Chapter 41

The End of the Subway Station

If there was one small blessing about the platform at Jangji Station, it was that the area around the Phone Graveyard was relatively clean.

Well, except for the chunks of flesh and the words written in dried blood. Of course, that didn't make it any less disgusting or terrifying. If I had seen something like this back when the world was still normal, I probably would've thrown up and trembled in fear.

But after roughly four months, my threshold for shock had risen as high as it could go.

After everything we'd witnessed, if we started making a fuss over some writing done in human blood, we never would've made it into Seoul in the first place.

We settled down near the Phone Graveyard, using a toppled and broken vending machine as a makeshift bench while we took some time to regroup.

Lee Sejun tore open a bag of hardtack and shoved handful after handful into his mouth as he mumbled,

"Calling it a Phone Graveyard sounds kind of weird."

"Sejun, you can actually eat that here?"

"Oh. Should I make some ramen instead?"

Lee Sejun had somehow interpreted "You've got quite the stomach" as "Why are you eating all the hardtack by yourself?"

Fortunately, our all-purpose foreign laborer Hamza stepped in.

Stopping Sejun from rummaging through his military backpack, Hamza opened his own duffel bag. Inside was an impressive collection of supplies ranging from a portable gas stove to lighters.

"Ramen isn't actually very good in emergencies. It's greasy, and you need a lot of water to cook it."

"Seriously? I brought five packs."

"Just crush it up and eat it dry. That might be better."

"Then why'd you bring the gas stove?"

When I asked, Hamza thumped his chest proudly and puffed out his shoulders.

"We're in Seoul. We don't even know if the water supply system is still functioning properly. The water could be contaminated, so we boil it before drinking."

At that, Pastor Park Yohan tapped at a phone screen while charging it and spoke in an indifferent tone.

It was the sort of comment people made not because they were actually curious, but simply to keep a conversation going.

"Islam. Where are you from again? Pakistan? Don't people there drink water straight from the Ganges? If you're drinking Ganges water, do you really bother boiling it?"

"Hey, you Jesus-loving bastard."

"Hm?"

"Are North Koreans and South Koreans the same thing to you?"

It was the first time we'd ever seen Hamza this furious.

According to Hamza, Pakistan and India had different religions and had spent generations hating each other's guts. Apparently most people got angry if you lumped them together. Maybe not everyone, but Hamza certainly did.

Only Shin Nain remained perfectly calm even in the face of Hamza's rage.

"Why are they fighting anyway? India and Pakistan. They're both heretics who don't believe in Jesus, aren't they?"

"If you come to Pakistan and say that, you'll actually get executed."

In the end, Hamza was the first to surrender.

His face looked completely resigned, as if wondering what possible conversation could be had with these idiots.

Only then did I realize something.

Up until now, I'd been treating Hamza a little like some kind of AI warning drone that pointed out dangers.

But Hamza was a person too.

I glanced at the gas stove and cooking pot.

"Now that we're talking about it, should we go collect some water and boil it?"

If we could obtain water locally, it would definitely make things easier. It seemed like a good opportunity to test whether Hamza's preparedness would pay off.

"Don't."

The pastor shut the idea down immediately while tapping on his phone.

"There's a reason people dumped their waste over the platform edge and onto the tracks beyond the screen doors. Living next to human waste just because they didn't want to go up one floor? We shouldn't move carelessly until we know whether the survivors in Seoul were under that much pressure—or whether there's something in the bathrooms."

"Or maybe they were just too lazy to move."

Back in middle school, while studying for my equivalency exam, I had a friend who got kicked out of a PC café because he wet himself in his gaming chair rather than leave during an important match.

That memory was what inspired my comment.

For once, Shin Nain actually agreed with me.

"That's horrifying."

"Right?"

"The horrifying part is the possibility that you were that friend, Mr. Baek Jemin."

The bastard wasn't agreeing with me at all.

