Chapter 146
Chapter 146
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 146
Chapter Title: God-Slayer I
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Shin Noah
1
Lately, I've been feeling like I've been too focused on extremely private matters between me and No Do-ha, the workshop master—like killing her—and other overly intimate stories.
Sometimes, a person needs to chat about outside stuff, right?
This time, to catch my breath, let's talk about the current era. In other words, the trend of "end-of-the-world apocalypses."
In the past, humanity argued over terms like "modernism" or "postmodernism" while building architecture and writing literature.
But to the MZ generation of the end times, those were just outdated, antiquated concepts.
The new generation of humanity had evolved in a more practical way.
"Are you insane?"
"Pardon?"
"I counted the stairs in that new house you built last time—thirteen of them. Why'd you make it like that? Do you want to tour straight down to the bottom of hell while coming down?"
"No, the local carpenter just built it however he wanted..."
"You must have seriously pissed off that carpenter. Cut ties with him immediately and hire someone else. Reduce the stairs to ten or nine."
"Is it really necessary?"
"Do what you want. It's not me dying, it's you. Oh? You even built a basement? You'd have better survival odds jumping off a building rooftop than living here. It's like you've posted a notice begging anomalies to come in and kill you."
Abyssalism.
This was the latest trend sweeping the end times.
Abyssalism prioritized "how not to get fucked by anomalies" over "how to live comfortably."
It hadn't always been this way.
Back when nukes were flying and civil wars raged, humanity thought "scientifically."
Like drilling into solid concrete bunkers to hide, or isolating completely from society to live as a solo max-level naturalist.
By scientific common sense, these approaches made sense.
But the anomalies that emerged in the end times were generally liberal arts types rich in subjective sensitivity.
"Waaah...! Waaah...!"
"Oh god. What's wrong with that beggar? Has he lost his mind?"
"Don't even ask. He used to be a hotshot executive at a major corporation, took his whole family into an underground bunker or something."
"What? An underground bunker? That's crazy."
"Yeah, crazy. A bomb hit the bunker overnight, his family all turned into ghosts, total chaos. He barely escaped alone to Busan. Is that even living?"
"Waaah...! Waaah...! Waaaah...!"
Anomalies didn't care much for scientific methods or "causality."
They loved "reversed causality" instead.
Take underground bunkers as an example.
What is a bunker originally? A facility built to prepare for air raids, bombings, nukes, etc.
By humanity's scientific thinking, bunkers are safer than regular houses.
Unless you have a relative named Osama bin Laden, the odds of a missile targeting a hidden bunker are minuscule.
But anomalies think differently.
It's not that bombs are fired at bunkers because they exist.
Because a "bunker exists," a "bomb must naturally explode there."
In short, anomalies counter like this:
"If no missile was going to hit, why build a bunker in the first place? Shouldn't it stick to its purpose?"
Thanks to that, everyone who built and entered underground bunkers without exception got hit by missile strikes. The Gimhae Plains turned into a wasteland.
That day, humanity underwent a paradigm shift.
"Huh? Someone's calling me?"
"Fuck, don't answer! Never answer! Turn off your smartphone completely except when accessing SG Net!"
Telephones? They're not tools for hearing other people's voices—they're devices that connect you to "invisible entities."
Unless you're a high schooler enjoying spiritual exchanges with ghosts, calling or answering is utter foolishness.
"Abyssalist communication studies" reject reliance on tools like phones. Only face-to-face talk counts as true human interaction.
"You lunatic! Why do you have a mirror in the bathroom?"
"Huh? Because it's a bathroom..."
"Your expression right now doesn't match the one in the mirror! Smash it now!"
Mirrors? They're tools that "isolate a being identical to yourself in another world." The ultimate monster—never use as interior decor, no matter what.
Yes.
Until now, humanity had been too complacent, relying on tools.
In today's Earth, updated with apocalypse events, more stringent choices were needed.
"Well, the old folks back in the day lived fine without phones..."
"Screw it, I can live without mirrors. Anyway, every time I looked except right after a shower, it was stressful."
And humanity adapted.
People simply resolved to live without phones, without mirrors, without the trappings of civilization.
Think about it—our ancient ancestors hunted mammoths just fine without that crap.
But there was one tool humanity clung to until the very end.
If they let go of this, they'd truly revert to the Stone Age.
Surprisingly, it wasn't the internet.
As mentioned, not smartphones either.
The tool humanity—especially Americans—refused to release until the last moment was—.
-Bang!
The protagonist of this episode.
A gun.
3
Sometimes, watching modern fantasy stories—especially those with "aura" where characters all wield swords—I can't help but wonder.
"Why do these primitives obsess over cold weapons instead of beautiful, cool guns? Are they medieval barbarians?"
The tendency in creative works to belittle firearms and heat weapons has deep roots.
When a monster appeared on the back mountain of the Third New Tokyo City, the Self-Defense Forces unleashed all sorts of cutting-edge weapons, but they did nothing. Someone coolly muttered, "What a waste of taxes," and that sealed the fate of firearms in subculture.
Anomalies must have watched those modern fantasy works deeply too.
Boss-level anomalies shrugged off bullets, missiles, nukes, but somehow turned to tenderloin before a sashimi slice laced with "aura."
"Fire! Shoot them all! Those bastards are nothing! Stay calm, aim, and shoot!"
