Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 145.2: Faith (2)

Before the war, the Manryu Gwijeong Cult, which arose in China, drove the nation toward ruin, much like the Taiping Rebellion of old.

The Chinese government labeled them fanatics and maintained a policy of ruthless suppression, but at the same time, they conducted meticulous and detailed analysis of the religion they derided.

I’ve seen part of that material myself.

Fanatic organizations are more diverse and complex in structure than one might imagine.

The Chinese government categorized the sects according to their level of secularism—a classification I personally consider quite reasonable.

The sects that follow the founder Ma Won-gap’s original teachings are, surprisingly, relatively harmless.

Like the person we saw at the Paju Rift, they disregard worldly matters entirely, dedicating themselves to uniting with ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) monsters and the rifts—pursuing a self-destructive path.

The real problem lies with the secular sects.

These groups only partially accept Ma Won-gap’s teachings, forming organizations that resemble the cults we’re familiar with, and attempt to expand their religious influence.

In doing so, they often cite scriptures and theories that even Ma Won-gap never knew, engaging in bloody internal purges between fellow fanatics.

The fanatics we typically face belong to this latter group.

One particularly striking point in the Chinese government’s report was how these secular fanatic groups increase their number of followers.

We often assume people willingly join these cults through proselytizing efforts, but surprisingly, very few do so.

According to Chinese estimates, the number is less than 20%.

Over 90% of those arrested for suspected fanatic activity and facing execution confessed that they had no choice but to join.

They claimed that joining a fanatic group was the only way to survive in regions abandoned by the government—areas where there was no protection, no security. They defended themselves by saying it was an emergency act of self-preservation.

The report didn’t clarify whether their defense was accepted in court, but the idea that most fanatics joined not for religious reasons but out of survival was a startling revelation.

That claim suggests that fanatics are still human.

In other words, they didn’t choose to side with monsters out of their own free will.

Of course, that doesn’t change anything.

In extreme situations, context and circumstances are omitted.

Only what’s directly in front of you is the truth.

Even if that truth only flickers for a moment, it changes nothing.

I believe that the life of one teammate is more valuable than ten innocent civilians, and that belief hasn’t changed, even now.

No matter the circumstances, if someone tries to kill me or my comrades, I’ll kill them—and I won’t hesitate.

Anyway, how fanatics expand their influence is clear.

They mainly target the abandoned—both individuals and communities.

Fanatics possess knowledge and wisdom that allow them to survive in erosion zones, and while their supplies aren’t plentiful, they’re sufficient.

To people with nowhere to go and no one to rely on, they may seem like saviors of a kind.

But once someone becomes a follower, they’re reduced to a cog in the machine.

In more secularized organizations, there’s even a “cult leader” who enjoys luxuries rivaling that of royalty from the past.

The cult that the Awakened woman from our forums once belonged to was one of these, and the sect we’re dealing with now is another secular one.

Here’s another important distinction:

“They’re primarily from the North Korean sect.”

There are three main origins for fanatics.

One sect emerged natively in South Korea, another from North Korea.

There are a few from mainland China, but they’re so few in number they don’t matter much.

The majority are from the North Korean sect.

It’s a natural progression.

As North Korea spiraled into destruction, people fled to the Chinese border, encountered the fledgling Manryu Gwijeong Cult, then returned to their dying homeland to spread its teachings. When the military abandoned the frontlines, they crossed the DMZ into South Korea, absorbing the abandoned and expanding their influence.

Why does this matter?

Because by knowing their origin, we can deduce their tactics and behavior patterns.

“This is the footage my sister took with the reconnaissance drone.”

Apparently, Hong Da-jeong works as a drone operator in the same unit.

She didn’t have military experience and, being a woman, faced considerable bias during recruitment. But her performance on the field shut the mouths of her recruiters.

The footage Hong Da-jeong captured clearly reveals the typical features of a North Korean sect.

“A lot of sentries, huh?”

The North Korean sect uses manpower in excess.

Excessive to a fault.

It’s not like they’re grinding people into the dirt with 80-hour work weeks like in South Korea—more like throwing ten people at a job one person could do.

It’s wildly inefficient, but with enough people, some benefits emerge.

Improved guard coverage is one such example.

Since North Korea itself functioned as one massive barracks, their organizational structure is military-style—another key trait of North Korean sects.

Centered around a massive shopping mall they’ve taken as their base, the fanatics have established a network of interconnected defensive positions.

