Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

The opposing group numbered around 50.

A large number, but completely disorganized.

They hadn’t received any training, had no discipline.

All they did was scream loudly and charge around in a frenzy.

Some looked like they were high—excessively excited, almost unnaturally so.

Their equipment was even worse. Most carried North Korean rifles, with one or two holding either domestic or American-made firearms.

Facing those 50, four Hunters lined up along the outer wall at regular intervals.

The wind was calm and visibility was clear.

The 10 a.m. sun shone down on everything without condition.

Clack!

Clack!

Each of us loaded our weapons and waited for the enemy to appear.

A one-sided slaughter was expected.

Vroooooom----

Still, they were human. They weren’t going to walk straight into death like NPCs in a game.

One vehicle charged toward us at full speed.

Looked like an IED setup.

They had bolted armor plates onto the engine block, likely conscious of being shot at.

“I’ll take the front left wheel.”

“Then I’ll get the back.”

We’re Hunters.

Not professional soldiers, but trained to deliver the most precise shots in a split second.

Bang! Bang!

With two shots, the vehicle’s left wheels burst apart.

Screeeeeeeeeeech—

The car, with a broken axle, wobbled on the incline and uneven ground before spinning out in a 180-degree turn and crashing into rocks and trees.

Vroooooom——

Even then, the wheels kept spinning furiously, the accelerator apparently locked in place.

We opened fire.

KABOOOOM!

A spectacular explosion went off right in front of the wall.

It shook the ground with a deafening blast.

“Skelton, you okay?”

Rebecca called from the rear, where she was waiting with the reserves.

“No problem.”

I kept my rifle aimed downhill.

Behind a huddle of battered vehicles, I could see the raiders hesitating, peeking out.

I switched the frequency on the K-walkie-talkie to public and addressed them.

“I don’t know why you’re attacking us, but you should back off while you still can.”

Whether a battle is won or lost, there’s always a cost.

Even if we kill them all, corpses remain.

Cleaning those up is exhausting, unpleasant, and bad for your mental health.

You can make prisoners do it, but handling prisoners is a hassle in itself.

If negotiation is possible, it’s better to go that route.

They didn’t reply.

Soon, around thirty of them began advancing.

They ducked, sprinted, crawled—trying to act tactical, but to people watching from higher ground, they were just slow-moving targets.

“Once they pass that white-painted rock, we open fire.”

I always paid close attention to territorial defense, so naturally I had prepared for this type of combat.

Using terrain features as range markers is a classic tactic, even older than the Middle Ages.

We marked various distance points on granite boulders along the ridge with different colors of paint.

The white-painted rock I just mentioned is exactly 400 meters from the wall.

A considerable distance, but still within range for us to land meaningful hits.

For those poorly trained raiders, though, their bullets won’t reach us.

Farther in, there’s a blue-painted rock, and within 100 meters, we’ve piled up a heap of scrap to act as a final marker.

Naturally, we’ve modified the access routes—cleared away any terrain or objects they could use as cover.

Even the painted rocks are less than 30cm high—like low platforms.

Coming up this path without preparation, against four Hunters trained at the academy, is a stupid move.

Bang!

Bang Jae-hyuk’s rifle fired first.

“Aaaagh!”

With a scream, one man collapsed, blood spraying.

Over 450 meters away, beyond the white rock.

Bang Jae-hyuk glanced over and shrugged at me.

“That’s fair, right?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Our rifles roared.

From high ground, expert shooters firing on exposed enemies is lethal.

“Gaaah!”

“Ugh!”

With each shot, a raider’s body opened up and death followed.

Within five minutes of combat, the raiders left behind ten corpses and retreated.

Bang!

Make that eleven.

I called a ceasefire and picked up the radio.

“You going to continue?”

A short question.

“...Who are you guys?”

This time, someone responded.

Even without seeing his face, I could hear the fear in his voice.

I looked down at the raiders’ position, where they had stacked up vehicles to create a barrier.

One tall guy in what looked like a suit stood out—likely their leader.

Somehow, he had dyed his hair green. He looked no older than his early twenties.

“Answer me.”

I asked calmly.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

I’d considered all possibilities, but my outlook was optimistic.

It’s been four years since the war.

Youth is no longer a handicap.

