One of my philosophies when building the bunker was: choose isolationism, but never become isolated.

That’s why I picked a site far enough from Seoul but not cut off, kept in touch with my old Hunter connections—Kim Daram foremost among them—and bowed my head when necessary. Even the internet, which had been the most important part of my life, was just another way to avoid complete isolation back then.

Because in the end, human life is a human game.

Those who cut all contact and chose absolute isolation never lasted. Inevitably, they broke their own seclusion, reached out clumsily to others, {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} got exploited, suffered losses, and crawled back into their dark little bunkers.

In contrast, after the war, my willingness to take risks and move around turned into gains.

My communication line with Sejong is still the most valuable accomplishment I carved out for myself.

“Trouble in Seoul?”

IAmJesus.

Now called the “second generation,” he already spoke with a dignified tone, knew how to act annoyed with me.

“I’ve heard rumors too. Why? You got business in Seoul?”

Quick on the uptake.

Maybe he’d always been smart. His father had gotten rich running a cult. That kind of cunning doesn’t just vanish.

“Can’t fool you. Ha. No, nothing big—just thought if any recon team was heading toward Seoul, I’d tag along. At least against monsters, I can pull my weight.”

“Of course Skelton pulls his weight. I’ll check. But you know the recon’s with ex-Legion troops. You fine with that?”

“In today’s world, who cares about Legion or not? Those filthy Jeju bastards are all dead and gone. Legion’s nothing.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Mem mem!”

“Christ, cut that out. That’s ancient.”

“Okay!”

He’d grown a lot. Truly.

Still, for IAmJesus, he’d turned out fine.

I never imagined Jeon Si-hoon would end up like that. But I figure Kang Han-min had a big hand in it.

Once you get caught in that hollow shell of a man, stripped down to nothing but purpose, everyone ends up broken.

Woo Min-hee, once so self-directed, was consumed by vengeance. Na Hye-in fell into despair. Gong Gyeong-min turned his back on the world entirely.

Maybe even Lee Sang-hoon hanging himself was Kang Han-min’s fault. At his most desperate, the only lifeline left was that so-called Savior.

Looking back, maybe I was the only one who met Kang Han-min and kept my sanity.

Maybe the childhood mix of admiration, jealousy, and worship he carried for me was the only thing that kept him from striking me down.

I heard from IAmJesus about a month later. The thaw was coming, though the frozen ground hadn’t given way yet.

*

“Hello?”

The man he sent was unlike any soldier I’d dealt with so far.

Slouched shoulders, loose gait, shaggy hair, unkempt beard, oversized sunglasses. He looked more like some internet café gamer than a hardened soldier.

Given Sejong’s current military was staffed by razor-sharp Legion elites, his slackness was enough to raise eyebrows.

But you don’t judge by appearances.

Even if I thought of him as some free spirit, I wouldn’t be wrong—but this “Squad Leader Nam” was no ordinary man. He was IAmJesus’s handpicked choice for a Seoul recon mission. Elite of the elite.

It didn’t take long to see he wasn’t ordinary.

Loose clothes, but knives, pistols, and odd tools hidden in every pocket. Lazy demeanor, but his eyes never stopped moving, sharp and predatory.

A professional honed by battle and killing.

“......”

And there was something else about him—an aura I couldn’t yet define.

With sunglasses still on, Nam looked at me coolly and said:

“We’ll drive as far as Seongnam. From there, we walk.”

Short, concise. Transparent, but firm—he reminded me of myself, long ago.

He didn’t know who I really was.

I’d asked IAmJesus privately.

“Go ahead.”

This time I’d persuaded Mark Two in advance.

Not just an order—it was explanation. Why I had to go to Seoul, and why it mattered.

“Does this internet thing really help people?”

Mark Two had never known the internet.

The Facility never allowed it.

She stayed silent about that eerie, oppressive place, but she always made clear: no internet.

For her safety, I decided to try out Ha Tae-hoon’s unmanned sentry guns.

By now she was used to my territory, and with more refugees passing through, it was time. I set up sentry guns at both entrances. Left them powered off, but gave her the button. Told her: only turn them on if you feel threatened.

Dangerous, but unavoidable.

To a malicious refugee, a young girl is the easiest prey imaginable.

As before, if I vanished for 24 hours, she was to call Kim Daram, Cheon Young-jae, or M9.

“You really seem to like going outside, Hunter.”

Even at her age, Woo Min-hee’s blood shows in the sharp words.

I forced a wry smile, said goodbye, and left her and John Nae-non III behind.

Nam’s four-wheel-drive jeep was waiting.

Riding an open-topped jeep in midwinter was misery, but the mounted machine gun in the back gave a different kind of reassurance.

Outdated, sure, but in practice, a jeep with a gun was far less likely to be ambushed than one without. Same psychology as carrying a visible gun in public.

Besides Nam and me, there was Sergeant Kim driving, and Sergeant Choi manning the gun. Whether those ranks were real, I had no idea. They never gave real names, so we stuck with stiff titles.

Like Nam, they were sharp, combat-honed, and laconic. Strong sense of special-forces brotherhood. The kind that wants minimal contact with outsiders.

