Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 104.1: Beyond the Fog (1)

The best way to uncover the enemy’s intentions and identity is to capture a prisoner.

But prisoners are usually taken when you have superior firepower and can strike at the enemy at your chosen time.

Setting a goal or even hoping to capture a prisoner in a one-against-many, desperate situation is nothing short of the delusions of a madman.

Last night, I had no way of knowing how many enemies there were or if they would receive reinforcements, so I made sure to kill everyone I could.

One boy had barely been clinging to life, but judging by his injuries and condition, he was in no state for interrogation. So, I granted him mercy with a single bullet.

After securing the perimeter with the soldiers, we waited until dawn to clean up the corpses.

With four soldiers assisting, the work was relatively easy.

Aside from the one corpse whose face had been mangled by a direct hit from grenade shrapnel, the rest remained largely intact. Their features were undamaged, and there were no grotesque mutilations, so the process of handling the bodies wasn’t as disturbing as it could have been.

However, once we had laid the bodies neatly in one place, a few suspicious details became apparent.

They weren’t wearing military uniforms or anything that indicated affiliation, yet they shared one common trait.

“They’re all just kids.”

The soldiers seemed to focus only on the fact that the attackers were young.

“Where the hell are these kids from?”

“Did they escape from a facility?”

I saw things differently.

Though their faces had grown pale in death and their bodies had cooled, the unmistakable traces they left behind told a different story.

First, their nutrition.

None of them were overweight, but neither were they malnourished.

Even as their faces turned pallid, their bodies still retained enough fat to suggest a consistent diet—fat doesn’t just drain away like feces leaking from an open wound.

Second, their hygiene.

They were all clean.

These weren’t kids who had been living in filth, unable to secure proper sanitation.

Even their clothes carried a faint scent of detergent.

But the biggest issue was their weapons.

The eight I had killed were all armed.

One carried a riot shield. Others wielded pistols, shotguns, rifles, and even a semi-automatic sniper rifle.

They lacked night vision goggles or other high-grade accessories, but their weapons were well-maintained, in pristine condition, and fully stocked with fresh, gleaming ammunition.

In short, they were kept at a military-level standard.

“······.”

A chilling thought flickered through my mind.

Manhunters.

The mysterious entity that periodically raided Outpost 328, whose identity had never been confirmed—could its true form be something far greater, something that no individual could stand against?

A leviathan.

Which meant... this outpost might not have been just a simple defense post.

It could have been a training ground.

A place where low-level Awakened soldiers honed their combat skills.

And I, along with my predecessors, might have just been experience points for Korea’s next generation of Awakened soldiers.

While the soldiers were finishing up the body cleanup, I made a call.

“Hey, I have a question.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“My predecessors.”

“Predecessors? Oh, I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been here long enough to have any details.”

“It’s nothing major. I just wanted to ask... what was their age group?”

“Their age group?”

“There was a journal left in the outpost, and judging by its contents, they seemed to be around my age. I was just curious.”

“Oh, no. They wouldn’t have been like you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. As far as I know, they were all in their forties.”

Forties.

A useless generation for this island.

Neither part of the “chosen few” adults, nor the expendable workforce willing to do the dirty jobs that nobody wanted.

“······.”

I had read before that during World War II, the Japanese military would force new recruits to stab live Chinese prisoners with bayonets.

It seemed a similar, but even more insidious, practice was taking place here.

Useless old men being expendable training dummies for the youth deemed worthy of the future.

Well, considering how the bureaucrats in Jeju had already left millions to die, this was probably just another day’s work for them.

Park Seung-su arrived not long after I had reached my conclusion.

“I heard you were attacked!”

His eyes scanned my face and body.

The briefest moment of tension flashed across his expression.

Was he disappointed?

Disappointed that I wasn’t wounded?

After his scan, he turned to inspect the bodies.

“?!”

His eyes widened in shock.

“This... all of this...”

He turned to face me.

“You handled all of them alone...?”

“Yes.”

I nodded.

“They weren’t exactly battle-hardened. Once a few of their combatants fell, the rest weren’t much different from civilians.”

