Against the backdrop of an ashen sky, an aberrant monster lumbered through, swinging a trunk-like appendage tipped with a weapon, stabbing people, lifting them up, and flinging them away.

Blood and chunks of flesh fell before my eyes, shrill screams pierced the air—but the people lying down didn’t move an inch.

Like ostriches burying their heads in the sand before predators, they simply hoped the calamity that had struck them would pass.

From the monster’s perspective, perhaps it was some kind of buffet.

Once the monster disappeared, all that remained were streaks of blood, prone bodies, and an oppressive silence.

Maybe their way was the right one.

After all, even though the monster attacked with intent to kill, only three people had died.

On a broader scale, there was no significant disruption to the transport mission.

Out of over 80 people, only three had died.

The train could still be hauled forward.

Even after the monster left, the people remained frozen in their prone positions.

Watching this play out taught me something.

These people pose no threat to me.

Humanity’s most lethal enemy is humanity itself, but I see no reason to consider these people human.

I climbed onto the train without hesitation.

While pulling the train forward, I searched the cars that seemed suspicious.

Out of six cars, it was the second-to-last one.

Unlike the other cars, which were packed so tightly with cargo that there was no space to step, this one had large steel rods and structural beams loaded in a way that left just enough room for a person to squeeze through.

I slipped inside and examined the interior.

A few times, I saw people shifting and trying to get up, but I ignored them and continued searching.

Soon enough, I found what I was looking for.

“...”

Found it.

My backpack.

But these people...

I don’t see them as human, but they certainly used their heads like one.

The bag had been stashed in a narrow gap no human could pass through, at a depth no arm could reach.

The only reason they hadn’t tampered with it was because they physically couldn’t.

Anyway, it was intact.

My axe and the exoskeleton for my right arm were neatly laid in front of the bag.

The firearm was beneath the pack.

Now, the question was how to retrieve all of this.

A pole or something would’ve been nice.

Ah—there was always the last resort.

“John Nae-non.”

My partner.

If he was still alive, he’d be hiding inside that backpack.

With his intelligence, it was well within reason.

But there was no answer.

Well, of course.

For the first time in a while, a faint smirk spread across my parched face as I called out the name the previous owner had given him.

“Hayang.”

Right after I said the name, there was a rustling sound, and from the darkness, two small but sharply gleaming eyes flashed.

“Chik!”

A large rat poked its head out from the mouth of the backpack.

Looks like even this aloof little creature had been lonely, given it responded to me.

It probably hadn’t gone hungry.

It likely helped itself to the snacks and food in the bag.

Small animals like that have incredibly fast metabolisms—if they go just one day without nutrients, it can be fatal.

“You think you can bring me that bag?”

I asked him.

Mutations can understand human speech to an extent, but that doesn’t mean they grasp full sentences with grammar like a human would.

Hayang tilted his head and turned in circles atop the bag.

When I gestured and motioned for him to bring it, he finally seemed to get the idea—but that was it.

There was no way a little thing like him could drag a 40-kilogram pack.

If he were a beetle mutation, maybe. But I’ve yet to see a mutated stag beetle in the wild.

The ideal would be a handgun.

Not as heavy as a rifle, capable of taking out multiple people in an instant, and most importantly—it carries intimidation on its own.

But like the rifle, the handgun was buried under the backpack.

Too much for John Nae-non to handle.

As a backup plan, I pointed to the axe.

He bit down on the harness strap that secured it to my body and slowly dragged the axe toward me.

“...Good.”

Honestly, when I first accepted this creature as a partner, I thought he’d be nothing more than a countermeasure for sensory-type Awakened.

But I’m beginning to reconsider.

He’s proving to be an excellent partner.

I suddenly thought of Gold.

John Nae-non, after dragging the axe over, tried to climb into my pocket.

“There’s nothing to eat, you know?”

When I gestured that there was no food, he dove back into the backpack and returned with a single nutrition bar in his mouth.

By the time I had collected the nutrition bar, the axe, and John Nae-non, I figured it was time to leave the train car.

