Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 110.2: Debt (2)

I had seen fanatics active on Failnet before.

At the time, their behavior was crude—something about them felt off, inhuman.

Like how early phone scammers from Joseon sounded robotic when they first started their scams.

But people learn and evolve quickly.

Just like how pre-war phone scams became so sophisticated that even cautious young people fell for them, the fanatics had refined their once-awkward and inhuman rhetoric into something much more cunning.

From what I could tell, this One Faith guy was a fanatic.

Whether he had committed the killings himself or simply stumbled upon them, he had managed to obtain satellite internet equipment and was now using it to spread his twisted message on our board.

Regardless of that, the photos he posted were undeniably shocking.

It was proof that the rumors about the Legion systematically massacring fanatics were true.

As a hunter, I believed fanatics deserved to die.

But as a human, I couldn’t condone such indiscriminate slaughter.

ONE_FAITH: We will not let a single murderer escape judgment.

The fanatics had singled out Defender.

His good looks would only make it easier for people to remember him—and for the accusations to stick.

He had already been targeted multiple times, and once, they had even gone after him directly.

But this time was different.

Now, the entire, uncountable mass of fanatics would remember Defender as a mass murderer and would come for his head.

For now, he was safe behind the Legion’s walls.

But based on everything I had heard, the Legion didn’t have much time left.

“......”

Tap tap tap

I sent a message to Defender.

SKELTON: Not sure when you'll see this, but I'm leaving it here just in case. Like I told you before, I'm back from Jeju. If you need a safe place, contact me anytime. Unlike before, I'm not alone. I'm building a small community. There's a place here for you and your sister.

Defender had been my neighbor for a long time.

No matter what he had done, no matter what kind of person he was, I didn’t want him to die.

The same went for Dajeong.

Now that I was building a community, I would welcome the people I wanted to keep close.

A message popped up.

CrunchRoll: You're always welcome. Come whenever you want. Just don’t forget to put a blue flag on your vehicle.

It had been a while since I last contacted King, but he replied immediately.

Was he the type to stay glued to the internet all day?

I was about to send a quick thank-you when he messaged me again.

CrunchRoll: Did you see it? The post from that fanatic?

King had seen through One Faith right away.

SKELTON: Yeah. I saw it.

CrunchRoll: What do you think is going to happen?

SKELTON: (SKELTON confused) What do you mean?

CrunchRoll: Do you think those people accused in the post will survive? Or do you think they'll die?

SKELTON: Hard to say.

SKELTON: They should be safe for now, right?

CrunchRoll: lol

SKELTON: (SKELTON confused 2) ?

CrunchRoll: You know the fanatics have assassins, right?

CrunchRoll: Not just any assassins. They're called the Hobeop (護法)—Awakened warriors handpicked by the cult.

CrunchRoll: Rumor has it, they're the ones who took down the last North Korean royal family.

I had never heard of this before.

The idea that the fanatics had elite assassins.

But it wasn’t entirely implausible.

When we first fought the fanatics in China, they had been nothing but disorganized and reckless.

But over time, they started showing cohesion—their attacks became structured, and leadership emerged.

Considering that North Korea’s fanatics were essentially a carbon copy of the ones that had destroyed China, it wasn’t impossible.

CrunchRoll: I guarantee you—everyone in that photo is going to die.

King expected Defender to be killed.

I didn’t respond.

We drove a truck to Sejong.

South of our territory, the population was sparse, which meant fewer risks of raids.

But along the long stretch of road, I saw a concerning number of mutations.

“What the hell is that? Is that... a heron?”

And there was variety.

There were species displaying mutation effects that hadn’t been reported when I was still active.

It was proof that the world was being rapidly consumed by the energy of the rifts.

The bullet shortage had been a problem since last year.

Ammunition was skyrocketing in value, surpassing even the property prices of the old world.

With bullets growing scarcer, the increasing number of mutations posed a massive survival threat.

In countries like Australia, Russia, and Canada, where population density was low, mutations were an even bigger threat than monsters.

Large, intelligent beasts were actively targeting isolated, vulnerable humans.

Most people attacked by them didn’t survive.

Entire families, entire households, were wiped out overnight.

Entire regions were disappearing.

It sounded absurd, but rumors from the Canadian Atlantic coast claimed that a mutant army of bears had wiped out an entire town.

