The interior of the Assembly had changed beyond recognition.
The Spider-Type’s architectural instincts had fully kicked in, transforming the entire building into a labyrinth just as intricate as the one that had once imprisoned that Minotaur.
The clearing teams had used explosives and bulldozers to force open paths, but due to counterattacks from both minions and cultists, they hadn’t been able to carve out a completely secure route.
In short, we had to conduct our operation while the defensive structure built by the Spider-Type remained intact.
And to make matters worse, there were cultists inside the building.
Walking through the dim gray corridors—once adorned with luxurious carpets, now eroded into a dull white—I asked Kim Daram:
“Doesn’t your side have cultists too?”
“Yeah, we do.”
“Think they’ll get mad if we kill these ones?”
“Not really? They care more about the monsters we kill than the lives of these cultists.”
Kim Daram let out a sigh.
“This is Bang Su-byeon’s mess.”
“Bang Su-byeon?”
“That bastard came up with the idea. He figured that since a lot of Awakened were among the cultists, recruiting them would boost our forces.”
For once, her voice carried real emotion.
“...Bullshit. All he brought in were North Korean drugged-up rejects.”
Analysts often pointed to the sudden extermination of the North Korean royal family as the primary cause of the country’s collapse.
With the dynasty that had ruled with an iron grip for decades suddenly wiped out, the chain of command completely disintegrated, leading to a total breakdown.
But soldiers stationed in North Korea before the war, as well as some younger scholars, proposed a different theory.
Just like in China, cultists played a major role in North Korea’s downfall.
The monster invasion and subsequent corruption shattered the rigidly controlled society, allowing countless rebels to emerge and overthrow the state itself.
Whichever was true, one fact remained: North Korea had a massive number of cultists. And many of them had disguised themselves as ordinary refugees to slip into South Korea.
Not all refugees were dangerous. But some had defects so severe that they could never be integrated into Korean society.
“If it were up to the Director, he’d round them all up and throw them into a gas chamber.”
For someone like Kim Daram, who usually took a neutral stance, that was an extreme statement.
The cultist girl I had seen in Sejong was already far from normal.
If thousands of people like her were running rampant, it was only natural that they’d provoke hostility.
I didn’t particularly like cultists either.
Unlike Kim Daram, I wasn’t in favor of gassing them en masse, but on the battlefield, they were obstacles that needed to be removed before the monsters.
And right now, instead of heading into monster territory, we were moving straight into a cultist-controlled zone.
The team consisted of me, Kim Daram, and three nameless fighters—one of whom was carrying a flamethrower.
Outside the building, Song Yu-jin was monitoring the walls with her sensory abilities, keeping track of any human movements approaching us in real time.
“Sham! It’s all clear! They’re all in one place, yeah.”
Her chirping voice buzzed constantly through the comms.
God, this girl talked too much.
“Sham, what’s your relationship with Team Leader Kim? You’re not, like, dating her, right? ‘Cause she’s married. Gasp! Wait... is this an affair?!”
“Shut up.”
She was only being this chatty because we were on a private channel.
If this were an open frequency, Kim Daram would’ve dragged her out ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ here and made her take point.
After my scolding, her voice turned slightly sulky.
“I want to be quiet, but come on, this is the perfect time to chat! The minions are gone, and there are only people left. When else am I gonna get a one-on-one conversation with my old mentor?”
Kim Daram turned to look at me.
“What are you doing?”
“My former student seems to have something she wants to say.”
“Oh yeah? Then I’ll take point.”
One of the reasons I had liked working with Kim Daram in my active duty days was that she made things easier for people.
That hadn’t changed.
Whether she knew it or not, Song Yu-jin kept chattering away.
This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.
“Aren’t you curious about Director Woo Min-hee?”
“That is interesting.”
“...Yeah, Director Woo abandoned us, but it wasn’t her fault. We weren’t any use to her. We were just dead weight.”
“Things are that bad over there?”
“It’s hell. Literal hell. If she hadn’t lured those things north, this place would’ve turned into a goddamn monster paradise by now.”