He was casually digging through my memories.

Despite invading someone else's privacy, Shin Nain looked annoyed instead, biting his lower lip slightly.

If hearing the unfiltered thoughts of everyone around him through his ear-related magic was really that awful, I still didn't understand why he made such a big deal out of it.

For the record, I'd never once thought, "I'm too lazy to go to the bathroom."

Sure, when I was younger, I'd once gone to the bathroom during an FPS match, washed my hands, then decided to take a shower since I was already there, disappearing for forty-five minutes and getting cursed out by my clanmates.

But I'd never relieved myself in my chair.

Still...

If there were monsters in the bathroom, my opinion might change.

"Well, we've got nothing else to do. Let's maintain our weapons."

"Ah! Jemin, do mine too."

"A man should maintain his own gun. That's how a firearm repays its owner's love."

I immediately rejected Lee Sejun's attempt to dump the work on me.

Then I disassembled my rifle, pulled out a cleaning rod and some oil from my backpack, and got to work.

If you neglected weapon maintenance and ended up with your gun jamming at a critical moment, you had nobody to blame but yourself.

As I soaked a cloth with oil and scrubbed away powder residue, a quiet peace settled over Jangji Station.

Everyone had removed their gas masks because breathing through them had become exhausting.

True to form, our so-called Archmages looked completely relaxed.

Hamza flicked a lighter over and over, staring into the flame.

Lee Sejun finished every last crumb of hardtack.

Shin Nain checked his phone playlist while humming hymns under his breath.

Pastor Park Yohan adjusted his glasses while tapping through the phones left behind by people whose bodies hadn't even remained.

For a moment, Jangji Station felt like an ordinary subway station on a quiet weekday afternoon.

If not for the bloody handprints.

The filthy clothing.

The torn backpacks.

The curses written in blood across the walls and floor.

And the stench of human waste seeping through the gaps in the platform screen doors.

It was then that the pastor frowned slightly.

"If you've got nothing to do, come help me look through these phones."

"After I finish cleaning my gun."

Of course, weapon maintenance never truly ended.

Because I made a sacred sacrifice for the sake of increasing our combat power.

After reassembling my AR-15, I willingly offered myself as a sacrifice in the name of greater firepower.

While Shin Nain, Hamza, and Lee Sejun watched, I carefully poked the tip of my left index finger with the end of a bayonet.

A chill ran down my spine.

I squeezed my eyes shut and asked,

"Am I bleeding?"

When I cracked one eye open, I found three people staring at me like I was an idiot.

Shin Nain clicked his tongue.

"Mr. Jemin. What happened to the courage you had when you shot your own left hand and grabbed a red-hot barrel with it?"

"Because that hurt like hell, damn it."

"What about when that tentacle thing was burrowing into your right hand and trying to connect your blood vessels?"

"That didn't hurt."

It burned like crazy.

But this was for magic.

So I gritted my teeth and pressed harder.

Prick.

A drop of blood welled up.

The moment it did, all my whining disappeared and my mind calmed.

Baek Jemin was the sort of heroic man who panicked and squirmed whenever he saw a syringe—but became perfectly fine once the needle was actually in.

Still holding out my bleeding finger, I looked at the three of them.

"One item each. One enchantment effect each."

Lee Sejun rested his chin on his hand and thought for a moment.

Then he asked with complete seriousness,

"Can I get invincibility? Perfection? Overpowered protagonist powers? One-hit kills?"

"Try it."

My guess was that such enchantments were technically possible.

The problem was that the effect would probably apply equally to the user.

A sharp sword didn't care who it cut once it started swinging.

If an enchantment like Invincibility or One-Hit Kill actually worked, it might manifest as:

"You can no longer perceive hostility, therefore you have no enemies."

Or:

"Everyone dies in one hit, including you."

And Overpowered Protagonist might turn into Munchkin Cat instead of a godlike main character.