The South Korean government had been quick to evacuate its rural population into major cities—not just to contain mutations but to avoid foreign disasters like these.

“Could you take that thing down with a Punisher rifle?”

I asked Cheon Young-jae while looking at the towering nightmare heron standing in a stream.

“Probably not.”

We left the mutation-infested wilds and reached the open plains.

In the distance, we saw the ruins of a massive city.

“That’s Sejong?”

Cheon Young-jae fidgeted with his gun, his expression tense.

Even the fearless Cheon Young-jae seemed uneasy about entering a gangster-ruled city.

“It’s a city like any other. There are gangs, sure. But the guy in charge keeps things in order. They’re not like the raiders you’re used to.”

We tied a blue flag to the truck.

We didn’t have a proper cloth or the patience to dye one, so Cheon Young-jae just tied an old pair of jeans to the antenna.

As we approached the city, two motorcycles rode up alongside us.

“Where you coming from?”

A man with a face covered in dense tattoos chewed something while speaking in a hoarse voice.

“Got permission from King to do business here.”

The thug glanced at the blue flag tied to the truck.

“Don’t try to pull anything.”

Despite his thuggish appearance, his words were surprisingly proper.

After that, the bikers revved their engines and rode off toward their container-built fortress.

“What the hell was that?”

Cheon Young-jae looked utterly confused.

His finger was still resting inside the trigger guard of his gun.

I smiled.

“Told you. It’s a city.”

Getting in seemed easier than before.

At the entrance, they only checked our license plate before silently opening the barricade.

“Park your truck here.”

We followed their instructions and stepped into the bustling streets.

“Holy shit. This is Sejong?”

Cheon Young-jae’s eyes widened in shock.

“This isn’t anything like what I expected.”

“That’s what happens when you have a competent leader.”

Before getting to business, I went to see King.

After a brief identity check, I was granted entry to his underground palace.

“I’ll wait here.”

Leaving Cheon Young-jae behind, I walked down the familiar, extravagant corridors.

As I passed, a woman wearing a fox mask gestured at me.

I hesitated for a moment, but she took off her mask and smiled.

It was the woman who had entered my quarters before.

King was in his office.

Since it was daytime, he was wearing his mask.

The scent of air fresheners was even stronger than before.

“Yo, Skelton.”

King stood up to greet me.

“King.”

His voice didn’t sound good.

It wasn’t just sickness.

His very tone carried the stench of death.

“Ah, ah—”

He cleared his throat and tried again.

“My voice is shot.”

His voice was slightly better than before.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

But even through the thick scent of air freshener, the stench of a corpse lingered unmistakably in the air.

Hearing that voice, I was convinced—the king of this city didn’t have much time left.

“The city looks like it’s improved since last time.”

“It has.”

King slowly approached me and gestured for me to take a seat.

I sat down, and he clapped his hands.

Women in masks entered the room, carrying cool bottles filled with various beverages.

I picked water.

Surprisingly, there was a slice of lemon at the bottom of the bottle.

It was a small detail, but I saw that fresh lemon as a symbol—a testament to this city’s growing prosperity.

“It’s running smoothly. Not to brag, but this is the best city in central South Korea. Even those arrogant Legion generals have asked if there’s a place for them here.”

There was a pride in King’s voice, a pride so strong it made me momentarily forget the death hanging over him.

“How’s your health?”

I asked, tasting the faint flavor of lemon in the water.

“I’m holding up... for now.”

“This might sound rude, but the smell’s gotten worse. Doesn’t anyone say anything?”

“I told them I was sick. Not the real diagnosis, of course. I made up something about diabetes, high cholesterol, and hypertension. Thanks to that, I gave up on keeping up the strong male act with women. There’s no need for it anymore.”

There was something in King’s office that I hadn’t seen before.

A miniature model of the city, ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) carefully crafted and encased in acrylic.

Though it differed from the city’s current state, the general layout still resembled Sejong.

King stood up, still wearing his mask, and stared at the miniature for a long time.

“......It’s finally on track.”

His voice carried certainty.

“It’s about time I start looking for a successor.”

“No one suitable among your subordinates?”

“There are plenty of talented people. Ivy League graduates, former corporate executives... but they’re all split into factions.”