Woo Min-hee.
For someone as free-spirited as her, it was odd that she was staying in such a dangerous place, taking on what seemed like a suicidal mission.
By now, I would’ve expected her to abandon it all and live comfortably somewhere safe.
“Oh, but Director Woo said there might be good news soon.”
“Good news?”
At that moment, Kim Daram raised her left hand—a stop signal.
She’d spotted something.
“We’ll talk later.”
I turned down the volume on my comms and focused ahead.
A barricade.
Likely one built by the cultists.
I couldn’t see anyone behind it, but it was better to be cautious.
“Song Yu-jin.”
Kim Daram spoke into the comms.
“How many ahead of us?”
“There’s no one there.”
“Send in a drone to check for explosives.”
A small recon drone buzzed past us, scanning the area beyond the barricade.
It found crude homemade bombs and flammable materials.
Kim Daram pulled out a grenade and lobbed it over.
BOOM!
“Fuse check.”
Kim Daram called out, and the drone operator replied.
“It’s disconnected.”
Kim Daram signaled her men forward.
They climbed over the barricade, secured the explosives, and gave the all-clear.
“...”
This was the difficulty of fighting humans.
Everything dragged out.
Every time a new problem arose, we had to deal with it before advancing.
We could be sloppy, sure.
But that would require more soldiers—soldiers we wouldn’t mind losing.
“Another barricade ahead.”
Yet another obstacle.
But this time, something was different.
There were people.
Not behind the barricade, but inside a doorway in front of it.
It looked like an office—no nameplate—but the door itself was gone.
The angle was nearly perpendicular to us, making it impossible to see inside.
But Song Yu-jin reported that about five cultists were inside.
Click. Click.
The fighters raised their guns, aiming at the entrance as a drone flew in.
Bang! Bang!
Gunshots rang out from inside the office, and the drone crashed to the ground after just two hits.
Definitely occupied.
Kim Daram gestured to the man with the flamethrower.
“Burn them.”
“Wait.”
I looked around.
The space was sealed off on all sides.
And then there was the barricade at the dead end.
I considered another possibility.
This was the difficulty of fighting humans.
Everything dragged out.
Every time a new problem arose, we had to deal with it before advancing.
We could be sloppy, sure.
But that would require more soldiers—soldiers we wouldn’t mind losing.
“Another barricade ahead.”
Yet another obstacle.
But this time, something was different.
There were people.
Not behind the barricade, but inside a doorway in front of it.
It looked like an office—no nameplate—but the door itself was gone.
The angle was nearly perpendicular to us, making it impossible to see inside.
Something was off.
The most likely scenario wasn’t high-powered explosives.
C4 and incendiary materials were things only a military-scale organization like Legion could procure.
A small cell of lunatics like these cultists wouldn’t have access to them.
This was something else.
It was suicide bombing.
The cultists wouldn’t hesitate to die alongside their enemies.
And if they had hidden flammable materials behind that barricade, setting it on fire would release toxic fumes.
Petrochemical waste could be found all over this ruined world.
I turned to Kim Daram.
“Remember that apartment with the golden pig statue? The one with the Maotai shop on the first floor?”
She smirked.
“Oh, that mixed-use building in Wudaokou, China?”
"It smells just like that time."
Working together for so long meant we didn’t need much effort to convince each other.
"Yeah?"
Even now, it was the same.
Kim Daram, who had subtly resisted my commands earlier, nodded and had the flamethrower pulled back.
I met her eyes and spoke calmly.
"Let’s do it like we did back then."
She nodded again, turned toward the door, and raised her voice in a clear, ringing tone.
"This is the Republic of Korea Army."
She was opening negotiations.
"We have no intention of harming you. If you lay down your weapons and surrender, we promise leniency."
Neither of us actually believed the cultists would be persuaded.
Kim Daram’s call for surrender was a deception.
Just like how we used intimidation tactics against monsters, we were using a similar bluff here.
For reference, Kim Daram spoke Chinese like a native.
