Chapter 90

The Prey That Hunts

3:26 PM, May 7, 2028

I turned off my smartphone, unable to hide my gloomy mood.

Because it finally hit me that South Korea was finished.

The breached containment lines were around Anyang and Uiwang.

The jurisdiction there was ambiguous—whether it belonged to the Chinese forces controlling Incheon and the Korean administration, or to the Pyeongtaek U.S.-ROK Joint Command.

Both sides had deployed troops, but because of the complicated situation, reconnaissance and search operations in the hills and forests had reportedly been inadequate.

They were hastily organizing strike units, but headquarters had concluded that once an area became covered in dense fog, ordinary military forces could no longer absorb the casualties.

That judgment was what brought the Zizon Mages into action.

That's right.

The Zizon Mages had now been entrusted with a critical role—delaying the fate of the containment line, and by extension the end of humanity itself, by even a single second.

I used to call this place Hell Joseon.

Even now, there were many things I hated about it.

But it was still my country.

Who could have predicted that it would fall—not to the ambitions of neighboring nations, but because monsters had appeared?

The independence fighters resting in the National Cemetery would probably be crying tears of frustration.

A fundamental doubt welled up inside me.

Can I really delay this approaching apocalypse by even one second?

Yet despite how spectacular and chaotic the year 2028 had become, countless people still failed to grasp reality.

South Korea was now like a vegetable kept alive on life support.

No—not brain-dead.

Its head had been severed entirely, blood pouring from the neck.

But because its arms and legs were still twitching, people convinced themselves it was alive.

Someone stuck out his lips and argued:

"Nuclear weapons haven't fallen. The containment line hasn't completely collapsed. Why are you acting like the country's dead?"

It was Lee Sejun speaking while loading a heavy machine gun into the helicopter.

Watching him casually carry boxes of 5.56mm ammunition by himself made my tone automatically become more polite.

"Mr. Sejun. The country's not wobbling. The containment line is literally collapsing."

"Which is exactly why we need to step in. Isn't it?"

After loading the last ammunition box, Lee Sejun climbed aboard.

That was when Shin Nain, who had been sitting quietly with his eyes closed inside the helicopter, spoke without opening them.

"Mr. Jemin, why haven't you boarded yet? We need to depart."

"Mr. Jemin! Let's go!"

Faced with repeated urging, I found myself hesitating.

I looked away and smacked my lips nervously.

It wasn't that I didn't understand the urgency.

I knew better than anyone that things were falling apart and that I needed to step forward.

But then some idiot had told me to erase motion sickness even if it cost me my eyesight.

That thought left me momentarily stunned.

Lee Sejun immediately seized the opportunity for emotional manipulation.

"Mr. Jemin, stop screwing around and get on. You know we've already lost three minutes because of you, right? If somebody dies during those three minutes, it'll be your fault."

"You son of a bitch."

In the end, I climbed aboard while already anticipating the horrors of motion sickness.

Reasoning that the smell of a gas mask was preferable, I pulled on a newly issued anti-fog respirator.

Then I hunched down, preparing for the vibrations and deafening noise of takeoff.

Good thoughts. Good thoughts. Good thoughts...

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried desperately not to think about getting sick.

Then a purely academic question suddenly occurred to me.

"If I slack off for three minutes, wouldn't that just increase the amount of experience points waiting for me to kill?"

"Mr. Jemin, you literally just woke up. What are you talking about?"

Still...

No matter how reliable the reward might be, pain was pain.

"I didn't put on a motion-sickness patch."

Rustle.

Shin Nain raised a black plastic bag.

"My motion sickness is too severe for one bag."

Fwap. Fwap. Fwap.

Rubbing his fingers together, he separated several nested plastic bags.

There were at least three or four.

"I had spam kimchi fried rice. Too greasy. I'm not feeling great... Why don't we bring Goryeoha instead of me?"

Shin Nain immediately replied.

"Use Stage Three Eye-Type Cognitive Dissonance."

"Ah..."

By the time I came to my senses, we'd already left Pyeongtaek behind and were flying through the sky.

A vast cityscape and mountains scattered across the landscape rushed beneath us.

