I made countless excuses, but deep down, my heart had always remained on the battlefield.
That was why I underwent three high-intensity psychic synchronization tests that nearly killed me.
That was why I smeared dozens of litmus strips with my saliva.
That was why I tried to take IAmJesus with me.
If I became Awakened, I could return to the battlefield.
But I didn’t.
That was why I hated Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in.
I resented them. I envied them.
They stole the battlefield from me.
I wanted them to fail.
That was the honest truth of Park Gyu.
But not anymore.
“...Senior, you haven’t lost your touch at all, huh? Even with that leg.”
When I killed the thirteenth monster, Kim Daram gave me an unexpected compliment.
I responded in kind.
“And you? Your eye’s fine, isn’t it?”
You don’t successfully intimidate thirty-two times in a row just by instinct alone.
“I’ve always been a good shot. But you—are you sure your leg’s really bad?”
“...”
It didn’t matter.
Whether she could still see perfectly or whether she really was relying on instinct.
For the first time in a long while, my body was on fire.
How long had it been?
Since I last felt this alive?
Maybe not since I last wore the armband.
...?!
Wait.
This wasn’t right.
The armband was good, but it wasn’t this good—not like the satisfaction of battle.
“Senior?”
Kim Daram tilted her head, looking at me curiously.
“Something wrong?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you don’t look so good.”
“...The armband.”
“The armband?”
“...Never mind.”
“You tired? Want to take a break?”
“No. Let’s keep going. I don’t want to lose this feeling.”
Kim Daram pointed to a massive blue building in the distance.
“This is the last one.”
Our final destination.
The National Assembly Building.
*
Maybe because it was the final target, the clearing operation wasn’t finished yet.
Bang! Bang! Tat-tat-tat-tat!
Boom!
Gunfire and explosions echoed in the distance. This was going to take a while.
Even the last time I was inside the Assembly for the Park Sang-min incident, the Spider-type monster had turned the place into a massive labyrinth.
And clearing out that kind of nest was as dangerous as fighting the main body itself.
I didn’t want to rest, but moving in during an active operation carried too high a risk of friendly fire.
We had no choice but to wait.
Even though we were both on standby, Kim Daram and I weren’t together.
I rested inside a private barrack, while she remained in the armored vehicle, not stepping out.
Others found it odd that we, a team who had been fighting in perfect sync all day, were suddenly separate.
But from our perspective, it was only natural.
We had fought together, killed together, but nothing had been resolved between us.
I had never forgiven her.
And she had never asked for forgiveness.
Circumstance had forced us to cooperate today, but once this mission was over, this brief alliance would mean nothing.
I wanted to return to the battlefield—but that didn’t mean I wanted to die a meaningless death.
I was Professor.
But I was also Skelton.
A man who valued both war and the armband.
Beep— Beep— Beep—
As I sorted my thoughts, I heard the sound of a radio.
Not mine—the soldiers’ outside.
Hunters and military personnel hurried back and forth.
Even if I didn’t want to listen, snippets of conversation forced their way into my ears.
“They say the Director is coming?”
“The Director?”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Ah, Colonel Park said to leave him alone. The Director hates unnecessary efforts made for his safety.”
As I stepped out of the tent, the door to the armored vehicle opened.
Kim Daram got out.
She had something to say.
“It’s almost done.”
Sure enough, a car had started from the Assembly and was heading straight for us.
Hunters who had been conducting clearing operations were aboard, and I spotted a familiar face among them.
“Sam!”
Song Yu-jin.
“I heard you were amazing today!”
“I didn’t do much. Just picked up the leftovers.”
It was half true.
The hard part was eating those leftovers.
Song Yu-jin beamed at me, but when she noticed Kim Daram, her expression stiffened.
“...T-Team Leader.”
“Yeah.”
Unlike Woo Min-hee, Kim Daram didn’t take joy in tormenting people.
She had stabbed me in the back, but as far as basic human decency went, she had always been leagues ahead of Woo Min-hee—even back in school.
Song Yu-jin hesitated before finally reporting in a shaky voice.
“There are people inside.”
“People?”
“Yes. Strange ones. Uh... M-Mandu Cult?”
“Manryu Gwijeongyo.”
Kim Daram turned to me.
“Cultists?”
“Troublesome.”
People who live in monster nests might as well be allies of the monsters.
Even if the monsters didn’t truly accept them, cultists who coexisted with them acted as if they were the monsters’ minions.
Monsters followed set patterns, even if those patterns were difficult.
Humans, though, were unpredictable.
Having cultists inside instantly made this mission far more difficult.
Of course, our field manual had a standard procedure for situations like this.
As I scanned the Assembly with binoculars for any sign of snipers or human presence, I casually spoke to Kim Daram.
“Let’s follow the manual.”
When hostile humans and monsters occupied the same space, the manual recommended artillery strikes.
Best-case scenario, we’d kill the monsters outright.
But the real target of the bombardment was the humans.
In China, situations like this could be handled with biochemical weapons at the discretion of the on-site commander.
The international community condemned it as inhumane, but from where I stood?
I wasn’t sure there was anything to condemn.
People who turned against their own species to side with monsters weren’t much different from the monsters themselves.
“You mean a bombardment request?”
Kim Daram asked.
“You forgot the manual?”
“Just confirming.”
She climbed back into the armored vehicle.
A few minutes later, she stepped back out.
Her expression was grim.
I waited, watching her shake her head as she approached me.
“It’s... complicated.”
“Why?”
“The higher-ups won’t allow the destruction of a symbolic landmark like the National Assembly just because the operation is difficult.”
“People could die. Isn’t protecting every soldier’s life supposed to be Legion’s motto?”
