Free Web NovelThe tunnel swallowed in darkness stretched so far that even a lantern couldn’t illuminate the end.
Its ceiling was low enough that we had to stoop slightly, and the air inside reeked of that chemical stench often described as “new building smell.” Not even a single rat squeaked within—it was utterly silent.
Prophet knew this passage, but it had been hastily constructed.
And now it was being pounded by artillery fire.
A vanguard team was necessary to check for safety.
Ideally, I would have gone with Cheon Young-jae, but we needed someone guarding the entrance.
Given the terrain, if our retreat route was cut off, we’d all die.
In the end, I went myself.
I chose Moon Yang-gyeong as my partner, but she looked like the dark, enclosed space itself terrified her.
“I... I’m not great with tight, dark spaces...”
Her pale face and rapid breathing revealed she had serious claustrophobia.
But she’d gotten through similar spaces before without much trouble.
A two-person scouting team felt ideal.
I considered taking one of Prophet’s men instead—but another volunteer stepped forward first.
Woo Min-hee.
“I like dark, narrow places.”
And so, she and I walked into the darkness.
With every step, the acrid smell of chemical waste grew sharper. Sure enough, abandoned chemical containers littered the floor—half-used and discarded by the construction company. Not even sewer rats could survive in this air.
The air was stifling, but I wore a gas mask.
For a long while, we walked in silence through the dark.
According to Prophet’s intel, there should be an emergency ladder at the end leading to the upper level.
But that path was blocked.
We needed a detour.
Fortunately, the detour hadn’t collapsed yet.
We found a hatch half-buried in rubble and forced it open.
“!!!”
It was stiff.
“Move.”
Woo Min-hee stepped in.
She examined the hatch handle quietly, then gently placed her hook-shaped prosthetic over it.
A moment later, a miracle occurred.
Without a single jolt, the handle turned, and the hatch creaked open.
Crkkk...
Amid falling dirt and debris, another layer of darkness was revealed.
But unlike before—this time, living things could be seen.
Squirming, fast, unsettling insects.
“Nice job.”
I gave her a thumbs-up.
It was probably telekinesis.
Woo Min-hee constantly kept her telekinetic power active.
No one knows exactly how it works—not even her. Just a gift from the Rift.
The detour was far more dangerous than the official passage.
Loose soil was braced with haphazard supports, and from my amateur eye as a survivalist, it didn’t look at all stable. It didn’t even seem like the proper amount of material had been used.
Typical of rushed construction: the visible parts are finished decently, but everything unseen was sloppy.
When I took off my mask briefly, a strong stench of human waste hit me. Most likely, the workers had used this space as a bathroom during construction.
Thankfully, the passage didn’t collapse.
At the far end, we found an intact ladder mounted to the wall, leading upward. I tested each rung for stability as I climbed.
The path to Jeong Dae-kyung was now open.
All that remained was to open that hatch and charge in.
Of course, we had no idea how many enemies were waiting on the other side.
Jeong Dae-kyung himself—an unknowable presence—was more than threat enough.
Prophet still believed monsters were lurking up there.
Moon Yang-gyeong had claimed claustrophobia, but maybe she was afraid for the same reason as Prophet.
Woo Min-hee said nothing either, but the tension was clear in her posture.
“Why don’t you wait down here?”
I asked her through my gas mask.
“I think we can handle this ourselves from here.”
Not an unreasonable claim.
Jeong Dae-kyung has something to say to me.
As unbelievable as it sounds, he once claimed he could make me an Awakened.
Whether that’s true or not, he likely won’t attack me on sight.
As always, the hardest part of fighting a monster for someone like me—an old-school hunter—is getting close.
Things like intimidation and scalping are just techniques for closing that gap while disrupting their attack pattern.
But Jeong Dae-kyung wants to talk.
That means I might be able to bypass the hardest part—get close from the start.
Close enough to use my axe.
People might praise me online as some legendary named figure, but I know full well that I’m just an ordinary human.
Even that hatch Woo Min-hee opened so easily—I couldn’t have opened it with my strength.
No, no average adult male could’ve.
Thinking this, I turned back.
I still hadn’t decided what to do about Jeong Dae-kyung.
We hadn’t spoken a word about it.
But deep down, I could feel it.
Maybe the conclusion had already been decided.
From the moment I stepped into this darkness, I was acutely aware of the axe pressing against my lower back.
“......”
Is a fight unavoidable?
That thought weighed on me as I trudged forward.
And then—
“What if being human is just a question thrown into the world?”