When I glanced toward the cockpit, the pilot casually raised his left hand for a moment.

Snap.

A quick thumbs-up.

Then he returned to flying.

I couldn't see his face through the helmet, but somehow that single gesture explained everything.

Shin Nain, muttering quietly through his headset, grinned.

"He paid special attention because he heard your motion sickness is severe. His flying skills are impressive."

"Wow. I didn't know it was possible to ride a helicopter without getting sick."

I'd always assumed military vehicles operated under the principle of whether the passengers survive the ride is their problem.

Today that prejudice was corrected.

Meanwhile, Lee Sejun had a machine gun resting across his lap and was carefully cleaning it.

After staring for a while, I finally recognized it.

"That's a K3, isn't it?"

"K15. The newer model."

"Same thing."

"Sigh... Mr. Jemin, please don't discuss firearms in public."

He casually spun around the weapon that made me grateful I was merely a rifleman.

A strange feeling came over me.

Now that I thought about it, Lee Sejun hadn't practiced marksmanship with me.

He'd spent all his time lurking around the armory.

I had to ask.

"Don't tell me you're actually planning to use a machine gun?"

"After thinking about it, my physical abilities have increased dramatically thanks to Heart-Type magic. The increased food consumption is a penalty worth paying. Using a normal rifle feels wasteful. Especially outside Seoul, where ammunition is plentiful."

His explanation made sense.

Yet something felt off.

"You know, the way you're talking is way less disgusting than before. Actually, you sound almost normal."

"Mr. Jemin, I've always been normal."

As Lee Sejun replied calmly, Shin Nain immediately interjected.

"Mr. Sejun currently has Stage Three Heart-Type magic's Desire Substitution turned off. Once his need to relieve himself returns, the desire for recognition should return to normal as well."

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Without thinking, I started applauding.

I see.

Magic wasn't entirely unreasonable after all.

If the penalty could be switched on and off like a toggle, it was perfectly understandable.

Learning that Lee Sejun's increasing obnoxiousness had been the terrible price of magic finally put my mind at ease.

Thinking of Captain Korea-in-training and his future followers, I offered sincere advice.

"Mr. Sejun. Let's stop learning magic."

"Mr. Jemin, the life of a beautiful young maiden is right in front of me. I can't give that up. I will absolutely become loved by everyone."

"How about the life of Captain Korea?"

"I don't want to be loved because of sacrifice. I want to be loved simply for breathing."

Apparently that shameless freeloading mentality wasn't caused by magic.

It was simply Lee Sejun's personality.

Just as I was once again concluding that garbage remained garbage, Shin Nain and the pilot started discussing something over the radio.

I paid little attention.

A few moments later, Shin Nain turned toward us and put on his gas mask.

After checking the filter with a short breath, he tapped his headset.

"We've arrived. Everyone, prepare your gas masks and weapons."

As Shin Nain pulled up his hood and Lee Sejun adjusted his respirator, I looked down below.

A large mountain and several smaller hills stood beyond the city.

Rice fields prepared for planting stretched between them.

Fresh green buds covered the trees.

Buildings dotted the landscape.

Everything looked peaceful—

Except for the dense fog rising as high as a person's waist.

The helicopter circled once before gradually descending.

Rather than landing in the village itself, it touched down in the parking lot of a nearby gas station some distance away.

The area was already swarming with soldiers and vehicles.

People shouted constantly.

As the helicopter lowered and the rotor noise diminished, outside sounds became clearer.

Confused soldiers repeating orders.

Officers barking commands.

Senior enlisted personnel irritably distributing magazines and counting personnel.

Yet when our helicopter finally landed, there was another sound that stood out more than all the rest.

Soldiers wearing orange armbands decorated with dangling military dog tags marched in formation along the road.

Ahead of them shuffled civilians in padded jackets and vests.

The civilians moved like prisoners, glancing around nervously.

Clunk!

The moment the rotors stopped, I threw open the helicopter door.

I stepped out first.

Shin Nain followed.

Then Lee Sejun.

Only now did the full atmosphere hit us.

The noise that had been muted by altitude, the helicopter cabin, and the hoods of our ponchos washed over us with the wind.

