Chapter 179
Chapter 179
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 179
Chapter Title: Theseus's Ship
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1
Since the ark showed up in the last episode, how about we keep talking about ships this time too?
Of course, there aren't many ships that boast world-class fame on par with the ark.
(If we're limiting it to the Korean Peninsula, the turtle ship is the only one that can even compete.)
The ship we'll be discussing today is one that's kinda famous but not really.
It's known as "Theseus's Ship."
2
Before we dive into the full tale.
Readers with sharp eyes might have noticed that I've skipped the intro line "This episode happened back in the XXXth regression" for a while now.
To come clean, the story where the Great Monsoon Monster spearheaded Busan's redevelopment project was from the 664th regression.
In other words, it was back when I, the regressor known as the Undertaker, had surpassed the old fogeys and was evolving full throttle on fossil fuels.
An episode from the era when I was starting to reign at a level where even being called a munchkin wouldn't raise eyebrows.
But today, we'll focus on a much earlier time.
[Undertaker. When I stopped by Okinawa briefly last time, I spotted it with Clairvoyance—an enormous typhoon heading toward the Philippines.]
"Enormous size?"
[Yeah. At least 1,000 km in diameter, and the height looked like it reached the edge of the troposphere.]
"What's that? Scary..."
One taboo plot in subculture is "the strong protagonist getting nerfed back to weak."
In the old days, wuxia novels often had the protagonist fall off a cliff, lose their memories, or have their dantian shattered—pure frustration bait.
But lazy plots like that can't survive in today's wild subculture market.
My tales, however? Anything goes.
Like now—midway through a 664th regression story, I can just "regress" back to around the 239th, and bam, I'm legally weakened.
At that point, I couldn't cross the Pacific barehanded (you'd call me insane), had no clue about the Great Monsoon Monster, and obviously couldn't imagine the Saintess randomly turning into a potato during a stroll.
Even a regressor couldn't predict something that wild.
But.
Weird shit on that level? It cropped up in my life all the time, past or present, like unwanted guests.
"No Do-ha Workshop Master! We've got a patient! Whip up some prosthetics quick!"
"Fuck..."
Of course, from No Do-ha's perspective, I was the real intruder in her life.
People need to adopt a relativistic view for smooth relationships.
"This isn't a patient—it's a corpse five seconds from rigor. Shit, how the hell am I supposed to meet deadlines on this...?"
One day in the 239th regression. I hauled a critically wounded guy to No Do-ha.
From here on, I'll call this patient "Patient A."
No Do-ha grumbled but immediately dropped her National Highway Management Corps duties and jumped into saving Patient A.
In this post-apocalyptic hellscape, even the president of the Korean Peninsula pulled 24-hour ER shifts.
"..., ..."
As No Do-ha said, the patient was in a quantum state between life and death.
He was drenched in blood. Limbs had gone AWOL, and his heart was freshly ventilated. Surviving without a death observation was a miracle in itself.
Of course, no miracles dropped from the sky.
The apocalypse world was like a yandere with -100 favor toward humanity.
What value does a yandere without favor have? Exactly. No real difference from a plain old murderer.
"How'd he get hurt this bad...?"
"He's from a small guild. Went scouting a Void near Gimhae and ran into the 'Code of Hammurabi' monster. He killed its heart by ripping out his own."
"Huh. Impressive sacrifice. And he survived...?"
"His guildmates took turns doing CPR for an hour straight. All that rigorous training paid off. I got the rescue request, rushed over—Pyongyang's farther than here—so I brought him."
Cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR).
Always crucial, but even more so after aura control became essential education for Awakeners.
Awakeners no longer relied on puny hand pumps to revive hearts.
They used the apocalypse's mystery: aura.
To put it extremely, even if the heart stopped—or went missing like now—emergency treatment was possible.
Aura forcibly regulated oxygen and CO2, circulated blood, keeping them alive for hours.
Until when? Until their aura ran dry.
Circulating human blood through the body wasn't easy. It demanded precise aura control.
In today's job market, blind aura hoarders weren't favored.
Guilds wanted people with delicate aura control to save themselves and comrades in crises (Voids were 90% crises).
And who developed this comprehensive "aura manipulation" system, debuted it in the job market, and made it mandatory?
Who else? Me, the Undertaker.
No wonder most regressions had Awakeners respecting me.
Propose founding the National Highway Management Corps, and guild leaders nationwide agree? They're basically my outer disciples.
Anyway.
"Arm, leg, heart. Workshop Master, start with the urgent heart, limbs later. I'll keep the patient alive meanwhile."
"Sigh..."
Click. No Do-ha adjusted her monocle and grabbed her tools.
"Hold on for 60 more minutes..."
No Do-ha's Awakening ability.
[Prosthetic Creation].
Attach prosthetics to lost body parts, and they function "as if they'd always been part of the body."
Early on, mostly for limbs. But as regressions progressed, finer parts too.
Awakeners now got "body photos" upon guild entry.
Not just externals—brains, hearts, lungs, organs included.
Guilds registered these with the National Highway Management Corps.
Simple reason: So No Do-ha could craft "original-like" replacements in emergencies.
Like insurance.
No Do-ha was swamped, though.
Jeopardizing her Zhuge Liang-level workload for prosthetics? Easier to find a healer.
But what if your heart flies off?
Healers who fix that? Rare. Only Northern debutante villain Goryeo Jang, the Saintess.
Truly critical cases—corpses barely breathing via comrades' aura. Literal walking dead.
Only Sim A-ryeon or No Do-ha offered survival odds.
Like this one.
"All done. Open the chest..."
"Got it."
