Chapter 56
Chapter 56
Mapo Boulevard lay covered in thick dawn fog.
Several days had passed, yet the battlefield left behind by the red slime still looked horrific.
Among the ruins, the shadows of raiders wandered like hyenas.
They rummaged through the pockets of the dead and scavenged usable scrap metal from collapsed buildings.
A pitiful scene of survival.
Two figures watched it from the highest rooftop railing of Mecenatpolis above Hapjeong Station.
Clamp, operations commander of Guro Foundry, and resource director Yoon Im-su.
Two representatives of the southwestern region’s great power were discussing the power vacuum of Mapo.
“Yeongdeungpo is finished now.”
“What do you mean?”
Clamp asked, clanking his thick mechanical arm—the hydraulic crusher—together.
Clack. Clack.
The noise made Yoon Im-su frown.
He hated that sound.
But it could not be helped.
Unlike Kang Sinhyeok’s machine arm, the Guro Foundry hydraulic crusher had to be moved regularly.
Otherwise the lubricant would harden and the arm would fail when needed.
“I mean resources.”
The name Guro Foundry sounded grand, as if they manufactured semiconductors.
But their technology was based on recycling, not creation.
They cleaned circuit boards salvaged from ruins with special solvents and soldered broken circuits to restore function.
Without raw scrap, the factory simply stopped.
“Finding even one intact semiconductor chip is like picking a star from the sky. At this rate we’ll never meet this quarter’s military supply quota.”
Clamp snorted at Yoon Im-su’s complaint.
He handled combat.
He knew nothing about manufacturing.
“If it’s that bad, why not cooperate with the guys up north? The Sinchon group. I heard those university kids synthesize materials in their labs.”
Yoon Im-su’s face twisted in disgust.
“You know our relationship with them. Have you forgotten what those Sinchon brats call us?”
“…Hmph.”
Clamp’s brow creased.
The Sinchon Alliance, which used the buildings of Yonsei University and Ewha Womans University as shelters, was composed mainly of students and young professors.
They openly despised the technicians of Guro Foundry.
They called them grease-stained dinosaurs who learned technology through crude field labor.
Naturally the Guro engineers despised them in return.
Desk-bound academics with no field experience.
Delicate greenhouse flowers who only knew how to talk.
Even if Yoon Im-su wanted cooperation, the hostility between members made it impossible.
“I’d rather dig ore with my bare hands than bow to those arrogant bastards. Cooperation is impossible.”
“Then the answer is simple.”
Clamp looked down again toward Mapo Boulevard.
A land without an owner.
A promised land still full of loot.
“We take Mapo.”
“Exactly. But…”
Yoon Im-su narrowed his eyes.
He pulled out a small zip-lock bag.
Inside was a charred grenade fragment no larger than a pinky finger.
“Oh? You caught the tail of that insane Bomber?”
Yoon Im-su shook his head.
“No. But we learned something.”
He adjusted the side dial of his camera, increasing magnification.
“Look at this.”
The enlarged image appeared in Clamp’s retinal display.
At first glance it looked like twisted scrap.
But to an expert, it was different.
“The cut surface… it’s smooth.”
“Exactly. There are no welding marks. It wasn’t cast either. This was precision-machined from solid steel.”
Yoon Im-su’s voice carried a hint of awe.
“We analyzed the gunpowder residue inside. There’s almost no carbon residue. That means an extremely pure high explosive.”
Even their factory struggled to maintain proper explosive ratios.
Their defect rate exceeded thirty percent.
Yet someone out there produced this.
Individually.
“This isn’t something one person can casually manufacture.”
“Then?”
“It’s an organization. A highly specialized one.”
Yoon Im-su confidently began outlining a hypothetical organizational structure.
His logic was solid.
Only the premise was wrong.
“Think about it. According to rumors, the Bomber has an ability that generates explosives. Then who machined this metal casing?”
“…Meaning there’s a technician behind him.”
“Exactly. At least a B-Rank Mechanic-type Awakened or Blacksmith-type Awakened.”
Yoon Im-su raised another finger.
“And there’s also a distributor. The Black Market broker.”
“That con artist bastard?”
Clamp’s voice turned harsh.
The moment the name Thunder appeared, his expression darkened.
“Yes. Do you remember the tag on the items he sells? [Delicate Touch]. Only system-recognized craftsmen can display that hidden tag. That means Thunder is most likely the public face distributing items created by technicians under the Bomber.”
The more he spoke, the more convinced he became.
