Guro-gu (3)

Guro-gu (3) — Gocheok Sky Dome, Guro-gu, Seoul

"Move it, you little shit! Want me to squeeze off another round?!"

The man threatened me, demanding I make my choice.

I stared at the source of his confidence — the reason he could menace me like this.

A gun.

A matte-black tool pointed at both the civilians and me.

The mere fact that it was aimed at them had the civilians trembling, shaking with fear.

Pull the trigger, and the other person dies.

No special training required. No technique needed.

Aim at your enemy. Pull the trigger.

Two overwhelmingly simple processes, about as demanding as ordering a hamburger and then eating it. It would be no exaggeration to call it the fast-food-ification of murder.

"I guess one warning wasn't enough, huh. I'm counting down five seconds! If you don't move in five seconds, you're going to have a nice little hole punched in your back, you son of a bitch!"

The man declared his final warning to me.

The glistening bloodlust in the two eyes fixed on me left an impression.

"Five!"

The civilians huddled on the ground flinched at his bellow.

With tiny, trembling eyes, they watched the standoff between me and the gunmen.

Simply killing these men quickly wasn't the answer.

First impressions.

As always, the first scene that would brand my existence into their minds mattered most.

"Four!"

Suddenly, I couldn't hold back a snort of laughter that bubbled up out of nowhere.

The pathetic loser who had wanted the world to end more than anyone else.

By no one's will but his own.

Was racking his brain to save civilians.

Could there be a greater contradiction or irony than this?

"Yeah! Keep laughing, you fucking bastard! Three!"

Ah, I wasn't laughing at you, though.

Two gazes holding diametrically opposed purposes collided in midair.

There wasn't the slightest tremor in the man's cold pupils.

People often say that when an ordinary person kills, their heart shatters.

I agreed with that sentiment too.

I remembered the queasiness I'd felt the first time I killed something — buried beneath the thrill of earning my First Achievement.

A body whose twitching stopped the moment a kitchen knife split its skull.

Eyes losing their light, as if the soul had departed.

Even without witnessing all that, simply taking someone's life must have been a considerable shock.

It wasn't for nothing that soldiers suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder after wars.

"FUCK! Walk toward the box! Two!"

Was that why?

The long history of killing that followed was a process of expansion — of widening the distance between killer and killed.

From spears and blades thrust into each other at close range.

To bows that drew and loosed from farther away.

From the bow to the convenient tool that bastard was holding right now: the gun.

And beyond merely pulling a trigger, to missiles that could lay waste to a nation on the opposite side of the globe with the press of a single button.

Had the world endured a while longer, we might have seen the orbital bombardments of science fiction — but the world had collapsed.

In a world that could no longer advance, the most universal and convenient tool remaining was the gun.

"Good, now you're coming out! You're the one he kills! One!"

I raised my right hand toward the man, as if aiming a gun of my own.

What had we been talking about before I drifted off down this road?

The conclusion of my long, rambling digression was this: in a 'modern warfare' that would never evolve again, my ability was a master key that unlocked everything.

"FUCK, I said walk toward the box!"

As I watched him roar and squeeze the trigger, I drew up my mana.

Keeeeeeeing—!

A brilliant white light blazed to life, wrapping around my entire body.

Crreeeeak—

The straight-line path the bullets had to travel bent.

The gunmen stared down at their own firearms in utter shock, as if beholding a living monstrosity.

With their barrels twisted like taffy, the guns couldn't kill a single crouching civilian.

"Khhak—!"

With my telekinesis, I yanked the man who'd been leading the threats straight in front of me.

His face had gone red from failing to find a breath, and his body floated in midair, legs dangling pathetically.

"Affiliation and name."

It was a final question, asked just in case.

His swollen, bloodred face glared at me in response to my query.

With eyes burst with broken capillaries, he did nothing but snarl at me to the end.

"Affiliation and name. Should I count five seconds for you too?"

He never answered me.

That was the moment suspicion became certainty.

Had they been ordinary humans, they would have broken and talked long before now. No — rather, they had refused to.

Crack—

I gave the heads of the men bound in my telekinesis a single full rotation.