No Do-ha tree bore fruit generously.
In civilization's ruins, she led the provisional government, handled elder welfare, treated heartless ER patients every few days. What couldn't she do?
Overwork death? Fine. World ends first.
"Hmm. Veins are mostly intact. Too intact...?"
"Hammurabi Code swapped only the heart. No external wounds."
"Ah. Makes sense. Installing..."
No Do-ha transplanted the artificial heart.
Sweat dripped from her chin—proof of her focus on Patient A.
"Heart positioned."
"Aura-seal it..."
"Yes. I'll keep blood flowing with aura until beats resume. One, two, three."
Thump-.
"!"
Patient A's body jolted.
No Do-ha and I, veterans, ignored it and continued.
"Reduce aura ratio gradually..."
"Down 70%. Breathing normal. Heartbeat strong. No issues."
"More..."
"50%. No issues. Patient's aura faintly returning from heart. Repelling mine."
"Drop sharply. Slowly..."
"Yes. 30%, 20%, 10%, 1%. No issues. Repulsion gone. Stopping injection."
I gently severed the two-hour aura link.
"..."
"..."
No Do-ha and I watched Patient A silently.
No vital signs monitors beeping "beep-beep-beep." Never.
As I said before, electronics were risky post-Void. All contaminated.
Hook one up, even healthy patients flatline soon.
Beep-beep-beepbeepbeeeeeep-.
Treatment tools turned murder machines.
Absurd, but that's our world.
Still, save who you can.
"1 minute passed. No issues."
"..."
"3 minutes. No issues. Pulse, pupils normal. Checking consciousness."
My black aura forced Patient A's awareness.
Gasp-. He gaped.
"Huh, heuk... Gasp. Wh-where...?"
"Patient. Can you hear me?"
"Uh? Y-yeah... I hear..."
"What's your name?"
"Uh. A-Areum..."
I nodded.
"Consciousness clear. No Void toxin contamination yet. No Do-ha Workshop Master, you're good."
"Whew..."
Thud.
No Do-ha slumped into a chair, drained.
I fetched iced coffee from outside and handed it over.
She eyed splashing it on me but drank.
"I'll die before my time at this rate..."
"It's fine. Humanity's fate."
"Fuck, workload overload. Serious. Delegate more to Director Yoo Ji-won..."
"No Do-ha Chief. Know what you call Yoo Ji-won with more authority than now?"
"Hmm, monster? Dictator? Your 'tried in past regressions, didn't work' bullshit—real or made-up—I can't verify, so regressor plain-time abuse?"
"If... it is?"
Splash!
Even as a veteran regressor, some things surprised me.
First: Half-drunk coffee still splashes perfectly.
Second: Patient A we saved.
"Thank you! Chief! Undertaker!"
FKA "Areum."
Rare Korean name: Areum surname A.
"I'll live harder with this second life! Truly grateful!"
Nobody fully bought it.
Heart-lost Awakeners usually retreated. Voids too fucked.
No blame.
Limbs? Heroes shrugged. But heart/brain? Even they said "retire honorably."
Patient A? Overly devoted.
One month later.
"No Do-ha Workshop Master! Patient! Prosthetics quick!"
"Fuck..."
I kicked open the National Highway Management Corps HQ meeting room door.
No Do-ha, mid-meeting with directors, cursed.
Patient checkup amped her curses.
"Wait. Fuck. This face rings a bell? The guy from last month—lost all limbs and donated his heart?"
"Yes."
"After that, back to Voids? Eyes not lying—half his head gone now...?"
"Miracle half remains. Met a basilisk. Brain photo on file. Match it close."
"F-fuck..."
No Do-ha could craft artificial brains too.
One hemisphere only.
Intact side required for opposite prosthetic to work. Total brain loss? Even S-grade prosthetics useless.
Why? No clue. Don't care.
Ignorance is strength here. Francis Bacon? French bacon spacing error.
"Thank you! Chief! Undertaker! I'll live harder! Grateful!"
"Ah, yeah. Just... stay safe..."
No Do-ha revived left-brain-lost Patient A.
Now: left/right brain, heart, all limbs prosthetics.
Homo sapiens? Dubious.
But hey. Sunflower-head folks roam highways. Cyborgs? Mild.
Next problem.
"No Do-ha Workshop Master! Patient! Prosthetics quick!"
"..."
Two months later.
No Do-ha, wine-tasting in basement (rare privacy), soured.
"Fuck, kidding? It's him again...?"
Patient A arrived sans right brain.
What coincidence?
First in my long life.
Who loses limbs/heart, Voids again, loses left brain, then right?
Regressor life: statistics, not math.
Madmen exist. Cases happen.
"Won't save him?"
"No, fuck. Will. But... alternating brain halves with prosthetics? No idea outcomes. First for me..."
"Relax. First for me too."
"Wow. So reassuring, you regressor fuck...?"
No Do-ha crafted right brain.
Installed successfully.
Eyes closed doable. We blurred into Patient A's specialists.
We pioneered full brain transplant: natural to farmed.
"Patient. Hear me?"
"..."
"Name?"
"..."
Blink, blink.
Patient A opened eyes. Heartbeat normal. Sanity in pupils.
"Areum. My name is Areum."
I patted No Do-ha's shoulder. Celebrated impossible success.
But.
"—But what is 'Areum,' really?"
In hindsight, surgical failure better.
"Pardon?"
"I have the name Areum. But is the Areum of 10 years ago the same as today's?"
Patient A spoke crisply.
Alien tone.
"As 10 seconds ago? 1 second ago? 1 second from now and now? Who am I? What am I?"
"..."
Yes.
A new monster was born.