As Jeon Si-hoon’s reputation soared higher each day, Seoul regained a level of stability it had never known before.

The biggest change was the shift in attitude from the Jeju Committee.

The very people who had once raced to siphon off supplies and made no effort to hide their plans to flee elsewhere were now clinging to Jeon Si-hoon like sycophants, scrambling to reclaim their former privileges as if none of it had ever happened.

Personally, I was preparing to head into the Rift myself.

It wasn’t going to be easy.

The environment inside the Rift might appear harmless to humans, but it offered no benefits either.

You could say it’s like a desert with no scorching sun.

It’s not exactly a pleasant place.

That sickly world, stained in ashen tones, gnaws away at the human spirit.

You also have to consider the threats that might be encountered inside the Rift.

Right. I’ll need a weapon.

The development of the new weapon I’ve been working on with Seven is nearing completion.

“...I’m not sure we can even call this an exoskeleton,”

Seven muttered, eyeing the prototype I’d commissioned with a dissatisfied expression.

“This is just a frame, isn’t it?”

We’d stripped most of the complex electronics that usually came with U.S. military gear.

What remained was a steel framework encasing my right arm, some joints, and the heavy hydraulic system that powered it.

The steel hand gripped an axe.

I pressed a button, and the arm, drawn back like a tightly pulled bowstring, whipped down like a lash, swinging the axe.

Thud!

A deafening shockwave rang out, followed by a metallic echo that reverberated through the workshop like an aftershock.

Seven, watching this, muttered:

“This thing’s more like a catapult.”

I nodded.

“That’s actually a good way to put it.”

I tried the new weapon on.

It was heavy, and I could feel its awkwardness on my body.

But the awkwardness was tolerable.

“The wrist joint feels a little stiff. Can you loosen it up a bit?”

“Sure. Let me tweak it.”

It was right then, in the middle of final adjustments, that it happened.

I always carry it with me, though it’s rarely used these days thanks to smartphones—my K-WalkieTalkie emitted its signature urgent alert tone.

Beep—beep—beep—

A call identified by personal code.

Personal Identification Code: RESCUE_3218

The call sign was unfamiliar, but I answered anyway.

“Is this Commander Park Gyu?”

Good thing I kept that walkie-talkie with me.

King had contacted me.

The King was in danger.

*

When King first rose up from the ruins left by war, no one imagined his city would grow the way it did.

Say what you will, but the fact remains: King had originally been the leader of a run-of-the-mill band of raiders.

Even as he began expanding and claimed he was building a “city,” people remained skeptical.

They said he’d be torn apart by internal strife, or that the warlords would never let him be, or that a monster horde would eventually destroy the city. All sorts of predictions flew around, but King held the city together, and eventually built a powerful community to rival New Seoul.

Today, Sejong stands as the heart of a massive regional network involving no less than 500,000 people.

Locals, those who abandoned Seoul and Incheon, refugees from other provinces, disbanded warlords, marginalized North Korean groups—even a few suspected cultist factions—have all been absorbed into it.

There was something King once told us:

CrunchRoll: I don’t know anything about politics or management, but I know this much—when the organization’s growing, no one complains. Or maybe their voices just get drowned out.

Just like he said, his city continued to grow.

Not only the city—he co-opted and threatened smaller factions, consolidating a powerful regional alliance centered on Sejong.

Of course, there were hardships he never spoke to us about.

He spent years locked in conflict with nearby warlord groups and had to fend off challenges from fanatics.

If not for King, the city might have fallen long ago.

Yet he overcame it all and built the largest voluntary community on the Korean Peninsula.

But all things come to an end.

“King’s health began deteriorating rapidly this spring. His energy’s been failing fast, and his voice has worsened. He hasn’t attended a single regular meeting in three months.”

The person who contacted me was one of King’s closest aides.

Name: Ma Ha-min.

A name I’d never heard before, but he had a pleasant voice and sounded sharp.

“He collapsed yesterday. They’re trying to keep it quiet, but word’s already spread—not just internally, but to the outer allied factions as well. He regained consciousness just moments ago, but he can’t speak. He ordered us, through writing, to contact Skeleton—Commander Park Gyu.”

So that’s what it was.

Even though he knew Viva! Fox! had a delayed line response, he’d gone out of his way to use video calls, leveraging every privilege—just to subtly show me how unwell he really was.

It had been obvious during our last call.

He kept joking around, but I could tell.

The strength and arrogance he had when we rescued Jeon Si-hoon together—completely gone.

