No one can beco Awakened at will.
That’s one of the few firm truths standing atop the ager knowledge we have about the Rifts.
But Jeong Dae-kyung’s words directly challenge this truth—one proven over ti through the despair of countless people.
“It’s true.”
His face brimd with conviction.
“······Is that so?”
I asked dryly.
It was deliberate.
I didn’t want to play along with this flow, and above all, I don’t trust others.
“You’re not interested?”
Especially those who try to test .
KUUUUUUUUNG—!!
A different, more ominous shearing sound rang out from above.
Loud enough to make you think the hotel was about to collapse.
Even the composed people in the bunker stirred restlessly.
I too looked up at the ceiling.
KUUUUUUNG!
Another heavy, apocalyptic thud echoed through the air.
As I glared at the bunker’s exit, a calm voice murmured faintly beside .
“Wasn’t it a wish?”
I ignored it.
There might be many reasons, but this wasn’t the ti to talk about them.
A greater, eternal task—survival—had been thrust in front of .
*
We left the bunker about an hour after the bombardnt had ended.
We could have exited sooner, but the bombardnt resud sporadically near the end, forcing a delay.
To put it plainly: the damage was minimal.
Surprisingly so.
Despite two hours of missile, rocket, and artillery attacks—including biochemical warheads—the death toll remained in the double digits.
It was hard to believe, considering this was a densely packed residential zone with at least ten thousand residents.
But there was a reason.
“We expected them to attack us at so point.”
One of Jeong Dae-kyung’s n showed a sequence of images on a tablet.
The ruined image of Tunnel City.
Yes, it was along the rail line we had traveled.
“······What are you saying?”
Jeong Dae-kyung nodded as he continued.
“That was your side’s doing. Pyo Won-sang, wasn’t it? That guy from the Jeju Committee.”
I had no reason to distrust Jeong Dae-kyung, but that didn’t an I’d nod along just because he said so.
At the very least, I hadn’t seen any signs that our train had directly attacked Tunnel City.
We’d passed over ten different tunnel cities. For his claim to hold water, we’d have had to stop the train at each one and launch a biochemical assault.
But while the train was slow, it kept moving. I never saw any mobile units disembark.
At most, a few patrol vehicles ran ahead along the tracks.
In response, Jeong Dae-kyung pulled up another screen.
“What’s this?”
A mobile unit I didn’t know existed.
Composed of multiple jeeps, light armored vehicles, and military trucks.
The photo was blurry, but the markings on the vehicles were unmistakably those of the South Korean governnt forces.
“These guys are the advance unit. They moved roughly 10 kiloters ahead of the train you were on, clearing the tracks.”
I glared at Jeong Dae-kyung.
I had a question.
The subject was sensitive, but I judged it safe to ask now.
“Wasn’t it your side that did it?”
Jeong Dae-kyung responded with a smile.
“The only people left in the provinces are the husks. Civilians, military—doesn’t matter. Even the air defense unit I briefly served with only had a couple Mistral missiles left. We were running short on rifle ammo and struggling against a single Mutation. You think we had the ans to deploy chemical weapons? We didn’t even have proper operators.”
I don’t claim certainty.
Nothing drives a person into danger faster than certainty.
But all signs pointed to Jeong Dae-kyung’s explanation aligning with reality.
“······.”
If I want the truth, I’ll have to confirm that so-called advance unit myself.
“General! They’re preparing to attack again!”
Right on cue—the enemy moved.
I turned to Jeong Dae-kyung.
“General.”
His face brightened at the title.
Maintaining a neutral expression, I continued.
“Shouldn’t we counterattack?”
“A counterattack?”
I nodded.
“I’ll help.”
“You’re going to help us, Hunter Park?”
“If they’re Pyo Won-sang’s people, they probably want dead just as much as they want you dead.”
I checked my phone again.
Still nothing.
Connection to Necropolis was barely possible, but the interference was heavy—letters garbled, signal barely holding.