There were signs of movement.

Sure enough, the moment I stepped out from behind the sheet metal and rebar, I felt the stares of dozens of hollow-eyed people surrounding the car.

At their head, as expected, stood that elderly woman.

Still wearing that faint smile, as if she’d foreseen it all, she asked me:

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I looked down at her and answered.

“I’m retrieving my belongings.”

The situation wasn’t the same as before.

I was still outnumbered 80 to 1—but now, I had a weapon.

Historians say that before firearms, metal blades were the tools that reshaped human history.

Not as clean as a ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) gun, sure—but metal weapons are incomparably more efficient than fists or teeth.

Especially in the hands of a seasoned, experienced warrior—they’re enough to set one person apart from all others.

Most importantly, I now understand what these people are.

They may look like me, but they operate on entirely different mechanisms.

Whereas I move fueled by burning hatred toward monsters, these people show no goal, no emotion.

That’s why I don’t see them as human.

Standing atop the train, I looked down at the crowd of 80 vacant stares locked onto me.

I spoke to the woman in front.

“My belongings were over there.”

“That’s your stuff?”

“I don’t like listening to bullshit.”

“There’s no proof that’s—”

“Bullshit!”

I yelled.

I’m not particularly fond of shouting, but I’ve got a decent voice.

The woman, always playing the mysterious act, flinched.

So did the people around her.

I jumped off the train.

It was a considerable height, but that’s what the exoskeleton is for.

With soles, knees, and the lower body all reinforced, it absorbed the impact perfectly.

I felt a quiet satisfaction in my new gear as I approached the woman.

She backed away.

She was afraid of me.

Looking down at her, I spoke.

“I’d like to retrieve my belongings.”

She averted her gaze.

“...Take them, then.”

I stared at her.

All while keeping my surroundings in check.

If anyone laid a hand on me, I’d have to spill blood with the axe.

I saw it often in China.

In extreme conditions, the easiest and most effective way for a small group to control the many was to make an example.

It’s a cruel truth, but humanity isn’t as noble or elevated as we imagine.

People like that are rare—and that’s why they’re revered and remembered.

If everyone were noble, there’d be no need for saints or sages in the world.

Fortunately, no one approached me, and no one tried to intervene.

I kept my eyes fixed on the woman and continued.

“I’ll take care of it myself. Go do your business.”

If they had no intention of helping, I’d handle it alone.

They crammed my things into a spot I couldn’t easily reach—but humans are tool-using animals, aren’t they?

Tools could be fashioned from the materials lying around the train.

And so, the journey entered a new phase.

From train laborer to passenger.

Three more had died, but the roughly 80 remaining laborers continued pulling the train with lifeless faces and rhythmic steps, while I rode along, scouring the area for tools to retrieve my pack.

Finding materials was easy.

I found rope and a piece of iron of suitable size.

It was a large spike, called a pile.

Skk—

Kang! Kang! Kang!

Using the axe, I cut the rope and hammered the spike to form a hook.

I combined them into a rope-hook assembly.

It took an entire day to get this far.

At least I could eat the food in my backpack.

The free meals they gave here were fine, but they tasted awful—and maybe it’s just my personal opinion, but I think they also mess with your mental health.

After eating that stuff for three days, I started feeling foggy in the head.

There’s definitely some kind of sedative in it.

The fact that I needed to relieve myself properly right after eating real food again confirms it.

I’m a passenger, sure—but that doesn’t mean I’m riding first class.

Around 80 hostile people are pulling the train in front of me.

They’re watching now, but who knows when they’ll turn on me.

I had John Nae-non attach the hook to the steel frame of the backpack.

He loyally obeyed.

Though he only moved after I begrudgingly called him by that terrible name, Hayang.

The task wasn’t easy.

No matter how smart he is, he doesn’t have human arms or fingers.

There’s a limit to what he can do with his mouth—and this wasn’t even a proper hook, just a makeshift one I hammered together with a spike and axe handle.

By the time we managed to hook it in, it was 1 a.m. Seoul Standard Time.