“Information brokers say Thunder was originally an F-Rank lightning Awakened. How could someone like that film battles in the middle of a war zone full of B-Rank mutants?”
“He must have been protected.”
“Exactly. The Bomber’s fighters protected him while he recorded footage. That group is far larger and more organized than we think.”
Yoon Im-su clenched his teeth.
“And that Thunder bastard… judging by the way he talks, he’s a professional scammer.”
He remembered the incident from several days earlier.
A post had appeared on ARGUS:
[Exclusive information on the Mapo Bomber for sale.]
Yoon Im-su had spent a fortune buying it.
The result was absurd.
A blurry photo showing only the back of a man in a coat.
A zoomed image of a mask so pixelated it revealed nothing.
No real clues.
Not even a picture of the exoskeleton.
When he demanded an explanation, the reply was even worse.
[Refunds are not available ^^7]
Yoon Im-su clenched his fists.
Thunder seemed to never sleep.
He appeared on the forum twenty-four hours a day.
Once Yoon Im-su posted a comment criticizing Guro Foundry’s technology.
Thunder replied instantly.
—Did you grind your brain down while machining gears? Your logic is extremely smooth~
That comment alone nearly gave Yoon Im-su a stroke.
Clamp had also suffered.
“I got scammed too. That bastard saw my mechanical arm and said, ‘If you sell that as scrap you might get enough to trade for candy.’ If I ever meet him, I’ll tear his mouth apart first.”
The great Clamp and Yoon Im-su were trembling with rage because of a single keyboard warrior.
If Picker had seen this scene, he would have laughed until his battery drained.
“Anyway, that damned Thunder shouldn’t be left alive. But that’s not the important issue right now.”
Yoon Im-su regained his composure and pointed toward Mapo Boulevard.
“So will Guro Foundry treat the Bomber as an enemy?”
Clamp asked.
Yoon Im-su slowly shook his head.
“No. Not yet.”
He slipped the grenade fragment back into his pocket.
“If they can unleash that many explosives overnight, they must have been stockpiling war supplies for years. They’ve only just appeared on the surface. Their roots could be extremely deep. If we provoke them carelessly, we’ll bleed too.”
It was a perfect miscalculation.
Kang Sinhyeok had never stockpiled anything.
He simply gathered materials daily and produced weapons instantly.
But someone like Yoon Im-su, thinking within ordinary limits, could never imagine infinite production.
“Let’s observe for now.”
Yoon Im-su smiled faintly.
“If a newborn faction suddenly swallows a huge territory like Mapo, problems will inevitably follow. Supply issues. Security breakdowns. Internal conflict.”
He clenched his hand in the air.
“When they begin to stagger under that weight…”
“We simply scoop up the leftovers.”
With Pig and Karambit gone, Mapo Boulevard descended into a chaotic era of warring states.
A single abandoned well.
Minor raider groups fought day and night to claim even a corner of the mutant hunting grounds.
Logistics collapsed.
Survivors outside shelters starved.
“Dad… I’m hungry…”
A child’s weak voice echoed in the darkness.
Yoon Sungjun felt his chest tear apart.
Children huddled in the machine room corner.
Their eyes were sunken.
Adults swallowed dry saliva.
Food reserves had long run out.
Even catching a rat was difficult.
Yoon Sungjun fiddled with the U-Link device in his hand.
He had traded a smartphone for it at an unmanned exchange.
The Bomber—that monstrous man—had promised to contact him.
But days passed with no message.
There wasn’t even a phone number.
How could this machine contact anyone?
Was it false hope?
Or had he simply been forgotten?
Clank.
Clank.
Only one sound echoed through the silent machine room.
Metal clicking from the corner.
Old man Park Muryong sat hunched at a workbench.
A magnifying glass hung over his eye.
He held a precision scale and a worn hand press.
Using tweezers, he carefully placed gunpowder into a cartridge case.
His hand trembled slightly.
Even a 0.1-gram error was unacceptable.
“Whew…”
Wiping sweat from his forehead, he finished one bullet.
One recycled round.
Ten minutes of work.
Compared to Kang Sinhyeok—who could produce an entire magazine in a second—it was tragic craftsmanship.
Working all day barely produced two magazines.
And even then, defective gunpowder caused a misfire rate exceeding thirty percent.
Still, it was the best a non-Awakened technician could do.
“Old man, you should rest.”
“If I rest, we starve. At least with bullets we can hunt something.”
Park Muryong rubbed his tired eyes.
Yoon Sungjun stood and gathered everyone.
There was no more time to wait.
