Free Web NovelI had decided to meet Prophet.
To dispel Pyo Won-sang’s suspicions, I left under the pretext of voluntarily going out for reconnaissance.
I could’ve chosen a means of transport, but I opted to go on foot. For teammates, I picked Cheon Young-jae and Park Hae-min.
Go Jun-hee seemed a bit more proactive than Park Hae-min, but we were heading to meet a survivor group we knew nothing about.
There are still men out there who start fights the moment they see a woman, and the kind who lose their minds over women haven’t disappeared even in the apocalypse.
M9 decided to join us on this trip as well.
Even that lively friend had grown bored as the atmosphere inside the train became increasingly heavy, and in the end, he used journalism as an excuse to tag along.
Of course, his true goal was “The New The Hope.”
He hasn’t said it outright, but it seems M9 is also wrestling with something.
It’s a woman.
I caught him late at night in the passenger car, staring alone at a photo of a woman.
It was probably taken without her knowing—a profile shot—but the face was unmistakable.
Ji Young-hee.
She had become a resident of The Hope with us. M9 used to tease about liking her, always with a joking tone, but I never thought he meant it for real.
“Prophet, huh. It means ‘one who prophesies,’ right?”
Park Hae-min had made it abundantly clear at first that he didn’t want to go, but once the plan was set, he resigned himself to it, quickly geared up, and joined the group.
Unlike # Nоvеlight # other Awakened, this guy always carried a machete—probably a habit picked up from North American influences.
He openly admitted it.
“American-trained Awakened are said to go through training just as tough as our seniors did in school. Of course, they don’t do suicidal circus acts like Intimidating or Scalping, but they expect to subdue threats with basic combat skills alone in most situations.”
I’d heard that story before.
If I had to be honest, I think it’s a luxury.
Always have.
America isn’t as densely populated as China or India, but they’ve always had a strategy of cherry-picking the best talent from around the world.
Cherry-picking, as they call it.
Same with the Awakened.
Unlike Korea, where every parent and child is wrung dry clinging to the hope of awakening, America just uses the lure of citizenship to scoop up every kid with the slightest potential—or rather, kids whose parents want to become Americans.
That’s how they could afford to put potential Awakened through brutal training and dump the ones who didn’t make it into second-tier roles.
Anyway, Park Hae-min seems heavily influenced by American policies on the Awakened.
And he had the sharp insight to match his skills.
“That Prophet guy, right? No matter how you look at him, he seems trained in the U.S. Everything from how he holds a gun to the way he fires at monsters. We tend to go for full-auto at close range, but those guys use controlled three-round bursts even up close.”
Prophet was from America.
He said so himself.
But I don’t know much about how North American Hunters—especially Awakened—fight.
Park Hae-min, being one of them, probably had access to their training and combat footage.
But really, whether it’s Korea or the U.S., we’re both Western-aligned nations, and Korea’s military doctrines and tech are steeped in American influence. I doubt there’s much of a difference outside the details.
Above all, Hunters are freeform.
There are as many grip styles and shooting methods as there are weapon types.
There’s no one right way.
Survival itself is the only answer—but by the time that answer gets verified, there’ll be no one left to acknowledge it.
We departed at dawn.
It was a hostile region teeming with aggressive survivors, but with reliable friends at my side, I wasn’t too worried.
Prophet had even provided a mapped-out route in advance, which made the journey smoother.
But that didn’t mean this place was peaceful.
Tat-tat-tat-tat!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire echoed all around—shots fired and returned.
It didn’t really matter who was fighting whom.
This place was saturated with tension, like it could explode at any moment.
Maybe that eerie stillness between gray and full color was really just the calm before the storm.
We reached the hill where we were supposed to meet today’s star, Prophet.
Just as he said, the withered tree branches were strung with hanged corpses.
The bodies, caught somewhere between skeletons and mummies, all had placards hung around their necks stating their crimes.
[ I am a traitor to my people. ]
[ Betrayer ]
[ Egoist ]
[ Spy ]
[ Embezzler ]
There were about twenty corpses in total, and judging by their decay, they seemed to have been executed all at once.
“Looks like they were hanged elsewhere and strung up here for display.”
Cheon Young-jae inspected the bodies.
Unlike him, I had no hobby of studying corpses. I kept my weapon ready and scanned the surroundings while waiting for the radio to crackle.
No need to wait long.