The makeshift bunkers, crafted from scrapped cars and concrete blocks, are manned by sentries wielding mostly South Korean-made weapons—which says a lot.

“Did the Legion faction supply them with weapons?”

Defender nodded.

“A guy named Commander Han Seong-yeol, who settled in Wonju instead of Kim Byeong-cheol, is apparently running weapons deals.”

“They had something to trade with fanatics?”

“Women.”

“Women?”

“Yeah. They give them weapons and take women in return.”

“What a piece of garbage.”

“There are rumors he’s involved in organ trafficking too. Well, guess he’s gone completely rotten. Not that I’m one to talk.”

“A true soldier—concerned with medical ethics and troop welfare.”

We expected the Legion faction to drop their masks once they dissolved, but reality, as always, exceeds imagination.

Not something worth digging into.

There are too many scumbags in this world. Trying to understand their every move would drive you insane.

In any case, whether they sold a lot of people or Han Seong-yeol was just feeling generous, the fanatics are well-armed.

Their defenses are balanced, and they command considerable numbers—a formidable force.

Still, wouldn’t even this kind of force be easy for our dear journalist Woo Min-hee to deal with?

Seems like overkill to call me in for this.

To that, Defender glanced around before speaking in a low voice.

“Woo Chief... she’s conserving her strength.”

“Conserving her strength?”

“She only gets involved in direct combat maybe once or twice a year. There’s a rumor she avoids fighting unless absolutely necessary. That’s what the senior guys around her are saying too, so it’s probably true.”

“...Really?”

Woo Min-hee’s face flashed through my mind for a moment, but I’m not an Awakened—there’s no way I’d understand what she’s thinking.

...

She must have her reasons.

Regardless, this mission is definitely tough.

Tough enough that I can see why even regular Awakened are hesitant.

No matter how bulletproof they are, even Awakened hit their limits when they’re getting shot at from all directions, without pause.

Reflective force fields aren’t something they can keep up like a tent 24/7.

I don’t know the exact mechanics, but from experience, we know the power of Awakened and monsters comes from “wave surges” akin to internal combustion explosions.

Even monsters can’t produce wave surges endlessly.

If a fight drags on and their fatigue builds, they can’t generate more waves.

You can see this clearly when mid-size or larger monsters die in kill zones—after deflecting some shells with their force fields, eventually they either get overwhelmed or lose the ability to produce more waves and get smashed.

The same goes for Awakened. Their wave endurance doesn’t even match that of small-class monsters.

Which means in urban combat—especially against fanatics who disregard their lives—there’s a real risk of even the strongest Awakened dying in action.

And fanatics likely have their own Awakened as well, on par with regulars.

Definitely a battlefield most regular Awakened would want nothing to do with.

Especially those friends of ours from Jeju, who weren’t used to fighting other people.

“From the looks of it, a ground assault isn’t an option.”

I spoke while reviewing the map and drone footage.

“You’ve considered using infrastructure like subway tunnels to infiltrate?”

Defender nodded, but his expression was as grim as expected.

“The underground is in bad shape.”

He showed me a new feed.

Beyond the pitch-black tunnel that once carried metropolitan trains, the area was now washed in a pale gray hue.

“A monster has made its nest there.”

And not a fresh one.

It’s an old, heavily reinforced nest—practically a fortress.

Defender nodded again.

“So they didn’t set up in that obvious shopping mall by accident.”

In short, we have a plan to take out the fanatics—but no viable way to get close.

That’s the conclusion Defender reached.

But that conclusion needs to change.

“...What kind of monster is it?”

I’m watching.

*

One of the conclusions I’ve come to after living within organized structures since my mid-teens is this: there really aren’t that many effective ways to get someone who doesn’t want to work to actually move.

Sure, they can pretend to do something.

That part’s easy.

But the kind of work we do—it can’t be done half-assed.

Ours is a job where even a single mistake isn’t allowed. That’s what it means to be a hunter.

And getting real work done in a place like this? It’s extremely difficult.

Especially if the one who’s slacking off is stronger than you or holds a higher position—then it’s better to just let it go.

There’s no point clinging to them.

They say sincerity moves the heavens, but... I don’t know.

If the world were one where things like that worked, maybe it’d be a little more livable than it is now.

Of course, I’m still going to meet the regular Awakened who’s been slacking off lately.

That’s one of the obvious responsibilities I have as the commander of Seoul Hunter HQ.

