Let pose a single question.
The General-Type.
Will killing this large-class monster that commands other monsters with intelligence put an end to the nightmare surrounding the city?
If I’m being honest, I don’t think so.
Killing that thing won’t bring about any dramatic change.
Even if the General-Type is a unique entity, it’s far more plausible that it’s just one slightly rarer card in the deck of the imasurable cosmic existence known as the Rift.
And yet, the reason we must kill the General-Type is because no other visible hope remains.
It’s now the fifth year since the war began.
Humanity is at its limit.
Not just this city.
Arica, Japan, Europe—every known human domain is collapsing in full.
The extinction I once predicted for humanity is playing out slowly, but surely.
There was a ti I had a terrifying yet romantic dream.
That I would lock myself inside my bunker and wait for the world to end—then beco the last surviving human.
I even left behind records, thinking that maybe soday, aliens or a new intelligent species could learn from them.
It was a dream—fantastical, yet delusional. But that dream belonged to another part of , to Skelton.
Professor has a different dream.
No, not a dream—an unresolved wish.
There’s a monster I’ve nad, though not officially. A monster whose na hasn’t yet been decided.
It must die.
Because its death is the one thing that only humanity can accomplish—the question we humans pose to the unknown that is the Rift.
*
All preparations are complete.
Seventeen Hunter teams—including eight Regular Awakened—have assembled, along with 31 combat vehicles, 5 attack helicopters, more than 10 large drones, and hundreds of smaller ones.
Even the Chinese military, long mocked for doing nothing but eating up resources, have equipped themselves with their own weapons and readied for battle. The U.S. military has also finished preparations for their final aerial support.
The operation is set in stone.
It cannot be reversed or undone.
While so corners of the city expressed skepticism about the mission, both Woo Min-hee and I were unwavering in our stance. And besides, this wasn’t so spur-of-the-mont operation—it had been a key agenda item in strategic discussions for a long ti. At this point, opposing it lacks any real justification.
Still, not everything is going our way.
The overall indicators across the city are flashing red.
But those aren’t factors considered in this operation.
What matters most right now is the weather.
And the forecast isn’t good.
According to the teorologist, a powerful low-pressure system is pushing north, driving away the current high-pressure system and dumping a massive amount of snow.
Even in a place as weather-fluctuating as the Korean Peninsula, the idea that rain—not snow—could fall just a few days after we were fighting off frostbite brings a hollow laugh to my lips.
Severe weather ans delays.
And that ans over 80% of our firepower—U.S. aerial support—will be grounded.
The operation’s outline is simple: reconnaissance drones and disposable scouts will survey Zone A, where the General-Type is staying. Once the monsters stationed or patrolling the city’s key points are identified, the U.S. will bomb them to drastically reduce their numbers. Then the Hunter teams, including myself, will launch a multi-directional assault to eliminate the General-Type.
The U.S. bombing isn’t an option—it’s the most critical card we have.
The Aricans claim they can still carry out limited operations even in bad weather, but I vetoed that.
We only get one shot.
Anyone who's ever fired a gun knows—a bullet is powerful enough for a child to kill a grown man in a single shot, but if it misses, it’s aningless.
No matter how many rounds you fire, if they don’t hit, it’s useless.
Back in its heyday, the U.S. could've made up for a lack of accuracy with overwhelming numbers and payload. But this isn’t that era.
Only one bombing run remains.
I want it to be as precise and devastating as possible.
Seventeen Hunter teams sounds impressive, but we’re fewer than a hundred strong.
Gone are the days like in China, when a thousand Hunters could be mobilized for a single mission.
We need to thin their numbers as much as we can in advance.
Besides, anything mid-class or above isn’t even the Hunters’ responsibility.
KUGUGUNG!
Thunder crashes.
The predicted storm has begun.
We’ve been granted a rare mont of rest, but a strange feeling settles in my chest.
It was like this on that day too.
Thunder. Lightning.
Under that flashing, dark sky, we advanced—and we failed.
But this ti, things are very different.
Back then, we had the strength to push through despite the weather. Now, if the storm continues, we can’t even begin.
Contrary to the forecast, the low-pressure system stalled, showing no sign of moving. The operation was delayed indefinitely.
