Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 145.3: Faith (3)

Above ground, snow had fallen throughout the night, and sharp winds scattered the drifts into swirling fog made of ice and powder.

Underground, however, it was pitch-black darkness.

A chilling stillness hung in the air—quiet, but thick with dread.

Defender led the way.

He had reportedly operated in this area for quite some time with his own team.

Surprisingly, Defender had a team.

One member followed directly behind him, and two more brought up the rear—his team.

They were not drawn to Defender by his personality but by his skill, and most of them shared a deep-seated hatred for fanatics. They weren’t from the military schools—mostly academy-trained or postwar volunteers.

A volunteer, in this context, referred to someone who hadn’t even attended an academy but chose to become a hunter after the war.

Given that Defender’s primary enemies weren’t monsters, but people, this makeup didn’t seem like a flaw.

In fact, they showed clear signs of being quite proficient killers.

“Here.”

Inside the train that had stopped between stations, a stench of rotting corpses filled the air.

It was the smell of bodies killed recently.

As expected, corpses with white cloths covering their faces were hung from subway handles like butchered meat.

There were at least fifty bodies, maybe more.

It was the work of the fanatics.

Like any cult, they started out warm and welcoming—offering everything, promising salvation. But once someone was fully under their control, they were forced into brutal labor and service.

Those who disobeyed or ran were executed like this—to teach the others a lesson.

However, these particular corpses were the handiwork of Defender’s hunter team—the infamous “Most Wanted” crew.

They had ambushed a group of fanatics in the middle of an execution and repaid them in kind.

One of the hunter team members had previously escaped from that very cult, making the ambush possible.

“Ugh... seriously disgusting...”

The young woman who followed behind, armed with only a handgun, gagged audibly.

From the glow in her eyes, it was clear she was a regular Awakened.

Her name was Lee Haru. According to her, it meant “Tears of Summer.”

When we coordinated beforehand, Defender had agreed to treat her as a non-factor.

He had even prepared contingency plans to eliminate her if necessary, though I didn’t go that far.

Because once you prepare procedures like that, they’re all too easy to carry out without realizing it.

Regardless of current troubles, regular Awakened remain one of the few precious resources South Korea has left.

They need to be shaped into something usable, however possible.

“Hold. Stay here.”

We took a short break in a different train car, using the time to review surveillance devices Defender’s team had planted in advance.

And then—

“Ugh...”

One of Defender’s team members pulled a gaunt, gagged man from a sealed box.

The stench—a mix of feces, urine, and vomit—immediately filled the space.

He’d clearly been kept there for a long time.

The box was small. Seeing the man’s inability to support himself, I checked its dimensions—indeed, far too cramped.

Stuffing someone into that for an unknown duration—just another glimpse into the brutal, dehumanizing reality of this battlefield.

The reason Defender’s team wore masks, gas masks, and sunglasses might not just be for style or utility—it could be a barrier against moments like this.

“This one’s a messenger of the cult.”

The Manryu Gwijeong Cult often borrowed martial arts terminology for their hierarchy—just like in wuxia novels.

Terms like cult leader, guardian protector...

But since the cult isn’t unified like the Roman Catholic Church, the terminology varies by sect.

Some don’t have administrative roles at all; others only go as high as a guardian. The one we’re up against now operates like a full monarchy, complete with a cult leader.

“Messenger” was a common rank across sects—typically a low-level position, but, from what I understood, it referred to someone highly esteemed in faith, not ability.

“Hey. Snap out of it.”

One of the men slapped the fanatic’s cheek.

Another forced a canteen into the fanatic’s mouth, pouring water down his throat.

“What are you doing?”

Lee Haru grimaced at the sight, but I said nothing. I watched silently as Defender’s team roughed the man up.

“A true fanatic.”

Defender commented.

He meant the man was deeply devoted—someone who clung to teachings we considered the babbling of madmen as if they were more precious than life.

“Why keep him alive?”

I couldn’t understand why they’d bother with someone who clearly had no chance of rehabilitation.

Defender, uncharacteristically, allowed a cold smirk to rise on his usually expressionless face. His voice, frigid and quiet, said:

“Because I want to see his faith break.”

“...Is that so.”

I thought it was pointless.

If it were me, I’d have put a bullet between his eyes and ended his delusion.

But then—

“Hehehe...”

Even after all that abuse, the fanatic drooled and pointed at us, muttering:

“You don’t understand anything. Why the rifts appeared. You think you know something, but you’re just dying in ignorance...”

Crack!

One of Defender’s team members struck him with a rifle butt.

Even as he clutched his stomach and vomited bile, the fanatic wouldn’t stop muttering.

“You can’t break my will. Our truth is as universal as the sun rising in the east...”

Crack! Crack!

“Don’t kill him,” Defender said.

He looked at me.

“Because he’s that kind of lunatic.”

His team member gagged the fanatic again.

It looked like they were bringing him along.

Lee Haru voiced what I was thinking.

“Are you really planning to bring this guy?”

I stared at Defender.

“...I just want to see if he’ll say the same thing after watching his oh-so-glorious cult get wiped out.”

Defender glanced around at his team and added:

“We’ll handle him. They’re experienced, seasoned people. And... they’ve got history with the cult.”

Defender turned to the tall man wearing a gas mask.

The moment their eyes met, the gas mask spoke with a young voice.

“Those cult bastards raped and killed my mother and sister in front of me. And I...”

He removed the mask.

Where his nose should’ve been—there was nothing.

And more than that, signs of brutal abuse were still visible on his too-young face.

“...”

I looked back at Defender.

“Do what you want.”

It wasn’t my style, but I had no desire to interfere in this cycle of vengeance.

They had enough people. If they could manage him, then fine.

“Hey.”

