Chapter 202
Chapter 202
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 202
Chapter Title: The Cultists' God - 3
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Mid-April, around the time everyone was on edge from the earthquakes.
Da-jeong was flying over the West Sea on her griffon.
Just as she'd heard at the auction house, thick black oil slicks were drifting in from the Chinese side, plain as day.
"This is insane... what the hell is all that?"
So much oil had leaked that the entire West Sea looked pitch black.
Well, with dozens of oil tankers shattered, where else was that oil supposed to go?
No manpower or will for cleanup meant it'd stay polluted for at least a few years.
'A few years would be lucky...'
At least a few decades, maybe forever...
Staring at the blackened sea, Da-jeong's spirits sank in real time.
At the same time, hatred for the Chinese government that caused this surged within her.
'Bunch of useless idiots, as always.'
Curiously, the shoreline itself—about 10 to 20 meters inland—was spotless.
Didn't oil slicks usually wash right up to the beach?
'Is it really because of the server?'
She hadn't bought Jang Won-taek's talk of a Korean server.
But seeing this made her wonder if it was true.
What else could stop that massive oil slick from fouling the beach?
Diving lower, the stench of oil hit her hard.
No fishing possible like this.
A few people stared blankly at the sea from the beach.
Not Koreans—probably Chinese who'd come by boat.
She considered attacking but held off, remembering the battlefield hadn't cleared yet.
Landing now would release her griffon control, which was a problem.
'No point stirring shit and just smelling it myself.'
The griffon flew west at Da-jeong's command.
Shockingly, dozens of boats were pushing through the oil sea toward Korea.
Da-jeong watched them blankly before exploding in anger.
"You assholes paint honey on Korea or what?!"
To her, the boat people looked like ants swarming to honey.
How bad was mainland China for Korea to seem like paradise?
The griffon flew the West Sea for minutes, but the scene didn't change.
The water stayed black, and the number of speck-like boats kept growing.
What did they plan to do, swarming like that?
Da-jeong recalled Sung-ho's words.
That their numbers alone were a weapon.
—Chinese have low skills, but you can't ignore them. Over a thousand is a massive threat. They're hunkering down on Korean soil now, right? Give it time, they'll adapt and push inland.
They knew that, but mostly left them alone because touching them was risky.
How many were in that battlefield? No telling.
"Such a headache..."
She sighed, wondering what past-life sin got her tangled with them.
Da-jeong turned the griffon toward Seoul.
Bored en route, she checked the auction house and spotted Sung-ho arguing with someone.
She leaned in to watch, but the mood was dead serious.
—So you're saying you won't help at all? Even with us begging?
—Why should I? Think I've killed just a few Chinese? You're the enemy.
—Heard there was a misunderstanding. Zhonghua Bang, right? They were too hasty, too greedy. But I'm different. I want to cooperate with you.
—I don't. So get off Korean soil.
'Go, Sung-ho!'
Da-jeong cheered silently, staying out of the comments.
Cooperating with Chinese at this point was tough.
They were still fighting even now.
Communication just fueled more hate and rage.
Knowing each other too well led to more clashes.
Sung-ho and the Chinese guy traded comments a few more times, but nothing changed.
Just confirmed their differences.
The Chinese introduced himself as Zhao Zwe.
He ranted about being different from Zhonghua Bang, but Sung-ho wasn't buying it.
—Can't you lower the potato price a bit? You must be loaded, selling so many.
—Sorry, 10 points is the auction house minimum. Can't go lower.
—Just sell more at 10 points.
—That's what I've been saying—why?
Zhao Zwe seemed to realize Sung-ho was the potato seller.
Ask enough at auction, and Shelter folks like Sung-ho or Ji-man pop up.
Shelter members watched like hawks, sniping listings fast.
Anyway, Zhao kept haggling for cheaper potatoes; Sung-ho refused.
—Kill five zombies or goblins, get ten potatoes. Ration 'em, covers two days' calories. Too lazy for that?
Ji-man's potatoes were big, sweet, high-calorie.
Shelter folks steamed them, dipped in sugar, then complained about gaining weight.
Mostly the women.
—Even that's hard for many. Cut us some slack?
—Zero sympathy for your situation. Keeps reminding me of your old tricks.
—You said Saha East? Guess I misjudged.
—That's China talk. Don't bring it here.
Sung-ho wouldn't budge.
Then Zhao said something unexpected.
—Guess we'll have to get help elsewhere.
Meant to pique curiosity, but Sung-ho didn't care.
—Do what you want—just leave Korea. Better for you back home, no?
—He offered us... a better life. Wanted to get along with Koreans, but now I'll accept.
—I said do what you want.
—You'll regret it. Regret rejecting us.
—Got it. Teaming with that guy, huh? Ahn Geun-seok.
Ahn Geun-seok—the programmer from the Great Labyrinth.
Super suspicious, human-looking but basically a monster.
Hit the mark; Zhao went silent for a while.
Sung-ho posted again.
—Teaming with those inhuman freaks just makes you the fool. Stay away.
—Won't help, but giving advice?
—Not advice. Warning. Leaving you be 'cause it's a hassle, but team with Ahn and you're done. Hundred or thousand, I'll kill 'em all.
