Chapter 38: Hello, Seoul

[Translator – Aren]

The front line, now that the shelling had stopped, resembled a graveyard.

The sounds of coughing and boots kicking scattered trash around the trenches could still be heard faintly, but there were no voices. Whenever the dense gray fog cloud hundreds of meters thick that had swallowed all of Seoul writhed and shifted, ominous shadows flickered within it.

The wind blowing through the ruins of the devastated city carried strange noises that sounded like human screams and groans. And despite spring slowly approaching, a chill lingered in the air that made people pull their collars tighter.

This was a place where soldiers completely covered in CBRN protective suits and gas masks moved around in eight-man squads carrying flamethrowers and drum-fed shotguns. A place where, instead of exchanging idle chatter, people struggled to simply breathe, letting out labored, raspy breaths.

A place where soldiers sat on ammunition crates with their gas masks removed, eyes wide and bloodshot as they jabbed syringes into their arms with drool dripping down their chins. A place where men sat beside piles of burned corpses, clattering spoons as they forced waterlogged rice down their throats.

Land guarded by people who had crossed the line of humanity in order to fight monsters.

As I took in the reality of the first blockade line encircling the outskirts of Seoul, I stepped deeper into the command tent.

The first communication attempt had been judged a failure due to the emotional reaction from the other side, so headquarters had spent a brief period making adjustments before reopening communications. Eventually, after the signal operators busied themselves with cables and antennas, they got a result.

A 2-star general with no name tag motioned toward us civilian Operators as we wandered into the tent. Then he put on his gas mask.

"We're resuming communications. Everyone put on your gas masks, those of you in uniform, cover your name tags. Just relax and listen.”

I had no idea why a radio call required gas masks, but I put it on anyway.

After a few more adjustments to the frequency, they reconnected with the same person who had answered the first time.

[...Can you hear me? Hey, can you hear me?!]

"Yes, we can hear you."

[You motherfuckers. Having fun living while the rest of us die?]

The person who’d been cursing them out earlier was a man, his voice gruff.

He sounded like the kind of hot-tempered drunk you’d find causing trouble at a bar. His anger aside, it became pretty clear that a proper negotiation became impossible.

Before long, his furious shouting broke down into sobbing.

[You damn bastards… just let us out…]

"Sir, given the circumstances we’re currently facing, an immediate rescue operation is difficult. First, we need you to remain calm and stay where you are.”

[I’ll do anything you want, so just let us out…]

The man on the other end broke into miserable, choking sobs.

The general did not respond immediately. Instead, he turned toward a white-collar woman seated in the corner of headquarters. Aside from the faint wrinkles around her eyes, her skin seemed remarkably well cared for. She tapped a pen against her lips for a moment before slowly shaking her head.

That was the signal.

The general lowered the radio volume to a minimum, cut the connection, and asked her,

"Couldn’t we persuade him?”

"No. Judging from what I heard, he’s already psychologically collapsed. Even if he survives, it won’t be for long. He lacks confidence in his own survival. It’s a perfectly normal response for an ordinary person, but he’s not the sort of candidate Headquarters is looking for.”

"...Next."

What Headquarters meant by "candidate" was obvious.

The quick-witted people present had already realized what these communications were really about. They simply kept their mouths shut and quietly savored the bitter taste of reality. The Ear-branch wizards like Shin Nain, who could read minds, or others with similar abilities, had stopped speaking a long time ago.

I, Baek Jemin, was no different.

A wizard.

The only people qualified to speak with the government or the military through these communications were wizards. People who had survived this long and continued living with an unshakable conviction in their own survival.

Feeling a cold chill brush past a corner of my heart, we waited for the next person to answer.

After a brief attempt, the next connection reached a man with a calm, measured voice that sounded like that of a university professor.

[...This is Nowon District, Seoul. Can you hear me? Are you survivors?]

"This is the Seongnam first blockade line. It’s good to meet you, sir.”

The professor, who had clearly felt both caution and relief at finding other survivors, fell silent the moment he heard where we were calling from.

The general continued talking and presented the government’s current proposal.

"We ask that you understand this was a cautious decision made in consideration of international pressure and the difficulties of containment. If the practitioners of Localized Invasive Structural Alteration phenomena without your group can conduct primary screening to identify and protect innocent civilians, the military will spare no effort in providing supplies to your shelter.”