“They’re giving all sorts of excuses, but the real reason is simple.”
Kim Daram glanced around before stepping closer and lowering her voice.
“The Director is planning to give a speech there. They don’t want the building damaged any further. At the very least, they need the facade repaired by Memorial Day.”
“I see.”
I had already suspected as much, but Legion was still as frustrating as ever.
They dressed themselves up as the Republic of Korea Army, throwing around noble-sounding rhetoric, but in the end, they were just another warlord faction—one with a bit more strength and organization.
No different from King’s reign over Sejong City.
“The Director is on his way here now. Reclaiming the National Assembly has been his long-time goal.”
“No choice, then.”
I pointed at the armored vehicle.
“Let’s start before he arrives.”
“You’re pushing forward anyway?”
“I want this done before we get interrupted. But we need to be thorough. Increase the number of combatants.”
“I can deploy three more teams.”
“Have the clearing squads pinpoint the exact location of the monsters.”
Ever since the war began, I had constantly emphasized that humans were the greatest threat.
Maybe it was because I had been burned by the instability and danger that people brought on the battlefield.
Fighting monsters alone meant fewer variables.
Either it was impossibly difficult, or it was manageable.
But once humans got involved, the number of variables exploded.
That’s why reducing those variables was always the first priority.
Strike vantage points that could be used against us.
Crush potential kill zones before they can be established.
Never neglect surveillance on locations suited for ambushes or flanking maneuvers.
“Oh, and that girl, Song Yu-jin. Put her in the reserve squad.”
“She’s a sensory-type, right?”
“Yeah. If there’s someone else available, replace her.”
“Why? Because you know her?”
“No. Because I don’t trust her.”
Kim Daram called out to Song Yu-jin.
“You said you were a sensory-type?”
“Huh? Yes! I am!”
“Good. You’re joining B Squad.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
As she ran off enthusiastically, Kim Daram turned back to me.
“She’s the only sensory-type available.”
“Then we don’t have a choice.”
When trust is broken, it breeds problems.
Even just now, I briefly suspected that Kim Daram had lied about Song Yu-jin being the only one.
A meaningless suspicion, but that’s what distrust does.
You start questioning everything.
You second-guess every move.
And before long, that doubt turns into resentment.
We could work together on a single operation.
But a long-term partnership? Impossible.
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I acknowledged that fact and climbed into the armored vehicle with Kim Daram.
“...Do you remember Baek Seung-hyun?”
I stared out the window as I spoke.
“Baek Seung-hyun?”
Kim Daram feigned ignorance. Whether she had truly forgotten or was just pretending, I wasn’t sure.
“The freelancer hunter, one year ahead of us.”
“Oh, that guy? Now I remember.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“In Incheon?”
“He’s in China.”
“...China?”
For once, Kim Daram’s expression broke.
Baek Seung-hyun wasn’t the type to just leave.
“He boarded the evacuation fleet.”
“First wave? Or second?”
“Second.”
“The first was declared a total loss. The second wasn’t much better.”
“Some people survived.”
“And Baek Seung-hyun is one of them?”
“Yeah.”
As the National Assembly loomed closer, I added one last thing.
“He has a kid now.”
For a moment, Kim Daram’s single eye contracted slightly.
“...He’s been fighting tooth and nail just to protect that child.”
For once, I let some weight slip into my words.
Kim Daram didn’t react.
Not even a basic fact-checking question.
She felt something.
That much was clear.
In the awkward silence, more vehicles arrived in a steady stream, heading toward the Assembly.
“Dismount! Deploy immediately!”
Hunters and soldiers in combat gear disembarked, taking their positions in perfect order.
Click—
Snipers were stationed all around.
Not for anti-monster operations.
For anti-personnel engagements.
They covered every possible exit from the Assembly ruins where a person could emerge and attack.
Bzzzzz—
Drones, the eyes of modern warfare, lifted into the sky.
Some even entered the Assembly itself.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire rang out.
“Drones Four and Seven lost.”
A bespectacled drone operator typed rapidly on a box-like computer, reporting the situation.
“The cultists are in the area marked by the clearing team.”
Kim Daram walked past me and addressed her subordinates.
“Handguns? .22 caliber?”
She narrowed her eyes at the clearing team.
“No other weapons? Any signs of Awakened?”
Kim Daram drew her pistol and turned slightly.
Coincidentally, I made the same movement.
Something had appeared in the ruins of the Assembly.
“...Zombies?”
Kim Daram slid her gun back into its holster and gestured for her subordinates to handle them.
I looked at the undead.
One was a female zombie with a sharp piece of rebar embedded in her skull.
The other was an elderly woman, her luxurious clothes now tattered and coated in dust—yet even in death, they still looked expensive.
I recognized her.
“...”
She was the mother of proportional representation lawmaker Park Sang-min, who had died in the Assembly.
She had pushed her son relentlessly, trying to shape him in her own image.
And in the end, even in death, she remained by his side.
Thud! Thud!
Two burly men—more like executioners wielding clubs closer to maces—stepped forward and crushed the zombies’ heads.
Splat.
The undead collapsed instantly.
One of the club-wielding men, barely in his ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) early twenties, flashed a grin at me.
A crude tattoo ran across his teeth.
[ LE OR DIE ]
Lie or Die.
I wasn’t sure what the phrase was supposed to mean.
But one thing was certain.
This guy...
He had Kim Pil-seong’s eyes.
Just like Kim Pil-seong, he probably believed that killing me would make my achievements and reputation his.
Legion was full of people like that.
Untrustworthy.
But at the very least, it was clear that Kim Daram was keeping them in check.
“...Let’s go.”
This would be our final hunt for the day.