Chapter 10
Chapter 10
The forest was as quiet as a dead mouse.
The explosions that had been deafening moments ago, and the screams of the raiders desperately fighting for their lives, had vanished as if they had never existed.
The battle was over.
But Yoon Sungjun’s hand, wrapped around his wife’s shoulder, was slick with sweat.
Behind him, their daughter trembled violently.
“Now’s the time, honey. Let’s run.”
His wife whispered so faintly that the words were barely audible.
Her eyes were full of the urge to leap up and flee immediately.
But Yoon Sungjun firmly pressed down on her shoulder and shook his head.
“No.”
If we move, we die.
He swallowed the rest of the words because his daughter was listening.
His eyes instinctively scanned the shadows of the forest.
Six raiders had just been annihilated.
They were not small fry.
They were a notorious gang that had dominated this area.
When they demanded his wife and daughter, Yoon Sungjun had already resolved to die together with them using his hidden last resort.
And yet—
They were blown away in a single attack…
Without even revealing their presence.
Which meant the being hiding in this forest was a monster incomparable to mere raiders.
It might even be one of the [Murderers] the ruling class of the shelters constantly warned about.
Madmen who hunted humans rather than mutants for pleasure.
If he made even the slightest noise, the next bomb would likely fall right on their heads.
It was at that moment, as they suppressed even their breathing in suffocating tension—
A chilling voice echoed from somewhere.
—Your movements were unusual. Are you an Awakened from Ahyeon Shelter?
“Ghk?!”
The voice was distorted with heavy mechanical noise.
Startled, Yoon Sungjun pulled his family further behind him.
He had never imagined the other party would try to start a conversation.
If he’s asking whether we’re Awakened from Ahyeon Shelter… does answering yes mean death?
Quick-witted, Yoon Sungjun sensed obvious hostility in the question.
Rumors said murderers recognized Awakened as competitors and killed them even more brutally.
He forced his trembling lips open.
“We… we are not Awakened! I swear we are not!”
—Non-Awakened hunting mutants? Don’t make me laugh.
“T-That’s… we only received training in the shelter!”
—For that, your movements were rather impressive.
“I used to be a martial arts fighter…!”
Yoon Sungjun shouted desperately.
If he offended the invisible bomber, it would be the end.
Fortunately, the mechanical voice fell silent for a moment, then returned with interest.
—Training? The shelter used non-Awakened as combatants?
At that question, Yoon Sungjun instinctively realized something.
The other party was not from a shelter.
Then again, murderers were said to usually be Awakened among exiles or raiders.
Which meant they were likely ignorant of shelters—or hostile toward them.
“Ahyeon Shelter had very few Awakened at the beginning. That’s why non-Awakened people like me were included in the hunting squads.”
—At the beginning?
“Yes… The Awakened grew stronger by hunting mutants. At first they were exhausted after one swing of a knife, but later they could fight two or three mutants alone.”
Suppressed anger slipped into his voice.
“Once they gained power, their attitudes changed. They monopolized food, abused others… and eventually even tried to take my wife. That’s why we fled the shelter!”
His cry echoed through the forest.
Silence followed.
Yoon Sungjun swallowed dryly and waited for judgment.
Would the terrifying murderer find his story interesting?
“Experience points, huh.”
Listening with the enhanced hearing of an Awakened, I nodded.
The story Yoon Sungjun revealed was extremely valuable information for someone like me who knew little about this world.
Just as I thought. Combat-type Awakened grow by hunting mutants.
Just as my ability gained experience by crafting and disassembling items—
They grew through the blood of mutants.
The reason Mapo Shelter’s leadership had tried to limit hunting opportunities for D-grade Awakened like Kim Cheolmin was probably to maintain a powerful dictatorship.
I brought the transmitter to my mouth and spoke again in a cold voice.
—I’ve heard your story. But you don’t think that’s enough to buy your lives, do you?
In the distance, I saw the man’s shoulders twitch.
His grip around his family tightened.
—Let’s make a deal. Tell me everything you know about Ahyeon Shelter. The number of Awakened, the leader’s ability, their characteristics. If the information is useful… I’ll give you the belongings of those trash over there.
Where I pointed lay the bloodied corpses of the raiders and the heavy bags they had carried.
The man’s eyes shook.
There was no reason to refuse.
For fugitives with nothing, those supplies were a lifeline.
“I—I understand! Their leader is Lee Taeseong. His close aides are…”
The man poured out information rapidly.
The names of Lee Taeseong and his executives.
Their specialties.
Even weaknesses in the shelter’s defenses.
Hatred toward the men who had betrayed him and tried to violate his wife seeped into his words.
