Hell, O World
Life inside the dimensional gates of this world was far from comfortable.
"Comrade leader, we've got another food shortage on our hands! At this rate, the people are bound to rise up!"
"That son of a bitch great leader, then launch another rocket fueled by the people's blood and rice!"
The old enemies used to shout "Wooo, rice, rice, rice!" all the time, deliberately pushing into space just to grab attention. Sure, it meant restrictions on soldiers' outings and kept everyone on edge with guns at the ready.
But "Since when did 'alert' turn into a goddamn death game for survival?!"
KRAAACK--!! KYAAACK!!
It was like watching some classic Japanese horror flick—one-on-one tag with a hundred monsters cheering over fresh meat in the zone. Calling that "guard duty" at the absolute front lines of the front lines? Forget finding any comfort there.
Of course, the great hypnotic app from some magnificent organization called "If It Hurts, It's Your Kid" was still spraying propaganda today too.
"Haha, our brave soldiers enjoy the latest gear and pleasures even way out there at the front?"
They're trying to play blind man's buff with eyes covered, but reality's a bitch like that.
"Fuck, emergency alert! All firepower, now! Get on the horn with the artillery! We need wipeout power more than ability users right now!"
No matter how desperately the young guy sprinting into his radio begged them to exorcise those monsters by giving 'em a proper ass-fucking1,
- You crazy bastard, firing artillery at dawn? That'll just draw more of 'em! Recon's supposed to be minimal noise principle!
"You selfish pricks, so it's fine if our unit gets shredded on back-to-back dawn ops?!"
In an era where they erase the small sketches to see the big picture, people gotta get mulched, right? What can you do.
Luckily, whether it was lack of patience or stamina, half the pack had already given up the chase—too tired or the meat too dirty to bother—and scattered.
Only the stubborn, pissed-off bunch was still tailing him, for reasons unknown.
'...Fuck it, fine. At least there's a forest nearby I know, so worst case it's shit-tasting curry-level edible.'
Looks like today wasn't the day he'd end up sniffing incense from behind a screen.
"...Gruk?"
The monsters tracking the bright yellow footprints stamped perfectly in military boot shapes on what used to be grass.
Tzzzzzt...!!
The moment they plunged into the now-green-tinted grass to catch that annoying prey,
By the time the screams of the forest—no, the plants—rang in their ears, it was way too late.
Even kids' hide-and-seek ends with surrender and position swap once the gap's too wide.
If there'd been a higher-rank specimen, it'd have turned tail first in this freakish scene unfolding right before their eyes.
"Ah, damn, not many forests left in the op radius anyway... This cool? Eh, whatever."
The energy squeezed from every damn plant nearby swirled into one guy like a vortex.
Krrruk....?
Even if you couldn't see the energy, instinct blared alarms: that puny prey had flipped to predator, and panic set in.
Just like the trees' leaves slowly fading color, the monsters' faces drained pale.
A unit where only humans who could scrap monster hides barehanded got in.
Even in this clusterfuck special conscript squad of nothing but ability users, solo patrols meant that much trust built up.
He funneled all the sucked-up plant energy into body hardening and boosting.
No clue how it worked, but it'd been that way since awakening day one, so whatever.
'Uwaaak, my succulent—!! You repay kindness with enmity, you fuck?! Die!'
'That looks tasty... KYAAAH, you psycho! That's the spot that doesn't need torture treatment--!!'
The ability that'd first used the sadistic doc's pet plant—fresh meat bubbling in his veins amid agony—as its guinea pig.
Now, through the natural process honed over time, it flooded his body full.
"Huuuuaat—"
His gritted-teeth grunt was drowned by the faster haymaker punch rocketing out.
PAAANG--!!
The kiap a human could muster got buried in the shockwave smashing straight through the sound barrier.
The anti-slip gloves were long shredded to rubber scraps fluttering in the air by acceleration alone.
Heartbreaking to see pricey gloves—scraped from his shitty salary—fly off like trash, but the monsters wouldn't know.
PFEEEUCK---!!
At least the monster eating this punch head-on wouldn't look pretty either, rubber bits or no.
Even blocking with both arms looked iffy for a corpse; this fist's destination was prime real estate—human terms, the solar plexus.
Before the fist even landed, the energy aura cloaking it post-hardening shoved back.
If you could've seen the monster's flesh bulge out the exact opposite of the caved-in chest with naked eyes,
SPLOOOSH---!!
That observation spot was still a kill zone.
Organs and bones on proud display turned the monster's shotgun guts—shrapnel hail—into a bonus for the rear pack.
The shredded "former monster" chunks slammed into softer spots on their buddies at full burst speed, reactions too slow.
KRUEEEENG---!!
Secondary victims behind the primary instant-kill clutched shrapnel holes and dropped.
The lucky ones with limbs intact spun to flee, thanks to the front-row meat shields...
"Where you goin', you fucks? Still a few left."
Kim Chomo's payback—guaranteed infirmary revisit from ability rebound if he headed back now—was just kicking off.
Soon, the forest fell silent, no more monster screams.
The bio-fertilizer—generous piles like payback for the drained nutrients—left behind as the young man vanished.
Slurp slurp...
Thirsty soil, grass, trees sucked up the pooled fluids desperately.
Not even a year since the gates opened, that ecosystem was still unknown territory.
