Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 166.4: Nemesis (4)

Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 166.4: Nemesis (4)

A biting wind cut through the dawn.
By the frozen riverside, people bundled in thick thermal gear began launching objects into the sky.
Kites.
Of course, they weren’t doing it for the sake of some traditional pastime of the Korean people.
These kites were military equipment—reinforced fiberglass strings instead of silk thread, ultra-light PVC sheets in ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) place of hanji paper.
Each kite was so large that it could easily carry the weight of a person. In fact, four adult men were hanging onto one.
“Wind is good!”
“Launch it!”
At the overseer’s command, the men turned in sync and hurled the enormous kite into the sky.
It wavered briefly, then caught the wind, flapping upward into the air.
As the kite surged, a black line, like rigging on a ship, was dragged upward with terrifying speed.
Klik-krrk, klik-krrk—
A massive reel mounted on a 2-ton truck spun under the power of a gasoline engine, feeding out the black, glossy thread.
Four of these setups stood lined along the riverbank.
These devices, dubbed Flying Chariots, were a new form of reconnaissance tech developed to replace drones.
In the past, drones had been deployed, but every single one was destroyed by monster interference signals, causing unacceptable losses and declining efficiency. That’s when engineers put their heads together and created this new method.
Instead of relying on machines, it used the power of nature—offering higher stability, faster deployment than balloon-type alternatives, and a broader range of maneuvering based on operator skill. However, it was harder to control and too dependent on wind as a variable.
Today, the wind was favorable.
The north was still shrouded in thick fog, but the kites would pierce that fog and back the monsters' positions below.
They had roughly pinpointed the location of the General-type.
The creature was holed up in the middle of a ruined district.
Considering monster behavior—once settled, they tended to remain motionless until provoked—it was likely still there.
But if they launched artillery strikes, it would move.
Unlike lower-tier monsters, the General-type wouldn’t sit there and take a bombardment like an idiot.
So, all shelling and airstrikes near the presumed General-type position had been halted.
“If we take out the General-type, will the monsters retreat?”
“Let’s assume a command-monster exists. That doesn’t mean the others will flee once it's gone. If anything, who would issue the retreat order after it’s gone?”
“This isn’t Romance of the Three Kingdoms.”
There were still many who doubted my plan.
And I couldn’t blame them.
Even I didn’t believe the monsters would retreat just because we took down the General-type.
But we had to try.
“Better than just sitting here waiting to die, right?”
Woo Min-hee backed me up.
“As long as that thing’s around, we’re powerless.”
She shot me a meaningful smile from the corner of her eye.
She was, without question, an asset.
With Woo Min-hee’s support, the plan was finalized.
Since everything was in short supply, the operation’s logistics and gear had to be minimal.
Tanks and armored vehicles to push into enemy lines, helicopters to extract us in emergencies—
The best remaining Hunter weapons in the best possible condition were selected.
As for personnel, we mobilized five Hunter teams.
But because it was an environment where regular Awakened couldn’t operate effectively, we composed all five teams with standard members.
Compared to past hunting operations in China, this setup was pitiful. But it was the best humanity could manage now.
Before we launched this operation, however, we had one more hurdle to clear—
Survive another wave of attacks.
There would only be one chance.
There wouldn’t be a second.
Unlike during our time in China, we lacked the strength to crush them through brute force. The only chance for success was to wait until they exhausted themselves through their own offensive.
Fortunately, the wait wasn’t long.
Our scouts ed signs of an imminent assault.
*
“This city is all we have left. Once you step beyond its borders, the chances of survival are—frankly—not good. Even if you flee, the monsters will find you. There’s no place on Earth to run. There’s only one way to survive. You fight. And you win.”
Kim Byeong-cheol’s speech echoed throughout the area.
The citizens’ reactions were tepid, even cynical. Still, they agreed with one part:
Their odds of survival outside this city were nearly zero.
Some still brought up “King’s City,” but that place was a ruthless meritocracy. If you couldn’t fend for yourself, you were left to die. And the city’s infrastructure couldn’t support a population influx.