Jingle. Jingle.

The soldiers with the dog-tag armbands coldly directed the civilians forward.

Their hands casually toyed with their triggers.

"Southern Gyeonggi civilian operators. Move it. Quickly. Don't even think about running."

The civilians—a man in a padded jacket and a woman in a dress shirt—looked to be in their mid-to-late twenties.

Both appeared sharp-eyed and strong-willed.

Yet before soldiers pointing rifles through gas masks, they looked thoroughly intimidated.

"B-But... at least give us guns!"

"You didn't purchase personal armaments, so you'll receive supplies immediately before field deployment. Under the Civilian Operator Field Operations Ordinance, your survival depends on the judgment of personnel on site. Don't try anything stupid."

The civilians fell silent. The soldiers' hands never left their weapons. The atmosphere around the gas station felt less like a military operation and more like a prison transport preparing to enter a battlefield.

"So... what happens if we don't cooperate?"

Perfect timing.

Shin Nain and Lee Sejun had come to stand behind me to enjoy the spectacle too.

They had apparently learned that if they stood in front of me and attracted more attention than I did, they might get shot by me.

Truly the intelligence expected of Zizon Mages.

"Mr. Jemin. We should listen to the field briefing first."

"Shithead, this is the interesting part. We can hear the briefing later."

"Mr. Sejun, people could die while we waste these few minutes."

"If they're the kind of people who'll die because we delayed a few minutes, they were already dead. Let's pay our respects later and watch this first."

The soldiers wearing dog-tag armbands exchanged looks and burst into cheerful laughter.

One of them stared at the two civilian operators and pointed at his own eyes with two fingers.

"You two are Eye-Type Stage One users, right? The military isn't stupid. We know exactly how to deal with uncooperative civilian operators."

Gulp.

The woman swallowed nervously.

"If we put a bullet through your legs and throw you in front of monsters, you'll use your powers because you'll want to live. If we drag you around, then either you die with us or survive with us. You've had your break. Let's move."

As the soldiers laughed and their dog tags jingled, the civilian operators shrank back and started walking again.

Only then did Lee Sejun and I lose interest.

"They've been pumping those guys full of drugs and fighting nonstop. No wonder they're losing it."

"At least we now know civilian operators get treated like crap."

Shin Nain's face cycled between red and blue as he listened to us, but I chose to ignore it.

After all, listening to the field report came first if we were going to fulfill our noble mission of saving lives.

So the three of us strode confidently toward the officer directing personnel in front of the gas station.

The field commander was a major.

His sweat-soaked hair clung to his cheeks, yet he seemed too anxious even to notice, constantly fiddling with his smartphone.

The moment the sweat-drenched major looked up and spotted us, his face lit up.

"Are you Aphorism? Why are there only three of you?"

Did you hear that?

The field commander—a major who looked like the father of two—recognized us immediately and called us Aphorism.

Using that terrible name instead of Zizon Mage was a fatal flaw, but I was willing to give him credit for recognizing us first.

I nodded pleasantly through my gas-mask lenses.

"Aphorism is an alias. Pyeongtaek Headquarters has too many places that need us, so we're rotating in three-person teams. And more importantly..."

"Yes?"

"Out here, you call us Zizon Mages."

"Ah. Right..."

The sweat-drenched major clearly failed to grasp how valuable that information was, but quickly shook off his confusion.

"Zizon Mages. Yes. I heard you're the most useful and cooperative civilian operators available from Pyeongtaek. I also heard all of you volunteered?"

As the Zizon among us, I generously gave my companions a chance to answer.

Shin Nain smiled gently.

"Of course. There is no more meaningful devotion than standing against calamity in times of crisis. In the name of the Lord God."

Lee Sejun followed.

"It goes against my principles to stand by while the nation is in danger. When the country calls, answering is only natural."

Those words alone nearly moved the major to tears.

"My God... I didn't know there were civilian operators like you..."

"Wait."

A chill ran down my spine.

I raised a hand.

"What do you mean, people like you?"

Who exactly was he talking about?

Certainly, I, Baek Jemin, was an unparalleled genius and outstanding human being.

