Chapter 405: Chapter 405

The reason monsters are destined to become the natural enemies of humanity isn’t just due to their transcendent abilities—but because we cannot verify them.

When monsters stop functioning, they dissolve into particles of light.

No corpses remain. No clues. Not even a hint from which we might deduce their true nature.

Humanity, forced to grit its teeth, experimented on zombies, mutations, and at times even on humans themselves in order to learn about monsters—but what we discovered was painfully little.

It’s been nearly twenty years since the monsters appeared, and yet we still know nothing.

Are they animals? Plants? Something akin to the fungal networks trending in online theories? Or are they beings made by entirely alien processes, completely unlike anything we’ve known?

All we do know is that they use “unknown wavelengths.”

Of course, there are those who know more than I do.

After all, there’s news coming in from Jeju and around the world about successful rift closures.

But none of that is publicly shared—and there’s no chance I’d gain access to that information.

So I must fight based on my own thoughts and experience.

I considered something.

No one has ever hunted one. These are monsters with intelligence—arguably the greatest threat to humanity.

Then there’s the Screamer-type, which—just from its tactical utility—renders human technology halfway useless. It’s the very definition of a “hard counter.”

But reports of such monsters are exceedingly rare.

They’re barely mentioned, even in highly classified files.

Which led me to wonder—

The rifts clearly have the ability to spawn monsters endlessly—I’ve seen this with my own eyes—so why don’t they mass-produce the most efficient types?

If every rift were equipped with multiple General- and Screamer-types, combined with a handful of mid-class combat monsters, the remnants of humanity would be wiped out in a day.

Why don’t they do that?

I know expecting human logic from these things is flawed—but every action has a reason.

And we know monsters—or rather, rifts—do act with purpose.

Could it be that even the rifts can’t easily create these monsters?

Just like how blood, nails, and hair regenerate, but organs like eyes don’t grow back once removed—maybe there are parts monsters can’t easily reproduce.

I want to find out if monsters have vital components too.

The unidentified large-class monster found at Seoul Station is the perfect test subject.

Of course, to hunt something of that scale, I’d need permission.

Woo Min-hee was at the retirement home.

Unbelievable as it sounds, New Seoul has a retirement home.

The elderly there weren’t locals—they’d all died or vanished long ago.

These seniors were from Jeju. Woo Min-hee had been operating this facility since her time there. They were the only group accepted after Jeju forcibly rejected a flood of refugees.

Strangely enough, Woo Min-hee treated the elderly with genuine warmth—and they adored her.

“Min-hee! Someone’s here.”

“Who is he? Your husband?”

“Don’t be silly. Min-hee isn’t married yet.”

“Then he must be your boyfriend?”

Under the gazes of spirited old folks who hadn’t lost their will to live, Woo Min-hee apologized politely and came over.

“What’s going on? I heard you collapsed yesterday. You should be taking it easy.”

It was clear these seniors were a positive influence. The haunted shadow usually darkening her face during meetings was gone.

“I need to talk. Just a minute.”

It was snowing outside.

At the edge of a hotel ruin with a collapsed wall, the two of us stood holding paper cups of steaming instant coffee. As the city was slowly buried in white, I shared a flash of insight—one that was sharp, complete, and ready.

After hearing everything in silence, Woo Min-hee exhaled, the steam from her breath mixing with the falling snow.

“You’re saying you want to go hunt that Screamer thing?”

The support I was requesting would be a significant drain on New Seoul’s resources.

“...It has to be done. For us—and for the city.”

I laid out the necessity with every ounce of logic and moral obligation I could summon, hoping to persuade her as a person, not a politician.

She listened with her trademark sarcastic smirk, and when I finished, her expression didn’t change.

Just as I braced for rejection, Woo Min-hee chuckled.

“Na Hye-in was right about you.”

I gave her a puzzled look.

Still smirking, she dumped the rest of her coffee onto the snow-covered floor. The cold liquid spread in a brown stain and froze on contact.

“She said, ‘Park-sunbae’s normally the most boring person imaginable—like, not even one nanogram of fun.’”

“‘But when he brings out one of his weird plans, he suddenly becomes the most fascinating person alive.’”

Without a word, she sighed and looked off into the distance, her eyes glittering faintly.

“I finally get it now.”

Then she looked at me.

“Zhangjiakou, right? That’s where you went after the General-type.”

“I wasn’t there. I wasn’t even Awakened yet back then.”

She seemed to be recalling a past I didn’t know, slowly nodding to herself.

“So this is what it feels like.”

“What are you mumbling about now?”

She chuckled and turned.

“I can approve the operation. But...”

Her hooked fingers scraped the wall for the first time in a while, making an awful screech.

“There’s someone else you’ll need permission from.”

My title in New Seoul is vague.

Some call me Boss, others Mr. Park. Even I don’t know my exact role.

But in a city that might collapse any day, it doesn’t matter. The job itself defines the position, and I’ve already claimed the responsibility.

One thing is clear: I decide everything related to monsters in New Seoul.

Anything beyond that—like politics—is not my domain.

“That was finalized the day before yesterday.”

A familiar government official awkwardly explained a major change that had occurred without my knowledge.

“Yes. We have a new mayor now.”

My old friend, Gong Gyeong-min, had become the mayor of New Seoul.

Our munitions were depleting faster than expected. We’d overextended with food rations to calm public unrest. At this rate, we wouldn’t last until spring.

