My mentor, Jang Ki-young.
He’s a complicated figure.
I won’t deny that I was his most favored student.
Even so, I can’t see him in a wholly positive light.
And there’s a reason for that.
Jang Ki-young is not someone you can easily like.
He bragged that he knew more about monsters than anyone else in the world, but with each encounter, it became painfully clear just how many lies he had told.
His career was built on half lies and half delusions.
Standing on a foundation of deceit, Jang Ki-young demanded that we bring his delusions into reality.
If we realized his fantasies well, we were considered good students; if not, we were bad ones. The blatant favoritism he showed was harsh and unmistakable.
And yet, I can’t bring myself to completely despise him. At the very least, his hatred for monsters was genuine.
It was also true that he tried to treat his favored students well.
Jang Ki-young had a daughter, and coincidentally, her birthday was the same as Kim Daram’s.
He ignored his daughter’s birthday and celebrated Kim Daram’s instead.
He would gather orphans like me, cut a modest cake, and fill the void left by absent parents.
“Like killing a monster!”
I still can’t forget how he stood in front of a humble cake and sliced it cleanly with a bread knife, shouting those words to a group of young students.
When he sent me a notebook along with a white sheet, I didn’t take his words at face value.
The white sheet itself was intriguing, but I dismissed it as just another one of his nonsensical theories.
Yet now, standing before me is something eerily similar to Jang Ki-young’s hypothesis.
He is a gang leader.
For some reason, he’s locked his predecessor inside a cylinder.
“Hello?”
This King sent a woman to me.
A woman wearing a rabbit mask.
She dragged a cart filled with alcohol and food.
Glancing at the food on the cart, I addressed the rabbit mask.
“Sorry, I’m not particularly interested in women. Could you just leave the food and go?”
“Why?”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I stared at her blankly with an expressionless face.
The rabbit mask removed her disguise.
She was undoubtedly beautiful.
Yet my gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.
The rabbit mask pursed her lips and muttered something under her breath—likely a curse—before turning away.
“But I have to stay here tonight. Otherwise, the King will get angry.”
She looked back at me.
“If you want to see me die, go ahead and kick me out.”
“...Sleep on the floor, then. And keep quiet. Don’t snore.”
“I don’t know!”
The rabbit mask sat down on the floor with a defeated expression.
She looked pitiful, but there was no need to concern myself with her.
This is a danger zone.
And in a danger zone, you must always be cautious.
Of course, the most dangerous thing in a danger zone is people.
Jang Ki-young taught me that.
And that lesson still holds true.
In fact, thinking back, quite a few of Jang Ki-young’s lessons were accurate.
Tactics for dealing with people, measures for handling civilians...
When it came to things unrelated to monsters, he was mostly correct.
In short, Jang Ki-young was good at teaching everything except monsters.
His life lessons, in particular, were oddly unique, even now.
“Be wary of women. No matter how much love is glorified, in the end, all that remains are fleeting memories and a child. Ultimately, we live in the present. Your sense of duty and hatred etched deep in your hearts will know what kind of reality you truly desire.”
A night of uncomfortable coexistence passed.
At around 4 a.m., the rabbit mask silently opened the door and left the room.
Perhaps thinking I was asleep, she glared at me coldly as she left, muttering under her breath, “You unlucky bastard.”
By morning, another person in a mascot costume brought breakfast.
Steam rose from the food.
Rice.
How long had it been since I last had rice?
I took a spoonful.
This wasn’t the stale, old rice I used to eat.
It must have been harvested last year—fresh and fragrant.
There were side dishes too, but I focused on devouring the rice, shoveling it into my mouth like a man possessed.
There was also a glass of liquor, but I didn’t touch it.
“Did you have a steamy night?”
King was waiting for me.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t hiding his face.
He wasn’t a zombie but a human.
Sharp yet composed, his features exuded a calm and dignified demeanor.
He looked about my age.
Surrounded by a group of intimidating gangsters, King calmly pulled out a gas mask and put it on in front of me.
What kind of performance was this?
As I silently watched, he lightly patted my shoulder.
“Skelton. I’ll personally take you there.”
“What?”
“We’re forum buddies, aren’t we?”
*
The armored vehicle rolled through the city streets.
Beyond the bulletproof windows, I saw gaunt figures, their faces hollow, trudging along in groups of ten or twenty, heading somewhere in silence.
“What are they doing?”
Inside the vehicle, it was just me, King, and the driver.
Two escort vehicles, a jeep and an SUV, followed behind us, but inside the armored car, there were only the three of us.
Even the driver seemed deaf.
King typed commands into a tablet, and the driver would wordlessly nod in response.