-Kweeeek!
Of course, there were anomalies bullets worked fine on.
Goblins. Orcs. Low-level anomalies born to be humanity's EXP had decent vulnerability to guns.
These village-tier anomalies came in hordes too. Post-conscription Korea saw great success with guns right after the Void arrived.
Yet guns rapidly lost popularity. After the Ten Tribes enjoyed an omakase feast on the ROK military, they vanished entirely.
Why?
There was a famous anecdote illustrating why guns met their end.
"Haa..."
One day.
Cheon Yo-hwa, visiting my café, let out a deep sigh.
Even the spoon stirring her beloved cream latte drooped limply.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, it's... Teacher, our kids have been fighting a lot lately."
"Baekhwa Girls' High School kids? Isn't their constant bickering par for the course?"
For reference, a "yuri" anomaly permanently haunted Baekhwa Girls' High. As an inherent barrier spirit anomaly, even I couldn't exorcise it, so I left it alone.
I'm not omnipotent, after all.
Thanks to that, Baekhwa staged grueling love-hate dramas 365 days a year.
Being at the center, Cheon Yo-hwa must feel a new mood every day.
"Of course, I can laugh off mere mind games now... but, um, it feels like they've crossed the line? Two days ago, one nearly died."
"Huh."
"I wouldn't complain about nail-biting. As long as they roast each other without harming outsiders, I don't care. But if someone dies, it affects our whole guild, right? Forget the mood killer."
"Hmm."
"I waterboarded the perpetrator full course to knock some sense into her, but she swears she didn't expect it. Checked her mind—no lie. Teacher, isn't this an anomaly?"
"An anomaly..."
Judging coldly if it's an anomaly or not is amateur hour.
The key fact: "The stress index of one of Korea's top two guild leaders has exceeded critical levels."
Physical trauma to one Baekhwa guild member? No big deal.
But "Cheon Yo-hwa's melancholy" could trigger unknown butterfly effects of terror.
If she snaps and creates a sealed space to vent, wrecking the city—that'd be a problem.
No idea which work that parodies? Have you forgotten Suzumiya Haruhi?
Anyway.
I smiled gently.
"Yo-hwa, how about we visit Baekhwa together after so long and check for any sectors infected by anomalies?"
"Ah. Really?"
Cheon Yo-hwa's face lit up, then dimmed again.
"—Oh, um. But Teacher, you're super busy. I'd feel bad dragging you into our mess when you know that..."
"It's fine. Baekhwa's like a temple sealed by the Infinite—needs regular checks anyway. And if you, of all people, sense something off, it's worth paying attention."
"Aaaah... Teacher! Thank you so much!"
Looks like I picked the right answer.
We passed through Inunaki Tunnel toward Sejong City. The whole way back to Baekhwa, Cheon Yo-hwa beamed, chatting idly with me.
"Whew. Really, running around the school with you for years feels like yesterday... Time flies."
"To us, a few years. To others, just a day."
"Ahaha. Right! Makes it feel even weirder. Ah, this way, Teacher."
Baekhwa Girls' High, revisited after ages, had changed quite a bit.
Classrooms repurposed for other uses. Elevators all sealed. Fourth floor taped off completely.
"This is the perpetrator's private room!"
"Sure I can just barge in?"
"Pfft, she almost killed someone! Practically a murderer. She's still in holding getting waterboarded—why care about her privacy? Primary search is done."
Both Dang Seo-rin and Cheon Yo-hwa, Korea's premier guild leaders, sure loved waterboarding. The peninsula's fine water taste tradition endured.
Truly, normal folks could only rely on me, the Undertaker, cultured pillar of this era.
I rummaged through the private room.
Cheon Yo-hwa wasn't lying—primary search complete, nothing new to find.
"Hm?"
But the window frame was odd.
Tap tap.
Knocking the frame, the plastic rang too brightly.
"What's up, Teacher?"
"Seems like an empty space here."
"Eh."
I slid the window aside, fiddled with the frame. Found an artificial "gap."
"Hold on, using some aura."
"Ah. Sure!"
Dark aura gathered at my fingertips. Slicing along the gap—
Sure enough.
The perpetrator's hidden empty space was exposed.
I frowned the instant I saw the item inside.
Cheon Yo-hwa, peeking over my shoulder, darkened rapidly. Brighter than a forward unit spotting a hole in the DMZ wire.
"...That crazy bitch."
Cheon Yo-hwa muttered darkly.
The hidden item.
A pistol.
I immediately raised the K5 pistol and fired out the window.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Rapid fire. Gunshots echoed through Baekhwa until the 13 rounds were spent.
Distant students panicked, but no time to care.
"Whew."
"Haa..."
Only after the loaded bullets ran dry could we sigh in relief.
Because this "anomaly" was truly dangerous.
Enough to tense up Cheon Yo-hwa, Baekhwa's guild leader, and me, a regressor, for a moment.
"Wow, calling you was spot on, Teacher. If we'd left it, at least one dead—worst case, thirteen..."
"Glad I came too."
Yes.
The reason guns became useless in the end times. No—far beyond useless, why they became "dangerous."
Every gun in this world was possessed by an anomaly without a single exception.
[Chekhov's Gun].
That was the name of the anomaly that instantly flushed all firearms down the toilet.