This time, the military took a step back.

They carefully avoided mentioning escape from Seoul directly, but by using the phrase "primary screening," they left the possibility of an eventual evacuation open.

The general glanced toward the white-collar woman, silently asking a question with his eyes. She spun her pen around her fingers and nodded.

An unpleasant silence lingered for a moment. Then the professor answered, his voice dripping with unmistakable hostility.

[Hah, unbelievable.]

"Sir?"

[Not even the Combined US-Korea Command in Pyeongtaek. Just some major general guarding the blockade line. Why the hell would I trust you?]

The general frowned.

A ripple of unease spread through the civilian Operators as well. Only the white-collar woman with wrinkles at the corners of her eyes remained calm as she listened.

[What do you take us for? Some pack of dogs that’ll bark when you tell us to bark and jump into a boiling pot when you tell us to jump?]

"Sir, we are trying to account for the difficulties of the situation…"

[Right. You handled it better than any zombie movie ever did. Shot everyone trying to get out and called it quarantine to keep the outside safe while the rest of us rot in here. You dragged things out with talk about riots and unrest, stopped people from escaping, and gunned down anyone who tried to run. That’s how you ensured safety, right?]

"This kind of rhetoric and approach will only lead to worse outcomes for both sides, Sir.”

[So what? You’re saying you’ll let us out if we do what we’re told? Why should we believe that? Why should we die when you outsiders say die and obey when you say obey? Don’t you think you’re the ones who have the wrong idea here?]

The professor’s voice sharpened.

[Do you really think we still see you as fellow countrymen? As family?]

"..."

[You're all dead men. The reason we’ve survived this long without guns? The moment we get out, we'll show you. The president, the soldiers who pulled triggers without thinking. Every comfortable bastard living safely outside. Every last one of you. We’ll make you beg for your lives. You said Seongnam, right?]

-Click.

The general turned the dial and cut the transmission. The white-collar woman clicked her tongue sadly and began scribbling notes in her notebook.

The third connection reached a woman who sounded like a chatty middle-aged mother who never minded sticking her nose into other people’s business.

[Oh my, I understand. None of this is the soldiers’ fault. It’s the politicans.]

"The military is currently suspending bombardment in an effort to build trust with survivors. If you would disclose your exact location…”

[Well, that’s one thing and this is another, isn’t it? If I tell you where we are, what’s stopping you from saving the coordinates and shelling us anyway? Right? You soldiers are just following orders, aren’t you?]

"Ma’am, we’re continuing this communication in order to promise supply deliveries and support for survivors.”

[Let’s be honest here. We want out of this place, and you want to keep us trapped in Seoul. So what’s the most reliable way to do that? I’ve never served in the military, but I’ve seen enough movies and read enough novels. There’s an idiom about that…the four character idiom about cutting the grass…]

I could see the commander’s eyes sink into despair behind his gas mask lenses.

[Cut the grass and pull out the roots. That’s the one, right? Cut off the problem at its source. If you shell wherever we’re hiding, you won’t have to send supplies, and you won’t have to worry about anyone escaping. Then all you’d need to do is bow your heads once and call it a tragic friendly-fire incident.]

"Ma’am.”

[We'll tell you where to drop the supplies. Don't try to find our shelter. That's our minimum condition. And from now on, we’ll decide whether we answer calls or not. Have a nice day, soldiers!]

The white-collar woman evaluated that exchange extremely positively.

"She’s confident in her chances of survival, and her judgment seems fairly sound. We should be able to exchange information with her. That’s actually a very encouraging sign.”

"..."

The commander slowly nodded and searched for the next contact.

The fourth respondent remained silent for a long time. Only after hearing the words "first blockade line, Seongnam" did they finally speak. Their voice was so hoarse and scraped raw that it was impossible to tell whether they were male or female. What was unmistakable, however, was the chill running down everyone’s spine.

[You lot. You’re all wearing gas masks and hiding your name tags, aren’t you?]

"...!"

[Looks like you’ve got people over there who know about magic, too. Pretty cautious, aren't you? Is that why you’re calling from Seongnam instead of Pyeongtaek? Afraid the entire command staff might get wiped out if you contact us directly?]