Forty-eight hours have passed since the original start ti.
It’s only natural that suppressed doubts would start rising again.
Even I never believed in the General-Type omnipotence theory—why would anyone else?
But sothing even more frightening is happening—new monsters are arriving.
Our recon squad, who risked their lives near Paju, reported that a massive group of monsters has begun moving toward New Seoul.
At least 300 of them, if not more.
“We can’t wait any longer, sunbae.”
Woo Min-hee said.
“It’s ti to decide.”
Her face was uncharacteristically grim.
I turned and looked at the sky outside the window.
Cruelly, this planet seems to have no intention of giving luck to those who fight for it.
Thick clouds still covered the sky, sleet and fierce winds slamming the glass, occasionally joined by rain.
“...”
I paused.
“Sunbae.”
Woo Min-hee called again.
I exhaled a shallow sigh and answered.
“Since we’ve waited this long...”
I looked back at her.
“...let’s wait until the very edge.”
I know patience isn’t inherently a virtue.
But since we’ve co this far, I want to do this right.
Not perfectly—just under the best possible conditions.
Even if the risks increase, the expected value of success won’t. It only decreases.
The number of bombers, the quantity of bombs, the skill of the pilots—none of that changes.
Only one thing remains: the decision.
The answer is clear.
We wait.
Until the very last mont.
And then we execute.
“Calculate the estimated ti of arrival for the next wave into the operation zone.”
Even if the weather worsens, attempting the operation now is better than launching from a point of guaranteed failure.
As always, the hardest thing in the world isn’t killing monsters or closing the Rift.
It’s humans.
Humans have always been the problem.
The Rift too.
If people had co together earlier, we might have stopped all this before it spiraled out of control.
Sa now.
So-called “civilian representatives” have demanded a public hearing.
The ones who vanished during warti have now crawled out from their bunkers, feeling safe enough to play politics.
“Captain Park Gyu.”
At the center of it is a man nad Kim Su-jo.
Rumor has it he’s secretly backed by the Jeju faction.
Maybe it’s because of the resources Jeju pumped into the city, but he has overwhelming sway among the civilian committee.
Even though Woo Min-hee publicly rules with an iron fist, in the shadows, people like Kim Su-jo and the other “Jeju moles” are shaping public opinion.
Both Woo Min-hee and I are aware of these revolting tactics, but the threat at hand is too severe to spare attention.
But now that the operation is delayed again, and they’ve backed their demand with public sentint, we have no choice but to accept.
This city doesn’t belong to just us. It belongs to everyone living here.
And whatever the civilian committee is, the citizens themselves absolutely have the right to ask questions.
They fought, endured, and survived with us in the last battle.
But pure public will is easily twisted by the filthy filter of distorted representation.
“What happens if this operation—into which we’re pouring all our resources—fails?”
Kim Su-jo asks.
His intent is obvious.
Pose an unanswerable question to bring up Kang Han-min next.
The “savior” who will never help us.
That’s likely the directive Jeju gave him—to bring up Kang Han-min and block the operation.
“I heard the U.S. can only provide support once. If the bombing operation fails, what then?”
I looked at his face.
Stained with greed, arrogance, ignorance, and prejudice—and yet, within his eyes, there was certainty. That, as a fellow human, stirred disgust.
Well, even scamrs, murderers, and child abusers insist they’re right and just.
He believes he has backup.
His people.
As ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) I stay silent, their eyes shift from to Woo Min-hee.
Trying to pressure her.
She’s the one who ultimately decides this city’s fate.
But this is my fight.
My domain.
I raise my hand to stop Woo Min-hee from intervening.
The eyes shift back to .
I answer.
“You die. Or leave the city.”
Mockery, sneers, even crude curses erupt.
Amidst the murmuring, Kim Su-jo grins proudly and presses again.
“Can you take responsibility?”
I let out a slight laugh.
Kim Su-jo raises his voice.
“I asked if you can take responsibility. What’s so funny?”
“That’s not sothing you need to worry about.”
I stare calmly at him.
“If this operation fails, I’ll already be dead.”
“You dying alone won’t—”
“Watch your mouth.”
I glare at him.