I stored the information carefully in my mind.
I had only intended to donate some supplies because I felt sorry for the child.
Yet valuable information was flowing out unexpectedly.
Whether I traded with Ahyeon Shelter later or opposed them, these details would become useful weapons.
When the story ended, I pressed the button without hesitation.
—Good. Take the bags and get out of my sight.
The moment the words finished, the man ran to the corpses.
Comforting his wife who gagged at the horrific bodies, he quickly gathered the bags containing necessary supplies and food.
Then he bowed deeply toward the empty air and disappeared into the forest in the opposite direction.
Rustle, rustle.
Listening to their retreating footsteps, I thought for a moment.
He was quite impressive.
Despite being non-Awakened, he had learned how to survive outside shelters.
And above all, he possessed the fierce determination to protect his family.
If I could learn where people like that built their nests, perhaps they could become trading partners later.
After all, I was a production-type Awakened.
I needed someone to trade with.
Whether for information or items.
And there was no way I would trade with the rotten shelter leadership.
“Should I follow them?”
I carefully leaned on my crutches and entered the forest.
Suppressing my presence as best as I could, I followed the direction they had disappeared.
But ten minutes later, I stopped with a bitter laugh.
“…Lost them.”
Entering complicated ruins where mutants could appear anytime meant they were clearly trying to shake off pursuit.
“Definitely not ordinary people.”
He said he used to be a martial artist.
It seemed he had also received proper training from the shelter’s former soldiers.
Losing a clumsy tracker like me must have been easy.
By now, they were probably running in terror, afraid the murderer might pursue them.
I completely gave up the chase.
Throb.
My ankle hurt again after pushing myself too hard.
Even with the splint, pursuing someone like that in this condition was impossible.
And if I recklessly followed and got discovered?
The image of the “invisible bomber of terror” I had carefully created would collapse.
If he realized I was just a limping guy not much different from a non-Awakened person, he might attack me himself.
After all, he had looked ready to fight six raiders for his family.
“Forget it. I’ll find their nest later.”
I turned back.
For a moment, the carriers from Mapo Shelter who had been exiled with me crossed my mind.
If they had possessed knowledge and experience like Yoon Sungjun, would things have been different?
No. Nothing would change.
The weak are eaten.
The strong survive.
The only law of this world.
I merely followed that law.
When I looked up, the sun was already setting.
The forest shadows stretched long, and a chill filled the air.
Observing humans was over.
Now it was time to secure dinner.
Grrr—
Right on cue, my stomach growled loudly.
“I wonder if it’s really that delicious.”
Feeling saliva gather in my mouth, I headed deeper into Hyochang Park in search of Blade-Beak Chickens.
If the workshop could someday produce cooking oil, maybe I could even make fried chicken.
By the time I climbed the garbage hill and arrived in front of the workshop, night had completely fallen.
I set the heavy leather sack on the ground.
“Whew. Even after awakening, heavy things are still heavy.”
Inside the sack were six Blade-Beak Chickens that had already been cleaned.
Before leaving earlier, I had crudely hidden the workshop with scrap metal using [Manufacture], but looking at it now the camouflage was sloppy.
The workshop itself was simply too large.
Tomorrow, when the sun rose, I would need to conceal it more thoroughly.
But there was something more urgent.
Grrr.
My stomach roared.
Meat.
Something I had barely tasted in ten years was right in front of me.
And it was the famous Blade-Beak Chicken.
The hunger rising inside me was so strong it was amazing I could remain rational.
I wanted to light a fire and roast the meat immediately.
But there was preparation to do.
The workshop was a sealed space without even a ventilation shaft.
If I cooked here, the smell of meat and smoke would linger for days.
Cooking outside was even worse.
It would be like shouting, “I’m right here!”
The smell of blood, roasted meat, and firelight could attract mutants from kilometers away.
I had no intention of becoming the main dish at a barbecue party tonight.
“I’m starving…”
Maybe that was why I couldn’t think clearly.
There had to be a solution.
I searched my memory.
The shelter’s underground ventilation room.
Once, when warehouse work was slow, I had been assigned to help replace filters.
I remembered what the supervisor had said then.
—Hey, be careful not to get that black stuff on you. That charcoal filter even absorbs the smell of crap. If you break it, I’ll deduct it from your pay.
Right.
Charcoal.
Even the shelter kitchens took special care to prevent cooking smells from escaping.
That rule had been created after a swarm of flying mutants once attacked the ventilation shafts after smelling meat.
Of course, I couldn’t build a complex purification system like the shelter’s.
I wasn’t a technician.
But I knew the basic principle.