The commander frantically spun the dial, but the transmission didn’t cut off.

Instead, both the volume and the clarity became sharper.

[Hand over the president who ordered the containment. Hand over the politicians. Hand over the command staff and every military officer involved.]

"Terminate the transmission, terminate it!”

"Cut the cables!”

As frantic shouts rang out from the soldiers outside the tent, several of the wizards present began backing away in fear.

[Hand over every bastard responsible for the containment.]

-Click—.

The transmission ended. It wasn’t because of the dial or because of any mechanical action.

Only after the soldiers outside reported in, their faces drenched in sweat behind their gas mask lenses, did we finally learn why.

"All cables disconnected, sir.”

"Resume in 10 minutes. Check the cables and avoid that frequency.”

This time even the white-collar woman, who had seemed so composed, looked pale.

She dropped her pen and fumbled inside her coat before pulling out a necklace. It looked remarkably similar to the pentagram pendant Anderson had given me. The material was different, but the five-pointed star was unmistakable.

The problem was that the metal pentagram had split cleanly in half down the middle.

-Hic.

The woman, pale as a sheet, let out a hiccup and practically fled from the tent.

She never came back.

For 10 long minutes, a suffocating silence settled over the gathered wizards. Then, after the brief lull, communications resumed.

The fifth attempt connected to a young woman. Her voice as desperate yet firm

[...Can you hear me? Hello? Can you hear me? Are you still alive?]

"This is the first blockade line, Seongnam."

[The first blockade line…? Soengnam?]

This respondent was relatively friendly. Honestly, "relatively" didn’t even feel like the right word. She was practically cooperative.

The woman on the other end of the radio asked about the military’s current situation and, in turn, explained her own circumstances. A few pieces of information sounded pretty important.

[Listen carefully, mister soldier. If you’re really planning to come rescue people in here, you absolutely cannot meet the wizards. I’m a wizard as well, but…well, anyway.]

"It would be easier for us to understand if you could explain, Ma’am."

[I don't know the details myself. Me and my group focused on hiding and surviving… but according to people who joined us later, most of the wizards have gone crazy. Don’t trust them if you can help it.]

"Ma’am, if you don’t mind, could we ask for your name and location?"

[I can't give you our location. We’ve lost contact with people who used to communicate regularly. As for my name, it’s Go Ryeoha. There shouldn’t be anyone else with the same name, so maybe we’ll meet someday. Just tell us where you’ll be dropping supplies and we’ll pick them up.]

That was the last transmission. No one else answered after her.

March 23rd, 2028, 6:12 PM.

We wizards remained inside the command tent and listened as the commander delivered what amounted to the outside world’s final ultimatum.

"As of this moment, bombardment of the outer districts will resume. Citizens remaining in Seoul are advised to send visible markers or light signals whenever military reconnaissance assets are observed so that supplies may be collected from secure locations. The Republic of Korea Armed Forces and the government continue to make every effort to resolve this crisis and protect the lives and safety of all citizens. During daylight hours, please avoid artillery zones and refrain from approaching the outer districts without coordination with military forces…”

At the same time, footsteps echoed outside the tent.

We could also hear strained groans as well. Metal clanking against metal and the whirring of machinery also drifted in. Before long, the heavy roar of artillery returned once again.

At that moment, the commander turned toward us and slowly removed his gas mask.

While communication equipment was being dismantled around him, he carefully examined every wizard in the tent. For a brief instant, our eyes met.

The commander was an old man with pure white hair and eyebrows, his face lined with deep wrinkles. He looked to at least be in his late 50s. After sweeping his gaze across us one more time, he finally spoke.

"You’ve all worked hard standing here and listening in whatever posture was comfortable. However, the reason we’ve gathered you here is to make a larger decision.”

"A decision? What kind of decision?”

The beanie-wearing makgeolli uncle asked the question while sprawled on the floor.

The other wizards looked much the same. As far as everyone knew, we’d already been assigned to support the defense of the first blockade line. Even we Supreme Archmages shrugged, wondering what else there was left to decide. Surely he wasn’t about to tell us we were being released beyond the blockade line.

But the thoughts of us ordinary citizens could never keep up with the military, I suppose.

