In A History of War by B. Montgomery, a war hero and author, a brief passage is dedicated to a North American indigenous punishment method known as the “gauntlet.”

According to the account, warriors armed with clubs would line up facing each other in long rows, forcing a criminal or captive to run between them. As the condemned passed, each warrior would deliver a relentless barrage of blows.

Anyone who completed the gauntlet was pardoned—but most didn’t survive.

We’re in a similar situation now.

The warriors with clubs have been replaced by decaying buildings flanking the road, and their weapons swapped for firearms and explosives.

I know this road.

Back when I held a nominal position in Room 803—a formal office without real power—I used to ride this very road in armored trucks or sedans with Gukwiwon-affiliated Hunters, hunting monsters or offering tactical advice.

Once, under the provisional New Seoul government, this road had been relatively well-maintained.

Sure, the asphalt was cracked and pitted in places, but there were no cars wrecked dead-center or buildings collapsed straight across it.

In some parts, the asphalt had even been freshly paved to make the route more usable—especially the direct road leading to Paju.

We’re currently on one branch of that Paju–New Seoul line.

But unlike back then, the air on this road and its surroundings now feels downright hostile.

Smoke rises from scattered fires, filling the atmosphere with acrid fumes and the stench of corpses. Gunpowder hangs heavy in the silence, thick with killing intent.

According to the bridge manager, this ruin laid out before us is currently in a state of “balance of power.”

Just think of the relationships between our old neighbors around the golf course.

That so-called “balance of power” can collapse over the smallest spark.

And I won’t deny—we could very well be that spark.

We pass through this gauntlet in a visibly armored bus, under the hungry, predatory eyes of every starving soul behind those building windows.

It’s not exactly the brightest move, even I’ll admit that.

But we have no choice.

It’s a matter of choice—would you rather be safe tomorrow and certainly dead in three months, or risk dying tomorrow to possibly survive that future death?

Seen long-term, the latter is clearly the wiser option.

But people live in the now.

Three months is just a concept—something far-off and unrelated when you’re still warm and safe today.

Plenty of people ignored certain doom.

They paid for it.

The price? Death—or something far worse.

Brrrrrrrrrrrm—

The engine trembles, uneasy.

Recommended range left: approx. 15 km. Actual distance left: approx. 28.86 km.

“Hoo...”

Kim Daram’s sigh filters in through the comms.

“I...”

She’s currently sitting on the rear upper guard post.

I paused what I was doing and listened to her voice.

“I followed you because I trust you. Say what you will—when it comes to monsters, your instincts have never been wrong.”

I chuckled faintly and replied.

“Thanks for trusting me.”

“If I die...”

She exhaled another long breath.

I cut her off immediately.

“Then we die together.”

I meant it.

Right now, our fates are tied.

It’s not just about being on the same bus. At this point, we live or die together.

Getting captured or left behind isn’t on the table.

There are many of us, but we must move as one.

Like an old Hunter team.

“Move out.”

I pressed the gas pedal.

The bus lurched forward with a rattle.

A harsh rattling came from the engine.

There’s an issue with the drive belt.

According to the mechanic, they’d kept replacing it with substitutes, but some unknown defect keeps fraying it into tatters and eventually snapping it.

That’s one of the main reasons he estimated this vehicle’s range to be 30 km.

“Well, if the belt’s made in Korea, maybe it’ll hold out a little longer.”

Hoping our drive belt was Made in Korea, I nudged the speed up.

30 km/h.

Back in the pre-war days, someone behind us would be honking like mad. But in the apocalypse, that’s cruise speed.

If anything, it’s a bit fast.

“There are people in every building. Mostly around the fourth and fifth floors. Watching us.”

Cheon Young-jae’s voice.

We expected as much.

Driving down this road felt like walking across a frozen pond.

Bang!

A gunshot rang out.

For a moment, I considered braking—but didn’t.

None of our companions said anything about the shot.

Soon, I heard a tapping above, then the top hatch opened.

Cheon Young-jae’s voice from up top:

“Different side.”

Hitting the brakes isn’t just about slowing down this zombie-rattler bus or risking a breakdown.

It’s about momentum.