“I-I see.”

He began examining the corpses.

I followed behind, studying his expression, but he kept his back to me, making it impossible to read his face.

However, I did notice that he lingered on one particular corpse longer than the others.

The one who had thrown a spear at me.

The leader of the attack.

After a long, deep exhale—whether a sigh or a groan, I couldn’t tell—Park Seung-su finally turned back toward me.

His expression was neutral.

“They were runaways.”

I frowned slightly at the choice of words but remained silent, listening.

“They were kids who failed to adapt to the facilities, left the safety zones, and ended up hiding out in the mountains, surviving by raiding people and farmers.”

“That so?”

“Yes. Nowadays, all students are kept inside the walls, but back when we had less space, we used external training facilities for them.”

Park Seung-su lit a cigarette.

“Some of them must have escaped back then and settled here.”

I stared straight at him and said,

“That doesn’t explain their weapons—or how well-fed they were.”

For a moment, the cigarette between his lips trembled.

“What?”

He turned to me.

His gaze had sharpened.

Ignoring it, I continued.

“Their hygiene wasn’t bad either. Their clothes had been recently washed in detergent. Their faces were clean.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

His tone had a subtle edge now.

I met his glare head-on and asked, clearly and deliberately,

“Are they trainees?”

“What?”

“They’re trainees, aren’t they?”

Short. Direct.

And I watched for his reaction.

Shock.

Anger.

Composure.

Calculation.

He cycled through the predictable phases.

“······Trainees? That’s ridiculous. Your imagination is running wild. I understand this is a serious situation, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He was good at controlling his emotions.

Even when I hit the mark, he recovered quickly—his shamelessness making it easy to deflect suspicion.

That was fine.

It didn’t matter what kind of scheme he was part of, or had been part of.

The only thing that mattered was my survival.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“I want to leave this place as soon as possible.”

I stated my demand.

Park Seung-su’s gaze briefly flickered away as he smirked.

“Ah, well... That’s not up to me.”

“Then who do I need to talk to?”

“Technically, Jeju Defense Command oversees this outpost. But I’ll put in a request for you—see if we can get you out of here sooner.”

“When?”

At my cold question, Park Seung-su finally met my gaze.

His eyes burned with something unreadable as he answered.

“It won’t take too long.”

“When exactly?”

“Within a week.”

“Fine.”

I turned away without betraying any emotion.

“...But if I get attacked again, next time, I will take a prisoner.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his expression stiffen.

Terribly so.

His vehicle left with the corpses.

The soldiers who had come to assist me were clearly eager to leave as well.

“Sorry, sir. We’d take you with us, but our unit isn’t authorized. According to regulations, we have to wait for a proper rotation.”

The soldiers’ uniforms were different from the ones I was familiar with.

Judging by the insignia of the National Crisis Management Committee (Gukwiwon), they were likely a direct security force under its command.

"Excuse me."

I apologized before making my most important request.

Weapons.

A stronger weapon is the only guarantee of survival.

There are many kinds of weapons—firearms that directly kill the enemy, grenades that can create advantageous situations, or flashbangs and smoke bombs that temporarily impair the enemy’s combat ability.

What I requested from them was more ammunition.

I secured 90 extra rounds.

I also acquired six grenades and, as a bonus, two military combat knives.

As soon as the soldiers left, the first thing I did was sit down in front of my computer.

SKELTON: Thanks for yesterday. Thanks to you, the rescue unit came. A bit late, but still.

I sent a message to Unicorn.

SKELTON: Even after all that, I don’t think this situation is over yet.

SKELTON: Park Seung-su... that bastard. Looks like he really wants me dead.

A delayed response came from Unicorn.

Unicorn: Why?

I told her everything I had seen, experienced, and thought.

Unicorn: That... that’s impossible.

She didn’t believe me.

No, she refused to believe me.

SKELTON: We’ve already seen enough impossible things happen. This isn’t even that far-fetched.

Unicorn: ······

SKELTON: The next attack will be even harder to stop. This time, there were eight of them. Next time, they might even send a Level 5 or higher Awakened.

Unicorn: Then you’re dead.