"Beginning now, we will be accepting volunteers for the first follow-up reconnaissance operation into Seoul. Volunteers will enter the city along a route secured by US and Korean forces conducting advance reconnaissance and make contact with local practitioners of Localized Invasive Structural Alteration phenomena.”

* * *

The Operator quarters established along the first blockade line were surprisingly spacious. Mostly because the wizards had been grouped according to their organizations.

After taking off our shoes and collapsing onto our cots, we couldn’t help but ponder why the military made such a decision.

Pastor Park Yohan spent most of his time sighing. Lee Sejun sat on the edge of his cot with his arms crossed, shaking his leg nonstop. The constant bouncing eventually earned him a weary rebuke from the pastor.

"Sejun-ssi, you’re shaking away your good fortune.”

"I’m more worried about losing my head than my luck.”

"Haah..."

Honestly, it wasn’t that strange.

South Korea was already ruined.

The industrial regions and rear areas were still functioning well enough to keep the country standing, but with Seoul gone, the economic strength and human capital that had elevated Korea into a developed nation had effectively fallen off a cliff.

They’re avoiding nuclear strikes under the pretext of maintaining the blockade lines, but after seeing the front with my own eyes today, the situation there wasn’t exactly encouraging either.

The official casualty count stood at about 13 thousand, but there was a catch to that figure.

That was 13 thousand casualties out of the 150 thousand troops maintaining the first blockade line. The military units that had been stranded in Seoul and had gone completely silent during the early days of this crisis weren’t even included in those numbers.

And even the troops still holding the line weren’t exactly enduring in good condition.

I licked my lips as I remembered the soldiers jabbing syringes into their arms. Apparently alcohol and cigarettes were not enough anymore. To maintain the blockade line, the military had either begun distributing what looked suspiciously like psychoactive drugs or they were deliberately looking the other way.

Given all that, the reason the US military and the Korean Armed Forces were taking the reckless gamble of sending special forces and wizards into Seoul for reconnaissance was obvious.

Alteration-type magic.

A supernatural ability that could be learned if you had magical symbols and fog.

And although only us Supreme Archmages and a handful of soldiers knew that my ritual had succeeded, it was only a matter of time before occultists overseas learned about it too. The connection between magic and occultism would inevitably become public knowledge.

The true golden goose that would make every billionaire and tycoon in the world start throwing money around.

Magic was the last industry left to a South Korea that had lost Seoul and fallen into decline.

"Not an industry, but the Lord’s grace and blessing, Jemin-ssi.”

"Same difference."

I answered Shin Nain’s jab at my inner thoughts with a sulky reply, though I adjusted my thinking a little.

Yeah. Calling it an industry was honestly ridiculous.

The existence of magic had restrained the hardliners who wanted to solve the monster problem with nuclear strikes. At the same time, it was the Korean government’s final bargaining chip in negotiations with the rest of the world.

South Korea wasn’t becoming a magical superpower. It had become a country that was practically dead without magic.

At that moment, I suddenly noticed an empty spot and looked around.

Sure enough, one cot sat there all by itself.

"That bastard Hamza ran off.”

Huh?

That ungrateful little punk.

I couldn’t hide the sense of betrayal rising inside me.

The guy had eaten spoonfuls of my Richam and now he was refusing to join the journey to save South Korea. But Pastor Park Yohan calmly stopped me.

"Let him go. He’s not even Korean.”

The pastor wore the expression of a man who had achieved enlightenment, pretending to hold a cigarette butt while absentmindedly chewing the air.

The Supreme Archmages who had supposedly sworn to die together had suddenly been reduced to four.

Just as I was lamenting that fact, the poodle lady poked her head into the tent and looked around. When her eyes met mine, she beckoned me over.

Pastor Park Yohan, Shin Nain, and Lee Sejun either looked away or lowered their heads in complete disinterest, but I, Baek Jemin, the kind-hearted gentleman that I was, answered her call.

As soon as I stepped outside the tent, the chilly wind greeted me. The Poodle Lady reached into her coat and handed me several strange-looking objects.

"Ma’am? What’s all this?”

"Call me Noona. I’m not that old.”

They were talismans covered in hastily scribbled characters, each decorated with a tiger illustration.

The poodle lady practically shoved a bundle of charms into my hands and let out a long sigh.

