Famine Has Become Your Neighbor
The simplest way to beat the strong? Overwhelming numbers or a surprise attack at an unimaginable timing. Sneaking into the toilet and stabbing—that's been observed from medieval Europe to ancient China.1 Getting killed by a knife popping out from an unexpected place? That's timeless proof it's always in play.
No matter how dire the power gap, the climbers had pinned their faint hopes on a plan... but
"Fuck, you bastard! You saw me coming, so why the hell trigger a landslide and make a scene?!"
"Hey, I didn't do that on purpose! I just tossed a rock at the base of the mountain!!"
Among them, the top firepower—Jeong Il-hwan—had blown the chance wide open by charging right in and getting slammed to the ground. No one could've imagined he'd squander the one ambush opportunity they'd grasped.
The sudden white-flag surrender left his fellow platoon mates in chaos.
"Hey!! What the hell are you doing?! This could've been our last shot, and you're just throwing it away?!"
They'd steeled themselves for death, endured the landslide, climbed all the way up—and it all vaporized in an instant. Jeong Chorong, the sergeant trembling with betrayal, screamed at the traitor... but
"Who's that? Your girlfriend? Nice taste. Since when did the army start recruiting under-15s?"
"Sigh... no, that's... the newbie sergeant who just transferred in after you discharged..."
The two pitied her as they eyed their superior, who looked like a confused teen.
"Why would you think she got solo recon clearance?"
"...Because she could pull off a recon strike alone... right?"
"We got spotted before you even arrived. Why do you think this asshole Jeong Il-hwan sent the cease-fire signal the second he landed?"
He calmly dropped the crucial fact: the ambush was impossible from the start.
"Good thing you remembered the old signal and checked. How'd you spot it from here?"
The magnesium necklace around Jeong Il-hwan's neck reacted to the glowing finger, flashing its signature white light. Even from this peak, his vision scraped the valley floor—sharper than in his active days.
"If I hadn't, I'd have chucked that rock while you were climbing... you'd probably be half-smashed off that cliff?"
To the exhausted climbers, those casual words were terrifying. In recon, survival was priority one—and two. To avoid one guy buying time with his life while the other relayed intel? Scout from afar and bolt before they notice. Eyes like his, wrapped in full-body energy, outclassed any bird.
Kim Chomo waved off the despairing newbie sergeant's face.
"Cut the bullshit. Situation's wrapping up soon—get ready to descend, kiddo."
"...What?"
"Be grateful Il-hwan's face saved you. I spare the grunts I drag in, but officers? Don't care if they live or die."
Her face flushed at the unprecedented rudeness, but only briefly.
"Alright, this flat rock'll do... ngh!"
"...?!"
Kim Chomo anchored five fingers and hoisted the massive boulder one-handed like it was nothing.
"Down there, the grunts are clustered around... chopper incoming from there..."
He triangulated with his index for HQ, middle finger for the helicopter, calculated briefly.
"Hey! Il-hwan, drinks on leave after this! I'm out!"
Whiiirrr—!!
He hurled the boulder sky-high, channeled excess power into his legs, and rocketed off like a shell.
"Like some fighting manga hero,3 can't ride the rock, but it's good for an aerial pivot!"
Krunch!!
The boulder—wide enough for a mid-air foothold—shattered on impact.
"Gah, cannonball earlier, now shotgun spread?! Scatter—!!"
"...Sigh... next time this happens, just bail and say I can't do it."
Shrapnel rained on the evacuating command post via Newton's third law.
"...Wha—huh?! Not a bird, it's a person?!"
"This is doable—!!"
The pilot, dodging for ammo resupply, spotted the incoming bird strike—no, human strike.
"Drop the belly... no, evade! Evade!!"
Desperate swerve avoided a head-on, but
Kraka-boom!!
"Argh, warning lights! That psycho punched through the armor plating!"
No time to dodge the punch that pierced the fuel tank armor—Kim Chomo's flashy fist brake.
"Hey! Pilot! If you hear me, head to HQ! Or I might 'accidentally' flick my lighter!"
"...You crazy fuck!! Who hijacks a chopper mid-air—!!"
Unlike Kim Chomo, who could tank mutual explosion unscathed, the pilot had no plans for death-by-fire at high noon. Bleeding fuel like a gutted man, he banked desperately for HQ.
Unlike grunts who shrugged off fleeing enemy lines, they were proud pilots.
"Sir, fuel gauge... residual's dropping faster than expected!"
"What?! Even with the hole... damn, maintenance fuckup?!"
For a single fist-hole, too much fuel evaporating live. No time for rodeo with that monster—who'd probably walk off a crash unscathed anyway.
"Grr... if maintenance hadn't screwed us, I'd resist to the end..."
Grinding teeth at grim reality, but
"Not the time! Ream the mechanics later—nearest flat ground now!"
"R-Right! Down we go!"
Life first, they swung toward command.
Failed ability suppression, chopper hijack, HQ unsecured—and now friendly fire risk if they shelled. Perfect zero-score report card, delivered via one fist clinging to the chopper.
