Free Web NovelThere’s a saying that the Chinese eat everything with legs except desks. But if we were to broaden that beyond eating and apply it to war, then honestly, there wouldn’t be much difference between the Chinese and any other people.
Humans will use anything they can in war.
War dogs still widely used today, dolphins trained competitively by the Americans and Soviets, bacteria and viruses, the human shields made of women and children favored by the Mongols, mournful songs echoing from all directions, the thousand oxen whose tails were set on fire by General Tian Dan during the Warring States period.
Naturally, the military applicability of the Awakened was also widely researched.
Back when it was still believed that dimensional Rifts could be controlled—maybe even closed—countries around the world, including Korea, raced to find ways to deploy the Awakened in human warfare.
Most reports concluded this ambitious idea with the same sentiment:
—"Impractical, given the cost."
Sure, Awakened might be useful in small-scale engagements, but on massive battlefields involving hundreds of thousands, an Awakened was nothing more than another expendable piece.
They couldn’t be mass-produced, and only a handful emerged among tens of thousands. Rather than throwing such a rare resource into warfare as cannon fodder, it was more cost-effective militarily and economically to focus them on Rift battles to keep monsters at bay.
That viewpoint became the consensus.
But then there was Japan—a country that, ever since World War II, had continued researching its own unique doctrine. While they nominally adhered to the consensus, they also proposed a bold idea in the most passive and reserved—quintessentially Japanese—manner.
They agreed that using Awakened as war consumables was inefficient... but what if the Awakened in question was an over-level-10 Awakened?
Wouldn't such an individual possess a tactical value incomparable to that of a regular Awakened?
No one had ever heard of an over-level-10 Awakened being deployed in a battlefield between humans.
After all, how could you throw national heroes, humanity’s hope, those hailed as saviors, into war as mere combat units? It wasn’t just politically difficult—it didn’t even seem efficient.
In the end, whether it was a level 5 or level 10 Awakened, they’d be used up just the same.
For that reason, Japan’s bold proposition never gained traction and was eventually shelved.
But everyone knew the truth:
That an over-level-10 Awakened was essentially a tactical weapon in and of themselves.
Bwooooooom––
Even beyond the barrier of mountains, the shockwave echoed with ruinous force, and dozens of drones shot into the sky.
Chinese-made, American-made, Israeli-made, domestic production, even what appeared to be North Korean models—everything was mobilized.
And that wasn’t enough. From a makeshift runway, they were prepping full-scale combat UAVs equipped with Hellfire missiles—hardware more suited to wartime than post-apocalyptic skirmishes.
“Move it!”
In the open terrain below Jeong Dae-kyung’s fortress, artillery units had deployed. Troops manned fortified fire support points spread throughout the city.
Amid the shrill screech of emergency sirens that rattled the eardrums, civilians fled into underground bunkers. A train slowly reversed course, securing its train-mounted artillery piece atop the lead car and bracing it against the shockwave-blasted mountain range.
In that chaos, I immediately joined Cheon Young-jae in merging with Pyo Won-sang’s command vehicle.
“Oh, you’re here?”
Pyo Won-sang glanced over but didn’t care much and didn’t bother kicking us out.
Inside the vehicle—filled with screens displaying maps and status panels—everything moved in a flurry of urgency.
We were outsiders here.
We had to find a corner out of the way, careful not to interfere with the soldiers.
We were clearly being treated like unwanted sacks of barley, but I didn’t mind.
Getting to witness the monster that was Jeong Dae-kyung in action from a front-row seat was a privilege.
That was one of the main reasons I kept the mask on and stayed near Pyo Won-sang.
“Charlie spotted. Charlie confirmed.”
The drone operators reported their reconnaissance data.
Cha In-seop looked at Pyo Won-sang.
Pyo Won-sang hesitated for a moment, then turned toward Cha In-seop.
“...Shall we try initiating contact?”
Cha In-seop didn’t reply, but the icy expression on his face urged a decision.
Pyo Won-sang seemed to mull it over in silence, then let out a shallow sigh and spoke in a resigned tone.
“We’ll have to, won’t we?”
He snapped his fingers with a click.
Then, with a flat, emotionless voice, Cha In-seop gave the order.
“Commence operation. Eliminate Charlie.”
His staff repeated the command.
“Operation start.”
“Charlie target confirmed for elimination.”
All eyes, including Cha In-seop’s, turned to the broad tactical display spanning the side of the command vehicle—dozens of panels forming one massive screen.
Footage streamed in from various drone perspectives.
They each showed different views, but soon all eyes converged on a single target.
A small unit of vehicles and personnel positioned just beyond the ridge.
Due to resolution limits, Jeong Dae-kyung himself couldn’t be identified, but that small unit appeared to be the only significant target past the mountains.
“Phase 1 formation, gather.”