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SKELTON: I hate to ask, but... can you help me?

Unicorn: I already did.

SKELTON: If I don’t get out of here, it doesn’t mean anything. Outpost 328 is the cutting board, and I’m the fish on top of it. Sure, this fish managed to bite back and maul the dogs trying to rip it apart, but next time will be different.

Unicorn: I’m really sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to go outside anymore.

Unicorn: Sorry.

I could barely remember her face now.

Her voice was faint in my memory.

Yet, for some reason, I imagined her bowing her head to me in apology.

Tap! Tap-tap.

Raindrops hit the window.

A heavy downpour was on its way.

I usually avoid meddling in other people’s affairs.

I don’t pry into their thoughts.

But this time was different.

I needed to know.

No, I had to listen.

SKELTON: What happened to you?

It was time to step into reality.

For both of us.

For me, and for Na Hye-in.

We had spent enough time trapped in our own isolated worlds.

It was time to finally face each other.

If someone had told me just three years ago—or even just a year ago—that Park Gyu, the lone wolf of all lone wolves, would be the first to extend a hand for reconciliation, I would have laughed in their face.

But that’s the thing about life.

Some things aren’t within our control.

Communication is one of them.

Unicorn: Let’s talk another time.

I was ready.

But she wasn’t.

“······.”

Still, I would wait.

Because once, I had been trapped in a maze of my own making too.

I could only hope... she wouldn’t take too long.

The rain blurred the view from the outpost window.

⚡

No matter how fucked up things got, there was no rule saying I had to bury my head in the dirt like an ostrich and wait for death.

I was still actively engaged in my domain—online.

Click.

SKELTON: (Emoji of a cute girl pushing her head forward, saying “Poke~”)

Click.

SKELTON: (Emoji of a horned girl with a shadow covering her face, looking horrified.)

I had carved out a decent presence in the Red Archive forums, where I was known as the "Comment Angel" or the "Emoji Angel."

Someone like me couldn’t just disappear overnight.

Quantum Detonation: Kelton, why don’t you ever comment on my posts?

I even had devoted fans (or something close to it).

But lately... I was getting a weird feeling.

Something off.

Kita-chan (Incubating): Does that Skelton guy even play the game, or does he just spam comments?

Senseturr: Skelton spamming emojis like a bot is getting on my nerves.

ㅇㅇ: Mods, isn’t what Skelton is doing against the rules? Genuinely asking.

Pingfree Man: I was thinking the same. Is Skelton just a troll who doesn’t even play?

...

...

A quick search for “Skelton” pulled up a wall of negative opinions.

At first, it had been a handful of people.

Now, it was growing.

I suppose it’s only natural.

More popularity means more haters.

The common attack against me was simple:

I was a "겜안분"—a "game-anbun."

"Game-anbun" was short for "a person who doesn’t play the game but stirs up drama in the community."

It was a term for people who didn’t engage with the actual game and only joined forums because they were lively, busy places to shitpost and cause trouble.

“······.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Sure, I had Red Archive installed on my computer.

But my emulator software ran like garbage.

And honestly?

I didn’t even like games.

Especially mobile games.

I had never even finished the tutorial in Red Archive.

Quantum Detonation: Kelton! Give me one of your cute emoji comments too~ Please?

Well.

No need ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) to panic.

These guys were just mad because I wasn’t giving them attention.

That’s all.

And if they wanted to come at me, I had ways to fight back.

The Red Archive forum allowed anonymous nicknames, but it wasn’t completely lawless.

You couldn’t track user IDs, but you could attach "memos" to specific users.

Even if they changed their nickname, I would still know who they were.

“······.”

Tap-tap-tap.

Kita-chan (Incubating) – Complains that I don’t play the game.

Senseturr – Whining because I didn’t comment on his post.

ㅇㅇ – Looking for mods to intervene over comments.

Pingfree Man – Another game-anbun accuser.

Memo added.

I wouldn’t be giving these guys any more emojis.

Just as I was sorting through users to blacklist, something unexpected happened.

Unicorn: Skelton...

Unicorn messaged me.