A sudden voice broke through the stale air.
It was Woo Min-hee, reminding me of her presence.
“And what if the answer is death?”
I’m not someone who enjoys chit-chat during missions.
Especially when it’s cryptic crap like this.
But this was Woo Min-hee.
I didn’t know her perfectly, but having spent this much time together, I knew her well enough.
She doesn’t speak lightly. She doesn’t waste words.
“...I don’t know.”
So I responded.
“If it really were that simple, then being human wouldn’t mean anything at all.”
If her logic were true, then there’d be no difference between a stillborn baby and a historically celebrated figure.
I don’t like viewing the world in such binary terms.
“...There was someone precious to me.”
Woo Min-hee’s voice rang again through the darkness.
“......”
So she’s ready to talk.
About how she came to be the person she is now—something she’d never shared with me before.
I could only guess at what might have happened.
But it was easy to tell it wasn’t a happy story. Her body bore the marks of that loss.
“She was quiet, but she liked me. Always supported me. She was a junior who was way too good for someone like me.”
These days, it’s hard to find anyone who hasn’t lost someone.
But that doesn’t make the pain easier to talk about.
Everyone bears the weight of their own loss.
What about me?
I’ve lost countless comrades.
Friends I trusted, people I assumed would be with me tomorrow as we planned our next operation.
All dead.
And each time one died, I didn’t feel grief—I felt drowsy.
Not because something’s wrong with me.
I just performed my own little rituals, deep inside, to dull the weight of it.
“...It might sound strange coming from me, but people like us... yeah. People who’ve seen what’s on the other side of radiance—we all come to some kind of conclusion.”
She probably meant people like herself.
Over-level-10 Awakened. Alpha-class mutants.
A realm I don’t know. A realm I can’t know.
“A good conclusion?”
I asked her.
Wearing her gas mask, Woo Min-hee slowly shook her head.
“It can’t be good. How could something washed in gray ever be good? All we can do is ignore it or pretend it’s not there.”
“......”
A light appeared in the distance.
The exit was ahead.
Once we meet Prophet, there’s no turning back.
The operation will move forward.
It was a heavy subject, but I didn’t avoid it.
I turned around.
Still masked, I looked my subordinate square in the eyes.
“The thing you asked me to do back then... was that the conclusion you saw?”
Woo Min-hee looked back at me.
Her eyes, behind the gas mask half-soaked in darkness and backlight, were impossible to read.
After a silence that felt like eternity, she spoke.
“That conclusion... can change.”
“...Yeah?”
“My junior taught me that.”
She let ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) out a soft sigh.
And then, just as I expected, she said what I already sensed.
“And that same junior... proved it was impossible.”
So many thoughts raced through my head.
I could say something comforting, or meaningless.
I could speak my truth.
But right now, what she needed was hope.
“Proof is something you make yourself.”
Shing—
I drew my axe and brought its edge up to my cheek.
Woo Min-hee silently watched me.
“You said humans are questions, and death is the answer, right?”
I turned away.
“I think death’s not the conclusion. Just a period at the end of a sentence.”
I stepped forward.
Still holding the axe, I walked deeper into the dark.
Behind me, I heard footsteps following.
In a low voice, I said,
“When this is all over—tell me about that junior.”
The light drew closer.
Each of us, a question thrown into this world, now stood staring back at me.
I gave them my answer.
“Let’s go.”
*
“As you know, we can’t face him. Just getting close feels like your head’s going to explode from the pressure.”
“I know. Just take it easy. Just get me close to that guy, that’s all I need.”
We stood before the hatch.
There were five of us.
Me, Cheon Young-jae, Prophet and one of his men.
And Woo Min-hee.
Thud! Thud-thud-thud!
The shelling intensified.
It must’ve hit directly overhead.
The entire tunnel trembled as dirt and debris rained down from above.
I wiped the goggles of my gas mask with my glove and opened the hatch.
A lit corridor.
We were in the right place.
I grabbed Cheon Young-jae’s hand and pulled him up.
He scanned the surroundings and gave the all-clear signal.
Rumble... BOOM!
Another round of bombardment slammed down above us.
Another direct hit.
This time, they pounded us for over a full minute.
“They’re focusing all fire here. Guess they’ve cleared the other zones?”
Prophet’s companion asked.
Prophet broke radio silence and contacted someone in the rear.
“Hansu, what the hell’s going on? Shells keep falling right on top of us. Are they fighting each other now?”
A response crackled through the radio.