More people would only mean a hellish existence for the lower tiers of that society.
Living in the wild, alone, wasn’t a viable option either.
That was a privilege reserved for us doomers.
People knew that. So despite their dissatisfaction, they accepted their reality.
The result? The urban escapees who’d stirred unrest just days before faded into silence, and workers returned to the factories and checkpoints.
Even the refugee leader who had left with a group of early evacuees sent a thank-you letter to Kim Byeong-cheol, which made minor headlines.
It looked like the momentary division had passed and the city was uniting again.
But humanity’s enemy wasn’t planning to let us be.
“Massive surge detected at the Paju Rift. Countless monsters are clustering around the breach.”
“Colossus-class confirmed! It’s a Kraken! Kraken-type!”
“Kraken-type approaching! Headed directly for the city!”
Crisis had never once truly subsided.
“A Kraken-type? I thought we hadn’t seen those since the Kill Zone fell?”
They had simply been biding their time.
The appearance of a Kraken-type—absent for over two years—sent the entire city into a panic.
If its annihilation beam swept across this small, fragile city, half our population would vanish.
There were no cases of Kraken-types in Korea yet, but one that emerged near Tokyo devastated the capital after a government mishandling. In just two beams, it vaporized over 50,000 people.
If a Kraken-type appeared at the gates of New Seoul—where people were packed tightly to survive the cold—the death toll could be even worse.
We had to stop it before it reached the city.
But, as always, our resources were the biggest problem.
I went to see Gong Gyeong-min.
The most traditional way to take out a Kraken-type was overwhelming aerial firepower—and Jeju had that.
With his hands laced together under his chin on the desk, Gong Gyeong-min spoke in a dispassionate tone.
“Sorry, but that’s out of my hands.”
I hadn’t expected much.
Though he held the lofty title of Chairman, he was a paper tiger. Even without the rumors, the fact that he sat alone in an abandoned school with just one secretary told the story.
Still, I had to say it.
“I understand what Kang Han-min is thinking. I even agree with parts of it. But watching tens of thousands die—people we could’ve saved—that’s something else entirely.”
Gong Gyeong-min’s eyes, which had been avoiding mine, suddenly locked onto me.
“Aren’t you the so-called ‘Professor’ who ran off before Korea collapsed?”
His face was hidden behind his clasped hands, but I was sure he was angry.
The old me wouldn’t have been able to bear this.
I would’ve stormed out without a word.
But not anymore.
I’m Professor. But I’m also Skelton.
Sometimes I’m Dr. Emiris, sometimes Eomchang, sometimes someone else entirely.
But one thing is certain—I'm far stronger now than I was back then.
I held his burning gaze and quietly said a name.
“Gyeong-min.”
My comrade. My friend.
His eyes twitched again.
And then I added,
“We live in the present, don’t we?”
That was all I had to say.
I turned around.
I didn’t expect a reply.
I believed my message had landed.
*
From Jeju’s silence, the operation began.
With resources stretched to the breaking point, we had to hunt the Kraken with the bare minimum.
“Never thought I’d live to hunt a Kraken.”
As Kim Daram muttered aboard the helicopter, she wasn’t wrong—Kraken-types weren’t prey for Hunters.
At best, we hunted mid-tier monsters.
That was our limit.
But right now, there was no one else.
We had to kill a city-killer monster using only the scraps we had.
The Kraken-type passed through Paju and entered Goyang.
The flatlands around Gongneung Stream were initially considered for the strike, but seeing its path, we changed the plan.
We chose the lower slopes of Bukhansan.
Two reasons.
First: Kraken-types fall and don’t get back up.
This has been observed repeatedly in Kill Zones. No one’s successfully used it to their advantage, but the data exists.
They're too dangerous to keep alive—like the one in Japan—and too durable for most weapons.
So the core of my plan was: minimal firepower, maximum results.
The Bukhansan slope had the gradient I needed.
Creatures like Mgu adapt well to slopes, but monsters tied to gravity—human or otherwise—still obey its laws.
