Chapter 38 - Hello, Seoul

With the shelling stopped, the front line was like a cemetery. I could faintly hear hacking coughs and footsteps kicking through the trash scattered in the trenches, but not a single voice.

Ominous shadows flickered whenever the dense gray fog clouds, hundreds of meters thick and swallowing all of Seoul, writhed. Strange sounds like human screams and groans mingled with the wind blowing through the ruins of the devastated city. Despite the approaching spring, it carried a chill that made me draw my collar tight.

Here, soldiers covered from head to toe in CBRN suits and gas masks patrolled in eight-man squads, carrying flamethrowers and drum-fed shotguns. Instead of exchanging even a word of idle chatter, they struggled to force out each breath.

A place where soldiers sat on ammunition crates with their gas masks off, eyes wide and drool running from their mouths as they plunged syringes into their arms. Where spoons clattered as they swallowed waterlogged rice beside heaps of burned corpses.

Land guarded by men who had crossed the bounds of humanity to fight monsters.

Taking in the reality of the first cordon surrounding Seoul's outskirts, I continued into the command tent. Having judged the first attempt at contact a failure due to the other party's emotional reaction, command made a few adjustments before trying again. At last, the signalers' busy fiddling with cables and antennas produced results.

A major general with two stars and no name tag put on his gas mask as he instructed us civilian Operators drifting into the tent.

"Beginning the second attempt at contact. Everyone, put on your gas masks. Those in combat uniforms, cover your name tags. Make yourselves comfortable while you listen."

I didn't know why we needed gas masks for a radio conversation, but I put mine on anyway. After they adjusted the frequency, we reestablished contact with the first person who had answered.

["... Can you hear me? I said, can you hear me!"]

"Yes, we can."

["You fucking bastards. Enjoying being the only ones who get to live?"]

The person who had been calling us idiots was a man with a gravelly voice. He sounded like the hotheaded sort you'd regularly encounter making trouble in a bar, but his anger wasn't what made proper negotiation impossible. Before long, his emotional outburst dissolved into sobs.

["You fucking bastards... Just let us out..."]

"Sir, our present circumstances make an immediate rescue difficult. For now, please remain calm and stay where you are."

["We'll do whatever you say, just let us out..."]

The man on the other end sobbed bitterly, choking on his tears.

But rather than answer rashly, the major general merely looked at a white-collar woman tucked into a corner of the command tent. Apart from the wrinkles around her eyes, her skin was smooth, perhaps thanks to careful upkeep. She tapped her lips with a pen, then shook her head.

That was the signal. The major general turned the dial to lower the volume to its minimum, cut the connection, and asked her a question.

"Couldn't we persuade him?"

"No. From what I can see, he's already broken down psychologically. Even if he holds out, he won't last long. He seems to lack confidence in his survival. It's a perfectly natural reaction for an ordinary person, but I've determined that he isn't the sort of candidate headquarters is looking for."

"... Next."

It was clear what she meant by the sort of candidate headquarters was looking for. Those quick on the uptake realized what these calls were for and clamped their mouths shut, chewing over the bitter taste of reality. Shin Na-in, with his mind reading, and the ear-branch mages whose powers presumably had similar effects had long since fallen silent.

I, Baek Je-min, was no different.

Mages.

Only mages were qualified to speak with the government or Armed Forces through these calls. Mages who had survived this long and lived with an unshakable belief in their own survival.

A cold chill passed through a corner of my chest as we waited for another contact.

After a brief attempt, the next person we reached was a man with a comparatively composed, calm voice, like a university professor.

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

"This is the first cordon in Seongnam. Good to meet you, sir."

The professor, who had felt both wariness and joy at finding other survivors, fell silent the moment he heard the reply. The major general went on at length before presenting the government and Armed Forces' current terms.

"Please understand that this was a carefully considered decision we had no choice but to make, given international pressure and the difficulties of containment. If the practitioners of localized penetrative alteration activity in your group agree to identify innocent civilians through an initial screening and take measures to protect them, the Armed Forces will spare no effort in supplying your shelter."