At least One-Hit Kill sounded somewhat useful.

But my current level only allowed a single word.

And the longer the enchantment phrase became, the weaker its effect would likely grow.

A true One-Hit Kill might end up being downgraded into something like One-Hundred-Hit Kill.

That was why simple effects with little room for interpretation were far more practical.

After hearing that explanation, disappointment spread across Sejun's face.

"That's lame."

"Enhancing something that already exists works pretty well. Writing 'One-Hit Kill' on bullets would probably have an effect."

The problem was that we'd brought two ammo cans containing eight hundred rounds each.

Writing One-Hit Kill on sixteen hundred bullets with my own blood would probably leave me unconscious from anemia.

Only after explaining all these limitations did I begin enchanting things properly.

I gave Hamza's duffel bag [Durable].

I gave Shin Nain's firearm [Clean].

I gave Lee Sejun's military backpack [Bulletproof].

The effects weren't flashy, but they were certainly better than nothing.

Naturally, since there were no obvious visible changes, everyone looked skeptical.

"Hmm. Isn't this just a placebo?"

"I do feel better. A durable backpack feels reassuring."

"Being able to maintain firearm reliability even if you miss a cleaning cycle is a subtle but powerful effect. Clearly the Lord wishes to support our holy crusade and has granted us this power."

"Since we're talking about it, all of you should learn hand-related magic if you get the chance. Then you'll be able to use the kind of finishing move Sejun wanted against monsters."

According to the journal we found in the abandoned hospital, simply coating a baseball bat with blood from the right hand was enough to fight monsters.

And the Amalgam subspecies we'd designated Blood-Web Delta—the blood-net creature that clung to ceilings—had died instantly after coming into contact with the blood from my right hand, as though poisoned.

So the power itself was definitely something worth looking forward to.

If our Archmages started enchanting bullets with Hand Magic Stage 1 using blood from the right hand, we'd probably be able to wipe out monsters with overwhelming firepower.

Pastor Park Yohan, however, absolutely hated the idea of those enchantments and kept his distance from them.

Honestly, Hamza—the Muslim who drank soju with pork—and Shin Nain, who claimed his transformation magic was actually a form of sacred Christian ritual magic, were the weird ones.

Shouldn't a truly devout believer recoil in disgust the moment they saw someone carving enchantments using human blood?

Instead, the pastor handed us one of the dozens of phones he'd already checked, looking exhausted.

"I think I found something. Take a look."

Apparently he'd discovered something while we were cleaning weapons and enchanting gear.

I shook my aching left index finger a few times, carefully wrapped the wound with a bandage Hamza handed me, and accepted the phone.

The pastor immediately grimaced.

"I thought you were some kind of hard-boiled badass. What's with the cute cat-character bandage?"

"This place is filthy. What if I get tetanus?"

Of course, why Hamza had chosen a cat-themed bandage out of all the available options wasn't really my problem.

Under everyone's gaze, Hamza clasped his hands together modestly and smiled warmly.

"Cats were beloved by the Prophet Muhammad. They are sacred blessings that will watch over our journey."

"Did your Angelic Intuition magic tell you that too?"

"No. Koreans call them fur angels, don't they? Even though it's a distant eastern land, I think it's a beautiful expression. Since we couldn't bring a cat with us, I chose cat bandages instead."

I kept my mouth shut.

If Hamza ever learned Koreans also used the term fur vermin, he'd probably explode with rage.

Instead, I licked my lips and turned my attention to the phone.

The owner had left behind a large number of notes using the default memo app.

Either they were the type who thought too much, or they simply had too much free time.

Either way, there was probably a clue inside.

I tapped the screen with my thumb.

The military has no intention of evacuating us. If I were them, I'd do the same. They've herded us into the bathrooms.

March 27, 2028. All 73 survivors at Jangji Station deceased. Do not look for us.