—Heard you're strong. Better die fighting you than starve.
—Your choice. I warned you.
—Old saying: give enemies a path to flee. Worth trying?
—Not interested.
The spat ended there.
Would've been the same with anyone from Shelter.
Had to fight over limited resources—no choice.
Da-jeong was closing auction when Sung-ho pinged her in code.
—Da-jeong watching?
—How'd you know?
—Griffon flights get boring.
—Sharp as ever...
—Anyway, hurry to Korean Shelter. Got a job.
—Dragging me to bed in daylight? Too sneaky?
Da-jeong teased, but Sung-ho seemed uninterested.
—Shut up, prep for Luat.
Luat—the kingdom from the ruins.
Southern Lotos Continent, high chance of apocalypse relics.
—Whoa, sending your wife a thousand klicks away?
—Seok-hyeon and Geom-in too.
—Threesome it is.
Everyone knew she was all about Sung-ho anyway.
He brushed off her whining.
—Sending Ppashing and stag beetle too. Scout that monster and apocalypse stuff.
—Wanna go with you.
—Too much to do here. You're the only one with a griffon.
—Tch, fine. But carve out a day for me when I return.
—Deal.
Thrilled, Da-jeong turned the griffon toward Korean Shelter.
Seok-hyeon, Da-jeong, Geom-in, and two bugs—five total—rode the griffon out.
Sending three veterans: the trip looked rough.
Bugs said southern continent was volcano-jungle hell.
Luat Kingdom milder, but the route was dicey either way.
Veterans could handle it.
Back home, Shelter expansion nonstop; they hunted and excavated without me now.
Popping in felt alien sometimes.
When did this happen?
Was mulling Redneck infiltration when Jang Won-taek called.
Recruited an American guy who'd entered Korea.
Texan, recently with Rednecks.
In the office, Jang and a white guy waited.
Older than me—gray hair, beard, wrinkles; around 50.
He eyed me nervously.
"This is..."
Jang introduced.
"Strongest in the Shelter. Reliable—relax."
"Strongest, huh... Level? Sounds silly, but I'm used to this crap."
"40."
He shook his head in disbelief.
"No way... Terence barely hit 25..."
I gripped the foamed table corner lightly, released.
Corner and Jang's face crumpled together.
He peeked underneath, stunned.
Frame dented too.
"...Incredible strength. Terence couldn't. James Allen Ray. Call me James."
"Kang Sung-ho. Quick question... were you with the Gangnam crew?"
Redneck taboo in front of him.
James sighed, nodded.
"Till a few days ago. You know—they're nuts."
"Always like that? Shooting air looks unhinged."
"Normal preppers before apocalypse..."
"Water?"
"Please."
Jang handed a bottle; James' eyes misted.
"Clean water... rare these days. Thought we'd manage."
"Monsters love water. Zombies too."
He nodded vigorously.
"Everyone wants marts post-apoc, right? Us too—but zombies swarmed 'em! Tiny stores overrun!"
Zombie tales paint 'em energy-free, but real ones needed fuel.
Marts stripped bare now.
Zombies evolved to ghouls, ghoul flowers upheaving earth.
Ruined our world.
Buildings left, but wrecked roads cramped movement.
Bikes impossible; pteros the way.
Ppashing's rideability seemed solid.
James continued.
"Anyway, Terence and crew worked my ranch. Ground support—wild boars everywhere."
"Ranch..."
"Raised cattle. Two thousand head—probably scattered now."
Jang and I gaped.
Not even big for him, he said.
American scale insane.
Cattle talk sparked craving.
Shelter livestock: razor boars, firebirds.
Others tough or tasteless, dropped.
Ji-man could raise cows easy—if we got 'em...
Over-reliance aside, craved beef bad...
James vented bitterly amid my daydreams.
"Apocalypse hit; Terence's ground team said we unite now. Needed their help, so okayed..."
"Employer-employee to equals... hard to refuse."
"But... didn't expect Terence seducing my daughter!"
"No offense—her age?"
"College age this year. Skipped studies for horses. Paige."
Cowgirl, not boy.
Terence took her "hunting" often, per James.
Relationship obvious.
Then trouble: Asian in rural Texas.
"Curious at first—exchange student? No. Showed powers, made Terence his lackey."
"What powers?"
"Revived dead. Buddy flatlined—heart stopped. He said his god's power. Terence and some bought it."
Resurrection scroll, not god.
Ignorant Terence and whites fell hard.
Even wooden totems stopped zombie raids.
He knew totems too.
"Now I get it, but then? Thought prophet. Shook my faith."
"They don't know?"
"Distrust outsiders—buy 'god's power' delusion."
Then as I knew: Terence rallied, followed Ahn to Korea via gate.
Purpose? James clueless.
Have to scout myself.
New tasks.
Infiltrate Redneck base for intel.
Gate to Texas for cattle.
Korean cows mostly barn-raised, long zombified.
Time for beef.
I stood; James' eyes lit.
"Want my daughter back from them. Help?"
Misunderstanding something.
Goals aligned enough—why not?
"Let's go see. Decide after."
The Cultists' God - 3 End