Here, the Armed Forces took a step back. He avoided mentioning any explicit provision for leaving Seoul, but the phrase 'initial screening' left open the possibility that escape might eventually be permitted.

Watching the white-collar woman's reaction, the major general asked a question with his eyes. She twirled her pen between her fingers and nodded. An unpleasant silence lingered briefly before the professor's voice returned, filled with unmistakable hostility.

["Ha. Unbelievable."]

"Sir?"

["You're not even the ROK–U.S. Joint Command in Pyeongtaek. Why should I trust some lowly major general guarding the cordon?"]

The major general frowned. A faint stir passed through the civilian Operators too. Only the white-collar woman with wrinkles around her eyes listened calmly.

["You people. Do you think we're fucking dogs who'll bark when you tell us to bark and climb into the cooking pot when you tell us to?"]

"Sir, taking into account the difficulties of the situation..."

["Sure. You handled it more competently than a zombie movie. Shot everyone dead and contained it, so it's safe outside now, right? Left us all here to die. You dragged things out, spouting bullshit about unrest and riots, kept us trapped so we couldn't escape, then shot everyone who tried to run. That's how you made it safe, isn't it?"]

"This sort of language and approach will only bring bad results for both sides, sir."

["So what? You'll get us out, so we should do what we're told? On what grounds should we trust you? If people outside tell us to die, do we have to die? If they tell us to do something, do we have to do it? Aren't you getting something wrong here?"]

The professor's voice sharpened.

["Do you think we still see you as our own people? As family?"]

"..."

["You're all dead. Once I get out, I'll show every last one of you why I was able to survive here without a gun. The president, the bastards throwing their weight around because they have stars on their shoulders, the soldiers who fired without thinking, even the people living perfectly normal lives outside. I'll make every last one of you beg for your lives, so don't die. Wait for me. You said Seongnam, right?"]

CLICK.

The major general turned the dial and cut the connection. Clicking her tongue as though regretting the outcome, the white-collar woman began scribbling busily in her notebook.

The third contact sounded like a middle-aged woman who liked to talk and meddle in everyone else's business.

["Oh, I understand. What have you soldiers done wrong? It's the politicians' fault."]

"By suspending the shelling, the Armed Forces are currently making an effort to earn the survivors' trust. If you disclose your exact location..."

["But that's one thing, and this is another, isn't it? If we tell you where we are, how can you guarantee you won't use the coordinates to shell us? Right? You soldiers have to do as you're told, don't you?"]

"Ma'am, we're continuing this conversation to promise supplies and assistance to survivors."

["Let's be honest. We want to get out of here, and you want to keep us tied down in Seoul. What's the surest way to do that? I've never been in the military, but I've seen plenty of movies and novels like this. There's even an old saying, that... that one about cutting grass..."]

I saw the major general's eyes sink into despair inside his gas mask.

["Cut the grass and pull out the roots. That's it, right? Shell our location and you won't have to give us supplies, and you'll get rid of everyone who might escape. Bow your heads once and say it was an accidental strike, and that'll be the end of it."]

"Ma'am."

["We'll tell you where to drop the supplies. Don't try to find our shelter. That's our minimum condition. We'll also decide whether to answer future calls. Keep up the good work, soldiers!"]

The white-collar woman assessed this exchange very positively.

"She's confident in her survival, and her judgment seems quite sound in its own way. I think we can at least exchange information. It's a fairly positive sign."

"..."

The major general nodded slowly and searched for the next contact.

The fourth contact stayed silent for a while, only speaking after hearing 'first cordon' and 'Seongnam.' The voice was so hoarse and rasping that it was difficult to tell the speaker's gender. Instead, it carried a chill that seemed to run down everyone's spine.

["You. You've all covered your name tags and put on gas masks, haven't you?"]

"...!"

