A zombie's true terror erges in environnts affected by the Rift, when masses of people die simultaneously.
New York is the iconic city that fell to zombies.
After getting hit with a nuke and having half its functions crippled, Arica's chronic illness—gun violence—erupted everywhere, and those corpses beca zombies.
Those corpses turned into zombies, those zombies made more zombies, and the city reeled in the hellish chain reaction—until a conveniently-tid necromancer showed up and ended the fate of the great tropolis.
In densely populated cities that are hard to manage, it’s no exaggeration to call zombies the worst threat.
Even Seoul, which didn’t have rampant gun violence like the U.S. and had cultural homogeneity, ended up ceding several districts to zombies.
Lately, zombies are treated as the weakest of the Rift’s byproducts—mostly because there aren’t many left to die, and the roaming zombie swarms have all but vanished.
But it’s different in IAmJesus’s city.
There, savage zombies from the heyday of their era still roam with violent mobility, their ashen-white pupils flashing as they hunt for unlucky victims.
“Uuuuhhh...”
A chorus of zombie moans echoes all around.
The kind of sound you’d only hear right before a large-scale assault is echoing throughout the city—that ans this whole place is nothing more than a zombie-stoked furnace.
But they can’t see .
“Uuuuhhh...”
One zombie brushes past my collar, but it doesn’t notice .
“...”
It probably saw .
Unlike monsters, zombies are dissectible—they beca the last resort for researchers who had lost their footing, helping them vent their thodological depression.
Even Arica, the cutting edge of science, started by dissecting zombies imported from India, then those from Latin Arica, Chinese zombies sourced via Korea, and eventually even dostically produced ones—constructing sandcastle theories all the while.
According to those studies, a zombie’s body isn’t much different from when it was alive.
In other words, organs like the eyeballs still function the sa way they did in life.
In fact, a female zombie in what looks like a gym uniform—probably a school uniform substitute—is tilting her head and staring at from afar.
They see .
But—
“Uuuuuh...”
Another one brushes past .
Right.
They may see , but they don’t perceive .
They see the world the sa way monsters do.
I entered an intersection.
A foggy intersection, crowded with countless zombies.
The mist softened their grotesque appearances and signs of decay, montarily making feel like I’d stepped into a bustling prewar downtown street.
I snapped out of the illusion with a hollow chuckle and fird up a hypothesis.
In this area, machine-based reconnaissance is impossible.
Motion detectors, CCTV, sensing devices—none of them work here.
Unless you build sothing on the scale of China's old national surveillance system, there’s no way a doomsday-era group could locate an intruder among this many zombies.
Even just thinking about it logically—it's absurd to imagine a living person walking around this zombie nest.
Which ans the lower part of the city—the streets—are a safe zone for .
Or more accurately, my own personal safe zone.
The others would be based in the upper levels of abandoned buildings.
There probably aren’t many of them.
It’s not easy transporting troops through this zombie horde, and people need water and food.
Unless the operation ends in three days or less, sending in a large force without a guarantee of success is unwise.
I checked the ti.
11:25 PM.
It wasn’t a new moon, but thick clouds made the darkness even deeper.
Plop—
A droplet fell on the crown of my head.
Rain.
I’d expected it ever since I left King’s city at dawn.
Even Seoul’s weather forecast had predicted a major downpour across the central region.
That ans there's no need to waste stamina moving around.
I found a spot behind a building and took a short rest, recharging body and mind.
I’d eaten before leaving, but I topped up with so snacks.
Snack of choice: a nutrition bar that John_nenon likes.
Not as disgusting as its reputation suggests.
But is it tasty? Absolutely not.
A cheap sweetener that seems to scream “I’m sweet!” paired with an unmaskable weird flavor from the base ingredients, a crumbly texture that feels like you shouldn’t be eating it, and grit that spreads through your mouth—all of it kills your appetite.
Still, it’s nutritionally complete.
As with anything governnt-issued, it contains every essential nutrient needed to keep a human body running.
I downed it with water and climbed to the highest accessible point in the building.
And waited for the rain.
Contrary to my expectations, it didn’t start until an hour and thirty minutes later.
SSHHHHHHHHH—
I wasted that much ti.
So might say I’m being overly passive, but in my experience, conserving stamina during solo operations like this is a small but effective habit that can an the difference between life and death.
Of course, there needs to be a legitimate reason for that stamina conservation.
