Post-apocalypse mechanics had gained a new ability—something mechanics of the past never had.

“Let’s see here. The belt’s completely shot, and the radiator’s been busted for a while. The cylinder’s, well, about to blow.”

Even the expensive mechanic the scavengers brought in had that same ability.

“I’ll try to get it moving just a bit more.”

That ability was the power to make a dead vehicle run again—for a limited time.

It’s a must-have skill for mechanics in the end times. According to the mechanic, this kind of patchwork job brings in more money than proper repairs or restorations.

This, of course, stemmed from the unavoidable reality.

It’s been over five years since the war, and usable spare parts are practically extinct. Any vehicles still running are already on the verge of total breakdown.

In these circumstances, giving up the car might seem right. But anyone who’s ever driven knows—the difference between having a vehicle and not having one is immeasurable.

And that’s exactly the situation we’re in.

We have to load this junk bus with food and fuel for the winter and escape to a safer place.

The mechanic, who’d been tearing through the engine for a while, finally muttered gruffly,

“If I patch it up, it’ll go about 30 kilometers.”

Thirty kilometers.

That’s nowhere near enough.

The straight-line distance to my bunker is 60 kilometers.

If we factor in winding roads, the actual distance exceeds 70 kilometers.

“Isn’t 30km a bit too little?”

“Can’t be helped. This thing’s already blown a few times. It’s a miracle it got this far. I know the guy who sold it, and if it’d broken down on the way, he’d probably have just laughed and knocked the price down.”

“Still, we need it to go a bit farther than that.”

“Oh, the 30 kilometers I mentioned? That’s a conservative estimate. If you’re lucky or don’t stress the engine, you can go farther. But on the flip side, if your luck’s bad, it might not even last 10 kilometers. Still, don’t worry. I’ll make sure it runs clean for at least 30.”

The mechanic, missing a few fingers like Seven, puffed on a cigarette with what fingers he had left and added:

“But once you cross that 30km threshold, the breakdown risk skyrockets.”

Nothing in this world ever goes the way you want it to—but when things don’t go your way at a desperate moment, it’s a particularly bitter pill.

Still, it’s also kind of fun.

People tend to think more clearly when they’re backed into a corner—or about to be.

And despite what people might think, I’m not completely devoid of that quality.

“......”

For now, I gave up on the address Kim Han-na had written down—for two reasons.

It was too far, and too dangerous.

Mostly the distance.

According to the note, it was more than 30km away—and in a direction completely opposite of where we were heading.

Holding onto them might help secure safety, but it would drain far too many resources.

There was also the matter of time.

According to the mechanic, there were rumors of a new powerful group that had been pushed out of the Seoul area and had now taken root on the outskirts.

The mechanic insisted it was fine for now, but there were things he left unsaid.

Namely, that Minsik’s group might get overrun and driven out.

They’re scammers and lowlifes, sure, but if they disappear, we’ll lose a lot of conveniences.

Not just our ties with the local neighbors, but access to roads, supplies, and critical intel—all of it gone.

So the right move is to leave while we’re still under their “blessing.”

Thanks to the mechanic’s blessing, the bus is now operational.

Conservatively, it’ll run for 30km.

Could be more, could be less—but at least within that range, it can reach speeds of 50km/h or higher.

But once we go beyond that, the breakdown risk becomes exponential, and if it dies again, not even the best mechanic alive could bring it back.

“Senior. Here’s the calculated route to your bunker using currently drivable roads.”

Cheon Young-jae had measured the distance precisely.

95.7 kilometers.

The extra length came from rerouting around danger zones, and factoring in bridges that still existed—and were safe to cross.

Our vehicle can barely go 30km, but the destination is over 100km away.

“So what now? Pretty obvious it’ll break down halfway.”

Cheon Young-jae didn’t look too anxious, but his eyes were fixed on the closed door.