Without ammunition, we can’t stop the monsters.

Sure, we could hunt them ourselves—but this wouldn’t be some light skirmish.

We’d be facing full-on combat types—multiple mid-classes. A frontal assault.

Casualties wouldn’t be a possibility—they’d be a certainty.

Maybe Woo Min-hee’s mental state, which I’ve been watching closely, was the real reason she gave up control.

Anyway, Gong Gyeong-min—referred to as “Governor” in official statements—didn’t have full authority, but he did control the city’s resources.

I decided to meet him.

His office was far removed from other government buildings near The Hope, tucked inside the ruins of an old high school—perhaps to emphasize his outsider status.

“How can I help you?”

A man in his early twenties, not in military uniform, confirmed I’d come to the right place.

I showed him the letter Woo Min-hee gave me.

Gong Gyeong-min already knew I was coming.

She must have notified him.

He was inside a room labeled “Principal’s Office” — the plaque looked like it might fall any moment.

Meeting him would be just as uncomfortable for me as it was for him.

But as long as I remain in this position, as long as the city needs me—I’ll stay.

Inside, steam from a radiator clouded the room.

He sat with his back turned, gazing out the window.

I couldn’t see his face—only the gray hairs at his temples.

He used to act the youngest among us.

“I read your plan,” he said coldly.

“You want to go after the Screamer?”

So he did know. Even about this new variant, which neither Woo Min-hee nor I had heard of.

He let out a bitter laugh.

“You heard of the Support-type?”

I knew what he meant, but I answered honestly.

I understood the concept—but this was something new, something that didn’t exist when I was active.

I accept the long gap in my knowledge.

Still facing away, he explained.

“It doesn’t fight. Just supports other monsters in battle.”

“Hard to kill. The moment it senses danger, it runs. And it’s always got heavy guards.”

He turned his chair around.

For the first time, we made eye contact.

Up close, it was clear.

Though we lived the same years, his face looked twice as worn as mine.

“This plan is doomed to fail.”

With clenched teeth, he spoke—his voice laced with blame, frustration, and countless emotions I couldn’t name.

“I can’t approve a mission with nothing but losses.”

Suddenly, I remembered something Kim Daram once said—

I’d lived peacefully, stress-free, in my own little paradise.

But that doesn’t mean life online was easy.

Viva! Apocalypse! is a cold place.

He replied immediately.

“Don’t think this is like China. Resources here are limited. People, too. Even Jeju isn’t a utopia. It’s been four years since the war started. Surviving this long is a miracle.”

“Korea only lasted this long because we had enough stockpiled artillery to rival any advanced nation—thanks to that paranoid, incompetent president.”

“Know what’s happening in Japan? Cannibalism. That’s what happens when a nation built on forced population maintenance collapses.”

His words were filled with resentment, weariness, and utter fatigue.

This wasn’t just personal—it was practical.

“If it’s a resource issue, I’ll draft the costs.”

“If it’s a personnel issue, I’ll submit the full operation plan.”

Gong Gyeong-min was always my strongest supporter.

Even when all other Hunters—now labeled “old”—were falling from grace, he still believed in me.

“...And I’ll put my name on it.”

I looked him dead in the eye.

He answered with a chill.

“Your call sign means nothing now, Professor.”

His lips moved again, heavy with time and resignation.

“Bring me the full proposal.”

He turned his chair away again.

“I’ll review it from scratch.”

It’s been seven years since our bond broke.

And yet—he still supports me.

The idea of “retreat” is fundamentally foreign to monsters.

They aren’t even alive. They don’t know death or fear. No one would imagine Earth’s apex predator running from humans.

But the possibility exists.

Because monsters—or rifts—tend to mimic Earth. Especially the most troublesome species—humans.

With their alien perspective, they observe everything we do.

Not just soldiers and tanks and bombers—but even the command centers coordinating it all.

Hunting one of these retreating monsters is no easy feat.

“Skelton~. Are you really dating Director Woo? You’re not, right? Tell me that’s just a rumor. I mean, how could you ignore me—a literal goddess—like that?”

“Hey. Careful. If Director Woo hears you, you’re dead.”

“...She still has skin like a baby, though.”

The Defender siblings—who nearly killed each other once—are now my most trusted allies.

Hong Da-jeong, though not a goddess, is skilled in all things. Her drones provided the key intel needed for infiltration routes, and Defender secured safe paths to deploy them.

“Yeong-jae, what was that?! Sounded like a gunshot!”

“Nothing. Happens all the time.”

Cheon Young-jae, once a skeptical pest, is now a reliable comrade.

He’s off to meet the Chinese remnants for this mission.

“Still don’t get why they’d have train parts.”

“Maybe they stockpiled engines, thinking they’d ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) escape by boat someday. I saw them on one of their old trade manifests.”

“You think they’re still available?”

“No one would’ve bought that stuff.”

Of course, not everything’s smooth.

“Ugh... Do I have to go?”

“You do. Gyeong-min’s playing politics now. If you rack up achievements, they’ll be your shield when things go sideways.”

Kim Daram still grumbles—but she’s my most dependable teammate.

“Commander, just say the word. I’m ready.”

“Can I go this time?”

“...I’m not scared of the front lines anymore.”

Even the regular Awakened have chosen to follow me.

With their help, I’ll begin the hunt.

We’ll prove our worth.

We’ll show the world that hope still lives.