Unsurprising, given that one of the “advance unit” trucks Jeong Dae-kyung had shown was equipped with ECM jamming gear.
Jeong Dae-kyung paused, then nodded.
“Very well.”
I asked for a situation report again.
They handed a photo of the opposing force.
A battle group composed of multiple vehicles.
Three jeeps, two light armored vehicles—one of them equipped with a large comms unit.
Two military trucks likely used as missile carriers, a sleek rcedes SUV serving as the command car, and an ECM truck hidden deep in the brush.
Even with a rough visual count, they had over a hundred troops. Judging by the uniforms, gear, and vehicle distribution, they were definitely regular military.
However, there was no sign of an artillery unit among them.
The shelling must’ve been carried out by a detached unit stationed elsewhere.
A soldier monitoring drones suddenly spoke up.
“General! The hostile force is preparing multiple small drones for launch.”
Sure enough, the screen showed soldiers prepping drones.
“Drones...”
If nukes changed the scale of war, drones changed its texture.
Cheap, versatile, easy to operate—drones had beco the centerpiece of modern warfare, especially on the Korean Peninsula.
Soldiers in the field now unanimously say they can’t imagine war without drones.
I myself can’t forget the puppet wars that broke out in Seoul.
“What will you do? They’re probably observing us just as much as we’re watching them.”
Jeong Dae-kyung’s subordinate spoke with a hint of negativity.
He looked around thirty, with no stars or hibiscus insignia on his rank patch—just three sevens, like a slot machine.
I didn’t know what to call him.
Since he wore no na tag, I decided to just think of him as Triple Seven.
“······Well.”
It really wasn’t an easy situation.
Drones are like that.
Easy to use—but hard to shoot down.
They’re adaptable, mass-producible, and in the hands of a top-tier operator, their combat effectiveness skyrockets permanently.
Imagine having over a ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) hundred people like Da-jeong.
No wonder the Chinese obsessed over drones right up until their collapse.
Even now, just like we’re watching them, they’ve got a high-altitude surveillance drone watching us—out of our sight range.
Triple Seven spoke while scanning the feed.
“There’s no sharp counterasure other than hitting them directly. We’ve got 105mms, but they expected our retaliation. That’s why they launched so many drones.”
As expected of soone who survived the brutal Shangri-La competition—he had real combat experience.
Triple Seven continued with certainty.
“The mont we fire our artillery, suicide drones will co rushing in from every direction. It won’t stop at just one or two guns getting wiped. All we can do is sit tight and get hamred until nightfall.”
That was the reasonable call.
But I didn’t like it.
Jeong Dae-kyung noticed my expression and spoke.
“If it’s high-altitude drones, I can shoot them down.”
That was an option.
With power exceeding most monsters, he could likely black out all drones in the area.
But I didn’t like that idea either.
“······.”
I felt suspicious eyes on .
I couldn’t read minds, but I knew what they were thinking.
He’s not even military—why’s he ddling in this?
Triple Seven and the other veteran survivors probably felt that way.
But I didn’t think I lacked experience.
I was in Beijing, during the apocalypse people called “hell on Earth.”
I was in Shandong too—a place less vast than Beijing but infinitely more brutal.
Humans may not be the declared enemy, but we fought them far more often than monsters.
Many of them were paramilitary, drone-equipped.
It wasn’t just fanatics we faced.
Fighting humans is a different ga than fighting monsters.
Against monsters, you carry out obvious actions with zero margin for error.
Against humans, you execute unpredictable actions with minimal fault.
That experience told : we can’t run a standard operation here.
I had an idea.
But before voicing it, I checked my radio and phone again.
Still dead.
Ideally, I’d contact Woo Min-hee or Cheon Young-jae—but I’d already confird that was impossible.
Then I had to go with the next best plan.
“I still think we need to counterattack.”
Their eyes pierced like they wanted to skewer .
After a heavy silence, Triple Seven spoke.
“You’re suggesting a night raid?”
Waiting for nightfall and using the cover of darkness might work.