"It’s because you’ve got death hanging around you. Feels like you're actually going in there. I haven’t been possessed by the spirits for that long, so don’t expect miracles, but they should do something. I didn’t just scribble these on random paper either. They’re made with real cinnabar ink on genuine yellow talisman paper. Keep them inside your clothes when you go in there. And don’t eat them!”

"Hey now…”

That last addition felt a little unfair.

Did this lady think I’d start swallowing them down that moment she said they worked? It was almost hurtful how much she seemed to think I was the kind of kid who’d actually eat dirt just to become a wizard.

"These things cost millions of won even before the world went completely insane. They’re worth even more now!”

"Thank you, Noona.”

I humbly tucked the talismans inside my shirt.

Once I’d put them away, the poodle noona brought a finger to her lips and quietly added,

"Good. Now that you’ve got them, don’t go telling people I’m a shaman, got it?”

"You were a shaman?”

"Oh my, you catch on quick, young man!”

-Smack.

The poodle noona gave me a loud slap on the back before trotting off toward her tent.

I watched her retreating figure with misty eyes, then hurried back inside and immediately went looking for Shin Nain. Anyone who had a master mind-reader and didn’t use him was an idiot.

For all I knew, those nice words were just a cover, and she’d actually handed me some kind of curse.

"Nain-ssi, so is this stuff legit or not?”

"Tsk…If you’re going to rely on superstitions like this, you should just start going to church. Anyway, she did give them to you with good intentions. Apparently you looked like the dumbest, most clueless person here, so she felt sorry for you and figured you’d die first.”

"That lady…”

I felt genuinely reassured by the poodle lady’s kindness.

Sure, she’d only given them to me because I looked dumb and helpless, but wanting to look after someone weaker than yourself wasn’t exactly the mindset of a bad person.

* * *

March 26th, 2028.

Volunteer recruitment began.

Pastor Park Yohan submitted his application first. Then he returned to the quarters and looked around at the rest of us.

"I can't blame that foreign Muslim. We've all seen the monsters with our own eyes. You lot have probably seen things even worse. Seoul will be far more horrific than anything we’ve witnessed or imagined. If I weren’t a pastor, I’d have quit already. If I didn’t have a duty to save the Lord’s lost sheep, I would’ve run long ago.”

The pastor gripped his Bible with trembling hands and continued.

"Don’t go trying to be heroes. If you have a chance to run, run. Every one of you has already done enough.”

March 27th, 2028.

The sound of news playing from Lee Sejun’s phone drifted between the distant thunder of artillery.

We the Supreme Archmages sat drying our socks while listening to both the bombardment and Sejun’s commentary.

[This is a historic moment. For the first time since the founding of the United Nations, all five permanent members of the Security Council have demonstrated unified resolve against the transnational biological disaster centered on the Republic of Korea. As more than 180 countries around the world recognize the severity of the crisis, some political analysts are suggesting this may become the first precedent of humanity acting as a single collective will, and would mark a major turning point toward global unity.]

"Bullshit."

Lee Sejun's cold, single-word response said everything that needed to be said about South Korea’s future.

April 2nd, 2028.

While we were washing our faces with damp towels, we heard soldiers outside shouting profanities that sounded almost like screams.

Not long afterward, the wizards summoned to the Seongnam command center received the news everyone had been expecting.

"The Chinese military has forcibly entered Ganghwa Island. Under the pretext of stabilizing the situation and overseeing the evacuation of refugees to the island in the Yellow Sea, they are claiming responsibility for the coastal containment lines in northern Gyeonggi and Incheon in cooperation with North Korea. Accordingly, the administrative authority of the Republic of Korea, which has relocated to Incheon, will be fully transferred to the US-Korea Combined Command in Pyeontaek as of this moment…”

When I glanced outside the tent, the soldiers gripping their rifles seemed to be holding them a little tighter than usual.

April 3rd, 2028.

The monsters launched another series of scattered attacks against the first blockade line.

There were about 200 military casualties.

Most of the bodies couldn’t even be recovered. The wizards had been stationed in the rear as reserve forces, but the ones occasionally called up to the trenches all came back trembling in fear.

That night, two wizards were caught attempting to desert.

No one said what happened to them afterward, and no one wanted to know.