As the bodies crumpled to the floor, they simultaneously dissolved into particles, scattering like dust.

So they hadn't been people after all — they were something like NPCs prepared by the Special Strongpoint. That was the correct answer.

A full 5% increase in domination rate — the exact same reward as my First Achievement.

The name 'Special Strongpoint' hadn't been wasted.

However, even after waiting a little longer, no next message appeared.

'...That's it?'

The civilians were still drenched in terror, staring at me, so I didn't ask the question out loud.

Still, this was a Special Strongpoint, and all it gives me is 5% and then it's over?

No.

I shook my head lightly and swept my gaze over the civilians watching me and the boxes still piled up and unclaimed.

And then I looked at the vast expanse of Gocheok Sky Dome itself.

Those were probably the real rewards.

First, I began stowing the boxes into my inventory one by one.

The boxes floated up and flew to my right hand, and in succession they began filling my inventory, which had been emptied completely.

The food and supplies I'd packed to the brim before leaving the Sanctuary had long since been distributed to the civilians I'd rescued.

Gocheok Dome was certainly far better suited to sheltering civilians than the mixed-use apartment complex had been.

It wasn't for nothing that the Incheon football stadium had served as a refugee camp set up by the military.

'I should move the believers here.'

There was no rush — it could wait until I hit 100% domination.

For now, the priority was gathering the believers and the newly rescued civilians in one place and putting them through proper education and conversion.

On that front, Gocheok Dome was a genuinely attractive answer.

What sealed the deal was the liberation from the nose-wrinkling stench that lurked around the apartment complex.

The problem of waste disposal — something I couldn't have even imagined at the Sanctuary — was the most urgent matter to solve in Guro-gu.

And yet, I still hadn't found a single workable solution.

Had Seong Gaeul been here, she might have produced one, but in my current situation, that was a pipe dream.

'Well, at least for the time being I can escape that cow-dung countryside stench that shoves itself up my nostrils the moment I open the door.'

Besides, whenever I looked at a Special Strongpoint that handed out daily necessities, civilians, and living space all at once, I felt a small flicker of hope.

There were surely more Special Strongpoints than one — which meant there had to be some that offered solutions to daily living itself, didn't there?

No. There had to be.

'Shit, to think I'm racking my brains over poop.'

It had been nearly a month since I left the Sanctuary, and I missed it terribly.

Ayoung, Gaeul, and Juhye — waiting only for me.

The comfortable facilities with no flaws whatsoever in human living.

Even the loyal believers I had painstakingly brought into being.

'Haa...'

But I couldn't exactly bolt back to Incheon with my tail between my legs.

If Seong Gaeul saw me like that, she'd bombard me with a tirade beyond rage — maximum-fury nagging.

Besides, the plan was proceeding smoothly.

I couldn't keep the Hanmaum Guwon Cult confined to Incheon forever.

Eventually, the Salvation Cult would have to expand its territory outward.

And that somewhere was Seoul — the place where all of South Korea's infrastructure had been concentrated?

This was nothing less than a fat golden goose I had to snatch up immediately, shouting thank-you all the way.

Spread the Salvation Cult's influence outward from Seoul as its center.

And establish the Sanctuary in Incheon as the cult's exclusive 'Paradise'.

The reward after death that every religion promised — I would let my most devoted followers enjoy it without dying.

Building a religion so irresistibly attractive that nonbelievers looked like idiots — that was the goal Seong Gaeul and I shared.

"Watch your back! How could you step on his leg like that!"

The shout of an angry woman cut through my reverie and rang in my ears.

The crowd of civilians, who had been slowly keeping their distance from me, rippled.

'Right. The most important reward is still left.'

Only then did I lift my head and walk toward them.

"Look behind you! A person's passed out here!"

"Th-that weirdo's coming this way, so you move back too!"

"Did I tell you to move back? And don't step on the kid's leg!"

I listened to the murmuring voices from the back of the crowd.

Apparently, a kid had passed out and wasn't getting up.

I walked past the man who'd been knocked out by a rifle butt and continued toward them.

Every single step I took forward, they took two back.

