Return to the Ant Den
Neo Seoul stood tall in the middle of the desert like an island in a vast sea.
Just like the old Las Vegas that once existed, it was a city rising from the heart of the wasteland.
What made Neo Seoul special was the mountain within its bounds.
For some reason, Bukhansan—the old Seoul's lungs—had been perfectly preserved.
Thanks to that, the citizens inside enjoyed the mountain's lush greenery and fresh air to their hearts' content.
To the north, Bukhansan served as a natural barrier; to the south, massive walls protected the city.
In this stable environment, Neo Seoul developed at a breakneck pace.
The fusion of magic and science birthed skyscrapers hundreds of stories tall—buildings once unimaginable.
It was a necessity for Neo Seoul.
Safe land was limited, yet the population kept growing. Survivors of the Great Cataclysm flocked to this haven.
To accommodate them, they expanded underground and built ever upward. Even so, capacity had its limits.
In the end, Neo Seoul sealed its gates.
They judged that accepting more would doom the city's sustainability.
Though closed, survivors kept coming. They settled at the base of the walls.
What started as villages swelled to rival Neo Seoul itself over time.
They stacked homes atop homes, building haphazardly until the slums resembled old Hong Kong's Kowloon Walled City.
A labyrinth like an ant den, with structures piled so densely that even daylight barely penetrated.
For whatever reason, monsters steered clear of Neo Seoul, allowing the slums to grow unchecked for over a century.
To enter Neo Seoul, one had to pass through the central road cutting the slums in two.
Slum dwellers called it Heaven's Path.
The only way in. But it was neither beautiful nor grand.
Quite the opposite—grim and desolate.
Those who tried entering via Heaven's Path met miserable ends.
Only a few made it through: Neo Seoul citizens or those with permits.
Everyone else was attacked on sight.
Rumble!
A ragged armored bus, looking like tattered rags, appeared on Heaven's Path.
Groooar!
Its engine wheezed like a dying man on his last breaths, barely rolling along.
Nearby slum dwellers eyed it with curiosity.
It had been ages since one returned in such wrecked shape.
Then it stopped, and someone stepped off.
A man in a dark red robe pulled low over his face.
He exchanged a few words with someone inside, then turned away.
The bus headed for Neo Seoul, leaving him alone. He veered off Heaven's Path into the slums.
"Who the fuck's that guy?"
"Bet we could shake him down for some cash."
A group of men huddled in one corner exchanged glances.
They had the sleazy looks of hardcore thugs at a glance.
They swaggered over to the man from the bus.
"Hey!"
"Got a sec to chat?"
They surrounded him, radiating menace.
Chat? It was straight-up intimidation.
"What do you want? I'm not in the mood to talk."
"Cocky little shit. You just back from the magistone mine, right? How much you make?"
"Hand over all your earnings, and we'll let you go. Heh heh!"
They drew knives from their belts, pointing them at him.
Then the man flipped back the hood of his deep-pulled robe, revealing his face.
Long hair to his shoulders, skin tanned brown by the sun. Handsome features with a fresh smile.
But most striking were his eyes—deep and black as inlaid jewels.
It was Zeon.
He grinned.
"A welcome party right as I get home. Can't beat your roots, huh."
"The fuck you say?"
"This punk got shot in the head or something?"
The men's faces twisted viciously.
To an ordinary guy, it might've been terrifying. To Zeon? Nothing.
If anything, it felt like a warm homecoming.
This was the slums where he'd been born and raised.
No laws, no order.
The strong took everything; the weak lost it all with no one to cry to.
A savage world where might made right.
That's what the slums were.
Long ago, Zeon had been at the very bottom here.
Couldn't even breathe loud, had to hide from the strong. Lived like vermin for eighteen years.
Back then, it felt like hell. Now, after so long away, this "welcome" just made him chuckle.
The knife-wielding men scowled deeper.
"This motherfucker smirking?"
"Just kill him and take it all."
They plunged their blades into Zeon's gut.
Skilled stabs—not their first rodeo. But the knives didn't even scratch him.
The robe blocked them cold.
"What? Item gear?"
"An... Awakener?"
Their eyes wavered.
No matter how bottom-barrel their lives, they knew to fear Awakeners.
Even an F-rank could wipe them with a pinky.
'Fuck! We're screwed.'
