ulsan died from your sweet-talking lies? Have some shame!"
The hostile outsider rejected his words, shouting about sacrifices. Their comrades glared with shared resentment.
Son Sang-hee, sensing the hostility, spoke up to clarify their affiliation.
"We had nothing to do with that. Because... Ah!"
Her mana sense cut her off—the discarded spear outside glowed with the superhuman's mana.
"Dodge, Commander Jeong!"
"What?!"
He spun at her cry. The thrown spear rocketed straight back at him. No magic, he'd thought—infuriating. Without her warning, it'd have impaled his back before he noticed. He rolled aside, barely evading the trajectory, face paling at the near-skewer.
Could his protective gear even withstand that?
"Not a warrior... a mage?"
"That's right. I'm a mage. What, figured it out now?"
The spear, hurtling with lethal speed, slowed to nestle perfectly in their hand—like the prior velocity was a lie. They spun it, resuming stance. Jeong Dong-gun rose, heart sinking, eyes cold.
"Psychokinesis, just now. I knew from U.S. reports that mages could wield telekinesis."
"Monster. What the hell? Dodged it? And clocked my power from one glance?"
Psychokinesis—moving objects without touch, the hallmark esper ability. Jeong Dong-gun implied rarity, naming U.S. parallels. But the foe, sweating, called him the monster. Even with Son Sang-hee's alert, the spear had been inches away. All prior victims fell to this trick; fearing Jeong Dong-gun was natural.
"More importantly—America?"
The word "America" shifted their reaction—bewilderment at its mention here. They lowered the spear, tension easing.
"Calmer now?"
"America? You're saying you're not with the Immortal Cult?"
"Exactly. We're not Immortal Cult, and we're U.S. allies."
They referenced the cult alongside America. Jeong Dong-gun answered honestly.
"Hard to believe. Contacting foreigners in this apocalypse?"
"I get your skepticism. But didn't our skirmish give you a read on our strength?"
"Well..."
True—they weren't pushovers. Prolonged fight risked mutual destruction or his win, but one loss meant death. Hesitation inevitable. With America mentioned and cult denial, the spear dipped lower.
"You said 'cult'? Not Immortal—which one, then?"
"We're from the Balhut Cult."
"B-Balhut Cult? That... Balhut Cult ruling South Gyeongju?"
They knew the name, shocked. News hadn't fully cut off. Survivors murmured varied reactions.
"Yes, that Balhut Cult. News travels slow, though. Gyeongju's unified, Pohang liberated and annexed."
"W-we know that! Pohang unification—sudden, but I remember the buzz about some Jo trial when I came here!"
"Trial? Ah, Jo Sun-do. And you are? Helmet hides your face—I have no idea."
Knowing Jo Sun-do's trial meant early Balhut awareness.
"...Fine. If you're Balhut, then Jeong Dong-gun—you're their military official, right?"
"You know me?"
"No one in Yeongnam hasn't heard of Jeong Dong-gun by now."
Frustrated, they tossed the helmet. Clang. It hit the ground, revealing their identity.
"A woman?"
silky black waves framed a face with awakened crimson eyes, poised on the girl-woman cusp—a young adult. The one who'd battled Jeong Dong-gun was a fresh-faced young woman.
But the shock for him and his men...
"Not a man—a woman."
"Damn, chest so flat I thought guy."
"Same. Cute boy? Surprise—girl."
"Who said my chest is small, you bastards?!"
...was the gender reveal. Androgynous build, utterly flat-chested—pancake-level—but pretty face sans breasts. She snapped at the whispers, then introduced herself.
"Name's Jin A-yeon."
"Jin A-yeon...! Right—the Korean awakener famous in Japan. Thought you were there, not here."
Jeong Dong-gun knew the name. Famous across the peninsula and Japanese islands. Fukuoka's first zombie-liberated city; she was its hero.
Why Ulsan, not Fukuoka?
"Not important right now."
"True. So what happened here?"
Curiosity aside, priority was her hostility and airport holdout.
"We're the resistance fighting the Immortal Cult."
"Immortal Cult..."