Combat doesn't begin with gunfire. The eting dragged on as discussions about weapon production, intelligence gathering, and mission planning poured forth.
The military unit resembled an infantry battalion. We discussed their likely entry points, anticipated roads, surveillance using people and drones, and maps marking dangerous zombie hordes.
"We have cooperating survivors. We've distributed radios to them so we can receive news quickly."
"We'll monitor with our drones too."
"Then let's keep the intelligence and communications team here at the hospital."
The general hospital had beco the command center. The Delivery Vigilantes were assigned to transportation, scavengers handled resource supply, and productive organizations manufactured weapons.
The archers would conduct night raids, police would defend key positions, and rcenaries would handle the labor-intensive tasks.
As the eting was wrapping up, the topic of rcenaries ca up. The police squad leader stroked his shotgun and glanced at .
"The rcenaries' job is simple. Patrol the streets and set traps at designated locations."
"That's exactly what I was hoping for."
"We'll recruit people and assign them to you. We'll provide radios and such, but we can't spare weapons."
Of course not. I grinned. I had plenty of stockpiled weapons anyway. Above all, I didn't necessarily need to get weapons from them.
"We can always get weapons by killing soldiers, can't we?"
Military-grade weapons are the best, after all. Plus, I was arguing that spoils belong to those who fight for them.
The people fell silent montarily, then nodded.
"Equipnt looted through direct combat belongs to the rcenaries. If they're the ones doing the fighting."
***
Perhaps because a formidable enemy was approaching, everything moved quickly. Just one day had passed, and the alliance had already recruited rcenaries to show .
People desperate for food, those who saw combat as an opportunity, others hoping to attach themselves to the alliance—all sorts gathered at the general hospital. Even though they'd only recruited people with so connection to alliance groups, their numbers were considerable.
I looked them over carefully.
"The rumors were true. Marauders have co together to kill people."
"Every day is already a war."
"If we can just survive..."
So muttered apocalyptic theories I'd spread earlier, while others assessed the reality and made their decisions like gamblers.
'Their condition isn't great.'
Perhaps it was because I'd just seen the top-tier survivors in the alliance. I wasn't impressed. They looked physically weak from hunger, and their ntal state seed precarious.
But their desperation made them useful.
I briefly recalled my companion, Sa Gi-hyeok. I'd learned so techniques from him. Stimulate people's greed, he'd said. Once their initial suspicion is dispelled, once they're given a reason to trust, people will deceive themselves.
I also rembered the skills of Professor Kim, the master psychological manipulator.
'Since I can't win them over instantly, I'll have to work on them gradually.'
After surveying my companions nearby, I stepped forward and raised my voice.
"I'm Da-in, appointed by the alliance leadership to manage rcenaries. From now on, I'll be commanding you."
The huddled rcenaries looked at . I couldn't quite read the emotions in their eyes. Suspicion? Wariness? Hope? Jealousy?
But it didn't matter. I could gradually guide their emotions.
I drew my gun, holding it casually as I spoke.
"You've all joined because you dream of a better future. I'll be direct: spoils will be distributed fairly. As long as you survive, I'll ensure you won't have to worry about food."
"Fairly?"
A rcenary questioned with a voice full of distrust. I nodded.
"Military equipnt, food, whatever. Why beco rcenaries if we can't even get spoils?"
The rcenaries' eyes glistened—like hungry beasts. So still looked doubtful, suspecting I might pocket everything myself despite my promises.
That was sothing I'd have to prove gradually through actions.
At that point, I gestured toward Do-hyung.
"And here are your weapons. Since the alliance isn't providing any, I've purchased these myself. Please take one each."
Electric spears bought from the electricity nomads, slingshots acquired from Hope Community.
The atmosphere imdiately soured. rcenaries began complaining one after another.
"How are we supposed to fight soldiers with these?"
"Spears? We'll be turned into honeycombs before we can even stab anyone."
That wasn't quite right. The alliance actually intended to use rcenaries as trap-setters. Not for direct combat, but for other purposes.
