The Mysterious Underground Shelter (1)
"Hehe, it's the fridge. The fridge."
After confirming the generator was running smoothly, we spent the next while moving and organizing things like lights, refrigerators, and fans. The ones we owned were at best tiny mini-fridges meant for single-person apartments.
You know the type—those with a pathetic little freezer compartment ringed by a thick crust of ice, where any ice cream you put in would come out half-frozen and half-melted. Still, lining up three or four of them made the setup surprisingly functional.
Better than relying on ice packs, at least.
We spent some time checking and sorting our food supplies. Anything that had gone bad was thrown out, items needing refrigeration went into the fridges, and things best kept frozen were stored separately in ice boxes.
"Don't casually take or eat anything. Every single bit of food exists only because of the wizard's grace. We may only eat what the wizard mercifully permits us to have."
The disciples had called me over during the work so I could monitor whether any of them were secretly siphoning off food or other resources. The way Dayeon phrased it sounded strangely like the kind of "leader's divine favor" talk you heard in those cult compounds up north, and I couldn't help but snort with laughter.
It's not like any of you are going to betray me anyway. What, you'd rather turn into zombies?
"Ooh...... That's correct!"
Sejin seemed to find the whole thing hilarious and chimed in with a huge, dopey grin. What kind of weird roleplay is this guy doing?
"Oh, we've got instant spicy tteokbokki. Wizard, can I eat this for dinner tonight?"
"I hate spicy food. Knock yourself out."
"Ooh...... As expected of the wizard."
This guy had clearly lost a few marbles somewhere. Probably from almost dying.
"Um, maybe dial it back a little."
My face was burning, so I had to cut him off. Dayeon's weird slave-master tendencies, Taeho drooling over the golems—I really needed to tell them all to take it easy.
"I am deeply moved by the wizard's benevolence......"
Aside from those little episodes, there wasn't much for me to do. I mostly just watched the disciples and Tosiki work. Whenever it got too noisy, I'd cast Curtain of Silence. When the golems that had gone outside returned for a buff refresh, I'd step out and apply it myself.
Still, seeing the food and ingredients neatly sorted and the kitchen appliances—coffee maker, toaster, electric stove—that had been rotting in the corner of the storage room now lined up on the counter, I felt pretty good.
Once the food warehouse was finally organized, everyone was about to head back to their rooms when I called Sejin over separately.
The reason was nothing complicated. This guy's head had clearly gone a little sideways, so I figured he might have an aptitude for white magic. It was a bit embarrassing, but...
They say people with strong dependency issues toward a specific person tend to be surprisingly good at white magic.
With that thought in mind, I decided to give him a lesson.
"Would you like to learn white magic?"
"Yes? If that is what the wizard desires."
"Hmm."
"This is the healing spell."
I taught him Touch of Healing. If he performed well, I'd have him start producing that pale liquid fertilizer or healing cores too.
"......As you've heard so far, the theory isn't complicated. The important part is that this magic responds to a person's heart."
"So......"
"Wait!"
The moment I finished explaining, he suddenly snatched up a knife that had been lying in the corner, slashed his own arm wide open, and declared:
"Since you saved my life, my life now belongs to the wizard."
"What the—"
Don't self-harm! Don't found a religion! Stop talking nonsense! You crazy weeb bastard—
But when pure white light flowed from his fingertips and closed the wound that was dripping blood, I had no choice but to accept reality.
"......"
Fine. You be the healer.
"Still, if you go spreading that kind of talk in front of other people or cross the line, I will scold you."
It was just too embarrassing. I warned him with the strictest face I could manage.
"......"
Surely I won't end up like that. It won't happen. It must not happen.
"Wizard?"
"Ah. Sorry, I was lost in thought. I'll teach you the plant-growing magic and the healing core creation spell too."
"Yes! I'll work even harder!"
Good grief.
By the time the impromptu healer—or rather, cult-leader—training session had ended...