That man was already dead a long time ago.

Honestly, the fact that he’s held onto his sanity this long is a miracle.

Even my old mentor, Jang Ki-young, had become half-insane not long after turning into a zombie.

“I see.”

I would help King.

No—I had to help him.

He’s one of the only 52 remaining members of our message board.

And he and I had gone through more than our fair share of ups and downs together.

More than anything, we’d made a promise.

That if either of us were ever in a crisis, the other would help.

“We made a deal, after all. If anything happened, we’d be there for each other.”

“I understand. Is there anything you need from me? Just say it. If it’s something we can prepare on our end, we’ll get it done.”

A man like King wouldn’t need much from me.

There was only one thing he’d want.

A successor.

I assembled the team immediately.

Though calling it a “team” was a stretch—it was just me, Cheon Young-jae, and John Nae-non.

“John.”

I widened my fingers to open the breast pocket slightly and called to him.

No movement.

I called again.

“John Nae-non.”

Still silent.

“Hayang.”

Only then did the little guy climb up me and slip into the pocket like he’d been waiting for it.

As I fed him a piece of a protein bar, I thought to myself.

Bit by bit, I’d train him.

While Cheon Young-jae went to get the car, a visitor arrived at the office.

It was Moon Yang-gyeong.

“Hello, Commander?”

Her face was thinner than before.

The reason was obvious.

Though she’d returned to the Kang Han-min camp, she’d originally been one of the four cast aside by him.

There was a reason only two of them stayed behind in Shangri-La.

Those smart kids knew nothing good would come from going back.

“What is it?”

I pretended not to know and asked.

“I want to request a transfer to the Seoul Defense Command. I know it’s not the standard procedure, but I don’t think I have any other option besides asking you, Commander.”

Moon Yang-gyeong bowed her head.

“....”

Just as I thought.

Well, it made sense.

Though whether she’d fit in with the Seoul Awakened faction, which is largely made up of people exiled from Jeju, was another matter entirely.

“All right.”

“Thank you.”

I returned to packing while Moon Yang-gyeong stood behind me.

But she didn’t leave.

Of course.

“Where are you headed?”

She asked.

“Sejong. Just for a bit.”

“Sejong?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going there for?”

“A friend asked me for a favor.”

“...Could I come with you?”

I couldn’t see her face clearly while packing, but I knew what she was thinking.

She probably didn’t want to spend another second in the Kang Han-min camp.

I understood that feeling well.

Being persecuted, driven out of your organization.

“It might be dangerous.”

“That’s okay.”

I glanced at Cheon Young-jae.

He gave me an OK sign with his fingers.

I stopped packing and turned to face Moon Yang-gyeong.

There stood a desperate yet determined woman, staring straight at me.

“We’re meeting at the headquarters plaza in an hour.”

Moon Yang-gyeong gave me a crisp salute, spun around with perfect posture, and left.

“What the heck? What was that about?”

Cheon Young-jae asked belatedly.

“No way. Don’t tell me... she’s got a thing for you?!”

“Maybe. But...”

“Huh? Wait, you took that seriously? I was just joking. Think about our age, man. We’re in our thirties. Thir. Ties.”

“...Just finish packing.”

This trip would involve limited interpersonal combat.

Especially if someone with ambitions of replacing King was involved—people like us would be in their way.

A single regular Awakened could serve as insurance in a worst-case scenario.

*

People always love to criticize wealth and power, but honestly—what’s better than money and influence?

Sure, some can renounce everything and attain enlightenment like Buddha.

But that’s why they’re saints.

People like me aren’t like that.

Just look at the car in front of me.

A domestic SUV as °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the base, reinforced engine and suspension, armor plates installed on the driver’s seat and engine compartment, and a drone-compatible platform in the rear cargo bay.

Most importantly—it runs on gas.

Electric vehicles are powerful and efficient, sure. But for field ops like this, you need a stable, easy-to-maintain internal combustion engine.

Not to mention, you can run the air conditioning without worrying about the engine shutting off.

As a military drone operations vehicle, it came stocked with various drones and controllers: six U.S. Army-style blade-shaped kamikaze drones, one medium-altitude recon drone, and two multipurpose micro-drones.

If Hong Da-jeong were riding with us, this thing would practically be the Grim Reaper.

“If Hong Jeong-ho’s sister were driving, this thing would be terrifying.”

I said offhandedly to Cheon Young-jae as he organized the firearms in the back.

“Da-jeong? Yeah, probably.”