April 5th, 2028.

Listening to news broadcasts on our phones had become the new daily routine of us Supreme Archmages.

Needless to say, the news wasn’t encouraging in the least.

Even through the phone screen, you could see city streets engulfed in flames and crowds roaring loudly enough to drown out gunfire.

Chuncheon, Daegu, Ulsan, Gwangju…

The news anchor tried to hide their emotions, but they couldn't conceal their despair.

[April 5th. Clashes are occurring between martial law forces and civilians in multiple metropolitan cities. Large crowds denouncing the military as murderers have filled the streets. With live-fire orders now authorized, the situation continues to deteriorate.]

People carrying picket signs and wearing protest headbands marched directly toward the soldiers’ rifles.

The martial law troops responded by taking firing positions, rifles aimed at the crowd, while commanders shouted through loudspeakers.

[Murders! Let our families out!]

[Martial law is currently in effect. Disperse immediately! Failure to comply with military orders will result in live fire!]

[Then shoot, you bastards!]

The troops actually opened fire, leading to people’s death. The crowd temporarily retreated, but there was no chance the unrest would simply disappear.

A heavy silence settled over our quarters. Only Shin Nain removed one earbud, swaying slightly to unheard music, and smiled.

"If the downfall of this nation is the Lord’s will, then I am prepared to accept it. We all should be.”

April 7th, 2028.

Countless fighter jets streaked across the skies north of the first blockade line at Seongnam.

Their engines sounded so harsh and thunderous that even the constant artillery barrages seemed quiet in comparison. Each time they tore through the sky, the fog itself appeared to split apart for a moment. Then the inevitable explosions followed. 

I found myself staring blankly upward as jets performed terrifying maneuvers, diving into the fog and emerging from it again. At that moment, news began playing from Lee Sejun’s phone.

[On April 7th, despite objections from China and Russia, the United States 7th Fleet has been deployed. The US government has further declared its intention of demonstrating leadership in the face of a threat confronting all humanity and is currently considering, through congressional approval, the deployment of the 3rd Fleet, the main striking force of the Pacific Fleet.]

April 8th, 2028.

Shin Nain passed the command tent and later returned to our quarters. Removing his earbuds, he casually said,

"The fog has reachedUijeongbu. Apparently the worst-case scenario predicted by command is becoming reality.”

No one dared say anything.

I smacked my lips nervously. Lee Sejun simply turned off his phone and closed his eyes.

Only Pastor Park Yohan clasped his hands together, bowed his head, and raised his voice in prayer.

"O Lord, protect them through this tribulation…”

April 9th, 2028.

Hamza returned to the barracks.

Before anyone could even speak to him, he collapsed onto this empty cot with hollow eyes and trembling lips.

"The angel told me.”

Covering his face with both hands, Hamza lowered his head. There was a deep despair hanging over him.

"They said that if I ran away, I wouldn’t even be given the chance to fight.”

April 11th, 2028.

Volunteer recruitment ended.

Only five people had gathered in the Seongnam command tent.

The nameless major general wasn’t disappointed. If anything, he seemed on the verge of tears at the fact that there were five volunteers at all.

"Even if you’ve made your decision today, it doesn't mean your deployment is confirmed. However…”

The general turned around, showing us only his back as he quietly sniffled for a moment.

"The fact that you came here at all is enough. Thank you.”

April 12th, 2028.

A familiar face visited our quarters.

Lieutenant Shin Hangi from the military supply office arrived carrying all the belongings we’d left behind at Suwon City Hall. And that wasn’t all. Each of us was given an additional 100 MPC. I accepted mine but couldn’t help feeling puzzled.

"Why are we getting 100 MPC each?”

"Maybe you'll find a use for them later. Don’t you think? The MPC economy is one of the government’s and command’s ambitious projects. If people in Seoul hear that these are required to get through the second blockade line, they’ll have value.”

With that, Lieutenant Shin Hangi handed me the AR-15 I’d left behind in Suwon.

Only it wasn't quite the same rifle. The barrel had been shortened. A weapon light had been mounted. There was even a red-dot sight attached. When I gave him a suspicious look, wondering if this was some kind of gold axe, silver axe situation, Lieutenant Shin Hangi merely shrugged.

