Free Web NovelSometimes, everything around me feels unreal.
But it’s not like a dream.
At least in dreams, we believe the dream world is reality until we become lucid.
Right now, I’m in reality.
There are many causes for the dissonance.
The backdrop of Shangri-La during the collapse, the Erosion Zone, the seemingly peaceful stage of survival competition—and the existence of two Jeong Dae-kyungs.
People believe the second Jeong Dae-kyung is real.
What truly throws me into confusion isn’t just that second Jeong Dae-kyung exists, but how people see him.
They don’t just accept him as real—they take it for granted.
Just like I am Park Gyu, and I am Skelton, they believe Lee Haeng-taek is Jeong Dae-kyung without a shred of doubt.
Under Korean civil law, when it comes to the object of a claim, items are divided into specific and generic.
A specific item is designated by the creditor and cannot be replaced without their consent, while a generic item can be freely replaced as long as it satisfies the same type, quality, and quantity.
The way people treat the second Jeong Dae-kyung resembles the logic of generic substitution.
Can one individual be substituted by another?
Surprisingly, it’s not impossible.
From a personal perspective, maybe. But from an organizational standpoint, people can be replaced based on role and competency.
In this disarray, we returned to our mothership—Panokseon.
“What will you do?”
As with all missions of this type, Cha In-seop had already prepared Plan B.
Plan B was to wipe out Sim Yu-gyeong’s faction.
They couldn’t exterminate the entire group at once, but Cha In-seop and Ha Tae-hoon had prepped a surprise assault capable of eliminating over 30% of Sim Yu-gyeong’s force within the first hour of battle.
They say a 30% loss in combat is functionally considered annihilation.
If Sim Yu-gyeong chose to go down swinging, it’d get messy, but Cha In-seop judged that unlikely.
“He has too much to lose. So we’ll spare Sim Yu-gyeong, his family, and his key inner circle.”
The plan was drafted by Cha In-seop, but it seemed to be Pyo Won-sang—arms crossed in the back, smiling faintly at me—who backed it.
And I understood the sentiment.
Realistically, why take a risk to help a warlord who betrayed South Korea?
That was the mainstream view.
But some people in Sim Yu-gyeong’s faction liked me.
They idolized Skelton. Wanted to be like Skelton.
“Honestly, online they said you were like Captain M9—good build but ugly. But in person? You’re actually really handsome. I mean, if I were a woman, I’d hit on you immediately! Oh—don’t get me wrong! I’m straight!”
That was Sim Yu-gyeong’s son.
“You know, living out here with no hope or dreams, everything just feels meaningless. Like life is one endless, boring nightmare you can’t wake up from. But after seeing Commander Park Gyu, I feel different. I won’t say it’s some grand ‘will to live,’ but... I kinda want to see tomorrow now. By the way, I was a Skelton fan during the Soup Wars! Though... my current favorite’s someone else...”
And then there was Jeon Eun-ha—my unshakable supporter. freёwebnovel.com
Of course, not everyone knew much about Skelton, but even as a person, I’d won a few over.
“What? You’re over thirty?! You look like you’re in your mid-twenties at most! How do you stay so youthful?!”
“...Haha. Do I?”
Sim Yu-gyeong’s wife, for example.
If they had been just some random hostile civilians or enemy faction—well, who knows?
Maybe I wouldn’t have objected to Cha In-seop’s plan.
But I knew them. And they knew me.
Even if Cha In-seop’s plan were executed, they likely wouldn’t be killed—but if you think about the leading cause of death during the apocalypse, the result is obvious.
People need a foundation.
Without one, they drift like duckweed and vanish into the void.
Over 60% of Korea’s population disappeared this way.
“...I have a plan.”
I’ve always preferred practicality over idealism, but since my days in the bunker, I’ve stuck to a rule: never leave a stain on my conscience.
Pyo Won-sang looked surprised, mixed with disappointment and mild irritation.
He glanced at his watch, for good measure.
Even Cha In-seop looked a bit taken aback, though as a field officer, he gave a prepared response.
“Unfortunately, Commander Park, we can’t provide much support for a hostile warlord. We don’t know who’s waiting up ahead—and regarding Director Jeong Dae-kyung... there are some troubling rumors. He puts on a welcoming face, but I firmly believe he’s behind the series of biochemical attacks in this region.”
