Doomsday Cults and the Zombie Plague
When the space age dawned, many people were filled with dreams and hope.
Many welcomed the space age with open arms.
"The end of humanity is upon us!"
Among them, the doomsday cultists were the most thrilled.
With all the usual apocalypse bait—demonic overlords, Nostradamus prophecies, world wars, mega-earthquakes—long since gone stale, preaching that stuff barely netted a few donation bucks anymore. The dawn of the space age was like a gold rush for the doomsayers.
Countless cultists started shouting every imaginable end-of-the-world scenario in their own ways.
"Space monsters will bring humanity to its end!"
"An advanced alien civilization with technology beyond our grasp will enslave us humans!"
"An unknown disease from space will wipe out mankind!"
The astonishing part was how eerily close reality came to their ravings.
Space monsters—the Mogs—appeared, along with the Prophet's Relic, a artifact utterly incomprehensible to human civilization.
But even with those events unfolding, the doomsayers didn't gain much traction.
The reason was simple: on Earth and the 11 planets undergoing terraforming, these threats weren't much of a danger to humanity at large.
Just as the cultists were stewing in frustration, the third prophecy struck.
A space disease emerged.
It started in China.
Having successfully hunted a Mog Queen, China secured its corpse and, ignoring interstellar law, began secret research in a hidden lab.
During the process, researchers were exposed to a virus inside the Queen's body. Those exposed showed the following infection symptoms.
"Infected individuals first experience a cessation of vital functions. The heart stops beating, and organ activity halts. In exchange, muscle strength, skin, and bone density are enhanced, along with extreme aggression toward humans. They won't die from ordinary injuries—only destruction of the head stops their activity. Infection occurs if the infected's bodily fluids contact the skin, and without special measures, the victim becomes an infected in one minute."
In other words, it exhibited symptoms identical to the classic zombie virus everyone knew.
When this disease surfaced, the terror was immense, and the doomsayers went wild, proclaiming Earth would soon be overrun by zombies.
Of course, that didn't happen.
The zombie virus—officially the Mog Virus—died off rapidly once its host perished. Plus, crossing gates in the space age involved rigorous quarantine checks.
From the perspective of people on Earth or other planets, the sugary soda they were chugging was riskier than the Mog Virus.
Space Marines felt the same.
The virus required direct exposure to the Queen's fluids to activate, so Space Marines never worried about "Queen! Watch for Mog Virus! Might turn zombie!" They just yelled, "We're fucked."
Accidents did happen, though.
A few planets saw incidents from the Mog Virus, with the biggest at headquarters sites—places where large groups of unarmed civilians gathered.
The response was straightforward: wipe the headquarters clean, virus and all.
"......Infected."
That was why Kim Seo-jun and his team looked grim upon hearing the infection report from the Polish Base.
Yan Zabwotski, the major, was mentally shattered.
"Ah, ah......"
He froze, clutching the radio.
The base he'd risked his life to save—now infected by the Mog Virus?
Understanding his pain, no one spoke to him.
"Uh, Sergeant Kim, what do we do?"
In the heavy silence, Private Park Bo-seop whispered.
It wasn't a question born of ignorance.
The Polish Base was crawling with the Mog Virus, meaning hordes of infected.
Heading there? Insane.
The smart move was flooring the military truck's accelerator and getting as far away as possible.
That was Lieutenant Lee Hye-na's thinking too.
To them, Kim Seo-jun replied,
"Private Park Bo-seop, move out for now."
"Yes, sir."
Park Bo-seop hit the gas.
"Where to?"
"Toward the Polish Base."
"Pardon?"
Park Bo-seop's face changed instantly.
"There? Where the infected are?"
To the shocked pair, Kim Seo-jun said,
"Losing the Polish Base now would screw us bad. We secure it somehow. Plus, survivors are still holding out."
Lieutenant Lee Hye-na responded,
"Got it. I'll go in and clean house."
"Ah!"
Park Bo-seop's face lit up.
"Right, if you go in, Lieutenant, no problem!"
Even powerful infected couldn't handle an Agent Suit.
Meanwhile, Lee Hye-na could rip them apart barehanded, exaggerating a bit.
Cleaning infected was child's play.
"It's dangerous."
Kim Seo-jun knew.
"Exposure to their fluids is a massive risk, no matter what."
Especially for close-combat specialist Lee Hye-na—each infected was a walking bomb.
"They're tougher than you think. Not as bad as Mogdogs, but strong, and crucially, they use weapons."
Above all, infected weren't brainless movie zombies shambling like beasts.
"They're like fanatical Mog cultists. I can say that for sure."
Kim Seo-jun knew better than anyone.
"I've experienced it firsthand."
Lee Hye-na didn't question him.
She knew the dangers too—one psyker agent rule was never contact infected without government approval.
Even in Agent Suits, it was risky for psykers.
"Worst case, if a psyker gets infected, it's a nightmare. Way worse than you imagine."
It could escalate to absurd levels.
So Lee Hye-na had to stand by, and Park Bo-seop wondered,
"Then how do we clean them out?"
Kim Seo-jun answered,
"Someone who can penetrate their skulls from afar, without contact."