“Hyung-nim! We’re fucked!”
“What?”
“Just look at the mess those bastards made! I’ll send you the video right now!”
Prophet pulled out his tablet.
He took off his gas mask.
His face beyond the mask was pale—not what you’d expect from a battle-hardened veteran.
With a hardened expression, he showed us the tablet.
“......”
The train—Panokseon-ho—had retreated to the edge of the city.
And in the city they’d left behind, countless corpses lay in all directions, unmoving.
“Fucking piece of shit.”
Cheon Young-jae spat.
Pyo Won-sang had used gas.
He’d gassed and slaughtered all 20,000 residents.
While monsters wandered the corpse-filled city, Pyo Won-sang ignored them and deployed train cannons—pounding away at us.
In the end, Pyo Won-sang had reached his own conclusion.
Even if he had to abandon the city, killing Jeong Dae-kyung was the only way to achieve his dream.
BOOM!
Another concentrated barrage shook the entire bunker.
The bulbs lining the corridor flickered violently.
From beyond the bunker, we heard a chilling metallic scream—as if steel itself were being twisted and ripped apart.
The bunker couldn’t hold much longer.
Even if it had been built as a command center, it was still a rushed job.
And now, under relentless bombardment, the very frame of the bunker was falling apart.
And Pyo Won-sang hadn’t just prepared artillery.
“Missiles!” freewёbnoνel.com
A panicked voice burst through the radio.
Sure enough, the screen showed a train car with its roof slid wide open—packed with rows of missiles inside.
Watching it, Prophet let out a bitter smirk and pulled his gas mask back on.
“There were military guys mixed in on their side, so they probably thought it was strange. I mean, we’re getting shelled like this and still not reacting. Even if this bunker isn’t on their official maps, if they have access to government records, they could’ve figured it out.”
Prophet walked toward the hatch.
“Let’s go, Skeleton. That bastard brought bunker busters. This place won’t last much longer.”
He grumbled as he walked ahead.
“So that’s Pyo Won-sang, huh. I didn’t expect someone worse than Jeong Dae-kyung to show up.”
I stood still, watching him.
Prophet turned back.
“What? Not coming?”
“Go on ahead.”
“What? The place is about to collapse! If a bunker buster lands here, we’re all dead!”
My task wasn’t done yet.
Not just mine.
I looked at the others.
“You all go down ahead too.”
“What about you, sunbae?”
Cheon Young-jae asked.
I smiled faintly.
“We came all this way. Gotta at least see his face before we leave, right?”
Woo Min-hee stepped closer.
“Sunbae.”
“Don’t worry.”
I removed my gas mask.
What I wanted them to see was the certainty in my expression that had been hidden behind it.
And then—
BEEEEEEEP—
Jeong Dae-kyung wasn’t someone to take lightly.
He already knew we were here.
After a shrill noise tore through our eardrums, a familiar voice came from the corridor speakers.
“You’re here, Hunter Park Gyu. I had a feeling this might happen.”
It was Jeong Dae-kyung.
As his words spread through the growing quiet, he continued:
“Just walk straight ahead. I’ve got a car waiting for you.”
Once the broadcast ended, I turned to Woo Min-hee.
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m not going there to die.”
Jeong Dae-kyung wanted me.
I didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but he was reaching out for dialogue.
His intentions didn’t matter.
What mattered was that Jeong Dae-kyung, knowingly, was offering me distance—space to close in.
BOOM!
Another barrage rattled the entire bunker.
Half the lights went out.
Half the hallway was now shrouded in darkness.
In that gloom, Woo Min-hee spoke heavily.
“...I don’t agree with calling him a monster. But he definitely gives off that Nemesis-type energy. It’s even clearer up close. That man... might really have given up being human.”
I put my gas mask back on.
I could feel their eyes on me.
I looked up.
The hallway’s unsteady flickering lights threw a chaotic dance of light and shadow in every direction.
As always, the one who judges doesn’t need to rush or get flustered.
“In fact... that makes it easier.”
I felt it.
The cool, heavy presence of the axe on my back.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
I stepped forward through the tremors of falling shells.
Jeong Dae-kyung. Lee Haeng-taek.
Call him whatever you like.
He’s just ahead.
And I’m going to see what his conclusion really is.
Let’s be clear—this isn’t about sacrifice, or justice, or any noble ideal.
It never has been.
I’ve always been selfish.
And in the bigger picture, that part of me hasn’t changed.
“......”
This is for me.
It’s a procedure to verify my own conclusion.