Maybe I could imitate it crudely.
“Trap the smoke and block the exit with charcoal.”
I started working immediately.
In my mind I pictured a crude but sturdy container.
Sealed so smoke couldn’t leak out.
Large enough to fit one chicken.
[Manufacture]
Hum.
Particles of light gathered.
Soon a [Lidded Steel Barrel] shaped like a giant paint can appeared.
Now I needed charcoal.
I stepped outside and picked up a half-burned piece of blackened scrap wood.
[Disassembly]
Crack.
The ash and impurities vanished.
Only pure carbon remained.
[Refined Carbon Powder]
“Oh…?”
The black powder piling on the leather looked even finer than the charcoal filters I had seen in the shelter.
Finer particles meant larger surface area and better adsorption.
The performance would probably exceed expectations.
I took useless cloth scraps, filled them thickly with carbon powder like a sandwich, and sewed them together.
Scrap metal was manufactured into a needle.
Thread came from dismantled clothing.
“Good. Charcoal filter pouch complete.”
I placed a cleaned chicken and wood inside the steel barrel.
Lighting the fire was easy for me.
“What’s the raw material for plastic and rubber? Petroleum.”
I filled fuel into the repaired lighter.
Lit the fire.
Covered the barrel’s only exhaust hole completely with the charcoal pouch.
Then sealed the lid.
“The smell should be filtered by the charcoal.”
Perfect plan.
I licked my lips and waited for the barrel to heat up.
But one minute passed.
Five minutes passed.
The barrel was still lukewarm.
Something felt wrong.
When I opened the lid—
The fire had completely gone out.
There was no smoke.
No heat.
“…Ah.”
I slapped my forehead.
I had learned this in elementary school.
Fire needs oxygen.
I had only thought about the exit hole.
Not the intake.
“Am I an idiot?”
Of course the fire died.
I had sealed it completely.
Suppressing a laugh, I modified the steel barrel.
Three finger-sized air intake holes were drilled at the bottom.
The charcoal pouch was secured firmly at the exhaust.
Hiss—
I lit the fire again.
This time was different.
Air was drawn through the lower holes.
The barrel slowly began to heat.
Smoke rose from the top exhaust.
But it wasn’t thick black smoke.
Passing through the charcoal pouch, it became only a faint haze.
I leaned close and sniffed carefully.
“Wow… this is amazing.”
The charcoal absorbed the harsh burning smell.
Only a faint, savory scent of meat escaped.
At this level, someone standing right next to it wouldn’t even notice.
Thirty minutes later.
I opened the lid.
Sizzle.
Juices dripping from the meat produced a delicious sound.
The outside was browned and crispy.
The inside moist and glistening.
Salt? Pepper?
Luxury items like that didn’t exist.
But I didn’t hesitate.
I tore off a drumstick and bit into it.
Crunch.
The moment I bit through the crispy skin, hot juices burst in my mouth like fireworks.
“Mmm…!”
A groan escaped me.
The meat, which I expected to be tough, melted after only a few chews.
The smoky aroma removed the gamey smell, leaving only rich flavor.
Before the collapse, I might have complained that it needed seasoning.
But after ten years of insect porridge and dried canned food—
This was practically Michelin cuisine.
Before I realized it, one entire chicken was reduced to bones.
Only after licking the grease from my fingers did I collapse onto the floor.
“Burp… I’m dying.”
My stomach felt like it would explode.
Maybe I had overdone it.
In my satisfied drowsiness, my eyes fell on the five remaining chickens.
“What do I do with those…”
Only then did reality return.
No refrigerator.
No preservatives.
Even if I ate one today, the remaining five would spoil within days.
The blood had been drained, but the weather was warm.
“They’re too precious to throw away.”
This was the core of the food problem.
Even if you managed to hunt a mutant, there was no way to preserve the meat.
Which meant risking your life hunting every two days.
Now I understood why survivors were obsessed with making jerky.
“Still… it’s fortunate.”
I muttered while staring at the ceiling.
After the Day of Collapse, the extreme seasons had disappeared and the Korean Peninsula had turned into a temperate climate.
If it were midsummer heat, those chickens would already be a feast for flies.
Before I could even think about what to make next, sleep overcame me.
Full stomach.
Warm back.
It had been a long time.
Maybe it was because I had seen the little girl earlier.
For the first time in a while, I dreamed of my parents.
We were ordering fried chicken at home.
When I woke up, the feeling was empty.
Home.
Parents.
Chicken.
None of those existed anymore.
“Get it together, Shinhyeok.”
I slapped my cheeks several times and stood up.
In this world, if you didn’t do everything yourself—
You didn’t survive.