I covered myself with a poncho, slung my rifle upside down over my shoulder.
As the rain began, the wandering zombies started entering the buildings one by one.
Zombies hate rain too.
Their human minds are long gone, but the primal genetic instinct to avoid getting wet still drives them indoors.
SSHHHHHHH—
The downpour made the streets even more desolate.
But that’s not all.
“...”
I observe the ruined city cloaked in shadows darker than the night.
Soon, what I’d been waiting for appears.
Fire.
The opposing forces occupying the city each light a fire at their respective locations.
They’re trying to avoid detection by high-altitude drones—lighting up in shielded areas, using makeshift chimneys, and so on—but I’m in the sa city as them.
From above, the light’s hard to detect. But once you descend lower, the firelight reflected on the ceilings stands out as clearly as stage spotlights.
Five fire sources.
Each one is positioned at a major city access point.
Well, maybe that’s not all of them.
It depends on the commander’s personality.
Lighting fires in the rain isn’t necessarily foolish.
Fires offer cooking, drying wet bodies, preventing hypothermia, boosting morale—all sorts of benefits.
Besides, most of this city’s buildings were never completed.
Windows are a luxury.
You can’t avoid the rain even if you want to.
Getting soaked is one thing, but if left unchecked, that will inevitably damage the body.
Humans are built that way.
If the mission were short-term, maybe not—but on a long-term op, the commander would’ve had to weigh the options carefully.
If it were ?
I’d have lit a fire too.
This isn’t a one-off mission—it could last at least a week, maybe even a month.
Nothing’s more annoying than non-combat losses.
Their mistake was just one.
I ca.
That’s all.
I headed toward the center of the buildings with fire.
The zombies had disappeared, but the deep darkness and driving rain concealed .
Thud-thud-thud—
Raindrops carried by the wind drumd on my poncho and hood as I gauged direction.
That one’ll do.
Past a half-broken sign reading “Safety First,” stood a building.
Just barely over ten floors.
It was crawling with zombies, but from a distance, I’d spotted the stairs.
In a ruin like this, stairs are critical.
I slipped through the zombies, heading for the staircase.
Even if they can’t perceive , not just anyone can stroll between bloodthirsty zombies. But I’ve pulled off nightti strolls in silk before, and done similar stunts near Gyeongju.
“Grururur...”
I passed a horrifying zombie with an exposed jawbone and finally saw the stairs.
Zombies sotis go up stairs, but they don’t really like them.
The first floor was packed. The second had a handful. By the fourth, there were none.
I shook off the water and settled into a suitable spot, then took out my radio.
Before leaving Seoul, Seven had added a fun function to the K-WalkieTalkie.
A wiretap device.
Since it was designed by the maker of the K-WalkieTalkie, it can intercept transmissions between K-WalkieTalkies.
My version is handheld, so it can’t wiretap wide areas—only nearby signals.
Still, unencrypted radio chatter is easy to catch.
I was hoping for the forr, but ended up with the latter.
Bzzzzt—
[ Incoming short-range signal detected. ]
[ Play it back? ]
Even if it’s not what I wanted, all roads lead back to Seoul.
I plugged in my wired earpiece and began the wiretap.
“Madam Kim’s water business ain’t doing so hot these days, huh?”
“It’s the syphilis outbreak. If that were the only thing, we’d be lucky. Scabies too. One wrong move with your dick and you’re dead.”
“That quack said he’d whip up so penicillin, but he hasn’t even made a prototype?”
“If King was in his right mind, he’d have torched that bastard along with the tires by now.”
Multiple male voices.
Nothing valuable.
Just the kind of aningless banter my own team engages in sotis.
Let’s listen a bit more.
“Ah!”
A sudden shout.
I focused toward the source of the noise, rifle in hand.
“Damn centipede almost bit . Climbed up my neck and nearly reached my head.”
“Probably a centipede baby.”
“Fuck’s sake. How long are we gonna be stuck like this?”
“No kidding. Even the Seoul bastards caught the scent and showed up.”
“They won’t be able to do shit.”
“Hey. Enough with the chatter.”
“Eat a dick. Got nothing to do but shoot the shit.”
Then silence.
The rain let up a bit but didn’t stop.
The firelight still remained.
Conversation resud after a short pause.
“The guy in charge over there—heard it’s Park Gyu.”
“Wasn’t it the Skull Brigade?”
“Park Gyu probably brought the White Skull Unit with him. Now that King’s dead, he’s setting up a puppet and trying to swallow Sejong whole.”