“It’s work time,” King said, removing his gas mask.
I studied his face.
Still human.
But in less than an hour, his face had visibly aged.
The zombie-like stench of his decaying flesh—like dried fish—was even more pungent in the confined space of the armored vehicle.
Whether or not he noticed my unease, King smiled faintly, the wrinkles around his mouth deepening.
“Outsiders call our city a place of gangsters, raiders, and thugs, but it’s not that bad. We have our own hierarchy, and everyone works according to their rank. It’s still a place where people live.”
King gestured toward an old man and a woman outside.
“They’re laborers.”
“Laborers? Like slaves?”
“You could say that.”
“They all look pretty old.”
“Younger ones have trouble facing reality and usually end up finding something else to do. It’s a transitional phase. Once the city grows and the system solidifies, it’ll change.”
King chuckled lightly.
A gang of raiders on motorcycles and open-top trucks passed by outside.
Noticing King in our vehicle, they bowed their heads respectfully—an uncharacteristically polite gesture for people like them.
“They’re warriors,” King explained. “They roam the dangerous corners of the Korean Peninsula, gathering resources and food. Sometimes they raid others, too.”
“It’s like a medieval caste system,” I said.
King smirked wryly.
“It wasn’t meant to be like this from the start.”
The vehicle jostled slightly as it rolled over a speed bump at the city’s entrance.
Soon, we emerged from the city, flanked by crumbling buildings that served as walls.
“I brought this city to where it is now, but the foundation was laid by my predecessor.”
King gazed into the distance, a peculiar smile playing on his lips.
“My predecessor was an idealist. He dreamed of building a democratic and equal community. No matter how hard and chaotic the world became, he believed we were still members of a democratic society. He thought we could create a second Korea from the ruins if we had the means.”
The only thing I knew about King’s predecessor was that he was an Awakened and was now locked inside a cylindrical chamber in King’s office.
It looked like abuse, plain and simple. Yet, as King spoke of his predecessor, his eyes showed not contempt or hatred, but a faint glimmer of admiration and longing.
“But my predecessor didn’t realize just how many scumbags there are in this world. In the end, it was only after he’d been beaten half to death by those bastards that he understood. In this dog-eat-dog world, only dog-eat-dog rules work. So, my predecessor abandoned votes and debates and built this city with clubs and guns.”
King knocked twice on the driver’s seat. The driver turned to look back and stopped the vehicle.
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With a few hand gestures and mouthed words, King directed the driver to turn the vehicle ninety degrees.
King looked out the window.
The small bulletproof window framed the city of Sejong, capturing it like a painting.
“I inherited this city. And it will grow even larger.”
There was something in King’s expression as he gazed at the city—a quality I hadn’t expected.
Pride.
“Give it another ten years—no, just five—and everyone will know. The most outstanding city on the Korean Peninsula will be this one.”
Watching King look at the city with nostalgic eyes, I reconsidered my opinion of him.
This man wasn’t just a typical gangster boss or gang leader.
In some ways, he might be the most pragmatic pioneer of all.
“But to get there...”
The armored vehicle came to a halt.
Before us stood another ruin, its pale grayness looming like a ghost.
We disembarked, taking in the eerie branches twisting at right angles toward the sky.
Soldiers armed with firearms emerged from the vehicles that had been following us.
Hands in his pockets, King looked up at the ashen expanse.
Thud!
A shockwave rippled from his body.
Level 5 or higher Awakened.
A powerhouse.
King turned to me, the strange resonance of the shockwave lingering in the air.
“A city needs a king.”
From behind him, I could feel the gazes of the soldiers who had accompanied us, each one filled with a mixture of fear and reverence as they looked at King.
*
The compartment revealed a mountain of weapons stacked within.
“Pick your poison,” King said.
Even through the gas mask, I could sense his interest as he watched me deliberate.
Among the choices, I selected the weapon I had relied on most during my active duty as a hunter.
The Mk 7 Harpoonizer.
A hybrid propulsion rocket weapon developed in North America.
Its mechanics weren’t all that different from an RPG, but it used a mixed-reactant fuel designed to detonate only when combined, specifically to counter monsters with explosive capabilities. A simple yet effective design.
“Interesting,” King said, stepping closer.
“They say it’s a tough weapon to handle. No electronic guidance system, single shot only. If you miss, that’s it, isn’t it?”
His observation hit the nail on the head—the Harpoonizer’s traditional weak points.
It was undeniably difficult to use, and one miss could spell disaster.
But I had never missed with my Harpoonizer. Not once.
As I prepared the weapon, I glanced at the grayish wasteland ahead.
