I don't like Dies Irae.
He gathered innocent people, used them as tools, and abandoned them to die—all for a single goal.
I don’t necessarily condemn people who use others.
But a person like that will always see people as disposable, convenient tools.
And yet, for once, he said something unexpected.
"Think about it. If they were really raiders, would they have kept some creepy-looking middle-aged guy around for a year and six months? If they were going to kill him, they would've done it immediately. If they needed information, a few days of beatings would’ve been enough."
His reasoning was the same as mine.
I didn’t want to kill that family.
Or rather, I couldn't find a reason to.
That’s why, even knowing FoxGame would hate me for it, I did nothing—and left his bunker, practically kicked out.
"Besides," Dies Irae continued. "That guy—he keeps changing his story."
He pulled a blade from his waist.
Srrng—
A machete.
No, not a machete. The blade was slightly curved, its edge gleaming wickedly under the light.
A kukri.
A weapon used by the fierce mercenaries of the Himalayas.
It was also the standard close-combat weapon of many American hunters.
The shape and weight distribution gave it insane cutting power, even with its relatively short length.
Had he carried this weapon before?
I wasn’t sure.
The last time we met, it had been cold, and he’d been bundled in thick layers.
Now, he twirled the kukri effortlessly, the razor-sharp edge spinning through the air.
If he made even a single mistake, he’d lose a finger—at best.
The fact that he didn’t hesitate meant he had been using it for a long time.
As I was momentarily distracted by the blade, Dies Irae suddenly sheathed it and smirked.
"At first, he said they were old coworkers making a game together, but things got tense over creative disputes."
He paused.
"But a month ago? He claimed they tracked him down, using old company records to break in."
I frowned.
"When did he first contact you?"
"Around the time it was getting cold."
"When Monster Park’s graveyard started filling up?"
"Right before that," he said. "Before he started whining to us about how too many people were dying."
"..."
He stared at me.
"You got a similar offer, didn’t you?"
"I turned it down."
"I figured."
Dies Irae glanced back at the bunker.
"So what’s his game?"
"That’s what I don’t understand," I muttered.
FoxGame had been a good guy—at least, online.
Even with the mask of the internet, he had always seemed genuine, warm, and full of ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) character.
He had done so much for us.
None of this fit.
The image we had of him on the forums... and the reality standing before us.
"He probably just broke like everyone else," Dies Irae said.
I sighed.
Yeah.
That explanation was the most likely.
And the most fitting.
Who could remain unchanged in this hellscape?
Still—
"I have a plan," Dies Irae suddenly said.
And he looked right at me.
*
When VivaBot first contacted me, I never imagined I’d end up cooperating with Dies Irae’s plan.
And yet—
Here I was.
Step one: I return to the bunker.
"FoxGame. It’s Skelton."
I knocked.
"I left something behind. Mind opening up?"
After a moment, the bunker door opened.
FoxGame emerged, looking exhausted and vaguely irritated.
I stepped closer and whispered:
"Dies Irae is coming."
His expression froze.
"What?"
"While I distract them, they’ll sneak in. Get out of here for a bit."
"Sk-Skelton?!"
He wasn’t the owner of the bunker anymore.
He was just part of the background.
Ignoring him, I walked past and headed toward the dining area.
Only the kid was there, watching TV.
A cartoon played on the screen.
I glanced at it briefly, then asked:
"Where are your parents?"
"In the workshop," the kid said.
"Come with me for a second."
I didn’t want to do this, but I had to prepare for any possibility.
With the kid as leverage, I entered the workshop.
Only the man was there.
He looked up as if he had been expecting me.
"What is it?"
"Come with me. Quietly."
"Huh?!"
I tightened my grip on the kid’s shoulder.
The kid flinched, his face twisting in pain.
"Aaaaah!"
I gave the man a look.
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"Now."
The man took the kid from me, silent.
The woman was in the security room.
She had a rifle—but the moment she saw her husband and son being held hostage, she immediately dropped the idea of fighting back.
"You... what are you doing?" she demanded.
"That’s not my decision," I said.
I tapped the radio twice.
A moment later, two armed men entered the bunker.
The security monitors showed FoxGame standing outside—
Greeting them.
The woman gritted her teeth.
"That son of a—!!"
She turned to glare at her husband.
"I told you! We should have killed him first!"
The man said nothing.
He simply lowered his head.
A bit of my suspicion toward FoxGame cleared.
But I wasn’t the one who would judge this situation.
Dies Irae walked into the security room.
With FoxGame.
"Mom!"
The kid ran toward the woman, panicked.
Dies Irae observed the family with an icy, calculating stare.
Then, he shook his head.
ROKA_HUN and I raised our guns and escorted the family out.
As we walked, the woman shot me a look filled with hatred.
"You’re going to hell for this."
"..."
As I dragged the family through the 5-meter corridor that had impressed me so much, FoxGame followed.
"Skelton, I’m sorry. I misunderstood earlier."
"It’s fine. If anything, I should apologize for putting on an act."
"But... where are you taking them?"