They probably judged that providing rcenaries with enough firepower to fight and loot military equipnt would make them a future threat. In truth, just having rcenaries diligently roam the city setting traps would be enough.
But that wasn't my objective. I intended to gradually transform these rcenaries into raiders.
"Anyway, for now you'll just be setting traps, not fighting directly. Ah, right."
I pretended to flip through a notebook from my pocket—the one belonging to the paranoid man. Then I rolled my eyes, randomly selecting one of the rcenaries.
I beckoned him over, and he approached hesitantly.
"Why ?"
"Nothing special."
I put the notebook back in my pocket and aid my gun at the rcenary's head. As his eyes widened, I pulled the trigger.
Bang, the gunshot rang out, and the body with a hole in its forehead collapsed backward. I calmly waved my gun.
"Just weeding out the infiltrator. The alliance inford he was a military spy."
Actually, that was a lie. The alliance had rely warned us to be careful without providing specific information.
This was purely to instill fear. Since I couldn't win them over with just words, I'd first overwhelm them with fear, then gradually persuade them through actions.
The rcenaries closed their mouths and stared at the corpse. They swallowed their complaints and began collecting the weapons I'd provided.
Then, the police radio crackled to life.
"Da-in. Da-in."
The voice, distorted with static, almost sounded like "Die." It delivered news:
The military had begun to move.
***
The military started looting from the outskirts of the city. Without any specific route or destination, they were killing and looting any survivors they encountered wherever they found signs of human presence.
Their image had completely changed from before. The military that once approached peacefully, engaged in dialogue, and provided markets had completely transford into raiders.
Our rcenaries moved quickly, carrying various explosives on our backs.
"These aren't going to explode on us, are they?"
My companions had decided to join as rcenaries for now. Sa Gi-hyeok nervously eyed the bag on his back, and I shook my head.
"They need to be ard separately to explode."
So beca ti bombs when a digital watch alarm was set, others detonated when a lid was opened or a wire was disturbed—things like that.
I'd learned it all in a day. Surprisingly, the operation and installation thods weren't that difficult.
"But how do we set these up? We need to place them sowhere soldiers are likely to touch, make them look convincing."
"That's for us to figure out."
How to disguise them, how to set the tirs—all that was entirely up to .
Looking at it positively, it was freedom; from another perspective, it was responsibility. If I wasted bombs without killing soldiers, the bla would fall on .
I chose to focus on the freedom aspect.
'Sohow I need to kill soldiers. Get firearms first to arm the rcenaries.'
Kill soldiers and secure firearms—that was the priority. Only then could the rcenaries beco a force to be reckoned with.
Do-hyung, holding the radio and map, tilted his head in confusion. After the typhoon, both cellular and internet communications had failed. The police radios were our only ans of communication.
"We can't pin down the military's route. They seem to be just searching wherever they see people."
"There must be places they avoid."
"They do seem to avoid areas with zombie concentrations."
I grabbed the map to examine it. Do-hyung had penciled in the military's route—a jagged, irregular path. Information transmitted via radio.
One platoon was moving aggressively, looting as they went, while a weapons company ard with machine guns guarded the retreat path and base camp. Several other platoons busily transported resources back and forth.
I stared intently at the looting platoon's route. Being a raider myself, their thinking was clear to .
'They avoid zombies since there's nothing to gain from fighting them. They hunt humans to acquire resources, so they prioritize places where people might be.'
The looting platoon's seemingly random movents eventually revealed a pattern. They prioritized apartnt complexes and residential areas.
They avoided comrcial districts and large buildings where zombies tended to congregate.
'In that case...'
I pointed to a spot on the map. An exceptionally expensive apartnt complex in this city. Large and tall. Just looting the kimchi refrigerators in that complex would yield substantial resources.
"Let's go here."
The military would eventually head there. We'd get there first and set up. And maybe raid so nearby survivors while we were at it.
The rcenaries sighed when they heard the location.
"That's so far. It'll take ages to walk there."
The distance was considerable. It was already hot being sumr, and walking with heavy equipnt would be challenging.
But we had no choice. This was essentially a war for control of the city. Marching was inevitable.
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