“Fucking bastards. Wasn’t Park Gyu supposed to be so hotshot hunter?”
“Yeah, well, people change when they rise to the top.”
“Heard that guy’s a total bore.”
I {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} tilted my head.
A bore?
?
Who’s spreading slander?
What other nad figure is as ridiculously entertaining as ?
Sure, I’ve toned down the -posting lately to protect my net identity, but this kind of evaluation hurts my pride.
“By the way, what about the Zombie King?”
“No idea. The Chinese say they fed him sothing stronger than COVID.”
“Shh! Those brothers might hear you. Watch your mouth.”
“Right, right. According to the ‘da-ge’ guys, it’s not COVID but a pneumonia-based virus—super deadly but way less contagious. They call it revolutionary.”
“Think it’ll spread to Sejong?”
“If it did, we’d be dead first.”
“Anyway, the Zombie King definitely caught it. That’s why he’s holed up.”
“Hope the bastard dies already.”
The conversation went on, but I’d heard what mattered.
Zombie King. IAmJesus is sick.
And it seems to be serious.
That would explain why the zombies are out of control.
“...”
I need to gather intel more aggressively.
Shing—
I pulled out my axe and checked the blade.
Then I sheathed it again and rose to my feet.
Headed toward the nearest fire.
Rumble!
Thunder rolled above, lightning flashed.
The rain pelted my back and head with deafening noise, and the mist and darkness blurred all vision—but my senses knew exactly where I had to go.
That building. Right there.
“...”
I slid into a shadowed corner, silent.
I sensed a person.
Sure enough, a wavering mirage danced in the darkness—soone rising beside the campfire, their shifting silhouette casting variable shadows.
The firelight they’d blocked now clearly illuminated the figure I’d seen.
A sentry.
I lifted my binoculars and quietly watched him.
Male.
Wearing a tracksuit, not a uniform. Unard.
But a faint glow lingered in his eyes.
He’s Awakened.
Probably a sensory type.
Poorly trained ones can’t distinguish zombies from humans, but people like Cheon Young-jae—who refined their senses—can perceive subtle differences.
Even without that refined sensitivity, an empty street devoid of zombies is enough for a sensory type to operate effectively.
But he won’t be able to see .
He won’t be able to see .
I walked slowly, steadily, with unwavering confidence.
What I avoided wasn’t his gaze, but the light that illuminated enemy territory.
As expected of a zombie-den outpost, the building was decked with barbed wire and barricades.
A few rotting zombie corpses hung on the wire, reeking.
No visible entrance.
Completely sealed.
I took a deep breath and fixed my gaze on the zombies stuck in the wire.
I backed up slowly, judged the distance, and sprinted.
As the tilted zombie corpse lood close, I leapt into the air, stepped on its back, and vaulted over the barricade of obstacles and wire.
Then the ground rushed up like it wanted to devour .
I rolled midair using a breakfall technique I hadn’t used since school, landing smoothly.
“...”
I looked toward the stairs.
No reaction.
Just in case, I pulled out a grenade and hooked my finger on the pin while watching the stairwell.
“Haa...”
Soone groaned.
“Fucking hell.”
Bullshit.
They didn’t detect .
RUMBLE!
Thunder roared again.
Looks like luck’s on my side.
As a rule, I try to eliminate “luck” from my planning—but I’m still human.
Even I hope for good fortune.
I crouched just before the stairwell and waited for the sky to roar.
RUMBLE!
Now.
I sprang out.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
I sniped the enemies that appeared in my sight with my rifle.
As the thunder’s echo faded, another soldier by the fire turned to look.
Shing—
I threw my axe and drew my pistol in one motion, aiming at the Awakened standing on the balcony.
“Hands up.”
Thunk—
The axe landed in his skull a beat later.
His body convulsed once, then dropped—dead.
Still aiming, I approached the Awakened.
He was unard except for a dagger and didn’t resist.
I got behind him, kicked his legs out, stomped his back, holstered my pistol, and pulled out another axe.
“Where’s the Zombie King?”
The man shuddered and looked like he was about to scream.
Thunk—
I embedded the axe in the back of his head before he could.
“...”
Doesn’t matter.
From that last battle, I’m sure now.
This is my battlefield.
If luck continues, I might be able to wipe out everyone here by myself.
I hastily collected one of their radios and my axe, then headed back down the stairs.
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