[ MAIN ]

The regular Awakened had taken up residence next to The Hope, in an old post office building that had been renovated and still had full heating and electricity.

The bold English word "MAIN" hung on the sign above the door—clear evidence of their pride.

Well, from the regular Awakened’s perspective, they’ve always been the main force. The rest of us were just support.

They probably weren’t too thrilled about having to operate on equal footing with people they used to look down on.

Not that I have the right to criticize—we were the same.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Even with the same physical capabilities and similar training, just because the institutions and training periods were different, we used to look down on “academy hunters” with open contempt.

Maybe that’s why we should try, at least once, to understand where these regular hunters are coming from.

Still, I’m their commander.

Woo Min-hee gave me this job—to break in these overpowered brats and help them integrate into the new structure.

I’m starting to think Woo Min-hee didn’t handle this herself because she’d probably end up killing these precious assets if she did.

Screeeak—

The creaky door opened, and a wave of hot air hit my face.

Even though the temperature outside was just 2 degrees, they were blasting the radiators full power with their precious electricity.

The thermometer in the corner read 28°C.

I stepped inside, where the wide-open space held groups of lounging young people, all of whom turned to look at me.

“Who are you?” one of them asked bluntly.

He looked like he was barely in his late teens but stood over 190 centimeters tall—a big guy.

I didn’t answer. I just walked slowly, deliberately, toward the center of the hall while under their gaze.

Then I looked at the regular Awakened.

I studied their faces.

Hostility, contempt, surprise—a mix of emotions, but contempt was the most dominant.

Unbothered, I spoke in a calm but firm tone.

“...I’m Park Gyu. I’ve just been appointed the new commander of Seoul Hunter HQ. Call sign: Professor.”

When they heard my name, the regular Awakened finally reacted.

Despite everything, it seemed even these arrogant ones had heard of my call sign.

“Professor?”

“Is that really him?”

“That guy...?”

“He’s younger than I expected.”

The room stirred. I could feel their curious glances shifting.

I turned my head and added, “Who’s in charge here?”

A man raised his hand.

The moment I saw his face, I thought, Of course it’s him.

I don’t believe in physiognomy, but this guy had the perfect “won’t-listen-to-a-damn-word” face.

He looked like he belonged in a rock band or an art studio, not the military.

“That’s me,” he said, standing up.

“I’m Ahn Seung-hwan. Level 9.”

A woman handed him a jumper.

It was patched with all sorts of insignia—probably to commemorate his achievements, like a deserter from the Legion faction clinging to their old honors.

“...I spent over a year and a half in Big Hole. Twelve missions, two of them demolition ops.”

I didn’t recognize any of what he said.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

But from his tone, I figured he was trying to compare himself to me.

Trying to suggest that his record either matched or surpassed mine.

“You know the order from Woo Chief, right?”

Ahn Seung-hwan nodded without even blinking.

“Then why aren’t you participating in the operation?”

He finally opened his mouth.

“It’s not that we aren’t participating.”

“I don’t like it when people dance around words. If you’ve got a problem, say it here.”

“Ah... right. Well, to be clear, it’s not like we think we’re invincible. We don’t reflect all bullets. If we get shot, we die too.”

“...”

“We told that Kim Daham? Dalah? Anyway, that woman—our requirements. But I guess she didn’t pass them along?”

I motioned for him to speak.

Ahn Seung-hwan gave a slight smile and emphasized a few words.

“We need a tank company.”

The key word he stressed was “tank company.”

“It’s only reasonable that we go in after tanks clear the path and secure the flanks, don’t you think?”

After speaking, Ahn Seung-hwan sat back down and crossed his legs, looking up at me.

Staring into his hollow, indifferent eyes, I realized once again—there was no convincing this guy with words.

At the same time, I knew that his demand for something as luxurious as a tank company was completely unrealistic.

But that didn’t mean I planned to waste this valuable force.

“You seem to be under a bit of a misconception.”

I looked around at the others—faces brimming with open resentment.

“At least in this place, none of you are the main force.”

They didn’t laugh out loud, but I could see their mouths twitch.

“I’ll show you.”

People tend to work hard when they feel worthless.

I hope these kids are the same.

“....”

Still, a bothersome one decided to tag along.

“Hi.”

A girl I didn’t recognize.

One of the regular Awakened, standing beside Ahn Seung-hwan.

She vaguely resembled Woo Min-hee, oddly enough.

“Can I come with you?”

The type that’s nasty, cranky, and always testing people.

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