"It’s a gift from the colonel. He also asked me to pass along a message.”

He practically shoved the rifle into my arms before grinning.

"He says he’s sorry he had no choice but to suspect you. But he hasn’t forgotten that you saved the lives of his soldiers. He doesn’t know exactly what it is, but he promised he’ll keep your secret to the very end.”

I immediately knew which secret the colonel meant.

Apparently, he still hadn’t reported my acquisition of Hand-branch, Stage 2, to higher command. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, Lieutenant Shin Hangi wore a smile that somehow looked relieved and bitter at the same time.

"Your parents made it safely to America, Jemin-ssi.”

"Huh? Aah…They did?”

"They think you’re being assigned somewhere in the rear.”

I examined the newly compact AR-15 and let out a small chuckle.

"The country’s on the verge of collapse. What rear?”

Lieutenant Shin Hangi burst out laughing at my words.

It was a dry but sincere laugh.

And then, on April 15th, 2028.

* * *

For the first time in a long while, the artillery fell silent.

Labored breathing and pained groans echoed through the ruins, mingling with the stench of gunpowder and collapsed buildings. Discarded syringes littered the ground, and roads were strewn with shattered liquor bottles packed full of cigarette butts.

Three military trucks and two armored vehicles were busy revving their engines, preparing to depart.

Standing before them was a man with a sly-looking face and glasses, Pastor Park Yohan, incessantly praying alone with both of his hands clasped together.

The words he kept repeating sounded less like a prayer and more like desperate self-talk. brainwashing.

"Before our faith breaks, we shall end them..."

At that moment, approaching footsteps overlapped.

I was the first to step forward, walking up behind the pastor and tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

He turned around, then his eyes went wide in astonishment.

"You lunatics?”

The pastor’s honest thoughts had slipped out by accident, but nobody held it against him.

Hamza, looking dark and half-dead, stared awkwardly at Pastor Park before letting out a laugh that was equal parts sobbing and amusement as he climbed into the back of the military truck.

"Before fear bends us, we shall become fear."

Apparently Hamza had a good memory. He recited a line he normally never bothered to, then slumped against the backrest.

Next, Shin Nain smiled at the pastor and pulled out a headset instead of his usual earbuds.

"Madness against madness."

-Clunk.

Shin Nain climbed aboard the truck and smiled with his eyes closed gently.

Lee Sejun let out a long sigh, loosened the sling on his shoulder, and inspected his K2C1 along with the ridiculously huge revolver he’d apparently gotten from Lieutenant Shin Hangi.

Only after spending a long moment appreciating the reassuring weight of the weapons did he climb onto the truck and continued the slogan.

"Absurdity against absurdity."

He hugged the guns tightly, looking pretty damn nervous.

Finally, I handed the K2 I’d been using over to Pastor Park Yohan.

"We shall enter hell before it encroaches upon us."

The pastor accepted the rifle almost by reflex. He stroked the trigger a few times, then he started grinning.

Eventually, he adjusted his glasses and slung the weapon over his shoulder.

"Yeah. If not you idiots, then who else would be the Best of the Best?”

-Clunk.

When the pastor finally climbed into the truck bed, I slowly looked around.

Soldiers with their gas masks removed shared cigarettes, their heads hung low. Sweat poured down soot-covered faces like waterfalls. Among them, I spotted Lieutenant Shin Hangi carrying a heavy-looking package.

He handed the bundle to me and curled the corner of his mouth upward.

"Here."

"What’s this?”

"Spam. The thing you wanted.”

I immediately snatched the package and stuffed it into my duffel bag.

But I hesitated before climbing onto the truck.

I knew it. The Supreme Archmages already sitting in the truck knew it too.

The soldiers who would remain on the front lines probably knew it. Lieutenant Shin Hangi certainly seemed to know. We weren’t even that close. The soldiers were just people I’d exchanged a few nods with in passing. Lieutenant Shin Hangi was someone I’d only chatted with a handful of times.

But people aren’t very good at taking that final step and leaving.

Then Lieutenant Shin Hangi smiled and held out his hand.

"At least we dodged the nukes, right?”

"Right. Yeah, you’re right."

I exchanged a brief handshake with Lieutenant Shin Hangi.