At least till sucked dry; the recovering copse rustled leaves with a shhh.
"Ughhh... I'm dyin'..."
Post-fight, Kim Chomo dragged ass back spitting curses, soon sprawled in the familiar infirmary.
"Aigoo, feels like your second home now. Day before last?"
"Ack! Don't press the muscle, you quack! You call this fixing torn fibers? It's fuckin' torture!"
Payback for breaking sound barrier at the fist tip—feat no boxer champ could match—was agony city.
Of course, Kim Chomo's Plant Plunder was a massive self-heal booster too.
"...Slurp."
Sure, he could suck nearby plants like glucose IVs or candy for recovery, but...
"Don't look at my succulent No. 2 like that. I won't hesitate, you fuck?!"
Smack!
"Just take a bit from the overflowing arm part... Ack! It hurts—!!"
Trees enough for a forest? Flattened long ago under container barracks.
Grass near base? Sucked dry every op for his tonics.
Even if gates were warmer, it was winter now!
"Aish, really. So stingy... Humans first, right? Hippocrates would click his tongue."
What choice? Drool over the unit's sole plant.
Full-body soreness plus partial tears patient vs. torture-tech doc? Winner obvious.
Tap, tap...
"Lie down now, or I'll make you a cripple."
Dunno where he scavenged it, but swinging a hefty golf club—2"practice tool"—was no joke.
"...Aigoo, of course. Why would I buck Captain? Chain of command... ha... haha."
God's word from the doc? Obey meekly.
Screeech...
Container-stacked or not, windows for sun; truck brakes outside.
"Huh? Golden chariot's here. No trouble—lie down, watch TV. Outta here!"
"Hey, grab me some ramen too... You fuck—!! Did you hear me?!"
Doc bailed to nuke frozen food over field slop; Kim stared blankly.
Beep!
"If he doesn't bring shit back till I wake, I'll vent on that succulent arm."
Thud!
Poor guy's consciousness sank into sleep with the news drone.
The longer the gate crisis dragged, the more people suffered.
Administrative capacity crumbling proportional to unsolved issues beyond old laws!
Even cramped Korea's gov was grinding resources thin to hold on.
"Our country's fucked, this ain't a nation... Huh?"
Whining personal woes needs big tragedy for legitimacy.
"""You fucks, we got more gates per capita and less pop density—!! Fat cats, really!"""
Overall wounds? Bike scrape level.
Like moaning "I'm suffering" at a funeral.
For nations flipped on motorcycles with full pubes out,
'What kinda assholes...'
Bigger landmass = bigger troubles overflowing!
Countless near-paralyzed states; Korea's paradise!
"Grandson said, ten-to-one? Beat 'em! Crush!"
"India's got no guns shortage, people? Send 'em with tandori skewers!"
Yeah, vast land + pop overflow like China, India could hang on.
But ultra-vast empty pops?
"Fuck! Hold! Rear breached, country's done!!"
"Shit, should've imported more immigrants!"
#4 landmass Canada: pop-shriveled, lost all but US-border cities in humiliation.
"""Shut our bitching, handle them first!"""
War-happy cold nations truce-d desperately vs. third-force flood.
"Scrap White Tiger policy, simplify immigration! Just save us!!"
"Nah, not goin'. Obvious X-trap, why?"
Desert > people Australia: walls up, clinging to coasts.
"Soccer rejects now defense too? Sign quick, Argentina."
"Messi... below... Pelé... sob!"
"Yeah, no more World Cups? You're stuck forever. Play nice!"
Brazil's 200M+ bailout left Argentina clutching sorer hearts than bankrupt economy.
Survivors no problem-free.
India/China fed cities via human grinder success.
"...Did I hear wrong? This unprecedented crisis, what?"
"Intellectuals/youth mass-exiting borders! Over 100K already!"
Life-trading era, patriotism marketing long dead.
Fast info swap butterfly effect from young.
"...Kuh, you madmen!! Traitors! Drag 'em back on sight!!"
Minimal patriotism? Only if "nation won't ditch me."
Not born from monster-bait shield threats.
Elites with assets? Maybe heartfelt.
"Fuck, nation can't issue proper gear, this right?"
"Rich countries same grind? Way better life."
Visible classes still active, no freedom tiers? Luxury.
Gate-sucked surveillance society energy drain + border zones can't stem outflow sans extra funds.
Internal collapse race vs. monster-clear + gate-shut sustain?
"...My... my dictatorship...!! My eternal power dream...!!"
Perpetual rulers' difficulty spiked.
Even heir-success yellow saplings among 'em.
Food prices soaring, resources worse; unrest + open-admin monster invasions.
That puppet regime north of fun Korea reel-time entertained.
Scraped-knee Korea gov got desperate NK beggars.
Dissatisfied illegal gov still yelling "Business as usual!"
Waiting eternal no-reply skies.
Beep!
"Hey, wake up! Got ramen n' some frozen."
"Kya, loyalty king? Doc Jeong. No one tops ya! True man's man!"
"...Aish, how long since your cursing ass? Face unchanged, bootlick mode."
In hellish Earth, decent-country squad youth—right arm slung—shoved chicken in nonstop.
"Ah, ramen too! Don't end with frozen first! Real talk!"
"Hehe, discharge soon! Civilian life, won't taste this!"
Both dreaming impossible dreams alike.
But dreaming's free anywhere, right?