Lee Haru approached me quietly.

She gestured.

Seemed like she wanted to whisper something.

I bent down without protest.

A soft breath, then her whisper:

“Sorry to ask, but... do you know what’s up ahead?”

I nodded.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Then she gestured to whisper again.

As I leaned closer—

“There’s more than one.”

So even a regular Awakened wasn’t totally useless.

She had info Defender didn’t mention.

“There’s a dancer-type up ahead. You old-school hunters—this is your natural predator.”

“...Really?”

“And that’s not all. There’s a mid-sized monster housed there too.”

“Housed?”

“Think of it like a hangar. You’ve been out of the field too long—stealth-type small monsters often construct fortified bases that store battle-type mid-class monsters. Like stationing fighter jets on an island airstrip.”

Then, in a much quieter voice, she added:

“Don’t you think the people here... aren’t exactly top-tier even for old-schoolers? Do you really believe this mixed team with volunteers can pull off a mission that would challenge a full elite team?”

I stepped away and looked down at her.

“You know a lot.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Of course. I’m the most elite one here. My record’s better than Seung-hwan’s.”

She pulled her jacket closed and pointed to the badge on her chest.

A symbol like a horned deer—one I didn’t recognize.

“For what it’s worth... we don’t want you to die, Professor.”

“...Really?”

“If someone like you dies, morale will tank. I get that Woo Min-hee wants to keep us in check, but we don’t want this city to fall either. We know we can’t go back to Jeju anymore.”

“...I see.”

So that’s what it was—the thing that had been nagging at me.

The reason these kids were dragging their feet and making excuses.

They wanted command authority.

They wanted things to go back to the old way—where regular Awakened called the shots and everyone else took orders.

Like during the late stages of the China deployment.

I didn’t know all the details about that period.

I had returned to Korea before the Awakened took command, and because of my past merits, I was allowed to keep leading my team.

But I still knew the battlefield realities.

Our death rate—already high—only increased once Awakened took command.

It’s not that they were greedy or incompetent.

It’s that once they became the central axis, hunter doctrines shifted toward protecting the Awakened above all.

Gone were our flexible, creative operations. All that remained was a passive doctrine—for the Awakened, by the Awakened.

Maybe that worked against monsters. But we’re up against humans too.

Fanatics. Rebels. They exploited those weaknesses without mercy.

Woo Min-hee knew this method was flawed.

Regular Awakened were precious, yes—but now, so were old-school hunters.

The number of school-trained hunters had already been low, and now they were nearly extinct. Even the academy-trained were nearing obsolescence.

In monster combat—where the difference between veterans and rookies matters more than in any other field—hunters no longer held the same expendability.

In a time when everything had become scarce, Woo Min-hee reached out to me.

Because regardless of how much or how little credit I took, even my fiercest critics admitted one thing:

My team had the lowest casualty rate.

“...How many monsters have you killed?”

I asked the young woman, at least ten years my junior, as we walked.

“I lost count. Small, mid-class—I’ve killed plenty. Never taken down a large-class, though.”

“And you think we can’t handle what’s ahead?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, her eyes glowing.

“It’s physically impossible.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Even if you are the legendary hunter—Professor.”

She smiled.

Heheheh...

Behind us, the gagged fanatic began laughing through his restraints.

And then, his voice echoed through the dark, the gag apparently removed.

“She knows. Of course she knows—chosen by God. She sees the truth. You can’t win. No human can defeat a divine messenger—!”

CRACK!

I waved Defender forward past the beating hunter.

It was time.

While Defender’s team restrained the fanatic again and secured the tunnel perimeter, we unpacked our gear.

Hunter equipment.

Grotesque tools built for a time that’s already disappearing, created alongside us old-school hunters.

Yes, they’re outdated.

But they were born from blood.

From losing comrades, from losing limbs—designed to kill humanity’s enemies more efficiently.

Click—

Not quite my twin axes, but I retrieved one of my favorite tools:

The Mark 7 Harpoonizer.

When used properly, it could take down nearly any monster.

I loaded two of them.

Then—

Screeeeech—

I loaded a crossbow.

Not some cheap knockoff like the Judge Killer. This was a French hunting crossbow.

If someone asked why we’d use such medieval gear—well, the answer was in the arrow.

Instead of a sharp tip, it had a small camera.

Unlike drones, which constantly emit and receive signals, this arrow traveled silently through the air, no power required. It captured photos of danger zones, then returned via a carbon fiber tether.

It was a way to gather just a little intel—without provoking monsters like a drone might.

An evolution.

Just as monsters kept adapting to human methods, so did we old-school hunters adapt to them.

The arrival of Awakened had paused our evolution—but that didn’t mean we had been left behind.

In fact, our methods were now the latest—simply because no one had updated them since we retired.

“...That’s new.”

After multiple camera bolts, we calmly surveyed the danger zone.

And there it was—something I didn’t recognize.

A huge, amorphous blob of slime—likely a mid-class monster.

Lee Haru looked at the grainy footage on the tablet and blurted out:

“Macrophage type.”

She knew about the new models.

She shook her head.

“I can’t help you with that one.”

“You were planning to?”

“Yeah. Seung-hwan asked me personally. But now...”

She shrugged, her glowing eyes flashing.

“That one’s designed to kill Awakened.”

At that, the gagged fanatic in the back began laughing again.

CRACK!

Amid the merciless beatings, the eyes of Defender and his hunters turned to me.

“...”

I thought for a moment.

Three beliefs clashed here.

The belief that humanity cannot defeat monsters.

The belief that old-school hunters cannot defeat monsters.

And the belief that our methods weren’t wrong.

“Let’s go.”

Time will reveal which belief holds true.

Updat𝓮d from freew𝒆bnovel(.)com