Those weird anti-gravity necromancer-types are the exception.
Though Kraken-types rarely stray from Kill Zones, some have done so, wreaking havoc like storms—just as I saw once with Rebecca and her daughter.
Those disasters usually ended in military reprimands, but ironically, they gave me inspiration.
The data proved Kraken-types didn’t always stick to flat terrain.
Sometimes they chose mountains.
But they avoided steep inclines.
That was the key.
“If the Kraken gets on the mountain slope—we destroy its legs.”
Kraken-types look like hermit crabs wearing the 63 Building.
They’re mostly towering shell, with stubby legs, a head, and other body parts tucked beneath.
Even though its limbs are short, the height from the ground to the laser-emitting eye under its shell reaches sixty meters.
It has 24 short, sturdy legs arranged radially under a body weighing an estimated 120,000 tons.
My plan was to destroy those legs.
If we broke the legs holding that massive shell, it would topple.
And on a slope, some legs carry more load.
Target those. Collapse its balance. Then hit it with ranged bombardment to tip it over completely.
That’s the heart of my hastily revised Kraken hunting plan.
No one’s ever tried it, so it might fail—but without air support or endless shells, it’s the only option left.
The problem, of course, is how to break those legs.
We don’t know how much force is needed.
No one has measured it. No one’s had the chance.
Sure, “overwhelming firepower” might work—but without exact data, that phrase is meaningless.
Its only known weapon is the infamous crisscrossing death beam.
The beam, with a 2km range, sweeps across the ground, erasing all life at its intersecting points.
No bunker, no armor has survived it.
But there’s no record of it aiming upward.
Unlike other monsters, it has no reflective barrier.
Despite helicopters raining missiles on it, Kraken-types never retaliate—they just march silently forward.
That has fueled theories that it’s more machine than creature.
Now, it’s time to attack this monster.
We had three helicopters.
Each carried 16 air-to-ground missiles and chain guns as backup.
Even with no barrier, the Kraken’s durability was beyond anything we’d faced. Whether our weapons could pierce it was uncertain.
Still, wartime data confirmed its leg joints were a viable target.
If all firepower failed to sever the limbs, we had a backup—
A large stock of explosives.
But of course, they’d have to be placed manually.
Sounds insane, I know—but there’s no other way to deliver that kind of explosive force to the right spot.
At least we were targeting the legs in the rear blind zone.
The chances of being hit by its beam or crushed were enormous, but watching the city fall would be worse.
With that, we boarded the helicopters.
Just three of them—but as they soared over Seoul together, it was a stirring sight.
Passing through the foggy den of the General-type, we saw Bukhansan, the ruins, and far off—a white dot.
The Kraken.
“Target acquired. Moving to flank.”
The choppers gained altitude, circling to the side of the Kraken.
“Artillery is ready.”
The monster hadn’t begun climbing yet.
We monitored the air currents, nearby monsters, and other conditions as we moved closer.
It looked like the operation might go smoothly.
Then—
An emergency alarm blared from the cockpit.
“Unidentified helicopter at 4 o’clock!”
The atmosphere turned tense.
An unidentified chopper?
Completely unexpected.
As countless possibilities raced through my mind, the copilot began radioing someone.
Before the transmission even ended, the copilot turned to me.
“It’s from Jeju. They say it’s a recon flight, just stumbled across us by accident. No weapons, no combat personnel aboard.”
A Jeju recon chopper, unarmed. Not a threat.
Kim Daram muttered,
“Probably just came to watch.”
A few spectators wouldn’t change anything.
We flew past the Jeju chopper.
As we passed it, I glimpsed someone in the window—but with the backlight and speed, I couldn’t make out who.
However, I could see the emblem on its side.
A Western medieval-style illustration: a kneeling jester, playing a harp.
Above the jester’s head, fluttering within a heraldic blank ribbon, were bold letters:
[ A FOOL ]
“...”
There was no mistaking it.
It was Kang Han-min.

.
!
Chapter 166.4: Nemesis (4)