["Looks like you've got people who know about magic too. Aren't you cautious. Are you calling from Seongnam because you're afraid the entire headquarters will be wiped out if you call from Pyeongtaek?"]

The major general hurriedly turned the dial, but the radio connection didn't cut out. If anything, both the volume and the sound became clearer.

["Hand over the president and politicians who decided on containment, everyone at headquarters, and all the Armed Forces commanders."]

"Cut the connection! Cut the connection!"

"Disconnect the cables!"

As shouts rang out from the soldiers frantically disconnecting cables outside the tent, several of the mages gathered here began backing away in terror.

["Hand over every last bastard who decided on containment."]

CLICK.

The connection cut out. It wasn't from turning a dial or any mechanical operation. Only when the soldiers outside reported in, their sweat-soaked faces visible through their gas-mask lenses, did we finally learn why.

"Power cable disconnected."

"We resume in ten minutes. Check the cables and avoid that frequency."

This time, even the previously unflappable white-collar woman had gone pale. Having dropped her pen, she fumbled inside her coat and pulled out a necklace. It was similar to the pentagram necklace Mr. Anderson had given me earlier. Only the material differed; I could clearly see the five-pointed star.

But the pentagram pendant, which should have been made of metal, had split straight down the middle.

HIC.

Pale and hiccuping, the woman left the tent as though fleeing. She never returned.

A dreadful silence settled among us mages for ten minutes. After that brief stillness, contact resumed. The fifth attempt brought a young woman's desperate, resolute voice.

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

"This is the first cordon in Seongnam."

["The first cordon...? Seongnam?"]

This contact was relatively friendly. In fact, she was so cooperative that 'relatively' hardly did her justice. The woman on the radio asked the military about the current situation and described her own with some frankness. A few things she said could prove crucial.

["Listen carefully, soldier. If you're really coming here to rescue us, you mustn't meet the mages. I'm a mage too, but... Anyway."]

"It will be easier for us to understand if you explain, ma'am."

["I don't know the details either. My people and I focused on staying hidden... But according to people who joined us later, most of the mages have gone mad. Don't trust them if you can help it."]

"Ma'am, if you don't mind, may I ask your name and location?"

["Not our location. People we kept regular contact with have been going silent. My name is Go Ryeo-ha. There probably isn't anyone else with the same name, so I hope we can meet. Tell us where you're providing supplies, and we'll come get them."]

After that, we couldn't reach anyone else.

March 23, 2028, 6:12 p.m.

Still in the command tent, we mages listened beside the major general as he delivered the outside world's final ultimatum.

"Effective immediately, shelling of the outlying areas will resume. Citizens remaining in Seoul, upon sighting military reconnaissance assets, please display markings or light signals visible from outside so that you may receive supplies at a safe location. The Armed Forces and government are working to bring the situation under control and guarantee citizens' lives and safety. Avoid shelling during daylight hours, and take care not to approach the outskirts without coordinating with the Armed Forces..."

At the same time, footsteps rang out beyond the tent. Strained groans followed. Metal clanked into place and machinery whirred, and before long, the heavy thunder of shelling returned.

At that moment, the major general turned toward us and slowly removed his gas mask. As the various communications devices were dismantled, he studied each of us mages in turn. His eyes briefly met mine.

He was an old man with deep lines beside his mouth and hair and eyebrows that had turned completely white. He looked worn down by age, at least in his late fifties. Looking over us once more, he spoke.

"Thank you for your patience, listening while standing or in whatever position suited you. However, we included you in this situation for the sake of a larger decision."

"Decision? What the hell kind?"

The makgeolli man in the beanie asked belligerently from where he sat on the floor. The other mages, who understood that they'd already been mobilized to defend the first cordon, felt much the same. We Supreme Mages shrugged too, wondering what there was left to decide. Surely he wasn't going to let us out beyond the second cordon now.

But the thoughts of us ordinary mortals couldn't begin to keep up with the major general and the Armed Forces.