In short, no resources.
I met his gaze and spoke clearly.
“That’s fine. But Colonel, if I succeed in this mission—”
A question mark flickered in Cha In-seop’s eyes.
“Would it be alright if I asked just one more question about Director Jeong Dae-kyung?”
He looked puzzled at first, but soon grasped the intent behind my question. He glanced around, then quietly nodded.
“If there’s a specific answer you’re hoping for—sure. But don’t push yourself too hard. Commander Park, you’re more important to this expedition than you realize.”
If that were true, they’d have offered support.
I gave him an empty laugh and left.
Cheon Young-jae and Moon Yang-gyeong followed me from behind the command vehicle.
“What are you going to do?”
Cheon Young-jae asked.
Smiling, I replied.
“I’ve got an idea.”
I turned toward Moon Yang-gyeong.
“Can one of you help me?”
Though she still looked at me with weird eyes since that day, she hadn’t forgotten her sense of responsibility. She frowned slightly but nodded.
“...Yes.”
Given the nature of the mission, most of the group came from Sim Yu-gyeong’s side. It couldn’t be helped.
Naturally, Jeon Eun-ha was there too—but her expression was odd.
When she first saw me, she’d waved brightly. But at some point, her expression had shifted to one of suspicion.
I had a good idea why.
She was looking at Cheon Young-jae.
I’d had him hide his infamous face with sunglasses and a jungle hat pulled low, but you can’t cover everything.
Couldn’t exactly slap a mask on him, either.
Anyway, the task Sim Yu-gyeong gave me was to eliminate the monsters occupying the dam area.
Judging by the wording, it sounds like he wants every monster wiped out—but his true intention is more nuanced.
What he really wants is control of the hydroelectric plant. Just like Jeokgodan had.
In other words, securing the dam area is enough.
Which means we don’t necessarily have to kill all the monsters.
“Drive the monsters away?”
Jeon Eun-ha responded with disbelief when she heard my plan.
Expected.
Even though the number of monster hunters has grown massively since my era, not many understand what monsters truly are.
With a few exceptions, monsters are like corrupted programs—following simple behavioral rules once emitted from the Rift.
They can respond to stimuli, but they lack intelligence. They almost never act with a specific, autonomous goal.
Just look at them—completely motionless in front of us.
They were likely drawn here by the death of fellow monsters, but now they’re just frozen in place.
They’re like tossed balls.
Without an external trigger, they’ll sit there for ages until they decay.
My plan ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) is to toss those balls elsewhere.
To do that, I need two things.
Click.
First, I need to secure the hydro plant’s control room.
It’s located on the upper side of the dam wall.
Since the strong medium-types are all at the bottom of the dam, this part is relatively easier.
Though “relatively” can mean a lot of things.
“Shit. There’s way too many. And what the hell is that?”
The upper dam was guarded by zombies influenced by a necromancer-type—and something new we hadn’t seen before.
A humanoid monster with sharpened spikes protruding from its groin area.
A Raper, officially classified as a Dol-type monster.
According to reports, it’s slower and less reactive than zombies, but once those clamp-like arms catch you, you’re in for a horrifically miserable end.
We sent a drone to scout the control room.
Thankfully, the necromancer-type had nested across the dam in a warehouse, making the drone pass possible.
The control room itself was intact.
The problem was the swarm of zombies inside.
It wasn’t vital, but I asked Sim Yu-gyeong anyway:
“Those people... they don’t seem like they’ve been zombies for long?”
A shadow fell over his face.
“...Before the southern region fully eroded, there were over five million people living here. Now? Not even half a million. Where do you think they all went?”
A rhetorical question with a grim answer.
There could be plenty more fresh zombies lurking nearby.
As a seasoned warlord, Sim Yu-gyeong had already figured out most of my plan.
While watching me configure the operation on my tablet, he suddenly asked:
“Are you planning to open the floodgates and wash them away?”
Right on the mark.
That’s exactly what I intended.
He’d nailed it, but I wasn’t flustered or annoyed.
It was the truth.
I nodded.
Another shadow passed over his face.
“...It won’t be easy.”
“I know.”
He looked at me again.
I stared right back and said evenly:
“Just because something’s hard doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
Let’s go over the plan again.