Artillery struck near the department store. Those who joined us through the subway tunnels say they're shelling department stores and large supermarkets first. Many people don't understand why, but anyone paying attention can't miss it. Bastards. How the hell could they go this far...

One of the children came down with a fever. She's burning up. We're running low on cold medicine.

Maksuksu restaurant owner Jang Han-su and butcher Park Seok-ju volunteered to search for a pharmacy. They're good men. I secretly called them aside and gave them a few cans, telling them that if they planned to run away, they should go ahead.

Why is it always the good people who end up like this?

I can hear it. Countless voices overlapping inside human bodies. We're too late. Quarantine anyone returning from outside activities.

It's contagious. We misunderstood the order of events.

***

April 15, 2028, 10:14 PM.

That was the current time displayed on the phone containing those meaningful records.

Our Archmages put their gas masks back on and headed toward the first-floor restroom.

As we climbed the stairs, we opened emergency shutter side doors and illuminated dark areas with tactical flashlights and phone lights.

Fortunately, the first basement level was in better condition than expected.

Parts of the ceiling had collapsed, taking many fluorescent lights with them, but because the subway station still had power, the area near the restrooms remained reasonably well lit.

And there, in front of the shared entrance to the men's and women's restrooms, lay the shape of a completely charred human body.

Scorch marks covered the surrounding floor.

Nearby sat discarded fuel containers and melted plastic that had cooled and hardened again.

Thinking it might be a monster, I activated Eye Stage 1.

There wasn't the slightest movement.

When I looked toward Shin Nain, he exhaled briefly.

Hoooo...

A moment later he spoke quietly.

"I hear bubbling sounds from inside the restroom. It sounds like someone speaking, but it's too faint to make out."

So something was definitely there.

In cold silence, we crossed the burned and shattered floor, our combat boots crunching softly.

The burned figure was obviously a corpse.

Nobody wanted to get close. It looked like it might collapse into ash if touched.

Everyone gave it a wide berth.

Then, just as we were about to enter the restroom—

Plop.

It sounded like bubbles bursting in a thick pot of soup.

Immediately, I activated Eye Stage 1 and scanned the area.

That was how I noticed the tiny red footprints beneath the restroom tiles.

Evidence that a monster would appear in ten seconds.

I raised a hand.

"Fall back."

Everyone moved instantly.

Experience fighting monsters had made us efficient.

I stepped backward as well, widening the distance until I was standing almost directly beside the burned corpse.

I raised my rifle and aimed at the red footprints.

But what emerged wasn't some grotesque nightmare.

In fact, it was almost familiar.

A thick, flesh-colored mass resembling shapeless jelly dragged itself across the restroom tiles.

Stretching pseudopods that looked simultaneously sticky and elastic, it desperately hooked itself into the cracks between tiles and slowly pulled its massive formless body forward.

It resembled a giant amoeba.

Yet the pseudopods reaching into the tile gaps looked disturbingly similar to human hands with webbed fingers.

Its flesh-colored surface was marked by pale layered patterns like geological strata.

Every so often, bubbles formed and popped with wet sounds.

A slime.

The most remarkable feature was its eyes.

Near the outer surface of the opaque flesh-colored body, close to the edges where pseudopods emerged, human eyeballs floated inside.

Pale.

Lifeless.

Like dead fish eyes.

Not one or two.

Dozens.

Like the clustered eyes lining a seashell.

Surprisingly, Shin Nain was the only one who gagged.

"Urgh...!"

He yanked up his gas mask and vomited toward the wall.

Bleeegh...

The rest of us didn't vomit, but that didn't mean we weren't terrified.

Every gun barrel in the room was already aimed at the new monster.

Perhaps because it was so slow.

Or perhaps because it noticed our weapons.

The flesh-colored slime stopped advancing.

Instead, the pale human eyes embedded around its edges rolled nervously before the creature slowly retreated back toward the restrooms.

At that moment Pastor Park Yohan groaned.