"Baek Jemin-ssi. I know you don’t fully trust the military, but please understand.”

"..."

"Right now, we’re the only people desperately fighting to keep 40 million Koreans alive.”

The commander had given us three missions.

First, find and make contact with the friendly survivor group led by the woman named Go Ryeoha.

Second, acquire as much knowledge about Seoul’s local magic as possible.

Third, help determine the cause of the fog and the monsters through supernatural analysis and investigation.

These weren’t missions that should have been assigned to civilians. Yet they’d been assigned to us anyway.

Knowing exactly what that meant, I released the lieutenant’s hand and climbed into the truck with a heavy heart.

There was a very high chance South Korea wouldn’t survive this.

-Clunk.

The 2.5-ton truck still rode like crap. The combat uniforms felt uncomfortable. The weight of the rifle was still heavy.

But the world had already changed beyond the point of no return.

Before long, soldiers climbed into the other trucks, and the convoy of trucks and armored vehicles began to move.

Beyond the ruined city, the sky was crowded with drones buzzing like angry hornets and fighter jets carving white contrails across the heavens. The soldiers watched the convoy heading toward Seoul and paused for a moment.

Some simply stood there staring. Some set down their weapons and waved. Some silently saluted.

Meanwhile, Lee Sejun kept his phone on, determined to hear the last news from the outside world.

It was April 15th, 2028. The day the President of the United States made his announcement.

The broadcast played the President speaking in English while an interpreter translated afterward.

[Today, we have moved beyond the limits of nations, peoples, ideologies, and political parties.]

-Clunk.

Every time the truck rolled over a speed bump, all five of us bounced into the air.

[Today, we enter the most righteous of battles.]

The cold dampness was starting to creep in.

We hadn’t even crossed the bridge yet. When had the fog started reaching this far out? Everyone in the front line knew the truth. The fog was spreading, however slowly.

They simply chose not to say it out loud.

[Today, we stand against this disaster in the name of humanity. Lord, please watch over us.]

Not long afterward, the news anchor excitedly added another announcement.

For the first time in history, all five permanent members of the UN Security Council had unanimously approved a UN military deployment without any abstentions. They called it a miracle.

It was a remarkably cold kind of miracle.

The fog had already risen to our waists in the back of the truck.

Without anyone needing to say a word, we all checked our weapons and pulled out our gas masks. Even Hamza was no exception.

Lee Sejun even handed his ridiculously huge revolver to him.

Naturally, Hamza tried to refuse.

"I don’t know how to shoot.”

"If you stick that in your mouth and pull the trigger, you’ll die fast.”

"Thank you."

Moved by Lee Sejun’s kindness and consideration, Hamza promptly accepted the ridiculously huge revolver.

Then, one by one, everyone started putting on their gas masks.

Shin Nain was the fastest. After pulling on his gas mask, he put on his headset and drew up the hood of his poncho, breathing heavily through the filter.

-Huuff—.

With every exhale, more faces disappeared behind gas masks.

-Huuff, huuff—.

Lee Sejun and Hamza put theirs on as well. Stealing glances at Lee Sejun, Hamza fumbled through the process before finally securing the mask and checking the filter.

-Huuuff—.

Even the pastor was surprisingly skilled at it. Maybe he’d gone through chemical warfare drills back in the day.

He had the gas mask on in an instant. Afterward, Pastor Park Yohan stared at the issued poncho for a moment before draping it over himself.

I took in the sight of all of them before finally putting on my own mask.

The inside of the rubber facepiece was already damp with moisture from the fog. Droplets had formed to the point where I had to wipe them away with my hand. There were two major reasons for wearing a gas mask. 

The first was to avoid surveillance from wizards who had awakened Eyes-branch magic, like I had. The second was a primal disgust toward mixing with the monsters, along with the risk of contamination. I wore mine for the first reason.

-Huuuff—, huuuff—.

Our breaths scattered into the sea of fog almost instantly.

It had already risen all the way up to our necks.

Seoul was getting closer.

A symbol we would never reclaim. A place I never wanted to enter again.

We were heading toward a place that had become the very definition of hell.

And yet, my heart was pounding harder than ever before.

Hello, Seoul.

At long last, I’m finally making my way to the capital.

I, Baek Jemin, am coming to you.