In one of the distant control feeds, dozens of light drones began to align in formation midair.
Roughly 800 meters from the target.
Bang! Bang!
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Gunshots rang out—likely fired by Jeong Dae-kyung’s side—but no drones went down.
However...
Dududududu––
The staccato roar of what sounded like a 7.62mm machine gun echoed—and several screens cut to static and noise.
Cha In-seop and his team weren’t shaken.
If anything, they regarded it as acceptable losses.
“Let’s begin.”
Five of the remaining drone feeds moved sharply.
They began to dive.
A voice—likely the drone operator—came through the speaker.
“Charlie acquired. Commencing strike.”
A group suicide drone assault.
But...
BOOM!
A single shockwave was enough to shatter their intent.
Yet that wasn’t the end.
Only the five drones in that initial dive went dark.
The remaining fifty-five—no, fifty-eight, now reinforced—were still intact.
“They say 500 meters is the limit.”
Ha Tae-hoon had quietly joined us.
He wasn’t in charge of this operation, so like us, he was just an observer now. Arms crossed, he continued watching the feed with a bitter expression.
“That’s the max range for the ‘Blackout’ ability an Awakened can use to down drones. It’s still lower than what monsters can manage.”
Cheon Young-jae’s face tensed, but I signaled him to stay quiet and listen to Ha Tae-hoon.
There was a lot I needed to talk to this guy about—but right now, he was feeding me intel.
No reason to turn it down.
Meanwhile, soldiers spoke in hushed tones.
“That machine gun’s annoying. Can we suppress it with artillery?”
“I’ll relay to the mortar team.”
“Copy.”
Despite the tension, the operation continued in a chilling calm.
From the beginning, I’d suspected this plan had been in the works for a while.
It wasn’t hard to figure out.
Pyo Won-sang had long set his sights on Shangri-La. And to take Shangri-La, Jeong Dae-kyung had to die.
He’d prepared various contingencies, including nerve gas. But as is always the case, nothing ever goes exactly to plan.
If the pre-planned strategies failed, they had to have at least one final card to play: a frontal assault.
What we were witnessing now was that final card.
“Phase 2 commencing! Entering [N O V E L I G H T] Blackout range in 15 seconds!”
“3 o’clock! Take the 3 o’clock route. Yeah. Light it up in advance!”
“Ignition!”
Sharp commands flew across the airwaves, stirring the earth and sky nearby.
BOOM! BOOM!
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
As sporadic explosions and gunfire echoed outside the vehicle, Ha Tae-hoon spoke again.
“Word is, the reason the Chinese remnants lasted so long in Dangjin was because they handed over nearly all their high-grade intel to Jeju.”
That much I already knew.
But he added something I didn’t.
“And among that intel was how to deal with an over-level-10 Awakened.”
“...Really?”
He nodded.
“It’s called ‘Zuma’—a doctrine the Chinese developed for handling over-level-10s. As you can see, the strategy involves isolating the Awakened, draining them via successive drone waves, and finishing them off with combat UAVs.”
White smoke began rising from the mountains.
The distant feed showed flames erupting across the terrain.
Judging by the smoke, it wasn’t any ordinary fire.
“Incendiaries? Napalm? No, a mix of both.”
Ha Tae-hoon nodded.
“You really are the Professor. Doesn’t matter exactly what the fuel is. What matters is the fire won’t go out. It blocks both advance and retreat.”
I suddenly recalled Prophet’s attempt to burn Jeong Dae-kyung alive with incendiaries.
Seems everyone thinks along similar lines.
When facing a monster like an over-level-10 Awakened, there are limits to what people can do.
But one thing is certain: an over-level-10 Awakened is still an over-level-10 Awakened.
They were throwing a near-regimental-level drone force at a single target.
And even that might be considered a cheap expenditure compared to what such a being is truly worth.
[...]
I looked at the screen.
As mortars began to suppress Jeong Dae-kyung’s machine guns, the second wave of drones—groups of five—dived with incendiaries or napalm, targeting his position.
Ha Tae-hoon murmured under his breath as he watched.
"Jeong Dae-kyung is a monster of an over-level-10 Awakened, no doubt. But he was arrogant. Still human, and to walk in here—on his own two feet—with no contingencies, against the largest remaining force in the country? That was just plain disrespect. Even that Nemesis-type kept guards around and had backup plans like comms interference.”
For a brief moment, I regretted not bringing Woo Min-hee with us.
If she were here, I could have heard a fellow over-level-10 Awakened’s perspective on all this.
But I left her behind on purpose—if things turned south, I could already picture Pyo Won-sang grinning and shamelessly asking her for help.
She would never agree, of course—but why even risk creating that awkward atmosphere?
Boom! BOOM!
The drones carrying the unquenchable fire didn’t aim directly at Jeong Dae-kyung. Instead, they spread fire across all unburned regions of the assumed target zone, creating a ring of flames.