But why was he speaking in the plural?

Surely he wasn't including the religious fanatic and the attention-starved lunatic who constantly talked about gender-swapping fantasies.

The major sniffled.

"The fact that you're volunteer civilian operators already puts you in the top ten percent. The other ninety percent were conscripted."

The village assigned to the Zizon Mages lay north of Uiwang Rest Area.

Though technically rural, it wasn't far from the city.

A suburban countryside.

A narrow road led into dense trees and rice fields, enough to give the area a distinctly rural atmosphere.

Naturally, deploying troops there was difficult.

As Shin Nain, Lee Sejun, and I walked, fragments of conversation from officers with grim expressions drifted past like a panorama.

"What about the ones that escaped into the mountains?"

"A reconnaissance battalion with specialists is searching."

"And the mimics?"

"Hard to identify inside the village. They seem human..."

Yet the moment those people heard our footsteps, they would glance over, widen their eyes, and quietly move aside.

Click.

I ran my fingers over the sleek metal frame of the customized AR-15 that Captain Kim Ho-un claimed had cost an absurd amount of military scrip.

The heavy metal beneath my fingertips felt like proof of everything I'd accomplished during the past week.

I hadn't fully mastered it yet.

But somewhere inside me, a mature tension had begun taking root.

A willingness to accept fear as something natural.

Wearing a gas mask and a poncho enchanted with Ancient Hebrew inscriptions, carrying heavy firearms as we advanced, I could feel how much we'd changed.

We had changed.

Definitely.

The fate that once required us to run or hide whenever we saw a single monster had changed.

Hoooo...

My filtered breath escaped through the gas mask.

The fog rose to my thighs.

Soldiers blocking our path gradually received radio calls and stepped aside.

Fragments of radio chatter leaked through the air.

"...under U.S.-ROK Joint Command..."

"...highest efficiency among available containment-line forces..."

Shin Nain still insisted on carrying his K2 rifle.

He believed familiarity with a weapon outweighed any advantage from using a superior but unfamiliar one.

Lee Sejun, meanwhile, sounded heavier than either of us.

Ammo belts hung from his waist.

He carried a K15 machine gun one-handed while feeding ammunition into it.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Our footsteps overlapped.

And wherever we walked, the same question lingered behind us.

But still.

Even so.

Why only...

"Only three people."

Shin Nain tapped his headset and grinned at us.

He was kindly relaying the thoughts of nearby soldiers.

I chuckled.

Lee Sejun finished feeding the ammunition belt and slammed the cover shut.

At the edge of the village, surrounded by rice fields stretching between mountains, the fog had already climbed to our chests.

Yet none of us loosened our grip on our weapons.

We strode boldly into the fog everyone else was desperately trying to escape and contain.

As we advanced, I found myself wondering what kind of behavior today's flesh-made monsters would display.

Then an infant's cry echoed through the valley.

Waaah... Waaah... Waaah...

The moment I heard it, I spoke without turning around.

"There aren't any good people here, right?"

Click.

Shin Nain and Lee Sejun answered by adjusting their weapons.

Waaah... Waaah...

The crying continued.

Following a narrow path beside an irrigation ditch toward the sound, the fog rose until it nearly reached our chins.

Then another sound mixed with the infant's cries.

A woman weeping quietly.

Sob... sob...

I glanced at Shin Nain.

Eyes closed, he answered briefly.

"Human."

Then he added:

"But it'd probably be kinder to put her down."

"Hmm. Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

Lee Sejun replied calmly.

The three of us formed up and raised our weapons toward the crying.

Shin Nain handled detection.

I handled improvisation and support.

Lee Sejun provided firepower.

We couldn't always move around in groups of six.

To face the coming apocalypse, we needed more resources.

More knowledge.

More rewards.

And to do that, we needed to learn how to operate flexibly in smaller teams.

This would be that opportunity.

Once, we had been helpless creatures waiting to be hunted.

"Multiple infants."

Most of humanity was still prey.

"And the woman's crying?"

"Seems similar to the bloated-belly case."

But the Zizon Mages—

hunt the things that hunt us.