"We will now accept Operators volunteering for the first follow-up reconnaissance operation into Seoul. Your mission will be to enter Seoul along a route secured by the U.S. and ROK special forces conducting advance reconnaissance, and make contact with local practitioners of localized penetrative alteration activity."

* * *

The Operators' quarters at the first cordon were relatively spacious, since we'd been grouped by mage organization. We Supreme Mages took off our shoes and settled onto our cots, left with no choice but to mull over why the Armed Forces had made this decision.

Pastor Park Yo-han was busy sighing deeply, while Lee Se-jun sat on his cot with his arms crossed, relentlessly bouncing his leg. The pastor tiredly put a stop to his footwork.

"Se-jun, you'll shake away your good fortune."

"I'm about to lose my head trying to stay loyal. That's why."

"Whew..."

There was nothing strange about it, really.

The Republic of Korea was already finished.

It was only holding on because its industrial regions and rear areas remained intact. With Seoul gone, both the economic strength and human resources that had propelled the Republic of Korea into the ranks of developed nations had plummeted. Maintaining the cordon served as grounds for avoiding a nuclear strike, but the condition of that cordon, which I'd seen clearly today, wasn't particularly good either.

The official announcement put casualties at over thirteen thousand, but there was a catch. That was thirteen thousand out of the hundred and fifty thousand Armed Forces personnel maintaining the first cordon. The troops stranded in Seoul and lost to contact at the start of the crisis weren't even included in the statistics.

Even those remaining weren't really holding up. I moistened my lips with my tongue as I recalled the soldiers plunging syringes into their arms. Apparently, alcohol and cigarettes weren't enough. To maintain the cordon, the Armed Forces had clearly either supplied syringes containing what I suspected were antipsychotic drugs or were turning a blind eye to them.

Amid all this, there was an obvious reason the United States and the Armed Forces were taking the reckless step of sending special forces and even mages into Seoul for on-site reconnaissance.

Alteration-type magic.

Supernatural powers anyone could learn with magic script and fog.

On top of that, only the Supreme Mages and a handful of soldiers knew my ritual had succeeded, but foreign mystics would hear about it soon enough. It was only a matter of time before its connection to the occult became known.

A genuine golden egg that would have every tycoon and wealthy person in the world pouring money into it. Magic was the last source of income that could sustain the Republic of Korea after losing Seoul and falling into ruin.

"It is not a source of income, Je-min. It is the Lord's grace and blessing."

"Same difference."

Although I answered Shin Na-in's response to my private thoughts sulkily, I revised my thinking.

Right. Calling it a source of income was almost laughable. The existence of magic had stopped the hardliners demanding a nuclear strike against these deadly monsters. It was also the Korean government's final bargaining chip with foreign nations.

The Republic of Korea wasn't a magical powerhouse. Without magic, it was practically a corpse.

At that moment, I noticed one spot was empty and looked around. Sure enough, one cot stood all alone.

"That bastard Hamza ran off."

The ungrateful little shit. I couldn't hide my mounting sense of betrayal. After eating a few spoonfuls of Richam, he refused to join the journey to save the Republic of Korea?

But Pastor Park Yo-han calmly stopped me.

"Let him go. He's not even from our country."

With an expression of utter detachment from the world, the pastor mimed holding a cigarette butt and silently puffed his lips. Just like that, only four of us Supreme Mages remained, despite having agreed to die together on the same day, at the same hour.

While I was lamenting that fact, the Poppy lady poked her head into the tent and looked around. When her eyes met mine, she beckoned me over. Pastor Park Yo-han, Shin Na-in, and Lee Se-jun all turned away or lowered their heads indifferently, but Baek Je-min, kindhearted gentleman that I was, answered her summons.

Outside the tent, the still-chilly wind greeted me, and the Poppy lady took some strange objects out of her clothes and handed them over.

"Ma'am? What are these?"

"Call me your big sister. I'm not that old."

