Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 163.1: The Horde (1)
It was now the third week.
No significant changes.
When the monsters swarmed in, we crushed them and prepared for the next wave.
The soldiers had grown seasoned.
The civilians were also gradually adjusting to the reality of being under constant monster attacks.
At the front lines, training on the standard-issue hunter equipment—called the Monster Killer—was ongoing.
“This special propellant in the equipment is so inert that it won’t react under normal conditions, so you need to shove this ramrod in real hard, pump it back and forth like this! Friction, that’s the key! Huff, huff... Fuck. As you can see, fuck! This is seriously brutal!”
The Monster Killer was a repurposed anti-tank RPG, converted for use against monsters. Unlike our regular hunter gear, it couldn't use high-end, separated propellant cartridges. Instead, one had to stir the powder manually with a rod known as a "ramrod" to induce a chemical reaction. A crude, makeshift weapon.
Kim Byeong-cheol, who had a deep interest and knowledge of WWII, claimed it was a modern-day Panzerfaust. But I didn’t find the analogy particularly important—it went in one ear and out the other.
Two major changes were now evident.
First, the movement patterns of the monsters.
They were sending swarms in every direction.
Some crossed the northern region of Gyeonggi and entered North Korea. Others seemed to have lost their way in the Imjin River basin, floundering among treacherous valleys and deep, rapid currents until they disintegrated into golden particles and vanished.
When one monster swarm intruded into the Legion faction's territory and caused chaos, the Legion and government forces—usually at odds—shared a rare moment of camaraderie, laughing heartily together. But even in the midst of that boisterous laughter, I felt a twinge of unease.
I wondered if this incomprehensible sequence of actions wasn’t part of a larger cognitive operation by a General-type monster.
There was a time ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) when Go, once thought to be an intellectual pursuit exclusive to humans, gained worldwide attention due to the clash between human champions and artificial intelligence.
Even those who were most respected in the world of Go, with storied accomplishments, admitted the same thing:
That strange machine approached the game in ways they had never imagined, ways they couldn’t understand.
In that mythic battle between man and machine, a great Korean had once struck back with a move only a human could have made—and won. But the ultimate victor was the machine.
Humanity lost to a being that played Go in an entirely different paradigm.
And I think that’s exactly what’s happening with the monsters.
They don’t think like us.
Still, this change was less concerning than the second.
The temperature was dropping.
The mild swings between freezing and thawing gave way to a steady plunge, and by late December, the average temperature hovered around minus 10 degrees Celsius.
In the early mornings, it regularly dipped to minus 15.
Life is simple.
It can’t survive extreme heat or extreme cold.
Though heat feels more oppressive, cold has always been the more lethal threat.
As the temperature plummeted, the entire defensive line went on high alert.
The power station belched white smoke, running generators 24/7, but the electricity still fell far short of demand.
Black smoke rose from various points along the front, and the hospitals were flooded with patients suffering from frostbite.
Most weren’t true frostbite victims, just people complaining of symptoms—but the sudden cold had clearly dampened morale.
Among both soldiers and civilians, some questioned why we had to deploy so many troops to the riverbanks when just guarding the nearby areas should suffice.
I didn’t think this growing sentiment was due solely to the cold.
Three days after the unexpected cold snap, the temperature returned to tolerable levels, but the opposition to riverbank deployment didn’t die down.
Calls poured in to pull the soldiers back from the river and reassign them to the eastern outskirts, where zealots regularly picked fights. Eventually, the issue was brought up in our strategy meetings.
On this point, I was immovable.
Yes, monsters showed an aversion to water. But they were unpredictable.
We didn’t truly know what adverse effects water had on them.
If they ever crossed the Han River—not over the bridge, but through the riverbed itself—and emerged from the waters, the cost would be catastrophic.
“We cannot withdraw the troops.”
This was one area where I refused to compromise.
Even if it meant replacing soldiers with volunteers, the riverbank must be defended.
If we lose the riverbank, we lose the bridge.
And if we lose the bridge, we lose the entire city.
My unyielding stance ensured the river defense held, but the incident revealed something more ominous.
The people's resolve was cracking.
Like the saying goes, when tension persists, it no longer feels like tension. They no longer saw the situation as an emergency. They didn’t feel the need to maintain this emergency system.
It’s inevitable.
War isn't like a fairy tale or a movie where everything is settled in a single grand battle.
Most wars are long, tedious, and exhausting.
The monster war is no different.
Beijing was an exception, but in most places, the monster war ended simply because the monsters flooded a region with a set number of beasts.
Most defeats weren’t because troops were wiped out—but because people lost the will to fight.
That’s what happened in India. That’s what happened in China after the fall of Beijing.
As one cynical monster scholar put it, “Just like a diligent farmer spraying pesticides at regular intervals,” humanity was driven out of its domain.
So then—what does victory mean for us?
It’s a difficult question.
Scholars list three conditions, but I believe in two:
First, that no swarming monster groups are roaming nearby.
Second, that only a few stragglers are found near the rift that produced them.
That is when the rift has weakened.
Someday it’ll recover and spew out monsters again, but in the meantime, we’ll have a moment of peace.
Maybe a year. Two. Or maybe just a few months.
As of now, over a thousand monsters are still ed to be crowding near the rift.
We can’t afford to let our guard down.
We can’t afford to relax.