"Outside. A bit away from the bunker."
"Why?"
"Having corpses nearby attracts mutations. And, well, it ruins the air and the view."
"Ah, right. Please pass this on to Dies Irae for me!"
FoxGame handed me something.
Alcohol.
Not cheap whiskey, but a rather expensive-looking bottle of wine.
The cool touch of the glass told me it had just come from a wine cellar.
"I’ll be off now. Got things to do."
"Wait, come back for dinner when you’re done! I’ll serve you the best meal!"
"Make sure to keep the bunker doors shut. I saw a mutated chicken wandering around earlier."
"Oh! That thing! Got it!"
The doors shut once more.
With that, FoxGame exited the stage.
A short distance away, Roka Hun had parked an electric truck behind a hill.
We loaded the family onto the truck bed.
The child looked like he was about to cry, but the woman kept stroking his head, soothing him.
Roka Hun took the wheel, while Dies Irae sat in the back.
I followed on my motorcycle.
After driving for a while, the truck came to a stop.
"I’m truly sorry."
A moment ago, Dies Irae had been cold and expressionless, as if you could stab him and he wouldn’t bleed.
But now, he smiled—though there was still an unsettling sharpness beneath it—as he spoke to the family.
"To get straight to the point, the man you were living with asked me to kill you. But I have no intention of accepting that request."
The couple exchanged stunned glances.
"T-Then why... why did you bring us out here?"
The woman spoke first.
It was clear she was the stronger, more decisive one in the relationship.
A bit impulsive, but her husband’s softer nature balanced it out—that balance was probably why they had survived this long.
Rushing into things wasn’t always the answer in life.
The atmosphere shifted.
Suddenly, Dies Irae threw out a question.
"If I send you back, you’re going to kill him, aren’t you?"
The couple hesitated, unable to answer right away.
"I care about him, just as I care about your lives. So I have a proposal."
"A proposal?"
"Yes. I am building a small community. Right now, it’s not much different from a bandit camp, mostly made up of men. And, well, it operates in ways that don’t quite align with your morality... but I plan to change that."
The man and woman exchanged uncertain looks.
But it was clear that Dies Irae didn’t particularly care how they felt.
"More than anything, I’ve realized that at this stage, it’s best to expand with families. Groups that survive long-term tend to grow around family units, don’t they?"
"You’re bringing this up so suddenly..."
This time, the man objected, more forcefully.
But our attention shifted elsewhere.
A large wingbeat echoed in the air.
The mutated chicken.
The same one I had seen earlier.
It flapped its wings aggressively, watching us.
For some reason, it seemed angry.
Maybe it thought we were invading its territory.
Dies Irae suddenly leapt down from the truck.
Srrrng—
A sharp, curved blade slid from his waist.
His kukri.
"What are you doing?!"
The man instinctively shielded his family.
"As they say, seeing is believing. If you want to understand what kind of person I am, I’ll show you."
He stepped forward.
Toward a creature nearly the size of an ostrich—no, bigger, more muscular, an intelligent predator.
A chicken, yes, but closer to a Cretaceous-era dinosaur than any poultry we once knew.
The mutated beast flapped its wings violently, letting out a grotesque cry.
A sound I had never heard before.
Its vocal cords must have overdeveloped, distorting its original call.
"Dies Irae."
I called out to him.
He turned back, smirking.
At that moment, I saw it.
The certainty in his eyes.
He wasn’t afraid of mutations.
With just a single kukri, Dies Irae advanced toward the beast.
The fight was over in an instant.
The enraged creature charged at insane speed, aiming its massive beak—easily the size of two shovels stacked together—at Dies Irae’s head.
But before the attack could land, Dies Irae’s kukri swung in a slightly messy arc.
Ssskrrt—
His body wavered slightly from the impact, but—
In a single strike, he decapitated the mutation.
"..."
An insane display of strength.
There was no other way to describe it.
"How about that, Skelton? Our Captain is something else, huh?"
From the driver’s seat, Roka Hun laughed.
"Yeah."
But it wasn’t just strength.
Dies Irae had conviction.
The absolute belief that he wouldn’t die.
The ability to predict the precise point of attack, and even if that prediction was slightly off, the guts to stick to his plan without hesitation.
And the skill to measure distance instantly and execute a lethal strike.
I take it back.
Dies Irae isn’t just an ordinary soldier.
Even by Old School standards, he’s top-tier.
Some might say—
"Isn’t that an overstatement based on just one fight?"
This isn’t an evaluation from some random survivor.
This is me—the one and only holder of the Golden Fleece in this country, Park Gyu’s evaluation.
Meanwhile, the little life-or-death performance had left a strong impression on the family.
"Holy shit..."
"Did he... really just kill that thing with a knife?!"
"Dad, that guy is insane."
Wiping the blood from his blade with a broad leaf, Dies Irae walked back.
"As you can see, I have certain talents."
He smiled.
"But to be honest, my community is far safer than that man’s bunker."
In this world, safety moved people more than comfort ever could.
Dies Irae’s performance had gotten an immediate result.