"That's probably the third identified species."

"The... what was it again?"

"Degenerative Cellular Aggregate."

"It has eyeballs."

By the time the flesh-colored slime split apart and disappeared into both restrooms, Shin Nain had forced his gas mask back on and approached us.

His voice sounded hoarse from vomiting.

"Freedom."

I frowned.

What nonsense was he talking about now?

"Unlimited freedom granted not to humanity, but to the things that make up humanity."

"Instead of the minimum order required to form a human being, every cell has been granted unrestricted and chaotic freedom. They're colonies. Human souls split into tens of trillions of pieces, becoming monsters that prey on other humans."

Crunch.

For the first time, Shin Nain ground his teeth.

He stared into the restroom.

Yet even he didn't dare approach.

Instead, he repeatedly swallowed, trying to soothe the throat burned by stomach acid.

I raised the phone again and continued reading the journal.

Then I glanced at the burned corpse.

Probably the owner of the phone.

A bitter smile escaped me.

"If you were going to burn something, you should've burned those things too. Instead, you only burned yourself."

This wasn't my phone.

It belonged to someone who had burned themselves alive.

I powered it off and gently placed it before the corpse.

After a brief moment of silence in respect, our Archmages conducted every investigation we could think of—future sight, past sight, and Shin Nain's auditory magic.

Only then did we reach a conclusion regarding the flesh-colored slime.

The Freedom Colony.

"It's weak."

Slow.

Bullets might be ineffective.

But it looked like it would die instantly if struck by Oppression or exposed to blood from the right hand.

Compared to Amalgams or Devouring Spines, it was painfully sluggish.

Its infectiousness wasn't particularly special either.

Other monsters could infect people as well.

Granted, it seemed to spread more efficiently.

The real problem lay in its amorphous slime-like nature.

Hamza pointed that out and honestly admitted that the gas stove and cooking pot he'd carried all this way were now useless.

"If that thing comes out of the faucet when I turn on the water, I'm passing out. I don't think I can boil that and drink it."

"And if the military abandoned Seoul because of these things..."

"That means the entire sewer system is packed with them."

"Wouldn't salt work against them? Maybe they'd shrivel up from osmotic pressure in seawater."

"Hmm. Even aside from that, salt has purification properties. It's possible higher salt concentrations weaken them. They might survive in sewers but get washed away in the ocean. It's optimistic speculation... but worth considering."

Pastor Park Yohan was already brainstorming methods to fight the creatures.

Saltwater.

Holy-water spray bottles.

Those might actually work.

The slime also looked flammable enough that oil and fire could be effective.

Although everyone agreed that if you burned one, you had to make sure it died completely.

Otherwise it might smother the flames even while its own body cooked.

Lee Sejun clicked his tongue and glanced at the burned corpse.

"What a shame."

Apparently this person had tried to gather infected people inside the restrooms and burn them before they transformed into those flesh-colored slimes.

Instead, they'd failed.

And ended up burning alone.

We still didn't know exactly how infection occurred.

But judging from the fact that this presumed ear-magic user had died normally without transforming, we could only assume that mages possessed some degree of resistance.

Pastor Park Yohan examined the restroom entrance for a moment before turning away.

"The fact that those bastards stayed inside the restroom even though nobody blocked them off suggests humidity might be important. Also, if too many infected people gather in one place, transformation may accelerate."

He tapped his gas mask.

"From now on, whenever we use water, Islam checks it first. Then Shin Nain listens. We only use it if he says it's safe."

"Are we staying here or going back downstairs?"

The pastor shuddered and pointed toward the lower level.

"The place next to the shit pit and the graveyard sounds better. Let's go back down."

We all followed him down the stairs.

There was no prayer.

Only a strange silence, as though each of us was reaffirming our resolve.

Only Pastor Park Yohan spoke, releasing a long, weary sigh.

"Tomorrow, let's head above ground and clear the surface."