In a place like this, with a thousand eyes watching, stopping the vehicle over one gunshot only proves we’re weak.

And in a crowd of strangers, the weak become targets.

Just remember one thing.

Just one thing.

The ecosystem of the apocalypse is no different from the wild.

Preemptive strikes only happen when someone’s desperate—or when they’re confident they’ll win.

Six years have passed since the war began. No one takes risks unless they’re sure.

Even rogue scavenger bands, if they’ve made it this far, probably have a family or something to lose.

Those who didn’t are already dead.

The fact we’re riding a large vehicle likely made any would-be raiders hesitate.

No one knows how many people might be inside this decently post-apocalyptic-reinforced bus with armor and guardposts.

If you shoot without thinking and thirty people come pouring out, well—you’re fucked.

Anyway, running the gauntlet ended up being more peaceful than expected.

But this was the easy part.

The real trouble’s still ahead.

Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat!

“..."

The engine’s already acting up.

If we go by the mechanic’s estimate, the vehicle should stop after we get through the gauntlet.

But here we are, right in the middle, and it’s already looking shaky.

Even Kim Daram’s husband, sitting in the back with their son, came up to me, worried.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

“...”

“Uh, Hunter Park?”

“Let’s keep going. We don’t have any other choice.”

Staring straight ahead, I kept rhythmically pressing and releasing the gas pedal.

Like I said before—we can’t stop.

That’s all the excuse they need to jump us.

“Hey!”

A shout boomed between the buildings.

Kim Daram explained over comms.

“Five o’clock. Fifth floor of the building with the bank sign.”

I checked via the side mirror.

Sure enough, a man leaned so far out the broken window, he looked ready to jump. He stared down at us.

“Where you headed in that junk bucket, huh? What’s the rush?”

That building—and others—were full of people.

“Every window’s got someone in it. All armed.”

Cheon Young-jae again.

“If you need repairs, why not let us handle it? That belt’s toast, isn’t it? We’ll replace it cheap. Just give us some bullets or /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ gas. We take transistors, too.”

Kim Daram’s husband muttered from beside me.

“Sounds like a good deal?”

I answered instantly.

“If they knew there were only three of us in the bus, they’d kill us and take it.”

“...Y-yeah, good point.”

He might be holding a gun, but he’s not a fighter. Not someone we can rely on in a real fight.

I ignored him and drove on.

Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat!

The bus made it sound like it could die any second, but I’d figured out that rhythmically easing the pedal could reduce that ominous sound.

“Guess you folks are in a hurry! If the thing breaks down later, send someone by. We’ll fix it cheap! Not like anything good’s waiting for you down that road anyway!”

The man laughed loudly, and others in nearby buildings—maybe even the same one—joined in with mocking chuckles.

We kept going, ignoring them.

The bus held out until the man disappeared from the mirror.

The buildings started getting shorter.

We were approaching the outskirts.

Occasionally, a tall apartment complex would jut up between low-rises, but the road condition worsened, and the sun-bleached signs told us one thing—

We were leaving Seoul.

“Pangyo coming up.”

Cheon Young-jae sounded a bit excited.

Understandable.

We’d made it through that hellish stretch unharmed. Unbelievable, really.

But fate doesn’t leave good fortune unpunished.

Of course not.

“Stop.”

We had no choice.

Without drones or recon units, some risks are simply beyond our control.

Maybe if it were an armored convoy—but who the hell would’ve predicted this?

A group approaching on segways, scooters, bicycles.

Wearing sharp “Awakened – Noble” uniforms.

Eyes glowing.

“...”

We’d encountered Jeon Si-hoon’s legion.

Irresistible force.

Maybe we only made it through the gauntlet thanks to them.

The mocking laughter from earlier suddenly flashed through my mind.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said stop the vehicle.”

So we did.

No other choice.

There’s no “odds” here. Not even the illusion of a chance.

At best, we’d take a few of them with us and die together.

The Awakened closed in, exuding menace.

I took my sunglasses from the sun visor and put them on.

Then I gestured for Dongtak.

Smart kid—he understood and climbed into the passenger seat beside me without a fuss.

I held his hand tightly.

The Awakened drew closer.