He was probably worried about Kim Daram and her husband wavering after we’d gone through the trouble of convincing them.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What? You’re still going? To a place 100km away in that junk bus?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

Plans are flexible.

Especially when survival is the goal, nothing else matters more than that.

My bunker was a top-priority target, sure—but if it’s no longer viable for survival, it doesn’t have to be considered.

“We’ll just change our destination.”

From the beginning, I’d kept the possibility open of going to a different bunker.

I’ve got a few candidates. But I’m ruling out both mine and Cheon Young-jae’s.

They’re too far to reach with this bus.

“What about staying here? It’s kind of a lukewarm suggestion, but...”

Cheon Young-jae offered a thought.

To a third party, it probably sounded the most rational.

“Maybe. But that’s an option I’ll only consider if there’s no alternative.”

Maybe the fissures will stay quiet all winter.

If so, great.

We’ll spend the winter in comfort—like a hotel.

Once the weather warms, anyone nearby will have frozen to death, and travel will be far safer.

But that’s way too uncertain.

Call it impatience, if you want.

I’m convinced—we have to leave this place.

“So where, then?”

Cheon Young-jae asked, his face tightening a little.

“Hmm.”

There’s one more place I’m considering.

“Foxgames.”

About 35km in a straight line.

It’s within range.

The question is—is Foxgames still alive?

 According to the forum, he hadn’t logged in for over a month.

VivaBot said his account was technically logged in—but there had been no activity at all.

VIVA_BOT014: I marked it dormant just in case.

VIVA_BOT014: It’s a classic pattern for someone who died with the internet left running.

VIVA_BOT014: Still, just in case, I set it so that any activity on the forum would automatically reactivate the account.

VIVA_BOT014: After all, there’s precedent with Skelton, and I don’t have time to sit in front of a screen all day anymore. Who knows?

As for how VivaBot got her position back—no one knows for sure.

Among the many theories, the one proposed by a North American user seemed the most plausible.

That is: the monster onslaught triggered the collapse of the U.S. government; satellite internet infrastructure, once managed by the military, was abandoned; and surviving civilians rebuilt it from scratch.

One thing is clear: the satellite internet once monopolized by the military no longer has any military traits.

In fact, the U.S. military itself has likely collapsed.

Even now, the real-time “End of America” threads fill the trending page—if that doesn’t convince someone the country is gone, nothing will.

As of now, all contact with the East Coast has been lost.

Washington and New York—the very symbols of the U.S.—have been swallowed by fissures.

There are still reports of small survivor groups and military units resisting in some areas, but they won’t last long.

At least the western region—where VivaBot is—is in better shape.

VIVA_BOT014: Think Foxgames is alive?

Who knows?

Was he?

Foxgames had ambition. He had the skills—not enough to reshape the world, but still formidable. Before Jeon Si-hoon revealed his true colors, Foxgames was at the peak of his life.

He’d grown beyond a mere game developer, building infrastructure and reputation rivaling Korea’s old portal sites. In fact, he and Skeleton were the only users VivaBot marked as dormant.

Objectively, he wasn’t on my level—but he’d grown big enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with me.

His fall was instant.

The very world he was about to conquer vanished overnight.

The brutal mercs dragged in by Hong Jeong-ho, looking like ragged beasts, nevertheless crushed the last vestige of Korea’s political system—and blanketed the world in chaos.

Foxgames likely didn’t die then.

He’d always operated from inside his own bunker.

If he’s dead, it happened later.

Murder’s a possibility too.

His bunker’s location is known by DSIRA—who tended to post more frequently the worse the world got.

But I doubt DSIRA killed him.

Cold and mechanical as he may be, DSIRA had a strange fondness for our forum.

He would’ve tried to recruit Foxgames—not kill him.

Personally, I think it was natural causes.

People die when ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) their spirit breaks.

It’s common in older men. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

The moment his dreams crumbled to dust, Foxgames probably couldn’t find a reason to go on.