I never even tried to learn the language, but from what actual Chinese people said, her Beijing accent was flawless.
Her Korean was just as clear, and her voice carried well.
More importantly, her strong vocal projection masked the sound of my approach.
"..."
I reached the doorway.
The cultists hadn't noticed yet, but I could hear them—their ragged breathing, the subtle vibrations of tense air.
Slowly, I pulled out a grenade and removed the safety pin.
One. Then another.
Holding two live grenades, I let out a deep sigh.
This wasn't really our job.
But we had done it so many times before.
A scream—much louder than before—pierced through the air.
I drew my pistol.
Boom!
The explosion.
Then, I assessed the situation.
Rushed footsteps.
Someone was charging straight at me.
And—
"Manryu!"
A frantic howl.
"Guijong!!!!"
A dark figure burst out from the doorway—a fanatic covered in bombs.
A woman. Long hair.
But in this moment, gender was irrelevant.
Her bulging eyes were filled with nothing but madness.
Bang!
I aimed at the edge of the doorway and bounced one of the grenades inside.
Bang! Tatatatatatang!
With reflexive precision, I fired a shot between the woman’s eyebrows. Her bomb-laden body collapsed forward.
Beep—Beep—Beep—
The second I spotted the explosives, more gunshots rang out.
The red indicator light on her chest began flashing.
It wasn’t over yet.
I pushed my body to full speed and sprinted toward Kim Daram.
Of course, I didn’t limp.
I was committed to my act, but I wasn’t that into roleplaying.
But—
"...?!"
Apparently, I wasn’t the only fraud here.
Kim Daram had subtly lifted her eyepatch, aiming her gun with both eyes open.
The perfectly intact eye underneath stared at me, filled with silent shock.
"..."
Without a word, we both turned and sprinted down the hallway.
BOOM!!!
An explosion rocked the space behind us, followed by thick black smoke billowing out from the barricade.
A suffocating cloud of toxic fumes spread through the Assembly.
It swallowed the corpses of the cultists.
It choked the remaining fanatics hiding in the office.
It silenced the awkward tension hanging in the hallway.
And it conveniently erased both mine and Kim Daram’s little performances.
We retreated to the entrance.
Catching our breath, we looked back at the Assembly.
Through the gaping holes in the ceiling, black smoke was curling into the sky.
"Hah."
Kim Daram smirked bitterly and adjusted her eyepatch.
Playing along, I resumed my limp.
"..."
In the uneasy silence, Song Yu-jin’s bewildered voice crackled through the comms.
"Huh?"
Then, suddenly, she spoke again—urgent this time.
"There are more people! They’re coming from the rear!"
Kim Daram snapped her head around.
"I thought no one lived here?"
A serious-looking man behind us nodded.
"According to the National Assembly’s records, as of December 31st last year, there was only one resident in Seoul."
"The guy living in that tilted apartment?"
"Yes, that’s correct."
"So that means..."
Kim Daram looked at me.
"Cultists. For whatever reason, this place is—"
"A holy site," I finished.
She nodded.
The behavior of cultists was erratic, unpredictable, and often incomprehensible.
But there were some patterns we could identify.
One of them was their obsession with sacred places.
For reasons beyond our understanding, cultists constantly sought to establish holy sites and symbols of divinity—then gathered en masse around them.
Suddenly, the comms erupted with simultaneous noise.
"This is the birthplace of the Divine Man."
A voice rang out, thick with a North Korean accent.
"Withdraw. If you do not, every last one of us will drive our bayonets into the hearts of our enemies!"
I couldn’t help but smirk.
This wasn’t worth it.
We shouldn’t do this.
And yet—
Dudududududu—
A deep, rhythmic roar filled the sky.
Like the beating of war drums.
A helicopter.
A military helicopter.
I had a pretty good idea who was inside, but just to confirm, I turned to Kim Daram.
"Who’s on that?"
She let out a heavy sigh, her expression darkening.
"...Director Kim Byung-chul."
Kim Byung-chul.
The Supreme Commander of the Unified Korean Military.
And the current ruler of Legion.