“Where are you going?”

A woman with an overpowering perfume scent and dramatic, almost Egyptian-style eyeliner peered into the bus.

Her eyes soon fell on Dongtak.

“Hm.”

“We’re headed south.”

“Is this everyone in the vehicle?”

“You’re welcome to check.”

A few more Awakened approached the bus.

Dongtak trembled.

No surprise.

On the bikes and scooters behind them, heads—decapitated, eyes open—were hanging like decorations.

Some were still bleeding.

“These fuckers. Got balls, huh.”

“Where you sneaking off to, huh? You with the Jeju Committee?”

The Awakened muttered among themselves.

I looked at them.

They weren’t just young—they were children.

And their faces resembled something closer to Lord of the Flies than The Swiss Family Robinson.

A gathering of unsocialized, primitive violence.

“All of you, out! Even the one riding up top!”

This is dangerous.

I spoke briefly through the comms.

“I’ll go.”

Forget me—Kim Daram is the real problem.

She’s one of the “traitor committee members” Jeon Si-hoon has on his kill list.

If she gets caught... it won’t be pretty.

She has a lot of enemies.

“Senpai.”

Kim Daram’s voice.

“I’m sorry.”

I took off my sunglasses and was about to step out of the bus—

When all the Awakened suddenly turned to look behind them.

A single scooter breezed through their formation—slow, casual.

The rider wore a proper helmet and stopped right in front of us.

“What’s going on?”

He said something to the Awakened and removed his helmet.

“...”

What could be more twisted than fate?

It was Jeon Si-hoon.

The last person I wanted to see, in the last place I wanted to see him.

“Oh? Really?”

He approached.

Jeon Si-hoon walked toward me.

I sighed softly and took off my sunglasses.

We faced each other through a thin layer of metal—the door of the bus.

“...”

For a moment, I felt something like destiny.

Maybe I was meant to be the one to kill him.

If not, why would fate lay such a perfect stage?

But human insight is, by nature, limited to first-person.

“Hey.”

Jeon Si-hoon turned away.

“Let ’em go.”

He stepped aside and walked back toward his amused comrades.

“Move out.”

The Awakened followed.

That wild, primal force shifted course—releasing us.

Jeon Si-hoon looked back.

He smiled.

Whether it was the composure of a victor or a mocking challenge to a fleeing rival—

I couldn’t say.

*

Even after exiting the city and entering the highway, the danger didn’t end.

In fact, it got worse.

No buildings mean bullets fly easier.

Bang!

Call it thrill-seeking with no accountability.

Another gunshot rang out.

Ping!

This time, it struck the armored plating.

In the rearview mirror, I saw Kim Daram’s husband and Dongtak both flinch.

“Eight o’clock. About 550 meters.”

Kim Daram’s voice—cool and composed.

“Should we return fire?”

“No. It’s a lucky shot. Ignore it and stay down. Nothing more frustrating than dying to a stray bullet.”

The bus that had kept us anxious all this time...had somehow passed 50 km.

Must’ve been a Korean belt after all.

Bang! Bang!

Still, the annoyance didn’t stop.

And worse—

Vrrrooooom—

Two motorcycles were approaching fast.

Maybe they saw something.

Kim Daram asked again.

“What now?”

“Don’t kill them. Just scare them.”

“Intimidating?”

“Yeah, that works.”

Bang!

A shot rang out from above.

One of the motorcycles wiped out—not from a bullet, but from panic, the rider toppling over after a grazing shot near his head.

“Hang on—I’m passing the wheel over.”

I handed the wheel to Kim Daram’s husband.

There’s something I needed to check.

The internet.

I know Foxgames’s bunker is nearby, but this is my first time taking this road.

No navigation. I have to rely on the homeowner’s directions.

SKELTON: Almost there. Where do I go?

I waited—and predicted how Foxgames would reply.

Probably in a minute and thirty seconds. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

foxgames: Yo~ Skelton~!

foxgames: Where you at right now?

Exactly as expected.

Not a word off.

“...”

Time to brace myself.

Whatever happens next, the truth is now right in front of me.

A familiar landscape unfolded.

My board rival, Foxgames—

Was close enough to touch.