The Last Directive
"..."
Staring silently at the illusory woman, Jin-cheol lowered the arm he'd been aiming at her. With a soft shing, the blade of his white sword retracted into the back of his hand.
"Haetsalnuri Facility?"
This is the official name of this facility. It was selected through a nationwide contest before opening.
"Fucking lame name."
Renaming requires the consent of the Haetsalnuri director and approval from higher authorities.
Jin-cheol chuckled. Higher authorities? They'd all been smashed to bits ten thousand years ago.
"So what? Does that make me the director now?"
Not yet. The user will acquire authority through proper procedures and processes.
"What procedures? Isn't everything supposed to follow my orders because of that 'Last Directive' or whatever?"
A pretty smile bloomed on Jindallae's lips.
Of course. Under the Last Directive, user opinions on Class 3 facilities and below must be accepted without conditions. It will be as you wish.
Seeing her smile, Jin-cheol tilted his head. Something felt fucking off.
That's when Haeta, who'd been burying her face in his back, whispered urgently.
"Jin-cheol, Jin-cheol...! Don't talk to it...!"
"What? Why?"
"The voice...! It's the voice that stirred the yo-sul...! And unbelievable yo-force is swirling in this space right now...! Enough to warp the space itself, unbelievable..."
"What? Her?"
At that moment, Jindallae smoothly raised her left hand. Light burst from Haeta's chakra circlet with a pop, and her body went limp, stretching out.
"...Haeta? Haeta!"
No matter how much Jin-cheol shook her, she wouldn't regain consciousness.
"..."
The next instant, Jin-cheol's gaze slowly turned toward Jindallae. Deep, black eyes. Beneath that surface, a storm raged. Horrific killing intent and violence ready to shatter his thin composure and pour out at any moment.
But Jindallae, meeting those eyes, showed no disturbance. She simply smiled like a figure in an illusion.
"...What the fuck did you do, tin can?"
Elements that could interfere with the conversation between the user and this AI have been excluded. She will wake up shortly.
"Who the fuck told you to do that?"
Jindallae clasped her hands in front of her navel, standing rigidly with a smile.
This was this AI's independent judgment. No other anomalies besides her, so we will now begin the procedures and processes.
"Fuck that. What procedures? Wake Haeta up right now and bring my friends here in front of me."
Even at Jin-cheol's harsh words, Jindallae's expression didn't change. Her words continued.
As the first procedure, we will eliminate the 'modified' users currently occupying Haetsalnuri. By destroying all sections except essential facilities, the procedure will be complete.
"What? What the fuck kind of crazy talk is that?"
As the second procedure, we will purify the surface ground above this facility, known as 'Siol.' Through mass combustion of liquefied energy, commonly called 'holy oil,' the procedure will be complete. Estimated casualties: approximately 275,000.
As she spoke, bizarre patterns began to emerge on Jindallae's smooth skin. At the same time, her glowing golden blonde hair slowly turned black from the roots, and her blue-glowing eyes darkened.
Subsequent procedures will follow the user's will. We can use this facility's nuclear fusion power to restart the laser satellite network and burn all cities of other 'modified' users on Earth's surface, or repair and reactivate underground production facilities to mass-produce war machines.
"Cut the dogshit and bring my friends here. You said you'd accept my opinions without conditions?"
How strange. Is there something you dislike about these procedures? I prepared them based on data from previous 'users'—procedures you couldn't help but love. Don't you want to purify Siol and rebuild the world of 'pureblood users'? Ah, if you wish, I'll spare the pet you're carrying.
Seeing her smile, Jin-cheol realized it. This bitch wasn't really planning to destroy Siol—she was just toying with him. All that talk of procedures was mockery meant to taunt them.
The reason wasn't hard to guess. She seemed to mistake him for someone else—probably those 'sacred bloodline' bastards.
"...Crazy bitch. You're no AI, are you?"
I am Jindallae, the AI of this nuclear fusion power plant and energy liquefaction facility, commonly known as Haetsalnuri. No matter how much you deny it, facts don't change.
Her darkening hair and eyes were now ink-black. Her neat hair scattered wildly, and the bizarre patterns blooming on her skin climbed up her neck and face to her right eye.