Those four years could’ve taught someone more than forty years of ordinary life.

“...We’ll stop.”

“I’ll allow you to retrieve your dead and your gear.”

“...”

“If you don’t want to, you can just leave.”

“No, we’ll retrieve them.”

A truce was established.

Less than ten minutes had passed since the battle began.

That’s how one-sided it was.

Our units weren’t even in the same league.

The raiders began crawling forward cautiously.

Clack—

In case they tried anything, Bang Jae-hyuk and Ha Tae-hoon stayed hidden behind cover with rifles trained on them.

Men covered in tattoos and wearing bizarre outfits dragged the bodies; the women picked up the firearms.

Silence hung heavy between the ridge and the field.

About halfway through the cleanup, I initiated a radio call.

“You the ones fighting the elderly group at the care home?”

“Yes.”

The green-haired guy in the suit looked up and replied.

He seemed to have recovered from the shock but was still clearly shaken.

Losing a third of your entire force the moment the battle starts will do that.

The fact he could still keep his composure meant he wasn’t your average raider.

“What did those people say to make you come here?”

Just as he was about to answer—

Static buzzed, and a third party broke into the channel.

“We didn’t say anything.”

It was that old man again.

I saw Cheon Young-jae’s eyes dart back and forth.

“I said we didn’t say anything. Those kids just went over there on their own.”

I ignored him.

Instead, I locked eyes with green-hair.

“We...”

He started to speak.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

An absolutely childish interruption cut him off.

Cheon Young-jae let out a sigh.

“Let’s go clean them out tonight.”

He climbed down from the wall.

“They’re not even human anymore. Don’t leave a single one alive.”

I agreed that something needed to be done about those old men.

But—

“AAAAAAH! AAH! AAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Can a human really become that grotesque?

Still, the green-haired guy had guts.

When his comm was jammed, he threw down the radio, squared his shoulders, and walked up to us himself.

From atop the wall, I looked down as he approached.

When we were close enough to see each other’s eyes, he raised his voice.

“Hey!”

I nodded.

If the radio’s no good, then shouting will do.

Meanwhile, the old man up on that mountain kept doing incomprehensible things.

“AAAAAHHH! AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Dementia, maybe?

The opponent came unarmed. There were no visible threats in the line of fire, and above all, Cheon Young-jae confirmed through his Authority that there were no immediate dangers nearby.

I set down my rifle and descended the outer wall to meet the green-haired guy.

We faced each other directly.

“Why did you attack us?”

“I heard there were a lot of supplies here. That there were only a few men, and not many in number.”

“We don’t know anything about those old people. We just know they live there. We've never traded with them or communicated with them.”

Just then, someone called out from the top of the wall.

“You got played.”

It was Cheon Young-jae.

“You got played by those old fucks.”

The green-haired guy’s face twisted with anger.

I looked at Cheon Young-jae.

It was a warning glance.

He shut his mouth, but the gleam in his eyes still burned with intent to kill.

We'd have to discuss this matter later.

I turned back to green-hair and asked,

“What happened?”

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a tone laced with regret and bitterness, explaining his side of the story.

“...Those old people—they actually saved my life.”

He’d known the elderly living on the mountain for quite some time.

“I was a street beggar.”

“Street beggar?”

“Yeah. Thanks to them, I survived. They were frustrating as hell to deal with, but not completely bad people. Still... you know how relationships get when they keep rubbing the wrong way. If you don’t keep them greased, they grind down.”

The old folks had medicine. The green-haired guy had labor.

In the fall, he’d help with farming and chopping wood. In return, the elders provided medicine.

It had been a mutual arrangement.

But over time, dissatisfaction on both sides grew, and eventually, it led to conflict.

While the drawn-out fight continued, the elderly offered him some tempting information.

That there was a nearby group hoarding food, alcohol, medicine, and fuel.

“They even showed me pictures.”

That’s what led them to fight us.

“...”

I thought it over.

Should I kill all of them—or just let them go?

There were too many to kill.

And these people... they had nothing.

Their North Korean knockoff rifles were junk, and the ammo wasn’t even factory-made—it was homemade.

Their vehicles were barely moving wrecks.

Maybe the only things worth selling were a few young women, but there was a risk of STDs, and we don’t deal in human trafficking.