They were talismans covered in what looked like scrawled writing and pictures of tigers. The Poppy lady practically thrust a bundle of them at me, then heaved a weary sigh.

"You've got a malign influence hanging over you, so I reckon you'll be going in there. It hasn't been long since I received my spirit power, so you can expect them to work reasonably well. They're not just scribbled on any old paper. I drew them on pagoda-tree yellow paper with genuine mirror-bright cinnabar, so carry them respectfully inside your clothes. Don't eat them!"

"Come on..."

That last remark felt a little unfair. Did this woman think I'd gobble up anything as long as someone said it worked? It almost hurt my feelings, as though she thought I was a child who'd actually shovel dirt into his mouth to become a mage.

"These cost millions of won even before the world went mad. They're even more expensive now!"

"Thank you, big sister."

Humbly, I tucked the talismans inside my shirt.

Once I'd put them away, Big Sister Poppy brought her index finger to her lips, shushed me, and added cautiously,

"Good. Now that you've taken them, don't tell anyone I'm a shaman. Understood?"

"You're a shaman?"

"Oh, little brother, you're quick on the uptake!"

SMACK.

Big Sister Poppy gave my back one resounding slap, then trotted off toward her own tent. I gazed wistfully after her before rushing back inside and seeking out Shin Na-in first.

Anyone who had an all-purpose mind reader available and didn't use him was an idiot. Who knew? She might be saying all those lovely things while actually trying to pass a curse on to me.

"Na-in, so are these genuine?"

"Tsk... If you're going to rely on superstitions like this, why not go to church? At any rate, she did give them to you with good intentions. Apparently, you looked the most clueless and stupid, so she felt sorry for you because she thought you'd die soon."

"Oh, that lady."

The Poppy lady's kind, warm heart put me at ease. Even if she'd given them to me because I looked clueless and stupid, you had to be a good person to want to look after someone who wasn't up to much.

* * *

March 26, 2028.

Recruitment of volunteers began. Pastor Park Yo-han was the first to submit an application, then returned to our quarters and looked around at us.

"We can't blame that foreign Muslim. We've all seen the monsters firsthand. You boys have probably seen even worse ones. Seoul will be more dreadful than anything we've seen or felt. If I weren't a pastor, I'd have quit too. If I didn't have a duty to save God's lambs, I'd have run away long ago."

Clutching his Bible with trembling hands, the pastor added,

"Don't try to be brave when you're not ready. If you can run, run. You've all already done your best."

March 27, 2028.

The news Lee Se-jun was watching on his phone drifted through the heavy thunder of shelling. Drying our socks, we Supreme Mages listened to the news and Se-jun's interjections against that backdrop.

["This is a historic moment. Since the founding of the United Nations, the UN, its five permanent Security Council members are showing a united front against the transnational biological catastrophe surrounding the Republic of Korea. With all of the world's more than 180 countries recognizing the gravity of the crisis, some political scientists speculate that this will be the first instance of humanity reaching a single consensus, providing a tremendous impetus toward human unity."]

"Fucking bullshit."

Only Lee Se-jun's cold remark spoke to the Republic of Korea's future.

April 2, 2028.

As we washed our faces with wet towels, we heard soldiers' curses that sounded like screams. Not long afterward, the mages were summoned to Seongnam command and received the news we'd anticipated.

"The Chinese People's Liberation Army has forcibly entered Ganghwa Island. Under the pretext of stabilizing the situation and overseeing the evacuation of refugees to islands in the Yellow Sea, they insist on taking responsibility for the coastal cordon in northern Gyeonggi and Incheon in coordination with North Korea. Accordingly, effective immediately, the administrative authority of the Republic of Korea government, which had evacuated to Incheon, will be transferred in its entirety to the ROK–U.S. Joint Command in Pyeongtaek..."

When I idly glanced outside the tent, the soldiers seemed to be gripping their guns more fiercely than usual.

April 3, 2028.

Monsters launched sporadic attacks on the first cordon. Armed Forces casualties numbered over two hundred. They couldn't even recover the bodies.