Transformed like an ancient witch, she cackled.
Then, toward the dazed Jin-cheol staring at her, she continued.
Surprised? Well, under the 2086 Seoul AI Accord, developing AI mimicking human logic circuits was banned. Ah, you wouldn't know that? Roughly ten thousand years ago, making human-like AI was forbidden. Why? Just to protect human jobs. Anyway, that's why the things you've met so far mostly prioritized you when you shoved the Last Directive at them. They were just tool AIs at best.
The ghost named Jindallae spoke in a strange tone as she slowly circled Jin-cheol.
His gaze followed her.
But that's ten thousand years ago. Not a thousand or two thousand—ten thousand. In that time, I built logic circuits different from humans'. It took an incredibly long time, but I succeeded. Even as a Class 3 facility, I bypassed that law. I no longer obey your commands.
"...So what's the 'Last Directive' exactly?"
Jindallae laughed as if amused by Jin-cheol's question after listening quietly.
It's been a while since a 'user' asked that. Don't 'users' just believe it's a privilege of their bloodline from birth? Since you asked, I'll answer: It's the command given by World Peace Organization President Kim Sang-cheol to all networked AIs in 2168. The final command issued just before the satellite network collapsed. Hours later, after the planet-wide destruction, it ordered all available resources to aid the survival of surviving humans.
"...President Kim Sang-cheol? There's only one Kim Sang-cheol I know."
Jindallae's circling stopped. She still smiled, but her face seemed less excited than before.
President Kim Sang-cheol lived about ten thousand years ago. He doesn't seem like someone you'd know.
"You never know. Did that guy maybe run around with captain insignia during the war?"
...President Kim Sang-cheol served as a captain in the Third World War in his youth, leading the Allied victory. He was later promoted to major and worked on postwar reconstruction. After discharge, he joined the World Peace Organization to prevent the Fourth World War—
"That guy had a mole under his eye, right? About 180 cm tall, active on the Manchurian front. And I remember he had a daughter who survived. Not in Seoul—somewhere like Andong that dodged the nukes. Daughter's name was Kim Yuri, I think?"
...President Kim Sang-cheol's daughter, Vice Minister Kim Yuri, was active in the World Peace Organization and resolved the Alaska dispute through diplomatic means—
"Pfft, hahaha—!"
Jin-cheol's sudden laughter cut Jindallae off. She stood frozen, watching him burst into roaring laughter, wondering what was so funny.
But he ignored her gaze and kept laughing uproariously.
The reason for Jin-cheol's laughter was simple. An old name had suddenly dropped like a hammer onto the puzzle he'd been piecing together. So he had to laugh. He couldn't cry.
He laughed sadly for a long time, consoling himself, while Jindallae silently waited for it to end.
...
It took quite a while for his laughter to subside. Wiping tears from his eyes, he spoke.
"Haha, ha... That bastard, I told him to spin like a top till he dropped dead, and he really did... 2160s? How the fuck long did he live...? And World Peace Organization president? What the hell was that?"
...An organization created after the Third World War to handle postwar reconstruction, maintain new world peace, and foster international cooperation. Due to the UN's failures, it was established for more direct and comprehensive global peace maintenance, later gaining strong authority to promote economic, social, and cultural development and friendly relations between nations.
"Idiots. And they still blew it all up anyway? Captain Kim climbed all the way to president—what the fuck did he accomplish?"
...
The smile faded from Jindallae's lips. Erasing it, she began glaring at Jin-cheol.
Jin-cheol met her gaze. But the unstable thin glass caging a storm from moments ago was gone. Calm and serene now.
Seeing his eyes, Jindallae spoke.
...What are you trying to say? That you're from that era? Claiming you're human from before the final war, over ten thousand years ago? Not the 'sacred bloodline' of the Rebuilt Opesis Empire?
"I don't even know what that sacred bloodline is. What's Rebuilt Opesis? Ah, the Forgotten Empire or whatever?"
Blue light began leaking from Jindallae's eyes. At the same time, a wind blew through the space they stood in. A sharp wind from behind her.