"Spore remnant cleanup is roughly complete."
The golems, which had been going back and forth between the house and the spore zone a couple of times, seemed to have mostly finished their mission there.
"Ninety percent or more of the spore zone has been cleared. Even if some spores remain, without a main body the zone has no chance of spreading further. Zombie bugs and zombie birds are still present, but lacking any independent reproductive ability, we estimate they will not pose a significant threat."
"Good work. Then let's go check out that air-raid shelter thing now."
The remaining zombie bugs were still a problem, but...
As long as the tower's defense functions are properly activated, it should be fine.
I also had an SSS-rank electric flyswatter, so it would probably be okay. That holy-flame-powered super-cheat device could incinerate not only normal mosquitoes but zombie mosquitoes too, preventing them from even approaching the building.
Come to think of it, now that the spore zone was cleared, I wouldn't be getting an explosive supply of mana cores anymore. My storage was already overflowing—two huge delivery boxes packed full, with the excess stuffed into storage bins and shopping bags scattered everywhere.
At this rate, if the golems carried them all, we could probably fight an entire nation. Assuming we were still in the pre-zombie-apocalypse world, anyway.
Maybe not quite that strong.
I'd like to use these mana cores to hunt down other special zombies.
I kept listening to the radio for news, but there were no communication-equipped bases in the immediate area. To find other special zombies I'd have to go searching on foot or head down toward Pyeongtaek or Osan where known specimens had been reported.
Either way, to gather ten ether crystals I'd eventually have to hunt them. I was still researching an alchemical synthesis method, but it wasn't easy.
Still, the mysterious concrete bunker took priority over distant, annoying special zombies. Honestly, the odds were high it would just be full of unrecognizable machinery, but there was always the chance that survivors had taken shelter inside.
"All right, let's move out."
The building seemed to have been an ordinary house. There were research labs from famous conglomerates nearby, but this particular structure looked completely normal. Yet beneath it was a concrete basement sealed by an incredibly thick blast door.
Knock on the door anyway.
I wonder what's inside.
Soon another video arrived. A mass-produced golem lightly knocked on the door. Not long after, the footage showed what looked like vibrations from something knocking back from below.
Is someone there?
Just knowing that a living person was underground was already a great discovery. But wait a second.
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap......
Isn't that Morse code?
It seemed everyone else had noticed the same thing. But what now? The only Morse I knew was SOS. Detective comic protagonists always deciphered this stuff instantly, but normal people like me had no idea. And I couldn't search the internet.
Wait a second. Detective comic?
I remembered I had downloaded some volumes onto my phone to read at my parents' house. Found it.
Even without internet, I could still open comics I'd already purchased and downloaded. I quickly flipped through the pages until I found the scene where the protagonist tracked clues using Morse code.
There it is.
The author had kindly included a Morse code chart for reader convenience. According to the chart...
WHO?
The person below the steel door was asking who we were.
After that, I continued communicating with the owner of the mysterious underground shelter using the Morse code chart from the comic. Even after I told them the full truth—that we possessed special powers called magic and had cleared out the spore zombies in the area—they still didn't seem to fully trust us.
TRUST YOU. BUT OPEN NOT SAFE.
It seemed to mean they trusted us but couldn't open the door because it was too dangerous. The door was so thick that proper conversation was impossible. Our exchanges were all roughly this short.
It's not dangerous, though.
After we'd cleared away all the spores, the entire area had become a complete ghost town with neither zombies nor people. Paradoxically, it was now the safest environment possible.
OUTSIDE NOTHING.
I told them there was nothing outside. That I could teach them magic. That they didn't have to join us, but that helping each other survive might be a good idea.
Can't you at least become a ghost member to help me fill my disciple quota? A basement bunker should have plenty of supplies—how about some bartering?
After I went that far, a long pause followed. Then, quietly, whoever was inside the shelter unlocked the steel door—just enough that it could be closed and locked again at any moment.