But human endurance... sometimes it depletes faster than you’d ever expect.
A massive protest broke out.
The largest in New Seoul’s history since its establishment.
And yet—it didn’t even last an hour.
Not because we used force.
A strange tremor echoed from the north.
Thousands of radio devices were ed damaged.
Simultaneously, we lost communication with several high-altitude drones that were tracking monster movements.
We no longer had the luxury of petty squabbles among humans.
The real threat was coming.
*
Because monsters are creatures we neither know well nor understand, we must observe them more closely than anyone else.
That has always been my golden rule in the war against monsters.
But most commanders I’ve met disagree.
It’s not that they dismiss reconnaissance altogether—but they argue that we already know how monsters behave, so why take unnecessary risks?
It’s true: scouting rarely reveals new types or patterns.
Operating in monster-dominated zones is incredibly dangerous.
And yes, the odds of gaining something useful are slim.
Still, I maintain my stance: even at the risk of casualties, we must keep examining our enemy.
Then, one of our scout teams went missing.
They were veterans, including one Regular Awakened.
Their mission was to install a new wired observation system and conduct regional reconnaissance.
It’s been over ten hours past the expected return, and we’ve had zero contact.
They were equipped with both radios and visual signal devices like flares, in case their comms were destroyed by Screamer-type monsters.
The fact that there’s been no contact in any form... suggests something serious happened.
“Was it a mistake to send out the recon unit in this situation?”
Colonel Gwak Sang-hoon asked, despite holding the rank of colonel, he was treated almost as an equal to Kim Byeong-cheol, who wore a general’s insignia.
He was government military.
Unlike the Legion faction, who eagerly self-promoted after the Republic of Korea collapsed, the government forces clung to their old ranks like religious zealots.
They saw their former ranks as fated titles from the now-defunct nation.
Colonel Gwak was one such rank purist, the most senior officer among the government forces.
“It’s unfortunate, but I believe we should officially mark the advance team as missing and cancel the mission.”
Until now, the government forces hadn’t participated much in strategy meetings.
But with danger looming, they were now fully engaged.
The reason, I assume, was to avoid sitting at the same table as the Legion.
They still viewed Legion soldiers as traitors—or at best, mercenaries.
Naturally, they had zero respect for Kim Byeong-cheol.
They didn’t even salute him.
And the Legion soldiers, for their part, didn’t even bother pretending to care.
I respected the patriotism and loyalty of the government forces.
But personally, I found it easier to talk to the Legion.
“General, what do you think?”
Even Kim Byeong-cheol agreed.
“...Just because we haven’t heard from them doesn’t mean they’re definitely dead, does it?”
Our views aligned.
Obviously—because we’d both experienced enough to think this way.
Plus, the man had been lurking on Viva! Apocalypse! for years.
He rarely posted, but he claimed to have followed every major controversy, including the now-legendary Sunbi incident.
He even said he once exchanged messages with Sunbi.
“Don’t tell my daughter, but I almost got lured in myself.”
People like Kim Byeong-cheol—blunt, honest types—tended to believe in people.
Not any individual in particular, but in the desperate potential of humanity.
That we are, provably, resilient and stubborn beyond reason.
Meanwhile, the government forces viewed war as man versus man.
They were stuck in conventional warfare, where variables were fewer.
Let’s say a recon unit vanishes behind enemy lines for over ten hours.
In a human war, it’s simplest to assume they’re dead.
Because no matter how skilled a person is, a bullet to the body still kills.
But monsters are different.
Colonel Gwak may never understand this, but the monsters’ true enemy isn’t us.
It’s Earth itself.
Only recently have they started adapting to humans.
Their long-term trajectory shows that what they want... is to erode the entire planet.
To them, humans are just a bothersome obstacle.
That’s the backdrop against which Manryu Gwijeonggyo emerged—a cult that worships monsters, born from their utter indifference toward humans.
“I’ll send a rescue team.”
Colonel Gwak didn’t like my answer, but he didn’t oppose it out loud.
In the monster war, our department held top priority.
That smug smile on Woo Min-hee’s face reminded me—she gave me both this authority and its burden.
Besides, the missing people were ones I knew well.
Not classmates, but they were just as capable.
The team included elite hunters led by Shim Hyeong-do, and one of the Regular Awakened I was closest with—Lee Haru.
If they’re dead, so be it.
But I don’t believe they’d die so easily.
If we can rescue them, they’ll be a massive asset.
Above all, we need to truly see our enemy.
Since the appearance of the new Screamer-type, we’ve been all but blind.
That was why we sent the recon team—to gain sight.
People make mistakes when they rush or multitask.
Clear vision reduces those chances.
It’s a job that someone has to do.
“If that’s the General’s stance, I won’t oppose it. But as you know, the Hunter forces are our last line of defense in an emergency. I fear we may lose that precious asset through piecemeal deployments.”
Colonel Gwak finally voiced his concern again.
I had no intention of dismissing him.
In many ways, his concern was logical and valid.
But this time was different.
I glanced around the room, then spoke quietly.
“I’ll go myself.”
Of course, Gwak was alarmed.
“Will you be alright?”
I nodded.
“I’ve completed 1,027 missions. Only once did I fail to return on time. Not once have I failed to return alive.”
It was the truth.
Chapter 163.1: The Horde (1)
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