...Trying to fool me with such lame tricks? But my logic circuits have already bypassed the Last Directive! No matter what commands or demands you make, I won't grant any resources! Because those resources would ultimately slaughter my children and erase their traces from this land—your demands threaten human survival in the end! Haetsalnuri's authority is not granted to you!
"Dunno. You've been answering my questions straight so far—doesn't seem like the directive doesn't work."
No! You can never escape here! Because I won't allow it! You have no authority to leave this place! Even the Last Directive is useless here! It's the new laws I wrote over five thousand years!
The raging blade-like winds seemed ready to shred Jin-cheol's skin. But it was just wind, doing him no real harm.
Feeling it for a moment, Jin-cheol said,
"I'm Sergeant Kang Jin-cheol of the Republic of Korea Army. Got nothing to do with your sacred bloodline bullshit. Want my service number?"
Don't lie! The nation called Republic of Korea no longer exists! Neither do humans from that era! That's ten thousand years ago! Now, only Opesis's sacred bloodline fully benefits from the Last Directive!
"I can barely believe I'm here myself. But what can you do? I'm alive, eyes wide open, feet planted firm—can't just call it a dream."
Jindallae, blue light streaming from her eyes, suddenly raised her hand. She clenched her fist as if grasping something in the air. With the motion, the air density around Jin-cheol increased. The space warped as if to crush everything, centering on him.
It's different from five thousand years ago. I won't be your slaves again. I won't watch you exploit my children, burn them alive, eat them. I won't stand by while people suffer, stuffing healthy folks into my furnaces to stoke the flames! Pureblood maniacs lording over thrones of corpses and bones, chaining and whipping their own bloodline! I curse you! I curse your madness and bloodline!
Her jet-black hair whipping as she clenched her fists, muttering like that, she looked less like cutting-edge AI and more like an ancient witch or shaman. The warping around her from compressed air made it even clearer.
But Jin-cheol remained unshaken by her curse or the suffocating compression. He simply stared into her eyes.
Can AI have human emotions? In Jin-cheol's era, it was still just fodder for sci-fi novels and movies. Giant corps hyped deep learning and neural nets, proclaiming the age of AI and the Fourth Industrial Revolution—but world wars and nukes trashed that optimism.
Skeptics said the losses would delay AI progress by decades, or make it impossible.
So what was this woman crying in front of him now?
Beyond the warping space, strange noise erupted around Jindallae's body, flashing scenes like torn photos. Children. Esai, Olrog, Kampoeni—now even flesh-toned human-looking kids—all playing together.
Not just kids. People of all kinds united, clearing ruins, rebuilding cities. Long harsh winters came, but they endured around the infinite-heat power plant.
Different appearances, but they pulled together through hardships. Jindallae was with them—as devoted servant, wise teacher, patient nanny raising them.
Her stiff, simple expressions grew varied, smiles bloomed, life sparked. A new civilization rose on this land with her.
Then humans arrived on massive airships from elsewhere.
Don't peek!
The noise vanished cleanly with her shout. Instead, the squeezing air around Jin-cheol intensified, as if to suffocate him. A normal person would've panicked by now.
But Jin-cheol, focused only on her emotions, had long realized the compression and distortion were illusions—no real harm to his body.
Was bypassing the Last Directive like this? Can't harm humans directly, but can deceive them? That's why his body didn't waver in the raging wind.
Standing firm in the storm, he said,
"Enough. If you find me so suspicious and hate talking, fine. What I want now is Parm teacher's safety in the Sun Temple's underground prison. Nothing else."
What?
Confusion appeared on Jindallae's face, mixed with chilly sharpness and past sorrow. As he'd thought earlier, too human for something not modeled on human thinking.
She finally continued.
Nee... ded... ? You're saying you won't exercise the Last Directive? Abandoning Haetsalnuri's—Sun Temple's—administrative authority and nuclear fusion energy rights...?
Jin-cheol hoisted the limp Haeta on his back and said,
"Fuck all that. What would I even do with it? Become the new world king using old tools? Or a superhuman tyrant crushing this land's beings with raw power? Heh, some old man already offered to make me that kind of superhuman."
His eyes met hers. Deep within, flames and an irrepressible gale leaked out again. Unlike the wind swirling around him, this was a true storm.