But human thought is predictable.
If I could think of it, so could they.
Once night falls, those unidentified soldiers pounding us now will vanish.
Whether they’re Pyo Won-sang’s n or not—that’s not what matters.
What matters is they’ve got wheels and mobility.
We have to find an opening.
An opening always hides within the things people take for granted—those they believe in without doubt.
Certainty and delusion are two sides of the sa coin.
We need to flip that coin.
One thing they’re sure of—
Is that they’ve fully mapped this battlefield.
“I’m going now.”
Murmurs erupted around the room.
No ti to explain.
Sunset is near.
“Can we get one of our drones positioned overhead?”
I requested the data.
“Real-ti visuals would be best.”
The soldiers didn’t understand my thinking, but I had Jeong Dae-kyung at my side.
“What are you doing, Major Jeong? Hunter Park asked to see it.”
They complied.
With a borrowed tablet, I piloted the drone.
After a few maneuvers, I looked down at the skeptical faces.
“······I need five volunteers. I’ll lead the operation.”
No one spoke. No one raised their hand.
Once again, it was Jeong Dae-kyung who shattered the hostile silence.
He raised his hand.
“I’ll go too.”
Jeong Dae-kyung smiled gently.
“······.”
Relief and unease hit at once.
But at least for this mont, he was a reliable ally.
There are no eternal enemies or allies.
That truth must survive even if humanity perishes.
*
Middle of the day.
With the enemy’s drones clearly watching us, we left the bunker.
WUNG— WUNG—
My ears twitched with irritation.
The drone hum echoed from everywhere.
Killer drones.
The enemy must have assud the earlier bombardnt wiped us out, and sent in a wave of cleaning and recon-kill drones.
We sprinted across the empty street under the sumr sun.
WUNG— WUNG—
As we moved, the flight patterns around us shifted.
So drones drew closer, circling nearby.
“This is insane.”
One of the reluctant volunteers muttered before realizing Jeong Dae-kyung was right next to him. He slapped a hand over his mouth.
“It’s alright. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jeong Dae-kyung spoke kindly.
The man stared at him with teary eyes and a grateful expression.
Indeed, in his domain, Jeong Dae-kyung ruled like a god.
Awakened over Level 10 are treated like demigods not only in Korea.
Even in ruthlessly self-serving North Arica, their Level 10 Awakened identities are fiercely hidden. And yet, we know there are at least seven of them.
I looked at Jeong Dae-kyung.
He noticed and nodded.
Ssss—
The purifying filter in my gas mask pulled tight, an unpleasant sensation.
I ordered him to limit his power usage.
He’s our strongest ally—but also the greatest risk in a stealth operation.
If word got out that Jeong Dae-kyung had surfaced, the enemy would change tactics.
We’d lose them.
To prevent that, I had to control everything here.
WUNG— WUNG—
Drone sounds.
Close.
The sound signature was from a small type.
And small drones are infantry nightmares.
Many Korean troops had been slaughtered by Chinese killer drones.
You can hear them—but can’t see them. Even if you spot one, hitting it is a nightmare. It’s natural for individual soldiers to struggle against these weapons.
As the sound drew closer, I felt the tension in the soldiers rise.
But—
BANG!
We’re Hunters.
Trained to bring out peak combat potential in microseconds.
The drone, flying in from a blind spot over an ivy-covered wall, was shot down the instant it showed itself.
“What the hell?”
“One shot?!”
“Did you see that?”
“How the hell...?”
I felt their gazes.
They weren’t sharp or hostile anymore. And it wasn’t just because of the gas mask’s face shield.
“Advance.”
Jeong Dae-kyung followed right behind.
“Say, just hypothetically...”
He asked.
“If this whole ss was ordered by Pyo Won-sang—what would you do?”
“Dunno.”
I trailed off.
But the answer was already decided.
“······.”
Of course, I’d kill him.
It’s not about grudge or emotion.
If you draw a blade, you’d better be ready to be cut.
That’s how it works in the era of ruin.
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