Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 128.3: The Tower (3)

When the first rift opened, the world’s nations responded with both strong concern and opportunistic greed. On one hand, they feared the unknown, something beyond modern science’s ability to explain. On the other, they sought to exploit the rift for economic and scientific gains.

The hardliners proposed sealing the rift with thick concrete walls, like Chernobyl. But their stance was soon overshadowed by the moderates, who pushed for exploration.

Looking back now, perhaps if we had listened to the hardliners, humanity’s doomsday clock might have ticked a little slower.

Once the moderates prevailed, exploration became inevitable.

It was carried out in a manner eerily similar to early space exploration—venturing into the known unknown of the universe.

First, they sent in mechanical probes. Then, they confirmed if those probes could return. After that, they sent in primitive life forms, gradually working up to more complex organisms. Finally, they sent in people—reckless individuals who wanted to carve their names into history.

Unfortunately, no one knows who truly crossed the rift first.

It wasn’t due to a lack of records. Too many people rushed in at once, each claiming to be the first.

Now, years later, we found ourselves mirroring that process—only this time, instead of a cosmic rift, we were exploring a hidden government facility.

Whirrrr—

The first attempt was with a high-speed drone piloted by Hong Da-jeong.

It was an eight-way maneuverable drone, praised for its near-defiance of physics in windless conditions.

But—

Bang! Tatatatata!

A flash of light erupted from the darkness beyond.

Bullets tore through the drone, scattering its remains.

"This is no joke," Da-jeong muttered, tilting her head.

If someone with her drone expertise was reacting like this, it meant things were bad.

"How did M9 get footage then? He used drones too, didn’t he?"

We immediately launched an inquiry into M9.

As of now, M9 didn’t know we were here.

We had deliberately avoided telling him.

I wasn’t keen on running into Ji Chang-soo and his daughter, and I certainly didn’t want to be climbing rope ladders up an apartment that could collapse at any moment.

Fortunately, M9 seemed to be free and answered our questions without issue.

Message from mmmmmmmm™:

"...? It just worked for me?"

Message from mmmmmmmm™:

"Oh, yeah. Some shots fired at it after a while."

Of course, his drone was eventually destroyed.

Da-jeong nodded in understanding.

"M9 must’ve triggered the anti-air defenses."

"What? They weren’t active from the start?"

"It’s probably not a passive defense system. My guess? It’s AI-controlled and adaptive."

She pulled up a tablet and sketched a rough diagram.

"I heard something back when I was with the Legion faction. When the Chinese deploy large-scale drone operations, they still rely on human pilots—like, one pilot per five drones. But the US and Korea? They opted for centralized control systems. And right before the war, they started integrating machine-learning AI into those systems. Basically, self-learning autonomous control."

Rustle.

Da-jeong grabbed another drone from a pile and licked her lips.

"Not a bad way to warm up."

For the first time in a long while, her eyes gleamed with that eerie light I had seen when we first met.

I felt like I could trust her.

But in most cases, human-versus-human warfare is 90% about equipment.

Especially in technological battles—slightly superior gear often results in absolute victory.

Take air combat, for example. The latest US fighter jets had a record of winning 99 out of 100 dogfights against lower-tier planes.

Bang! Tatatatata!

The AI-controlled dragon guarding the vault crushed every one of Da-jeong’s strategies.

And it was learning.

At first, it wasted dozens of bullets per engagement.

Now?

Bang. Bang. Bang.

It was down to precision burst shots.

In less than a day, Da-jeong had lost five drones.

Most of them were cheap, expendable models, but in this world—where production and resupply were nearly impossible—each loss was painful.

"Hmm."

Da-jeong finally called off the operation.

"I’ll wait until I come up with something better."

We weren’t the only ones watching this vault.

Kim Byeong-cheol’s people weren’t closely monitoring our every move, but they were definitely keeping tabs on our progress.

"It’s not going well, is it?"

Kim Byeong-cheol himself showed up that evening.

"If it’s not working out, you could always step aside and let us handle it. No need to waste your resources, right?"

His daughter stood beside him, fiddling with something in her hands.

She saw me and waved cheerfully.

For some reason, I found her unsettling.

Her brightness felt... out of place in this era.