Still, not total silence.

When boredom peaked, Nam broke it with idle talk.

“Big battle here once. Skull Brigade. Good at terrorizing civilians, but not real soldiers. Fancy gear, spray a few bullets—that’s not invincibility. They got hammered by our raid, chased all the way back to Seoul.”

Talk of battles.

“They say Japan’s gone. Last fall, one of the pirate gangs said so. We’re half-dead ourselves, but if we’re like a house slowly crumbling until we’re thrown out, they’re the kind that clung to a collapsing roof and got buried with it.”

Talk of abroad.

“For me, Seoul was the city of taste. Gwangjang Market was my temple—until prices spiked. Really, the whole alley from Gwangjang to Dongdaemun was my food tour. Now it’s all memories.”

Talk of food.

Movies, singers, songs—I tuned those out.

He noticed, gave me a lazy look, and asked:

“Not into music?”

I nodded.

Truth is, I liked beatboxing, but never listened to music through earbuds.

The jeep rolled into Seongnam.

Though once evacuated, its proximity to Seoul and strong infrastructure had drawn many back. Raiders, refugees—it blurred.

After New Seoul absorbed them, the city’s half-collapse spat them out again.

Now Seongnam was once more a nest of people teetering between predator and prey.

Men, women, even children—every gaze was sharp, measuring.

Sizing us up.

The jeep stopped before we plunged too deep.

From a ruined corner, men with the same dangerous eyes stepped out to meet us.

“You’re here, Captain Nam?”

So Nam’s real rank was captain. For Legion, modest.

The plan was one day.

Scout and return.

Problem: our local contact looked grim.

When we said Seoul, his face darkened.

“Right now... not good.”

Three problems awaited.

First: the fog.

Once sporadic, now constant. Choking the entire city, worst around Jeon Si-hoon’s Tower.

Second: the things inside.

“You’ve seen them, Captain. The... Rapers, was it? The ones with blades between their legs. Others, like regenerating bugs.”

Exterminator-types. Common now, even to ordinary soldiers.

Their danger wasn’t raw strength. They lacked the reflective barrier field that most threatened humans.

But their numbers, strange signatures, and unknown abilities—combined with the fog—made them lethal.

“In a month, the city’s become a demon’s nest. The few left behind are gone.”

Third: the most familiar threat.

“...And the Skull Brigade. Hong Jeong-ho’s.”

Humans.

“The organization’s wrecked. Just raider gangs now. We had bastards among us, but those guys? Born butchers. If you’re caught—better off killing yourself.”

They had Legion training, weapons well-kept.

And yet, their faces showed fear and exhaustion. That said everything.

“In my experience, those things don’t last. Come back in three months, half will be gone.”

Time solves most problems. Raiders, too, got swept away by it.

But I’d come this far. Who knew if I’d get another chance?

So I tested Ballantine’s Necropolis device—cellphone rigged to a selfie stick.

Beep—beep—beep—

Stronger signal here than anywhere else.

Just like the rumors: Necropolis was stronger around the Tower.

“What’s that?”

The local agent asked. I didn’t answer.

“Still going,” Nam cut in, firm.

No trace of his lazy act now.

“Today, we see the Tower.”

“But—”

“Pick one volunteer in five minutes.”

He was special, even among veterans.

Then he pulled off his sunglasses.

That aura I’d sensed earlier—real.

He was Awakened.

Likely over level 5.

A Legion soldier who’d Awakened on his own.

Eyes glowing faintly, he stared at the fog-shrouded wall.

“Something’s there.”

Nodded, muttered:

“Feels like someone calling.”

He put his sunglasses back on.

“The Second ordered me. See the Tower with my own eyes.”

Not a King, but still a man with the title.

The hesitant local agent bowed.

“...I’ll pick the best men.”

Not a recon anymore. This was going to be a fight.

Weapons loaded. Orderly, silent killing intent filled the air.

Nam looked at me.

“You heard.”

I nodded.

“You still going? I’ll be stuck here for days. If you’d rather stay—”

“I’ll come.”

He stared. Surprised.

“They said you were a Hunter.”

So he’d heard that much.

“That ahead is a battlefield. War isn’t a game.”

I met his gaze calmly.

“Neither are monsters.”

He snorted, turned away.

“You’ve been warned.”

A fair warning. More angelic than sending someone blind to their death.

But in the end, Nam himself made me go.

If it was that dangerous, maybe I would’ve waited. Another three months.

Because a stray bullet, dying meaninglessly—that’s not how I want to go.

Even leaving Mark Two behind, I might have postponed.

But once I knew Nam was Awakened—my curiosity burned hotter than Necropolis itself.

IAmJesus hadn’t told me Nam’s real mission.

But it had to do with Jeon Si-hoon.

Crunch—

The five of us entered the fog.

“Huuh.”

I drew a deep breath, checked my weapons.

The gray-white mist closed over my face.

“......”

This was war.

I watched Nam ahead.

He didn’t know it, but to me, he was my measuring instrument—as precious as Ballantine’s Necropolis device.