A deathly stillness lingered in the air, an oppressive silence that gnawed at the soul.
Before the operation began, I asked for some information: the type of monsters inside, the timing of the erosion, and the layout of the terrain.
“There are creatures that look like spiders crawling around. They’ve turned the interior into a maze.”
“Spider types,” I muttered.
“The area’s been eroded since the early days of the war, so it’s been over three years now.”
“Turn on your phone’s AirDrop. I’ll send you the files directly,” King said, efficiently providing what I needed.
This wasn’t going to be easy. Objectively speaking, this place was far more dangerous than King’s city.
A spider-type nest cultivated for three years... My records from active duty didn’t have data on anything like that.
I had to assume I’d be walking into an enemy stronghold on all sides.
Small, infiltration-type monsters were known to endlessly modify their nests into impenetrable fortresses the longer they stayed in one place.
Even after just a year, such a base could be deemed unassailable. Three years? It was likely a fortress of nightmares.
But that wasn’t the only problem.
“There’s also a chance there’s more than one monster,” King added.
“What?”
“I’ve heard reports of something other than the big spider.”
“Are you sure?”
Small infiltration-types were solely focused on spreading the rift and turning their surroundings into erosion zones. They didn’t care about wiping out humanity or causing the fall of nations.
They simply protected the areas they had turned gray, showing no interest in anything beyond that.
Another monster within a small-type’s territory? It was unheard of.
It went against everything I knew.
“When I was on good terms with the Legion faction last year, they sent hunters my way. Some of them were worse off than drug addicts,” King said.
“The Many Returning to the Source Sect?”
“Being an ex-hunter, you’re quick on the uptake.”
“Why did they come?”
“I asked them to. Having something like this next to my city isn’t exactly aesthetically pleasing, is it?”
It wasn’t just about aesthetics; it was a matter of survival for the city.
Considering King’s attachment to his city, teaming up with the Legion faction wasn’t entirely out of the question.
“I heard the Legion faction had revived a group of hunters, so I reached out. They sent over their best hunters and a few fanatics on a helicopter.”
“What kind of hunters? Any women among them?”
“No women. Why? Got someone in mind?”
“No, just wondering if I’d recognize anyone.”
“They claimed to be the best, but they didn’t last a day before running back. They abandoned the fanatics entirely—didn’t even bother to look back. But before they got on the helicopter, they mentioned seeing another creature in there.”
“What type?”
“They didn’t specify, but they said it was mid-sized.”
“Mid-sized?”
I immediately rejected the idea.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
The greatest enemy of monsters wasn’t humans but Earth itself.
All monsters eventually disappeared upon arriving on Earth due to unknown factors.
Only infiltration-types could resist Earth’s environment for an extended period, and even they would perish if they failed to create erosion zones quickly enough.
No mid-sized infiltration-type had ever been documented.
If one did exist, it would change everything.
The mere thought of it was horrifying.
Mid-sized monsters were exclusively built for combat, designed to crush human armies with devastating efficiency.
Living tanks, so to speak.
If such creatures roamed like small-types, humanity might not have survived long enough to declare war.
“Well, that’s what the Legion faction claimed. What can you do?”
King pulled his gas mask back on.
Without arming himself, he began walking toward the gray zone with a spring in his step.
“Where are you going?”
That’s no place for King.
That battlefield is mine.
It’s where I’m supposed to meet Jeon Si-hoon today and deliver the news about his father’s death.
I must have underestimated the situation.
“...Woo Min-hee said she sent someone here. An old-school hunter, apparently a skilled one.”
King turned to look at me.
“Jeon Si-hoon must have some business with them, right?”
“...”
“You can tell me the truth. Whatever you say, Jeon Si-hoon isn’t going back to Woo Min-hee anyway.”
For a fleeting moment, I considered killing King and his subordinates.
Awakened or not, King could be taken down with an axe, and the rest—though difficult—could be dealt with using a surprise attack and the terrain.
The armored vehicle posed a problem, but I had to trust in my Harpoonizer.
As I mentally mapped out the positions of his men and prepared to act, King spoke again, heading further into the gray zone.
“Come with me, Skelton.”
I silently watched his back.
Unarmed, he strolled into the gray wasteland without a single bodyguard.
“I’ve got something to say, too,” he added.
He glanced back at me, already several steps ahead.
“How about a bet? Jeon Si-hoon—let’s see who he listens to. Oh, and don’t go spilling this story online. You’re a self-proclaimed big shot, so you know what I mean, don’t you? Former badge bearer?”
“...”
I decided to postpone my judgment of King for the time being.
Releasing the handle of my axe, I followed him into the gray zone.