"She seems autistic," Cheon Yeong-jae remarked bluntly.

I watched him for a moment before he shrugged.

"She just gives off that vibe."

"Even if that’s true, you don’t just say that to someone’s face."

"Back after the war, I worked at an orphanage for a while. Had to do some community service."

"What, you commit a crime or something?"

"DUI."

"Wow. Real proud of yourself, huh?"

As we talked, Da-jeong approached us.

She knew Yeong-jae, but aside from Defender and me, she didn’t talk to many people.

She must’ve had something important to say.

"There were rumors."

I sighed.

She was definitely frustrated.

When things weren’t going her way, she tended to do things she normally wouldn’t.

"Yeah, the kid’s weirdly happy. I don’t know if she’s autistic, but her intelligence seems... off."

"What’s the term?" I asked.

"Borderline intelligence?"

Yeong-jae sure knew a lot of words I didn’t.

"Yeah, that. I heard people say her mom ran away because of her."

Listening to these two gossip made me feel drained.

I had spent the entire day on high alert, wary that Kim Byeong-cheol might betray us.

As time passed, that suspicion seemed less likely, but I figured it was better to stay cautious.

The sun was setting.

We had no immediate solution, and after the long journey to Seoul, we needed rest.

The next morning.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Da-jeong abandoned the VR monitor entirely.

She stood right in front of the vault entrance, manually operating her controller as she observed the interior.

Another drone got shot down.

"Hmm."

She let out a short sigh.

Then she pulled out her favorite tool.

The damn robot vacuum.

I had no idea how that was supposed to help.

But I didn’t question it.

Da-jeong carefully checked over the vacuum before sending it into the gap.

Brrrrrrr—

It rolled forward, making a weird noise—one of its wheels must have been faulty.

Moments later—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots rang out.

The difference this time?

Brrrrrrr—

The vacuum came back.

The key to its survival was a metal plate mounted on top.

Three deep bullet dents marked its surface.

Da-jeong nodded in satisfaction and walked over to me.

She looked far too confident.

"Did you figure something out?"

"3.5 seconds."

"3.5 seconds?"

"The warehouse defense system takes 3.5 seconds to detect, process, and attack a target. I've sent in seven different drones, and while the reaction time kept decreasing at first, it never went below 3.5 seconds."

Hong Da-jeong set down the robot vacuum and straightened her shoulders.

"That’s the absolute minimum processing time."

"Hmm. Yeah?"

Was that important?

Maybe. Maybe not.

3.5 seconds.

It was more than enough time to kill a person, but far too short for a human to react.

"For now, let’s stop here."

"You mean—?"

"Yeah. We’re calling it off."

Da-jeong glanced at the soldiers watching us from afar with smug expressions.

"Let’s see what they do."

For someone who usually avoided people, Da-jeong could get quite competitive when the mood struck her.

I had assumed she was reclusive, but thinking back, she had worked as a café waitress before the war.

And she had lured people into traps before.

Maybe she didn’t avoid people out of anxiety—maybe she just found them annoying.

Since Da-jeong had put the mission on hold, there was no reason to continue.

Any more attempts would just waste drones.

"What? Giving up already?"

Kim Byeong-cheol burst into laughter.

He seemed to be in a very good mood.

"I knew it!"

He pulled out a radio and spoke cheerfully to his men.

"Is it ready? Yeah? Good. Let’s get started! Our guests just vacated the room!"

It seemed Kim Byeong-cheol had a trump card.

Moments later, that trump card ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) appeared before us with a thunderous roar.

A tank.

K1A1.

A South Korean main battle tank rolled in, shaking the entire underground parking lot.

Da-jeong, who had been leaning against the truck with her arms crossed, uncurled her arms and stared at the tank.

"Ah, of course."

She smirked.

"I figured they'd try something like this."

"Oh yeah?"

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"Yeah. The defenses have tight firing angles and well-formed kill zones. But you noticed, right? Even after all the drone runs, we never saw any heavy weapons inside."

"The biggest caliber we saw was around 7.62mm."

"Then the solution is obvious."

"You mean that?"

"Yep. If small arms can’t penetrate, just bring something too big for them to stop."

She smirked again, arms crossed once more.