"Don't come this way! Look behind you! You're going to trample someone to death!"

At the woman's shouting, the crowd slowly split into two halves.

The cause of the split came into view: a child lying collapsed as if unconscious, and the woman holding the kid in her arms.

"D-don't come! Stay away from us!"

I studied the woman's face closely as she shook ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her head at me as if mid-panic.

Her voice had been so pretty that my expectations had been high — they instantly deflated.

Naturally, my attention shifted from the woman to the child she was protecting.

A passed-out kid.

Unlike the middle-aged man I'd stepped over — smacked down by a rifle butt — this one had been unconscious from the very start, huh.

Hold on.

I'd heard this scenario somewhere before.

"Miss, you should get back here too! That, that kid — isn't that the kind of person the news talked about? The ones who faint?"

My eyes flashed at the crowd's shout directed at the woman.

'Pre-infected.'

In other words — an Awakened.

Right. Seoul's setup was that the moment the dome descended, everyone vanished somewhere.

Which meant the Awakened who hadn't awakened yet must have been dragged off along with everyone else.

Which meant that when I rescued civilians, there was a chance I'd pull out an unconscious civilian — an 'Awakened' — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the crowd.

'Wow... I saved hundreds, and this is the first time I've encountered one.'

An unexpected bonus, thanks to a brutal probability.

'Right, there was a reason they split item rewards and civilian rescues.'

I'd wondered why the civilian rescue option — with its vague benefits when anyone obvious would just pick the items — was competing against loot at all. So this was the answer.

It was true that ordinary people were indispensable for forming a society and maintaining a group, of course.

But the true merit of civilian rescue was this:

The Awakened gacha.

The moment I lifted my foot to examine the kid more closely, the woman's shriek rang out.

"I said don't come any closer!!"

With trembling hands, the woman picked up a firearm abandoned on the ground.

Aiming the bent, useless gun at me, she screamed.

"I-I'm an elementary school teacher! This child is breathing but won't wake up! We need to get him to a hospital right now! If you're human at all, please, just let us—"

She shouted while looking at the civilians watching our standoff from behind.

She cried out to the murderer who had snapped human necks with some inexplicable power.

"Please, just let us go!"

At the desperate sincerity of her plea, my calmly maintained brows twitched faintly.

Hearing her words reminded me of the complaints teachers made back in my school days.

Each word might mean the world to you students.

But to the one listening, it was just tiresome chatter.

This was no different.

To her, they were the utterly obvious words of someone fighting to survive.

To me, they were the far too boring, familiar repetition of labor.

I looked into the eyes of the civilians huddled together behind her.

Pathetic little shits, aiming guns in terror at their own rescuer without even knowing who he was.

The thread of effort I'd been spinning for an entire month felt dangerously close to snapping.

It was partly the aftermath of being so deeply immersed for far too long without any kind of release.

'Shit...'

With the curse barely swallowed, sparks crackled up in my chest — tak, tak.

God.

What was the 'God' that humanity had expressed, depicted, and recorded for so long?

The gods humans imagined:

Punished the wicked and rewarded the good.

Granted enlightenment to the anguished, healed the sick.

And performed miracles in moments of despair.

But if you thought about all of it together, none of those were obligations a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠god was required to fulfill.

Those actions were the crystallization of what not gods, but humans, had hoped for and prayed for.

You could rightly call them an aggregate of wishes.

An absolute being who shouldered humanity's sins in their place and paid out certain rewards for faith — more 'human' than anyone else.

That was the true form of the gods humans had wished for and standardized over millennia.

And it was the essence of what I had to imitate.

How I, and no one else, would stand at the summit of my own choosing.

I looked at the teacher breathing shallowly, watching me with anxious eyes.

I closed my eyes made real by Mimic Holy Body...

A brazen woman pointing a gun at the man who saved her.

I opened them again, the radiance sharpened into clarity.

My foolish daughter, who could not face her own salvation.

As always, I looked at them and smiled. I welcomed them with a benevolent smile.

"Fear not, my children."

For me alone.

"Because you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wished for salvation, I have come."

I would become their god.