Everyone else was asleep.

I was tired too, but couldn’t rest.

At minimum, I wanted to recover my firearm.

But when I started pulling the backpack with the hook, I changed my mind.

Crrrk!

The bag wasn’t just shoved into a corner.

It was jammed tightly between plywood and construction debris, wedged so it couldn’t move at all.

I pulled with all my strength, but it didn’t budge.

They might not feel human—but this was definitely a human trick.

They must have used their numbers to shift a large metal plate, inserted the bag, then pressed it down again to crush it in place.

Impossible to extract alone.

At that point, I rested.

Couldn’t expect proper sleep.

I sat with arms crossed, eyes closed, dozing just enough to ease my fatigue.

Even then, I sensed movement nearby during the night.

Each time, I reached for the axe and stayed ready.

The next day.

I resumed the operation with John Nae-non.

I’d at least retrieve the handgun.

It was pinned under the pack, but had a little wiggle room.

I tried having John Nae-non align the hook with the harness strap that connected the holster to my body.

We spent over four hours.

John Nae-non was completely exhausted.

Fortunately, in the end, he managed to hook onto the strap—and I pulled with all my might.

Screeeee—

The holster tilted forward.

But I couldn’t pull further.

The strap seemed like it would snap at any moment.

But the slight tilt gave John Nae-non just enough space to open the flap with his snout.

When the flap opened, the weapon that would keep me alive was in my hand.

“Well done. Really well done.”

I don’t usually pet animals—but this time, I gently stroked John Nae-non’s soft fur in gratitude.

He didn’t make a sound, but I could feel from the way he looked at me that he was genuinely pleased.

Was this the kind of reward he used to get when stealing bullets for his former master?

His old master, him—both led difficult lives.

But the ones worse off were these people pulling the train.

Now that I had a gun, I could act more boldly.

I stepped off the train.

The people ignored me and continued hauling—but I ignored them right back and approached the woman, signaling to her.

She appeared before me again.

As the train crawled slowly ahead, I silently showed her the handgun.

For the first time, the mysterious smile vanished from her lips.

The question of how I managed it was written all over her face, despite her attempts to stay composed.

“I’m not a murderer. I don’t enjoy killing. I don’t even like the sight of blood. I trust you understand what I want.”

“...”

Click—

I chambered a round.

It was a threat.

She stared at me steadily.

“Kill me.”

I didn’t press the muzzle to her forehead.

I simply stared, watching for emotional shifts.

“If killing us will ease your anger, then kill us.”

She sighed and nodded.

“Whether we die by your hand or the hands of the residents here—it’s all the same.”

Something felt off.

Not the reaction I expected.

I thought she was twisted, but assumed she’d at least have some will to survive.

But she was one of those humans who’d laid flat during the monster’s buffet.

One of those who pulled the train again without flinching even after seeing their dead comrades.

I overlooked that.

I put the gun back into my pocket.

“Why won’t you give me back my belongings?”

I could’ve killed her, threatened the others.

But I had a hunch that wouldn’t work.

First impressions are often accurate.

And my first impression—that they weren’t human—was spot on.

These people aren’t ordinary.

So threats won’t work.

That leaves only one route: dialogue—a frustrating one.

The woman replied.

“Because you’re an outsider. You have to be taken to the outpost. That’s where they’ll decide what to do with you.”

So basically, they were holding my gear hostage to take me to a place full of Kang Han-min loyalists.

Well... that was a rational move.

I thought they were just drifting through life, but they had a bit of human scheming in them after all.

I’ve never hated human intelligence—but I’ll make an exception just this once.

Still, this place—the Crack—isn’t the domain of humans.

The train stopped.

A train that rarely stopped for anything had halted. That meant trouble.

“Ah.”

A sigh slipped from the woman’s lips.

I turned my head.

“...”

A monster.

One that had once picked people like dishes at a buffet.

But this time, it wasn’t alone.

There were eight.

A number that couldn’t be solved by simply lying down.

And they were waddling toward us—slow, ridiculous-looking steps, but coming straight our way.