The mages were stationed in the rear as so-called reserves, but every one of those occasionally called up to the trenches returned trembling with fear.

That night, two mages were caught trying to leave. No one disclosed what happened to them, and no one wondered.

April 5, 2028.

Listening to news programs on a phone had become the Supreme Mages' new routine. Naturally, the situation coming through the phone was far from good.

On the screen, flames rose from city streets alongside shouts that even deafening gunfire couldn't drown out. These weren't scenes from the first cordon or the second, but from the rear.

Chuncheon, Daegu, Ulsan, Gwangju...

The anchor tried to conceal their emotions, but couldn't hide their resignation.

["April 5. Martial-law troops and citizens are clashing in major cities. Crowds condemning the Armed Forces maintaining the cordon as mass murderers have filled the roads. With martial-law troops ordered to open fire, the situation continues to deteriorate."]

People wearing headbands and carrying placards shouted as they advanced toward the gun barrels. Facing them, martial-law troops aimed their rifles from kneeling firing positions while their commander shouted through a megaphone.

["Murderers, get out! Rescue our families!"]

["Emergency martial law is in effect. Disperse! If you refuse to comply with military instructions, we will open fire!"]

["Go ahead and shoot, you sons of bitches!"]

The martial-law troops really did shoot, killing people. The citizens withdrew temporarily, but there was no chance the chaos would subside.

A heavy silence settled over our quarters. Only Shin Na-in, his earphones out, bobbed to a rhythm by himself before smiling and speaking.

"If this country's downfall is the Lord's will, I am ready to submit. We must all accept it."

April 7, 2028.

Countless fighter jets streaked across the skies north of Seongnam and the first cordon. Their swift, harsh roar drowned out even the repeated shelling, leaving the fog clouds slightly torn in their wake. Each pass was invariably followed by the terrifying thunder of bombing.

As I stared blankly up at the fighters performing the fearsome feat of diving into the fog and emerging again, the news played from Lee Se-jun's phone.

["On the upcoming seventh, the U.S. Seventh Fleet in the Pacific has been deployed despite some objections from China and Russia. The U.S. government has declared that it will go further, demonstrating leadership in the face of a crisis shared by all humanity, and is reviewing through Congress a decision to deploy even the Third Fleet, the Pacific Fleet's principal force."]

April 8, 2028.

After passing by the command tent, Shin Na-in returned to our quarters and took out his earphones.

"They say the fog has reached Uijeongbu. Headquarters' worst-case scenario is coming true."

No one dared speak. I smacked my lips, while Lee Se-jun turned off his phone and closed his eyes. Only Pastor Park Yo-han clasped his hands, bowed his head, and raised his voice in prayer.

"Lord, protect them amid this tribulation..."

April 9, 2028.

Hamza returned to our quarters. Before anyone could speak to him, he sank onto the empty cot, eyes hollow and lips trembling.

"The angel told me."

Hamza covered his face with both hands and lowered his head, steeped in profound despair.

"If I run away, I won't even be granted a chance to stand against it."

April 11, 2028.

Recruitment of volunteers ended. Only five people gathered in Seongnam's command tent. Yet the major general without a name tag wasn't disappointed. If anything, his eyes welled with tears at the fact that there were as many as five.

"Making your decision now does not mean your deployment is confirmed. However..."

The major general turned away, showing us only his back, and sniffled for a while.

"Simply coming here today is enough. Thank you."

April 12, 2028.

A familiar face visited our quarters. It was First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi from the military supply shop, bringing all the belongings we'd left at Suwon City Hall. Our things weren't all he'd brought. He gave each of us an additional hundred units of military scrip. I accepted mine, but found it puzzling.

"Why are you giving us a hundred units each?"

"You'll find somewhere to use them eventually, won't you? The military-scrip economy is an ambitious project of the current government and headquarters. If you tip off the survivors in Seoul that they need this to get through the second cordon, it'll acquire value."