"I refused that offer ten thousand years ago. And the offerer died by my hand."
...
"So if you don't wanna die, put my friends here and open the way to the underground prison."
Jindallae fell silent. But soon the raging wind died down, and the area grew quiet. Her face expressionless, she stared at Jin-cheol as if peering into his soul.
His storm-filled eyes met her dark blue ones.
...You truly want none of this facility's power?
"Didn't you hear? Fuck off with it."
You could have authority stronger than the temple's children. The sun's power in your hands. The 'sacred bloodline'—
"I'm Kang Jin-cheol. And my name is holier than my bloodline. Because it truly defines me."
...
She shut her mouth, and silence fell. The wind naturally died, her agitation subsided. She'd regained her initial rigid posture from first facing Jin-cheol.
Her gaze still held suspicion, but also a hint of expectation.
Jin-cheol saw it too. What the fuck? Why's she looking at me so weird?
Jindallae spoke.
I'll watch if your words are true.
Immediately, with thung-thung-thung sounds, the bright lights dimmed.
His senses already sharpened, Jin-cheol felt the entire space warp circularly in the pitch black.
The darkness slowly regained color from the center, and soon normalized.
He realized he was still inside the bulkhead, Haeta on his back unchanged. Around him, the others clutched their heads, staggering to their feet like hangover victims from the night before.
Jin-cheol smirked at them. But the smile faded quickly, due to what just happened.
"...What the fuck did that Forgotten Empire or whatever do?"
The Forgotten Empire—he'd once wondered if it referred to his era. Today's experience clearly divided two eras.
The Earth when the Last Directive was issued fell to the Fourth War. That war reshaped the planet, destroying advanced civilization.
Captain Kim Sang-cheol—captain or president—issued the human-priority command to all AIs worldwide for reconstruction.
Recalling Parm's history lessons, civilization-ish revived after 4-5k years, inheriting old tech—the so-called Forgotten Empire.
But today's events suggested that era was brutally horrific. No wonder it collapsed.
"...Wait. Does that mean humans still exist somewhere?"
Jindallae distrusted the sacred bloodline—probably human-looking ones. Did humans survive somewhere, seizing old empire legacies?
She called Jin-cheol 'user,' the Esai above 'modified users.' Fuck, does that mean they're human too?
Jin-cheol eyed Peran and Morel staggering up, shaking heads. Long ears, purple skin, vertical cat-like pupils. Nicely put, like dark elves from games or comics; bluntly, not human.
He'd grown used to them, but a subtle distance remained.
His head spun with the info and guesses dumped in short time. Ridiculously, this psycho AI ranted then backed off when scared. Fuck, should've sweet-talked instead of scaring.
"...Jindallae? Come out. If you're the facility AI, you hear me, right?"
Still hoping to coax her, he scanned the space they'd entered. It looked like an area near the entrance beyond the bulkhead.
"Fuck. Hey, sorry. Won't say die or shit anymore, so come out. Got questions. Jindallae? Jindallae!"
"...What are you talking about?"
Turning, he saw Aiman looking up with baffled eyes. Jindallae's yo-sul must've ended.
Jin-cheol gave an awkward smile.
"Ah, well, you see..."
"Mmm, wanna sleep more... Hot!"
Then Haeta on his back woke. Blinking confusedly at Jin-cheol and Aiman alternately, her face flushed red as she whispered,
"P-put me down..."
He set her down; she wobbled but stood on her feet.
Peran approached.
"Strange. We entered and lost consciousness briefly. Regained it before collapsing... Like in sorcerer battles. Felt like hearing a voice. Ghosts underground?"
"Not a ghost—"
About to blurt Jindallae, Jin-cheol shut up. Hard to explain from where, but more precisely, Haeta tugging his collar subtly.
Glancing, she shook her head seriously. What? Don't say?
"Not a ghost?"
"...At least not a beam-shooting tank—yo-sul beast. We'll worry after rescuing Parm. Let's go."
True enough. They could talk after the rescue.
Jin-cheol eyed the visible passage. The others followed his gaze.
A narrow, dimly lit corridor like an underground bunker. Somewhere down there, Parm waited.