“What do you think of her?”

“Hong Da-jeong?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s pretty. But kind of... I don’t know. Lately, there’ve been weird rumors about her.”

“That was always her thing, wasn’t it?”

“True, but I mean—doesn’t her face look different lately?”

“It does.”

Her complexion had definitely improved.

Her face had more color, and she looked more feminine.

Honestly, just being in the same room made your mind wander.

Cheon Young-jae leaned forward and whispered.

“I think she got an organ transplant.”

“Organ transplant?”

“Yeah. Something... shady.”

“Let’s talk about it later.”

Moon Yang-gyeong was approaching.

She had a rifle slung over her shoulder and a military backpack on her back.

From the sound of it clattering, she seemed to have packed all her personal belongings.

“You brought all that? It’s just a short trip.”

“You never know what might happen.”

“Get in.”

The paperwork had already been taken care of.

Kim So-uk’s lapdog had grilled me, but I gave appropriate answers.

Once Cheon Young-jae got in the passenger seat, I started the engine and drove out of Seoul.

Vibrant, living streets slid past the windows.

Then, as we entered old Seoul, ruined streets greeted us.

It was technically a ruin, but this area had been cleared.

Clean roads meant the area was relatively secure.

Paradoxically, they say it’s actually easier to maintain law and order now that the population has shrunk.

After all, the law of this world is: shoot first when a stranger approaches.

The roads began to get messy.

Red banners fluttered across them.

This was the outer edge of the city proper.

We’d entered the border beyond which New Seoul’s administrative control weakened.

Outside the city, barbed wire, wrecked vehicles, tires, and debris formed makeshift ramparts.

It was a forward outpost built by city pioneers.

In the past, only military units could build and manage such outposts, but Koreans are resourceful as hell.

Nowadays, led by scavengers and others looking for one big score, new outposts were being established all around the city perimeter.

The soldiers standing guard at the outpost, rifles in hand, glanced at us but paid no real attention.

Once past the outpost, we entered the wasteland—ruins and nature tangled together.

The road stretched south.

Our destination was Sejong, but there was one place I wanted to stop at first.

My bunker.

After all, you had to pass through my territory to get to Sejong.

But I wasn’t planning to visit the bunker today.

Not with Moon Yang-gyeong tagging along, and I didn’t have any business there anyway.

I had someone else I wanted to see.

“Skeleton!”

It was Rebecca and her daughter.

I’d exchanged messages with them now and then through Viva! Apocalypse!, and later through K-WalkieTalkie when the forum went down. But if you really want to know how someone’s doing, you have to visit in person.

They still lived together in a rundown building at the center of a dying countryside town.

“Rebecca.”

She looked noticeably older.

But what shocked me more was how much Sue had grown.

“Oh. Sue.”

She was taller.

A full head above girls her age.

But maybe because her growth spurt hit during a hard time, she hadn’t developed thick bones like her mom.

She’d grown into a well-proportioned young woman.

Still had the same appetite though.

“Skeleton. Got anything juicy?”

The sound of a female voice made John Nae-non peek his head out.

But Sue was a hunter’s daughter.

She barely reacted to the animal.

She was, after all, the daughter of Rebecca—the kind of woman who probably skinned animals in the Rockies.

Instead, her attention drifted toward Moon Yang-gyeong standing beside the vehicle.

“Who’s that woman?”

“My subordinate. She’s Awakened.”

“Awakened, huh.”

I turned to Rebecca.

“How’s your body holding up?”

“I’m okay, Skeleton.”

She smiled and invited us in.

The place was full of military gear.

Though she lived far from the U.S. base, she still carried out patrol and guard duties for them and maintained the relationship.

It was a mutually beneficial deal. Her village sat on a key route for large-scale troop movements along the eastern axis.

Warlords weren’t what they used to be, but some still held power out east.

We chatted about nothing special—but neighbors are neighbors.

Just being with them lightened the weight on my heart.

“By the way, what are the U.S. soldiers up to lately?”

“Building something, I hear.”

“Building what?”

“A plane?”

“Is that even possible?”

“Not sure. They said it’s something that’ll take them back to America.”

“...I see.”

After a while, I stood up to leave.

“Until next time.”

Rebecca and Sue stepped outside and waved.

“Skeleton, bring something crunchy next time!”

I nodded and stepped on the gas.

A small hill rose in the distant plain.

My territory.

Our vehicle passed through it, heading southwest.

Sejong—the King’s city—was waiting for us.