Her confidence made me curious.

"Think it’ll work?"

She shrugged.

"Probably not."

Then, as if reconsidering, she scratched her shoulder and added:

"Actually... definitely not."

The tank advanced.

CRASH!

Its massive frame tore through the steel door.

And then—

"Cover your ears!"

The tank commander shouted his warning—

BOOM!!!

The main cannon roared.

THOOM!!!

A shockwave blasted through the parking lot, sending dust and debris flying.

From beyond the warehouse door, a violent explosion echoed.

"Is... is that okay?" Cheon Yeong-jae muttered.

He had a point.

The objective wasn’t just the drones—it was the supplies inside.

What the hell was their plan?

It seemed more like a performance than an actual attack.

After firing the cannon, the tank charged straight through the hole it had made.

Da-jeong, still standing with her arms crossed, started counting on her fingers.

"Three, two, one... and a half."

She didn’t even reach zero before—

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG—!

Gunfire erupted from the other side of the door.

Dozens—maybe hundreds—of shots.

No person or drone could survive that kind of barrage.

But a tank?

That was a different story.

It was designed to shrug off bullets.

"Good! Keep pushing! Keep pushing! Crush those toy soldiers!"

Kim Byeong-cheol had arrived at the scene, bringing his ever-cheerful daughter with him.

"South Korea’s future is in our hands!" he bellowed.

I tilted my head.

"..."

Was this man still clinging to the idea of Korea?

I wasn’t here to judge patriots.

"Reviving Korea depends on us! The rebirth of our nation starts here in Seoul! Go! Push forward! Plant the flag on the high ground!"

But his words sounded less like a mission and more like a prayer.

Like he was grasping for something long dead.

An empty faith.

A prayer to a god that no longer answered.

"Skelton."

I snapped out of my thoughts as Da-jeong called my name.

"Watch."

She silently mouthed an explosion sound effect.

BOOM!

From the large radio beside Kim Byeong-cheol, a pained voice rang out.

"Ahhh!"

The tank crew’s cry, mixed with static.

The next moment—

KABOOM!!!

A deafening blast rocked the warehouse, sending a second shockwave roaring through the tunnel.

The tank was destroyed.

"They say the Korean government was incompetent," Da-jeong whispered near my ear.

"But when it came to protecting their own interests..."

She smirked.

"They were better than anyone."

Of course they had prepared for armored vehicle threats.

With the tank gone, we were back to square one.

Kim Byeong-cheol’s forces weren’t getting through.

And neither were we.

The dragon guarding the vault was far stronger—and far more ruthless—than we had imagined.

Da-jeong sighed and shook her head.

"Sorry, Skelton. But this time... I don’t think we can do it."

I suspected she had given up when she lost the fifth drone.

Letting Kim Byeong-cheol take his shot had been a calculated move—she knew he would fail.

She had set it up as evidence.

Evidence to convince me to back off.

"The defenses in there," she said, "are designed to counter every type of human weapon."

"That means even someone like him—a third-rate warlord—doesn't stand a chance."

She had a point.

She wasn’t saying this out of frustration.

She was worried about me.

She had gone so far as to set up concrete proof—even if it meant letting tank soldiers die.

That was very in line with the kind of person "Defender" had always been.

Even Defender himself—who had spent the entire fight hiding in the truck—spoke up.

"Skelton. This... isn’t our fight."

He was right.

We weren’t omnipotent.

We were hunters—designed to fight monsters, not human-engineered kill zones.

No matter how skilled we were, the reality was simple. freēwēbnovel.com

But if there’s one thing humanity has—above all else—it’s intelligence.

And intelligence meant adaptability.

"Hold on. I need to check something."

"Check what?"

"The internet."

I ran back to the truck.

Inside, Defender sat with his arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Beside him, Valentine sat stiffly, clearly uneasy under his presence.

"Move over."

I pushed past Defender and settled in front of my laptop.

Click-clack.

SKELTON: (Skelton emergency) Captain M9! Respond!

mmmmmmmmm™: Captain M9 speaking!

Just a few lines of text.

And yet, they made me smile.

The bond of the forum.

With renewed determination, I typed furiously.

SKELTON: You got any capsules nearby?