More importantly, my territory had grown too large to stay fully secret.

There’s no telling when someone else like this will come sniffing around again.

Could be tonight. Could be in a few days.

If they’ve lost their will to fight and understand the difference in power, it might be best to just send them away.

There’s no need to corner a rat.

After collecting their dead and weapons, the raiders left toward the south.

One problem resolved.

But another remained.

Clack—

“Well, now we finish the rest.”

Cheon Young-jae looked ready to go kill the old people on his own.

He stared straight at me.

“What do you think, senior?”

I nodded.

“Of course we need to retaliate.”

There will be blood.

This isn’t about right or wrong.

It’s like plugging numbers into a function: you get a result.

They input death.

So we’ll output death.

They crossed the line.

*

Before the battle, Ha Tae-hoon shared a bit of the past.

From the look on his face, it didn’t seem like something he cared too much about hiding.

“Before Yeong-jae came to us, he was at a refugee camp at the far end of Gaepo. You can probably guess, but that was where all the rich and influential evacuees gathered. When I asked him why he went there, he said he hated the well-off. That he wanted to see the rich assholes crash and burn after the war.”

Ha Tae-hoon himself came from a rich family.

“...He led fifty people out of there. I heard he was headed somewhere in Chungcheong-do, but he came back alone.”

“Alone?”

“Survived on his own. Lost the vehicles, the gear, his whole team.”

Ha Tae-hoon gave a dry laugh.

“Wouldn’t that make him the ultimate ace?”

The word “ace” felt like it carried some sarcasm.

An ace who wipes out both allies and enemies alike.

A candidate for a dramatic ending in a blaze of fire.

Anyway, after that incident, Yeong-jae fell out of favor with the Pioneer Corps and ran to where Ha Tae-hoon was—but that’s a story for another time.

Crunch— crunch—

Time: 10:20 p.m.

We climbed a pitch-dark mountain trail, using only the moonlight filtering between the trees to guide us.

Two operatives: me and Cheon Young-jae.

We could’ve brought Ha Tae-hoon, but I left him on watch in case the raiders came back.

We were aiming for a ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) perfect ambush. No drones. No vehicles.

A round trip of 20 km, but manageable. We knew the terrain well.

The greatest threat was mutations, but Cheon Young-jae’s detection ability worked well even against them, reducing variables.

Just as I started to feel winded, the shadow of the eerie care home appeared in the pale light.

“Three patrols.”

Staring into the darkness with eyes faintly glowing, Cheon Young-jae spoke in a hushed voice.

“We’ll need to wait a bit.”

Using guns would be the absolute last resort.

We waited quietly, watching for an opportunity.

Once the sun goes down, the earth cools rapidly.

It wasn’t cold enough to need winter gear, but the temperature drop made my body shrink inward.

“Sorry.”

Maybe it was the chill. Maybe the adrenaline in his body had finally worn off.

Cheon Young-jae suddenly apologized.

“I got too worked up the past few days.”

“You had a reason?”

Might as well ask now.

Being ex-Pioneer Corps is hardly something to brag about.

“People say everyone gets one or two chances in life, right?”

With glowing eyes fixed beyond the darkness, he spoke.

“Anyway, those bastards up there. They’re pretty tense.”

No surprise.

They had a heavy fight last night, and we have a score to settle.

I’d be on high alert too if I were them.

As we waited, Cheon Young-jae let out a long sigh.

“...The Pioneer Corps felt like one of those chances to me.”

“The Corps?”

I was a little surprised.

Didn’t expect him to say that himself.

But if even the cautious Ha Tae-hoon had mentioned it, it couldn’t be that big a secret.

Cheon Young-jae’s gaze drifted off into empty space—as if he were staring back into the past.

“There was this old man at the shelter. Big guy, booming voice. Even wearing ragged clothes, he had this aura of wealth.”

A sneeze rang out from above.

Loud and obnoxious.

Ignoring the nose blowing in the background, Cheon Young-jae continued reminiscing.

“He was supposedly a near-billionaire. What was it? In the ‘1 to 3 Trillion Won Club’?”

“A rich guy, huh.”

“His catchphrase was that he had a hidden bunker. Said he got caught out here because the war started faster than he expected, so he couldn’t get into it in time.”

The story goes back to the chaos at the very start of the war.