No one questioned after that.
Vroooom!
Only the roar of the military truck filled the air.
The surest way to gauge a nation's power on that planet was the size of its headquarters.
The Polish Base was massive.
The number of buildings alone was on another level.
The largest was the central HQ, housing not just soldiers but researchers and all civilian staff—over 3,000 pyeong of land, with usable interior space triple that.
7,000 soldiers and staff worked there!
Those numbers were a source of pride for everyone at the Amotia Polish Base.
But now, post-Mog Virus, they were a nightmare.
Gathered in Central HQ's Shelter 19, Polish Base staff writhed in that horror.
"W-we're gonna die, all, all of us gonna die."
Most survivors were already mentally broken.
The only one somewhat sane was Sergeant Viktor Lewandowski.
Even he wasn't fully okay.
He'd been a hover rider in a suicide charge against an insane Mog horde, including three tank worms—rushing in on a single hoverbike.
Lucky to return alive, his condition was wrecked.
Steam Pack side effects left him unable even to sip water from a cup.
Still, he said,
"Everyone, pull yourselves together. It's not over yet."
Encouraging survivors amid despair—that took more than grit.
"The major didn't sacrifice for us to despair here!"
Viktor had a mission.
"For his sake, we survive."
To protect what that great winged hussar descendant—charging the Mogs to defend the base—left behind.
In other words, Viktor was convinced Major Yan Zabwotski was dead.
That's why.
"Major Yan Zabwotski?"
When radio contact came from the major himself, Viktor thought it was Steam Pack hallucinations.
Confirming it real, joy surged.
The major he thought dead—alive?
'Ah!'
Then Viktor knew his duty here.
"Don't come here, absolutely not!"
Make the major flee somehow!
He repeated into the radio: Run, it's infected, infected paradise.
No reply after. In the silence, Viktor smiled.
'Major, good you're not here.'
The joy didn't last.
Silence and terror returned to the shelter.
Everyone held their breath.
Beyond the door: hordes of infected prowling.
"All gonna die, all!"
Thud!
"Quiet, quiet!"
Any noise, and infected pounded the door viciously.
"Mmph!"
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
The pounding lingered long after silence returned.
Then, deeper despair etched their faces.
Viktor too— even after charging tank worms, repeated terror eroded his will.
That's when.
"We're dead anyway."
A survivor muttered.
"That door'll open, that door."
Viktor rallied,
"The shelter door's sturdy. Even enhanced infected can't break it."
Not to convince the guy, but to steady the others—and himself.
"No need to open it! Only admins with codes can!"
Another spat fear.
True, shelters allowed external rescue; admins could open any.
Viktor countered,
"Infected can't do that."
Beep beep beep beep!
Sudden keypad tones outside. Silence fell; eyes shook like boats in a storm.
Viktor too.
'H-how?'
Infected entering with the code?
As horror peaked—
Hiss!
Shelter 19's door slid open. Everyone froze, no resistance.
Except one!
"F-fight!"
Viktor burned with battle will.
It broke fast.
"Sergeant Kim Seo-jun, Korean HQ."
The intruder said.
"Here to rescue you."
Hearing "infected," Kim Seo-jun's face hardened.
'Worst case.'
He'd dealt with them before—knew the headache.
The Polish Base, his hoped-for foothold, was crippled.
And not just that.
'Infected means a Queen unit's formed.'
Mog Virus infected usually came from Mogs contacting the Queen or victims of those Mogs.
Key point: Queen-Mog contact meant the Queen was mobile.
'She's recruiting Amotia's Mogs, special specimens now.'
Once she absorbed most, total extermination of humans began.
Kim Seo-jun had every reason to grimace.
That was it, though.
Dealing with infected? No big deal for him.
With his X-ray vision skill, clearing Central HQ was trivial.
Bang bang!
Infected Human Eliminated. No points awarded.
First clash with an infected brought that alert. A brief surprise.
'Infected count as Mogs too. Figured.'
It passed quickly.
'No points makes sense.'
He got why.
'Otherwise, you'd rack up insane points.'
One point per infected? With demonic resolve, he could warp to Earth and farm 10 billion easy.
Shaking off surprise, Kim Seo-jun charged through Central HQ, gunfire echoing.
Bang bang!
Infected dropped uniformly, heads ventilated.
He swept for shelters.
'This one's done.'
Shelter 4: survivors turned.
'Here too.'
Shelter 11: same.
'This one.'
Shelter 19: survivors. He punched in Yan Zabwotski's emergency code.
Door opened; one charged him. Kim Seo-jun wasn't startled.
Impressed by the fight in this hell, he said,
"Sergeant Kim Seo-jun, Korean HQ. Here to rescue you."
Relief washed over him inwardly.
'31 survivors. Lucky.'
Not many for the base's size, but enough to operate it.
'Good fortune in disaster.'
As he savored saving that many—
Powerful Infected Human Appeared.
Event Mission Activated.
Points earned in this battle: 3x multiplier.
Hunt a powerful Mog specimen in this battle for a Platinum Ticket bonus.
Kim Seo-jun was certain.
'......A psyker.'