“Factions, huh?”

“If I die, they’ll tear each other apart, waging a reckless war over this city.”

King sighed and turned around.

“That means this place will return to being a wasteland.”

His gaze locked onto mine from behind the mask.

Even through it, I could feel the intensity in his stare.

“How about becoming the king of this city?”

“Me? Me?”

“You wouldn’t be a bad choice.”

King chuckled.

Then, he turned his monitor toward me.

Click.

A familiar scene appeared on the screen.

Twelve Square.

The battle of the man who had become something of a legend was playing out.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

King’s tone was definitive.

I had no intention of denying it.

If anything, I wished more people were like King—the kind who could see things clearly.

“How did you know?”

“We’ve fought together before. And out of everyone I know, there’s only one person who can wield two axes that well.”

“Then why didn’t you say something on the board?”

“I thought it was better this way.”

“Why?”

“Skelton and Twelve Square need to be two different people. You must’ve felt the same way—that’s why you never revealed yourself, right?”

“......?”

What?

Why did people keep saying this?

Was Skelton really that poorly regarded?

I always thought I was a decent, likable veteran user.

“What’s wrong, Skelton?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“What about my offer?”

“I’m honored, but I’ll have to decline.”

King stared at me for a moment.

I explained my reasoning.

“Think about it. Do you really think Skelton could run a city like this?”

“...That’s a fair point.”

King let out a quiet laugh, then leaned against his desk and switched the monitor’s display.

What he showed me next was something he had already shown me before.

The corpses.

A massive pile of naked bodies stacked like cargo beneath a concrete wall.

This time, the image was bigger and clearer than on my laptop screen.

“What do you think?”

“Not sure.”

“I did what needed to be done.”

King’s voice was calm.

“Manryu Gwijeongyo. The more I learn about those fanatics, the more disgusted I get.”

“That girl from before... is she still here?”

“I’ve kept her locked up. But damn, she’s one stubborn brat. Must be because she’s from North Korea.”

“Still refusing to change her mind?”

“Still refusing. But she eats well. Three meals a day. Even does exercise on her own. What was it she kept saying? Guum Shin Gong? Some ridiculous nonsense.”

“The guy who started that cult was a wuxia novel fan, so it makes sense.”

“Anyway, like I told you before...”

King switched the screen again.

This time, it showed One Faith’s post—the list of murderers he had exposed.

“The cult’s leader made it public. That means every one of these people is going to die.”

“So I’m just watching—to see how strong the fanatics really are.”

“There’s a network inside the Legion, too.”

“Did you know?”

I looked at one of the men in the photo—a handsome figure standing among the armed soldiers.

“Defender is in this picture.”

“Defender?”

King tilted his head.

“Oh, you mean that guy who used to post kill confirmations back in the early days?”

Nothing lasts forever.

Not even internet fame.

“He’s still alive?”

That went for Defender, too.

“Damn, he actually looks pretty good.”

“I know him personally.”

“...Really? You?”

“Yes. And I want to save him.”

“If he’s your friend, I can take him in here. But only after we see what those Hobeop warriors can do.”

“They issued a warning, so it won’t be long before the Hobeop hit the Legion.”

I had already noticed this before, but King’s intelligence network was on a whole other level.

He didn’t just rely on the internet—he had people, covert communications, and personal connections feeding him information I couldn’t even begin to access.

It made sense.

He ruled a city where massive amounts of people and resources flowed in.

For him, information was just another commodity.

I looked him straight in the eyes and asked:

“So you’re saying... if we confirm how strong the fanatics are, you’ll take Defender in?”

“Of course.” fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

“You sure?”

What I was really asking about was Defender’s past.

He was a killer.

He was involved in massacres.

His entire life had been defined by murder.

The only groups that would accept someone like him were raiders and marauders.

King immediately understood what I meant.

“As long as he’s capable. We don’t care about the past.”

“We started as raiders, after all.”

“What matters is the future.”

“If massacres are a problem, there’s someone far worse than Defender under my command.”

“Yeah?”

King typed something on his keyboard.

A new face appeared on the screen.

I didn’t recognize him.

He looked ordinary, but there was something deeply unsettling about his presence.

King looked at the screen and said:

“Seol Chando.”

“They called him the Butcher of Pyongyang.”