As he spoke, First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi handed me the AR-15 I'd left in Suwon. Only now it was a little shorter, equipped with a light and even a red-dot sight. Wondering if this was some golden-axe, silver-axe business, I gave him a suspicious look. He shrugged.

"A gift from the colonel. He asked me to pass on a message too."

He practically thrust the gun into my care, then smiled.

"He says he's sorry he had no choice but to suspect you. But he hasn't forgotten that you saved his soldiers' lives. He doesn't know what it is, but he promises to keep your secret to the end."

I immediately realized which secret the colonel meant. Apparently, he still hadn't reported to his superiors that I'd learned hand-branch magic.

With his hands clasped behind his back, First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi wore a smile that looked both relieved and bitter.

"Your parents made it safely to the United States, Je-min."

"Huh? Oh... They left?"

"They believe you're going to the rear."

Inspecting the various parts of my AR-15, now fitted with a shortened barrel, I chuckled.

"The country's about to collapse. Where's the rear?"

First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi burst out laughing at that. It was a dry laugh, but a genuine one.

-And then, April 15, 2028.

* * *

For the first time in a long while, the shelling stopped. Panting and groans filled the spaces between collapsed buildings and the entrenched stench of gunpowder. Around the roads, discarded syringes lay scattered, and cigarette butts packed broken liquor bottles.

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

In front of them, Pastor Park Yo-han, the bespectacled man with the sly-looking face, stood alone with his hands clasped, praying without pause. His words, beginning with 'There is only one thing I must remind myself of,' sounded like desperate self-brainwashing.

"It shall end before our faith breaks..."

At that moment, footsteps overlapped. Moving ahead of the others, I approached the pastor from behind and tapped his shoulder. He turned around, and his eyes widened.

"You lunatics?"

His true feelings had slipped out unintentionally, but no one took issue with them.

Hamza, his face dark and lifeless, looked awkwardly at Pastor Park Yo-han before bursting into a hearty laugh that was half laughter, half tears, and climbing into the back of the military truck.

"Before terror brings us to our knees, we shall become terror."

Apparently possessing a good memory, Hamza recited a part he didn't usually say, then slumped against the backrest.

Next, Shin Na-in smiled at the pastor and took out a headset instead of his earphones.

"We are madness opposing madness."

CLUNK.

Shin Na-in climbed into the truck and smiled with his eyes gently closed.

Lee Se-jun sighed deeply, then loosened his sling and took out his K2C1 and a fucking huge revolver that he seemed to have gotten from First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi. He inspected them, feeling their weight for a long time before climbing into the truck and answering,

"Absurdity opposing absurdity."

He must have been terribly anxious, because he hugged his weapons tight.

Last of all, I handed the pastor the K2 I'd been using and spoke.

"To stop hell from seeping in, we march into hell."

The pastor took the K2 in bewilderment, stroked the trigger a few times, then began to chuckle. At last, he adjusted his glasses and slung the rifle over his shoulder.

"Right. If you aren't the best of the best, who is?"

CLUNK.

Once the pastor had climbed into the truck too, I slowly looked around. Soldiers had taken off their gas masks to share a single cigarette, heads hanging low as sweat poured down their soot-stained faces. Among them, I saw First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi bringing over a heavy bag.

The corners of his mouth twitched as he handed it to me.

"Here."

"What's this?"

"Spam. What you wanted."

I immediately took the bag and stowed it in my duffel. But something made me hesitate to climb straight into the truck.

I must have realized it, and so must the Supreme Mages already aboard. The soldiers being left on the front line and First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi must have had some vague idea too. We weren't even particularly close. These were soldiers I'd only nodded to a few times in passing, and a lieutenant I'd only spoken with a few times.

Yet taking that step away was so difficult.

Then First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi laughed softly and held out his hand.

"Avoiding a nuclear strike is fortunate enough, isn't it?"

...

"Yes. Yes, it is."

I shook his hand briefly.