Three figures emerged on the ridge, silhouetted against the dawn sky, which looked like blank white paper.
All three were armed. One of them waved at us.
Unless something unexpected happened, that had to be Prophet.
“Skelton?”
He asked.
I responded.
“Prophet?”
He nodded and gestured for us to follow.
That was the extent of our introductions. From there, we marched without pause for thirty minutes, descending into the pale-gray erosion zone where a bunker awaited us.
True to its name, the erosion zone had no signs of life and no guards.
A perfectly isolated place.
“There are two reasons,”
Prophet said, face still concealed.
Sunglasses, a mask, and miscellaneous gear hid everything. The darkest hour before dawn helped cloak him further.
“One: It’s dangerous. This area’s crawling with bastards looking to make a mess. You’ve got an Awakened with you, I see—but even Awakened aren’t invincible, right?”
Then he added,
“Two: I don’t want to reveal our location. I trust you, Skelton, but not your organization. That expedition leader you report to—Jeju Committee, right? I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
After explaining, Prophet removed his sunglasses and mask.
A ruggedly handsome man, radiating a Western vibe.
Especially impressive was his brown beard tracing his jawline—an objectively stylish look, even to another man.
He looked straight at me. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
“Yoo Gwan-hee. Born in Korea, raised in the States.”
I asked him,
“Where’d you serve?”
He pointed to the patch on his combat jacket.
“Here.”
Stitched onto an emerald-green badge were heavy, bold letters:
[ E.G ]
Emeral Guard.
Also known as the EZ Team.
“For real? You were in the EZ Team?”
“Formerly. I’m part of Jeokgodan now, as you can see.”
Even Park Hae-min, who normally showed interest in nothing but gambling, had his eyes light up.
That’s how famous the EZ Team was.
They dominated video feeds and social media. As the world’s lone superpower, America had made sure their Hunter organizations were aggressively promoted.
Objectively, the EZ Team was made up of elite Hunters, all A-class or above, and just like we operated in China, they’d made a name for themselves in Mexico and across Latin America.
From among them, the very top were pulled into a unit called Raptors.
I’d never met them, never fought them.
What I wanted to know was why a guy from one of North America’s old-school Hunter teams was here in Korea, fighting as an Awakened.
“I was stationed at the U.S. base in Daegu. Since I was Korean, they sent me there. Not just me—if you had even a hint of Korean blood, you got sent to Korea, whether you spoke the language or not. Fortunately, I immigrated during elementary school, so I’m more comfortable with the language than most.”
I looked into his subtly glowing eyes.
Just like Park Hae-min.
An Awakened.
Sensing the meaning in my stare, Prophet gave a soft chuckle, then put his sunglasses and mask back on, continuing with a sardonic tone.
“Yeah, the Impact came all of a sudden. I won’t deny that my powers are the reason I deserted. My commanding officer was utterly useless. The original CO was smart, but sadly, he killed himself. You know how it goes—the worthless ones never die, right?”
He paused and stared at me.
Seemed like he was about to get to the point.
His demand was simple.
“Jeong Dae-kyung has to die. That man is too dangerous to live. Hell, maybe he’s not even human anymore.”
I signaled Cheon Young-jae and the others with a glance.
They got the message and left the bunker.
Now, it was just me and Prophet. Two prominent figures from two forums, face to face in a dim, gray bunker that smelled faintly of mildew—probably belonged to some doomer.
“What exactly did you see?”
Prophet had hinted several times that Jeong Dae-kyung wasn’t human.
This wasn’t metaphor.
We knew—humans, especially Awakened—can suddenly turn into monsters.
There was no guarantee the same wouldn’t happen to Jeong Dae-kyung.
“General type.”
The name I’d given to the Nemesis-type monster I’d first defeated.
But the world still called them General-types.
“Jeong Dae-kyung’s already turned into something like that.”
I had suspected it, but hearing it still shocked me.
But how common are General-types, really?
And people like us—distrust is in our blood.
“Got proof?”
“No hard evidence.”
“That so?”
I mentally noted the locations of my pistol and hatchet.
It’s not uncommon.
Things can go south quickly, even in what starts as a friendly meeting.
Especially when expectations aren’t met or conversations begin to misalign.
If this were a board mate, I’d trust him more. But this guy was just a newcomer.
Heavy silence settled in the gray confines of the bunker.
Then Prophet broke it.
“...I just felt it.”
The story went back three months.