'Run!'
As they signaled to bolt—
Zeon lightly kicked the shin of the guy in front.
Thud!
"Grahhh!"
The shin snapped, leg twisting grotesquely.
The others scattered in different directions.
Loyalty? Not in their vocabulary.
But before they took three steps, Zeon caught them all.
Like cloning himself, he zipped around, landing blows on each.
"Argh!"
"Guh!"
Screams echoed down the street. No one came out.
The men writhed, clutching broken limbs.
Zeon squatted before one.
The man forgot his pain, begging.
"Ugh! P-please, spare me!"
"Can't go killing on my first day back home."
"Th-thank you!"
"But hand over everything you've got."
"Huh?"
"Deaf? I said empty your pockets."
Under Zeon's threat, the man stared blankly, pain forgotten.
"Don't even think of hiding shit. I find anything, the other arm breaks too."
"Urk!"
In the end, snot and tears streaming, he surrendered everything.
Zeon did the same to the rest.
No guilt.
Standard fare here.
They jumped a superior foe without checking. Their fault if they died.
Sparing their lives was mercy enough; they'd survive somehow.
Zeon walked on, leaving them behind.
The slums hadn't changed a bit.
Like time froze—same as ever.
Dense buildings blocking all sun, listless people shuffling streets.
Power shortages left most homes dark.
From black windows, he felt prying eyes.
Slum folk had a nose for outsiders—like sniffing out fresh blood.
That musty slum stench clung to natives; they spotted the rest easy.
Zeon was one such outsider now.
Hence the wariness.
He knew it. Didn't care.
He'd expected as much.
Savoring the home vibe, Zeon headed west to Sinchon district.
Neo Seoul kept many old Seoul names; Sinchon was one.
But only the name remained—no trace of the old place.
Sinchon's other name: Ant Den.
One of the slums' worst spots.
Where the absolute dregs congregated.
Even other slum folk avoided it.
This was Zeon's hometown.
Didn't remember his birth, but every memory started here.
He stopped before a shabby building.
Over thirty stories, patched endlessly—walls mismatched like rags.
Built in Neo Seoul's early days, one quake from collapse. This was home.
Zeon gazed up a moment, then entered.
No elevator for thirty-plus floors.
He climbed stairs.
Step by step to the eighteenth floor.
Used to curse these stairs. Now? Not even winded.
Finally there, he walked the hall to the end.
Room 1820.
His old place.
He'd scored a magistone here by chance.
Killed a neighbor who broke in for it, fled to the mines.
Abandoned it, but it was still home.
Zeon turned the knob. Locked from inside.
He knocked.
Bang bang!
"Who the fuck? Which asshole?"
Soon, a hulking figure—over two meters, tattooed head to toe—yanked open the door, scowling.
"You little shit, why you knocking on my door?"
"And what's your ass doing in my house?"
"Huh?"
"This was my place."
"Crazy fuck talking shit? Ant Den got no 'my house' or 'your house.' Empty spot? Squat it."
The giant scowled.
He'd claimed it three years back.
Previous tenant got offed dealing drugs.
Zeon smiled.
"I know. But the owner's back, so clear out quick, yeah?"
"You little..."
Suddenly, the man's eyes narrowed, scanning Zeon lewdly.
A sleazy grin spread.
"You're kinda cute. Fine, come in."
"You'll vacate?"
"Just get in."
He yanked Zeon's hand, locked the door.
Blocking it, he leered.
"Heh heh! Drop trou and bend over. Might let you live."
"Tch. Gotta fix this door."
"What?"
Bam!
Zeon's fist slammed the man's gut.
He flew out without a scream.
Hinges shattered; door dangled precariously.
Zeon was just glad it held.
The man clutched his belly, puking everything up.
Breathing easier, he wiped his mouth and stood.
"You're dead. Know who I am?"
As he lunged—Zeon vanished from sight.
Reappearing beside him.
Speed beyond the man's eyes.
Zeon seized his head, smashed it into the wall.
Crash!
Wall shook, debris flew.
"Grrraaah!"
Pain choked screams to groans.
Zeon said calmly,
"Don't give a shit who you are. I just want you gone."
"Ugh!"
"Answer!"
"Yes!"
Zeon released him.
Satisfied, he turned with a smile.
Closing the dangling door, he murmured,
"Finally home."