“If this continues, we’ll starve to death. There’s only one option.”
All eyes turned to him.
“We break into the Hyochang Park hunting ground.”
The room erupted in panic.
That place was their only hunting area for Blade-Beak Chickens.
But it now had owners.
The raider gang Chicken Raiders.
The name sounded ridiculous.
But to non-Awakened survivors, they were a disaster.
“That’s insane! They’re Awakened! Three of them have F-Rank physical enhancement!”
“Mr. Jeong tried to fight them last time and his arm got broken! Bullets bounce off them!”
Fearful voices filled the room.
The gap between Awakened and non-Awakened wasn’t just strength.
It felt like a difference in species.
An insurmountable wall.
Click.
A heavy chambering sound silenced the room.
Park Muryong had loaded his freshly made bullet into an old rifle.
“Awakened die the same way if a bullet hits them.”
The old man’s voice was dry but fierce.
He stroked the rifle barrel with grease-stained hands.
“They’re not made of steel. Same flesh as us. F-Rank? Just a beast with a thicker hide.”
He looked at Yoon Sungjun.
His gaze said everything.
Even if they lacked abilities, they were not animals.
Yoon Sungjun turned to his daughter, Yebin.
The child had cried from hunger until she fell asleep.
Her ribs showed clearly.
A stronger emotion than fear rose in his chest.
“Tonight.”
Yoon Sungjun clenched his fist.
“We strike when they’re drunk. Either we reclaim the hunting ground… or we die.”
Everyone knew it was like throwing eggs at a rock.
Still they picked up their weapons.
Better to struggle and die than starve.
Whirr—hiss.
Inside the precision analyzer, the military awakening stimulant MK-2 was being dismantled.
Kang Sinhyeok examined the chemical composition on the laboratory monitor.
“No wonder it causes side effects. Forcing mana through blood vessels by expanding them… that’s basically poison.”
Military technology was surprisingly crude.
He combined the MK-2 composition data with the Mana Circuit patterns Picker had observed using the Mana Resonance Lens.
“Picker. Run the simulation.”
The goal was not forced awakening.
It was a catalyst that loosened blocked circuits.
“Something like a vasodilator.”
—Roger! Starting data fusion!
After dozens of simulated combinations, the system chimed.
[ Mana Circuit Softener ]
Rank: F
He immediately activated the production process.
But when he saw the required materials, he frowned.
Purified water.
MK-2 extract.
Mutant brain fluid.
And one F-Rank Core.
“Wow. Worst cost efficiency ever.”
One F-Rank Core could produce multiple grenades.
Yet one potion required a whole core.
Still, he had to test it.
The finished result was beautiful.
A thumb-sized glass vial filled with faintly glowing blue liquid.
[Mana Circuit Softener]
Rank: F
Temporarily softens rigid mana circuits within the body, greatly increasing awakening probability.
“Hmm. So it’s not a 100% awakening potion.”
But for non-Awakened survivors, this alone would be miraculous.
Of course, selling it wasn’t profitable.
Still, investment produced results.
Good.
He needed to meet Yoon Sungjun.
“Picker. How long to locate Yoon Sungjun’s terminal signal?”
—At least one day. We need to research a tracking algorithm.
“One day…”
—That’s the estimate.
“Should’ve prepared earlier.”
—Boss! We might not need to find him!
“What?”
—He walked straight into our radar! Look!
Picker displayed a Honeybee drone feed above Hyochang Park.
Figures crouched at the edge of the forest.
Yoon Sungjun and his group.
There were more people than before.
Over ten.
“What are they doing?”
Each held a rifle.
Clearly not a picnic.
“Scout the area.”
The Honeybee circled the park.
Inside a clearing, another group drank around a campfire.
—Boss, isn’t that hunting ground control?
He recognized them.
The situation became clear instantly.
Starving non-Awakened survivors were about to invade Awakened territory.
—Wow… are those guys committing suicide? Three F-Rank physical enhancers…
“Reckless.”
He sighed and stood.
Walking toward the Mechanical Reinforced Exoskeleton hanging on the wall.
“Picker. Prepare deployment.”
—You’re going personally?
“I have to meet Yoon Sungjun anyway. And more importantly…”
He clenched his fist.
The exoskeleton’s hydraulic cylinders hummed pleasantly.
“We can’t leave trash in the park.”
He placed the Mana Circuit Softener into his pocket and opened the workshop door.
“Alright, everyone.”
“Let’s go do some cleaning.”
Hopefully those pieces of trash had a few F-Rank Cores on them.