For the first ti in ages, a trace of killing intent slips into my voice, freezing the air.
I’ve never once snapped at anyone in these etings before.
No need to—Woo Min-hee usually handled things.
But now, I need to make it clear.
I stare him down and say it clearly.
“You—and your people—can be replaced by anyone. But not .”
“There are plenty of Hunters.”
He pushes back, ekly emboldened by the glances of others.
I rise, closing my eyes for a mont and sighing. Then I et his gaze.
“Then let ask. Who can replace the Professor?”
“That, uh...”
He flounders, trying to glance behind him.
But soone moves faster.
Kim Daram.
She silently takes position behind , standing at ease, like she’s showing her support.
We make eye contact. She looks unbothered, then turns her piercing gaze toward the civilian committee.
It begins.
Following her, Ha Tae-hoon and Bang Jae-hyuk rise and move behind .
Ahn Seung-hwan and Lee Haru follow.
Kim Hanna and the Regular Awakened rise from their seats.
As if to show their backing.
Shim Hyeong-do stands as well.
And once he does, nearly every veteran Hunter—those once called “academy Hunters”—rises.
Kim Su-jo and his Jeju mole comrades look clearly flustered.
They must’ve tried to sway a few of the academy Hunters beforehand.
But right now, no one sides with them.
Even if they had a prior agreent, it’s hard to step forward in this atmosphere.
One thing is certain.
This small world chose —the Professor.
I look around at those rising in silence to support and nod.
“...We’ll proceed with the operation as planned. No further objections will be accepted.”
“There’s a massive number of monsters heading in from Paju.”
This ti, the voice cos from another man—not Kim Su-jo.
Who he is doesn’t matter to .
What matters is his question.
A sharp one, for soone probably bought by Jeju.
And I can’t give a clear answer either.
The reason for the delay is nothing but a vague hope that the weather might improve.
“Well...”
Still, I have to say sothing.
That’s the duty of the Chief of New Seoul’s Hunters.
But before I can speak, soone rushes into the eting room.
A woman—I know the face, though not the na. A governnt coordinator who used to handle miscellaneous duties.
“Soone from Jeju has arrived!”
Everyone stares at her.
“Soone?”
Confused by her disjointed words, she catches her breath, then announces the na that shocked her.
“Savior Na Hye-in is here!”
Na Hye-in.
Hearing that na, I recall the ssage I sent days ago.
No way—she really ca?
The woman beams.
“Savior Na Hye-in says she’ll help us!”
*
Na Hye-in arrived in New Seoul with only a few attendants.
All of them Awakened, faint light shimring in their eyes.
She went straight to Woo Min-hee.
The two spoke in private for quite a while.
Unlike my purely professional dynamic with Kim Daram, the two were close—sa gender, sa age.
Knowing Woo Min-hee, if she hadn’t liked Na Hye-in, she would’ve cut ties long ago. They must’ve gotten along quite well.
When Na Hye-in entered the eting room, the air instantly grew tense.
No surprise—she and Kang Han-min were once called the twin saviors of Korea.
“I can block all of Zone A.”
She gave a slight bow.
A faint smile followed, playful and teasing.
I could read her thoughts.
She ca because I called her.
For the first ti in a while, the emptiness in my chest filled again as I looked at the map.
Every piece was in place.
Even better than I imagined.
All that remains is to give it my all.
“...We begin the operation at 6 a.m. tomorrow.”
Operation Day
Seventeen Hunter teams, hundreds of soldiers, and tens of thousands of civilians were watching us.
I looked up at the early morning sky.
Dark as pitch, thunderclouds thickening the night’s blackness—but I saw them.
The stars, peeking between the clouds.
“...”
Our hope is like those stars.
And sure enough—
“Huh?”
“What the...?”
“I see them! The stars!”
The clouds are clearing.
For the first ti in ages, the sky over Seoul is lit with stars.
My radio crackled.
The U.S. aircraft had entered the airspace.
The sharp sound of jet engines overpowered the low thunder.
Woo Min-hee approached with a soft smile.
“The Aricans are asking if they can begin.”
I nodded, smiling back.
“Crush them.”
And the mont I finished speaking, death’s great birds roared over our heads.
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