Kim Chomo flew on, drenched in jet-fuel shower against his will.
"...Huh? Was stressing rebound time, but energy's filling up...?"
Depleted reserves recharging puzzled him briefly.
"Oh, there! All clustered!"
Their crowns gleamed in the rising sun. He eyed them.
Vrooooom....
"Hup! Hero landing!"
BOOM...!!
Knee-and-fist smash cratered the ground—Hollywood heroics with injury-proof flair. Half his remaining energy poured into the parking lot of transport trucks and gear.
Rumblle...!!
No ground—or aquifer cavern below—could handle peak energy. Instant massive sinkhole.
"Argh, ditch the trucks—!!"
"Fuck, the few drivers who actually sleep in tents...!!"
Honey-suckers in cabs burst out, diving for life.
"...Oh, right. Vehicles..."
Cost: their rides plummeted.
Trucks and sedans roared into the abyss, ending lives of abuse for the clapped-out wrecks. Reality physics? No fuel explosions. Cheers.
"D-Don't move!! Move and we shoot!"
Camping soldiers panicked, aiming at the intruder.
"There, moved! What, need a headspin first? Shoot already."
"......"
Why fear 5.56mm after shrugging off 12.7s and 20s? They'd survived Gyeongbokgung sniper fire that barely raised welts.
"Shoot and ricochet injures someone? No rides—how ya evac?"
No manual for this. Standard aim training useless. Injury now? Even junk trucks beat foot-march to hospital—straight to heaven.
"Grr... lower weapons. Rebel in futility, get casualties? Our loss."
Clunk! Thud! Thud!
One by one, rifles dropped at feet—resistance over. From "combatants" to "lightly armed hostages."
"Hey! Brass up top, eyes on me! Send these grunts packing—your asses are next!"
Grunts irrelevant now. Command surrender time.
"...Fuck. Should've prepped retreat before bigger shit hit..."
Feet bound, morale crushed, firepower outmatched, starving. Worst-case checklist complete.
"So, blood-ledger time? Y'all got hotlines, right?"
"...Haha, cursed life. Fine, negotiations."
Surrendering to save troops? Not cowardice—beautiful realism. Clean loss meant no blame game. Easier for post-incident hearings.
Since Korea's army/police warred with that pseudo-state up top.
"Secure your binds! Don't want a fist-tattoo on your gut—do it right!"
Regiment-scale force neutralized by one man. Nightmare defeat etched in history.
Chirp chirp chirp...
"Aigoo, pulled an all-nighter. Bill that as mental damages too."
And it ended.
In this mess, some youths weren't surrender stats: the ability squad who'd clawed to the peak, only for target to vanish.
"...Rest up, then descend."
Not missed ambush—averted near-death. 'Kiddo' Jeong Chorong sullenly ordered break.
Her fingers cherry-red, nicotine-starved youth equally glum.
"Not 'cause he's my friend, but that guy's wearing a mask over his true nature."
"...A mask, sir?"
"Yeah, mask. 'I'm a normal guy' mask."
Jeong Il-hwan badmouthed his descended pal, spread a poncho over his head, and flopped down.
Daily life, diligent work? Camouflage. Strives for upstanding adult, but underneath? That.
"Abilities seem tied to personality, big time."
His hot temper birthed heat powers? All abilities stem from awakening thoughts?
"So the guy who holed that thigh always wanted to blast allies?"
Junior thought senior bullshitting, cited example.
"Heard Chomo told him first monster encounter: 'Blast everywhere!'"
--Perfect mantra for survivors. Pseudo-Dr. Jeong shoehorned his theory.
"Pfft, then what's that guy's power? Hates plants that much?"
--Trauma from choking on greens as kid? Bullshit.
Junior's rude jab at lame rebuttal.
"Tch, nah. Doesn't even bitch about side dishes..."
"See? All coincidence. Quit yapping, pack up."
"Sigh... really? High school cafeteria... wait, cafeteria?"
Bullshitter lost words, vague memory surfaced.
Teens can't study 24/7—skipped self-study for daily PC bang.
"You sneaky fuck! Stealing multi-spots? Cheater!!"
"War's no place for fair! Win dirty—that's pro!!"
--Steal enemy food/resources, double pain! They raged over interstellar resource wars.
"...My god. That's it!!"
"...What's 'that'? Senility hitting before discharge?"
If Kim Chomo wasn't plant-plunderer?
Humans? Top consumers. Carbs, proteins, fats, minerals, vitamins → energy. Trace to base: plants.
"Not plants! Something more fundamental!"
Human famine knight, embodying "starve, bitches."
Jeong Il-hwan sweated, grasping the essence.
"If all plant-energy's fuel... oil's in range too...?"
Plankton-oil, photosynthesis crops. Street grass? Easy access, low efficiency. Refined? Impure, but cities? Infinite buffet.
"...Good he doesn't know his power fully."
Full rampage? Half Seoul dead. Whew—peaceful end. Sigh of relief.
"...Hope mine's not just body-heat..."
--Wonder what sparked mine... Bonus hope: not mere human lighter.