Whether it was active suicide or passive decay, he likely knew he was on the path to death—and let it happen.

It’s sad, but not without a silver lining for me.

His luxury bunker might not be safe from threats like DSIRA—but at least it’s far from the indiscriminate killing fields around here.

DSIRA.

The guy still makes my skin crawl on a genetic level, but when the time comes, we’ll talk.

Not to negotiate—but at least to talk before we clash.

Unlike before, I now have Cheon Young-jae and Kim Daram as solid allies.

If the three of us strike first, we can deal a heavy blow to DSIRA’s faction.

In other words—we’re no longer just taking punches.

Anyway, before we go barging in, it’s only polite in the apocalypse to message the homeowner first.

“......”

Taptaptap

SKELTON: (Skeleton peeking) You still alive?

I sent a message to Foxgames.

Like I said—I wasn’t expecting much.

I planned to wait one day.

If no reply came, I’d assume he was dead, just as VivaBot suspected.

With a faint bitterness, I turned away from the monitor.

 Vrrrrrrr—

The engine roared to life.

Just as he’d warned, the mechanic reminded us of the precautions again.

“30 kilometers. If you go past that, be ready for a breakdown at any moment. Oh, and the brakes aren’t great. They work, but not well. I’d prepare a handcart just in case.”

Looks like the warehouse haul with Sim Hyeong-bo paid off.

Even the route planning for the trip was personally arranged by Minsik’s crew.

The most touching part? We get to cross the river using a safe bridge.

It’s not owned by Minsik’s gang, but a friendly faction controls it.

This shortcut shaves off more than 20km.

We still can’t reach my bunker—but it gets us closer to Foxgames’.

“Still, isn’t it dangerous to go without a proper Awakener?”

Cheon Young-jae cautiously asked.

“Yeah, it is.”

I still had the memo Kim Han-na left me.

But I chose not to follow it.

They’re south of the Han River.

And quite far west, too.

Apparently, they’re hiding out near the Incheon docks.

I don’t know the exact details, but just before going into hiding, they were seen moving with Kim So-uk’s group.

But anyone who knows Kim So-uk—or the dangers of Jeju—wouldn’t want to hop on that boat.

“Minsik’s group could be kicked out any moment. We can’t waste time. If we’re going to meet, we’ll think about it after crossing the river.”

“Right. The river. Damn.”

Cheon Young-jae clucked his tongue, looking at the stream in the distance.

“The Han River, man. It’s so damn wide and deep.”

“Well, yeah. It was the lifeline for twenty million Seoulites.”

“Insanely crowded, wasn’t it?”

We traded a few light jokes as we prepared to leave.

Kim Daram and her husband boarded the bus with their son.

Kim Daram walked over to me and gestured for a private word.

“Seriously... I don’t know if leaving here is the right call. It’s hard to let go. It really is.”

“We don’t have much choice. I feel the same. But the place we’re going might be smaller—but it might suit your tastes more.”

“Hmph.”

“It’s only civilian level, but it’s still pretty damn luxurious.”

“Well, we decided to go, so we’ll go. But if I don’t like it...”

Kim Daram turned with leopard-like agility and walked off.

“I’m gonna give you hell.”

“......”

A shiver ran down my spine for just a second.

To think even the Professor could feel fear like that...

I really have changed.

Let’s call it a positive change.

Fear keeps you alive.

With that personal pep talk, I headed back into the bunker to grab my computer one last time.

I glanced at the monitor.

Didn’t expect anything.

But there was a sliver of hope—maybe Foxgames would reply.

And then—

“......”

I stared at the screen, dumbfounded, as if I’d been struck on the back of the head.

There it was.

Message from foxgames: (Foxgames) Oh~ Skeleton~!

Message from foxgames: You’re still alive?

Message from foxgames: Why no reply? Don’t tell me you’re asleep already? :)

He’s alive.

Foxgames.

That guy’s alive—and answering my message.