Step one: secure the control room.
Step two: lure the medium-types, just as Sim Yu-gyeong predicted.
The idea is to draw them toward the open floodgates and flush them out with the current.
But meeting those conditions won’t be easy.
Just baiting them risks lives—but the hardest part is securing the control room.
If it were just zombies and a necromancer-type, a few skilled soldiers and Hunters could handle it within hours.
But this battlefield is crawling with powerful medium-class threats.
The thing that reactivates dormant monsters most often is battle.
If a comrade dies or a fight breaks out, they’ll snap back to life and rush to wipe out any human in sight.
Imagine an Annihilator-type shelling the control room.
The whole operation would be pointless.
So the solution is simple.
Draw the medium-types toward the spillway, without drawing attention to the control room.
“Easier said than done.”
Jeon Eun-ha frowned at my plan.
“Even if you lure the medium-types away, what about the control room? It’s crawling with zombies and that freaky monster. And if we kill any zombies, the necromancer will crawl out and summon the big guys, right?”
Exactly.
It’s a hard plan—hard enough that even a Skelton fanatic like her is skeptical.
But—
Schrring—
I pulled out my axe, gave it a spin, and looked around at all the doubting eyes.
“...”
It’s been five years since the war began.
Eighty percent of humanity is dead, but even in that time, we’ve evolved.
How we perceive monsters. How we deal with them. And most importantly—the hope that peeked through in Necropolis.
But in some ways, we’ve regressed.
What I feel most acutely is the loss of our old Hunter methods.
“Jin-yi-yeh-xing, was it?”
Woo Min-hee, arms crossed like a spectator, recalled the term.
“Senior. You can speak Chinese?”
I chuckled.
“In Korean, we call it Geumuiyaheng—marching at night in silk robes.”
“You refused to speak Chinese, remember?”
It was one of the Hunter doctrines developed by countless Chinese Hunters who died anonymously. A method for quietly traversing zombie-infested areas without drawing attention.
Like all good methods, it was born from a simple idea: if zombies react to noise—especially gunfire—and the death of allies, then minimizing both might let you pass through their territory undetected.
The core: minimize gunfire, minimize kills.
In other words, cold weapons and brute force infiltration.
Many Hunters pulled it off.
Some died midway and ended up joining the zombies—but by the end of China’s collapse, it was a job that had to be done.
I took that job often.
It was how a tyrannical leader like me earned his team’s trust.
Because nothing’s more pathetic than telling others to risk their lives while you don’t.
“I’ll do it.”
Cheon Young-jae let out a whistle.
“That tactic got phased out during our time.”
I asked him:
“Can you and Moon Yang-gyeong handle the baiting?”
He smiled and nodded.
At that point, he still looked like a trustworthy, if not very handsome, Hunter.
But there are some unfortunate people who can’t separate the internet from reality.
“El-Miris Copy.”
The mystery uncle came out.
Everyone, including Sim Yu-gyeong, ignored it—except one person gasped.
“Gasp!”
It was Jeon Eun-ha.
She’d been eyeing Cheon Young-jae suspiciously this whole time—and now, his accidental confession gave him away.
“Oh my God... you're El-Miris?! The guy who streamed with a cutesy girl avatar and then got doxxed?!”
“...”
Just a minor incident.
Nothing compared to a major mistake during the mission.
Still, it’s a weird world.
Jeon Eun-ha walked up to Cheon Young-jae.
I watched nervously, wondering what she’d do—and then she looked up at him with adoring eyes and said:
“I’m a fan!”
The look in her eyes held more reverence than when she looked at me.
That’s not just my imagination.
“You’re my favorite!”
As this surreal moment unfolded, two radios chirped at once.
One came through the earpiece from our side.
“They’ll give us five hours.”
That was Cha In-seop.
Meaning we had to retreat by nightfall.
“There’s been an urgent development. We need to move quickly.”
The second came through Sim Yu-gyeong’s comms officer.
“It’s been a while. Everyone’s doing well, I hope?”
A young man’s voice echoed.
I didn’t recognize it.
But something about it felt familiar.
Sim Yu-gyeong leaned in and whispered:
“Jeokgodan.”
Jeon Eun-ha looked at me and mouthed silently:
Prophet.
My so-called internet rival.