Jeokgodan was no ordinary group.
The name probably came from a rebel faction that fought near Seorabeol during the fall of Unified Silla.
They didn’t wear red pants like the originals, but the intent behind the name was clear:
Sweep away the ruling powers who’d seized Seorabeol and take their place.
That was likely their goal.
Strong enough to hold one of the three Shangri-las, Jeokgodan was indeed elite.
A group formed around deserters who rebelled against their militarized superiors, bound together by shared purpose and exceptional combat skill.
They made a plan to eliminate Jeong Dae-kyung, whose faction had taken over the most powerful and likely only lasting Shangri-la.
It was only logical.
Jeong Dae-kyung’s kingdom existed solely because of Jeong Dae-kyung.
An over-level-10 Awakened was a formidable opponent, but Jeokgodan had a plan.
“There was a stash of grenade-type white phosphorus bombs in an abandoned U.S. camp. Outdated since the 21st century began, but U.S. bases in Korea are notoriously mismanaged. There was enough to burn down Jeong Dae-kyung’s entire palace.”
Not just Jeong Dae-kyung—his entire palace, spanning thousands of square meters.
Prophet believed even a level-10 Awakened couldn’t survive in inextinguishable white flames.
Despite internal friction, the elite Jeokgodan infiltrated the palace, brought in dozens of kilograms of white phosphorus, and prepared to ignite it all.
Jeong Dae-kyung’s men discovered them—but that was expected.
Jeokgodan had deployed three regular Awakened, including Prophet.
But as soon as Prophet and the others engaged—
“...It’s something only Awakened can feel. A maddening, repulsive pressure—like you wouldn’t even care if someone started sawing your neck off right there. A crippling, senseless despair that consumed all of us.”
An irresistible force.
The Awakened were rendered combat-ineffective. The operation failed.
Having poured everything into killing Jeong Dae-kyung, Jeokgodan collapsed from elite unit to just another survivor gang.
“I’d bet my life. Jeong Dae-kyung is a General-type. Only a General-type can make Awakened tremble and turn into docile lambs just by existing.”
Prophet, still wearing sunglasses, looked at me.
“...I never saw him directly. Didn’t hear the shockwave either. But I felt it. You’ve got an Awakened friend outside, right? Ask him what a General-type is. Ask him why even Kang Han-min hesitated to face one.”
No hard proof.
But his testimony felt more convincing than any evidence.
“A General—no, Nemesis-type—does give off that kind of pressure. Only Awakened can feel it—usually those above level 5. Just sensing one from afar can wreck your mind. Imagine being up close. I’m not trying to side with him, but... I get it.”
Park Hae-min gave a similar account.
Though later, he did say he didn’t feel the same pressure here.
If something like a General-type were nearby, Woo Min-hee would’ve warned us, and the other Awakened would’ve reacted.
What awaited me back at the train was something entirely contradictory to Prophet’s claim.
There was a stir near the train.
Vehicles I hadn’t seen before. Soldiers in uniforms different from ours, standing guard.
Moon Yang-gyeong saw me and waved.
“Oh, Captain.”
“What’s going on?”
She glanced behind her.
“They say someone named General Jeong Dae-kyung arrived.”
“What?”
Just then, a group disembarked from the train.
At the front was Pyo Won-sang, grinning ear to ear.
So far, so good.
The problem came next.
A man in a perfectly pressed uniform, medium height, descended from the train with soldiers attending him.
His posture and confident expression were unfamiliar—but the face matched exactly what was seared into my memory.
“...”
Jeong Dae-kyung.
No, Lee Haeng-taek.
He spotted me.
“Oh.”
He approached.
His face shifting through emotions too numerous to categorize.
He stood before me.
“...”
Officially, we don’t know each other.
Especially not under this Jeong Dae-kyung identity.
Even if we served in the same area, we were in different departments, different chains of command.
Besides, if this is the second Jeong Dae-kyung, he shouldn’t recognize me at all.
We’d never met in Jeju.
But the man smiled gently and spoke first.
“Been a while, hasn’t it?”
For a moment, I couldn’t tell if he was speaking as Jeong Dae-kyung, Lee Haeng-taek, or something else.
Maybe it was a monster speaking.
That’s how it looked to my eyes.
To the eyes of the Professor who personally defeated a General-type.
“You... remember me?”
At least I could say one thing for sure.
He isn’t a General-type.
Not yet.