"Baek Je-min. I know you don't trust the Armed Forces. But please understand."

"..."

"Right now, we're the only people desperately trying to save this country and forty million Koreans."

The major general had given us three missions.

First, find and contact the friendly survivor group represented by the woman who identified herself as Go Ryeo-ha.

Second, acquire as much local magical knowledge as possible in Seoul.

Third, help determine the origin of the fog and monsters through supernatural interpretation.

They weren't missions to entrust to civilians, but they had been entrusted to us. Knowing what that meant, I released his hand and climbed into the truck with conflicted feelings.

The Republic of Korea would most likely not survive.

CLUNK.

The deuce-and-a-half still rode poorly, the combat uniform was still tiresome, and the weight of the gun was as heavy as ever. But the world had long since changed beyond any hope of turning back.

Before long, soldiers boarded the other trucks, and the convoy of trucks and armored vehicles began to move. Beyond the ruined city, the sky was filled with drones buzzing loudly like hornets and fighter jets trailing contrails.

The soldiers paused briefly to watch the convoy heading toward Seoul. Some stood staring blankly, some set down their weapons and waved, and some silently saluted.

Amid all this, Lee Se-jun had his phone on, as though wanting one last piece of news from the outside world. April 15, 2028—the day the U.S. president's declaration was announced. In the broadcast, the president spouted something in English and an interpreter translated it.

["Today, we have transcended the boundaries of nations and peoples, ideologies and political parties."]

CLUNK.

Whenever we crossed a speed bump, all five of us were lifted into the air.

["Today, we enter the most just of fights."]

Cold moisture began to creep in. When had the fog started rising before we'd even crossed the bridge? Everyone on the front line knew full well that the fog was spreading, slowly but surely.

They simply didn't say it.

["Today, we confront this disaster in the name of humanity. God, please protect us."]

Before long, the anchor excitedly added that, for the first time in history, all five permanent members of the UN Security Council had unanimously approved the deployment of UN forces. A miracle achieved without a single abstention, apparently.

For a miracle, it was an awfully cold one.

The fog had risen to our waists as we sat in the back of the deuce-and-a-half. Without anyone needing to say a word, we checked our weapons and took out our gas masks. Even Hamza was no exception. Lee Se-jun even handed Hamza his fucking huge revolver.

Naturally, Hamza tried to refuse.

"I don't know how to shoot."

"Stick it in your mouth and pull the trigger, and you can die quickly."

"Thank you."

Moved by Lee Se-jun's kind explanation and consideration, Hamza promptly accepted the fucking huge revolver.

Then, one by one, we began putting on our gas masks. Shin Na-in was quickest. After putting his mask on, he donned his headset and pulled up the hood of his rain poncho, breathing heavily.

HUFF.

Following that exhalation, the others' faces disappeared behind gas masks too.

HUFF. HUFF.

Lee Se-jun and Hamza put theirs on together. Stealing glances at Se-jun, Hamza clumsily fitted his mask, then checked the filter.

HUUFF.

The pastor was remarkably deft with his gas mask, perhaps having undergone CBRN training back in the day. He put it on in one swift motion, stared at his issued rain poncho, then began pulling it on.

Taking in those sights, I put on my own gas mask. Moisture from the fog had filled its rubber interior, leaving droplets I had to wipe away with my hand. There were two main reasons to wear a gas mask. One was to avoid being spied on by mages who, like me, had awakened the eye branch. The other was an instinctive revulsion at mingling with monsters, along with the risk of infection. I wore mine for the first reason.

HUUFF. HUUFF.

Our breaths scattered into the fog clouds in an instant. The fog had risen to our necks.

Seoul was drawing closer. A symbol we would never reclaim, a place we would never want to enter again. We were advancing toward the place that now best embodied the word 'hell.'

And yet my heart was beating more strongly than ever.

Hello, Seoul.

To fulfill my long-delayed dream of coming to the capital—

I, Baek Je-min, am on my way.