The fire gradually began to form an inescapable encirclement around him.
The gunfire that had been a constant background noise began to fade.
From high-altitude surveillance, we could see a few individuals running through the woods from Jeong Dae-kyung’s side.
“Phase 3—deploy.”
Cha In-seop’s flat voice rang out.
Like a seasoned surgeon guiding a scalpel, he watched the feed and gave calm instructions.
“Focus on the 10 o’clock sector. The 12 o’clock slope is too steep—they’ll be boxed in. Keep the Peregrines circling. Also, recheck the Hellfire missile systems on the Peregrines. Haven’t been used in a while.”
A quiet but unmistakable heat spread through the command vehicle.
Soldiers and staff—many of whom had seen hell in the apocalypse—were beginning to feel it.
Hope.
The hope that they might actually kill this monster of an Awakened.
Amid that eerie surge of emotion, I turned to Ha Tae-hoon.
“What does Zuma mean?”
“Zuma is... Zuma,” he replied dryly.
“In Korean.”
At that, Ha Tae-hoon took out his phone and showed me Chinese characters I could read.
“Zama: The Doctrine of Horse Assassination?”
“It’s from Zuma-an—the case of ‘Stabbing the Horse.’ Back in late Qing Dynasty China, a high-ranking official named Ma was assassinated by a commoner. The incident shook the entire country.”
A commoner assassinating a high-ranking official.
The name fit.
From the Rift perspective, someone like Jeong Dae-kyung would be the aristocrat wielding power, while people like us—no matter what impressive titles we carried—were nothing but “cracked pebbles” without even a scrap of Authority.
“How many have they taken out with this?”
Apparently, our conversation had reached Cha In-seop’s ears.
Given how quiet the vehicle was, it was more or less impossible not to hear us—but I hadn’t expected that frigid man to actually respond.
“Four.”
He looked straight at me, holding up four fingers.
“They say four were successfully neutralized through the Zuma operation. Could be five—there was a similar record in Fujian Province, but contact was lost right before it was confirmed.”
Even without a change in expression, there was unwavering confidence in his voice.
“I see.”
He looked like just another of Pyo Won-sang’s pawns—but he was still a soldier of the end times.
Cha In-seop had his own plans. His own ambition.
Even with that eternally stoic face, I could see it—an unmistakable flicker of delight he couldn’t quite suppress.
And I now understood what he was after.
“Yes. Over-level-10 Awakened—Alpha-class Awakened—can absolutely be eliminated with modern tactics and weaponry.”
He was serious about killing Awakened. Especially those on the level of saviors.
And it’s not like he was some kind of freak.
When Kang Han-min rose to fame as humanity’s “Savior,” rumors ran rampant through the military that he was just a manufactured hero—overrated and overhyped.
“We have more than enough precedent. And verified outcomes.” fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
Cha In-seop’s calm voice carried with it a quiet, unwavering confidence.
“Jeong Dae-kyung will die out there.”
Maybe that’s how this ends.
But I had a question.
So I raised my hand.
“Yes, Commander Park Gyu.”
Cha In-seop gave me a faint, almost polite smile and lifted his chin slightly in acknowledgment.
I exchanged a glance with Pyo Won-sang, then turned my focus back to Cha In-seop.
“Those people you said were eliminated...”
“Yes?”
I let out a shallow breath and clarified.
“Were they soldiers? Or civilians?”
He shook his head.
“Let me rephrase. Were they professionally trained military personnel—or people trapped in isolated zones like this one?”
Cha In-seop fell silent in thought.
Then he replied.
“Does it matter?”
It did matter.
Humans are creatures that learn.
BOOM!
Another shockwave thundered from beyond the mountains.
It felt similar to the previous ones.
But something about it was different.
Same type of impact—but with a strange sense of déjà vu, like I’d seen it before.
“Was that a Blackout?”
“Status report. No drone losses. No damage recorded.”
“Confirmed. No damage.”
As I listened to the soldiers muttering quietly, I realized a drop of sweat had trickled down my temple.
“...”
A bad feeling crept in.
At that moment, I heard a familiar voice from outside the vehicle.
“Move.”
It was Woo Min-hee.
I signaled to Cha In-seop, who promptly gave the order to open the door.
She strode in briskly.
Her eyes scanned the command center until they found me.
She walked straight over.
“It’s a monster.”
“...What?”
“A monster is coming. And...”
While everyone’s attention was fixated on Jeong Dae-kyung, from the pale-gray zone surrounding Shangri-La...
...humanity’s natural enemy was advancing in formation.
Woo Min-hee stared at the tactical display.
Then her claw-like fingers pointed at a specific spot.
“Right there. That’s where it’s calling from.”
Her sharp fingertip pointed toward the razor-edged mountain peaks—
—where Jeong Dae-kyung was.
