The Murderer I
The eradication of the Mastermind.
Thanks to this incident, my life as a regressor saw quite a few subtle changes. If I had to choose the most representative change, well... I'd say it's the addition of the ability to write Side Stories for Oh Dok-seo.
But today's episode isn't about that kind of change. Let's focus on something more physical this time.
What's there to hesitate about?
At last, I—no, we—could communicate with survivors beyond the Himalayas and the Ural Mountains.
That said, it took an enormous amount of time to establish signal fires across the globe.
Preliminary research. Charting the optimal signal fire routes. Identifying cities and villages where survivors gathered. Understanding the dispositions of each base leader. Exploring ways to seek cooperation. Building connections to establish a baseline of trust...
Though I had visited famous cities like Istanbul several times before, a simple drop by was altogether different from the enormous task of linking every single base together.
What other choice did I have? I had to embark on a world tour, bit by bit, over multiple cycles, scraping together information as I went along.
And a world tour meant—
[You called me, oppa.]
Peek.
Lee Ha-yul, the Travel Ghost, poked her head out.
She flipped through a sketchbook she had prepared in advance.
[↓↓ My Wish List ↓↓]
[The City of Love, Paris.]
[The City of Human Catapults, Prague.]
[The City of Romance, Rome.]
[The City of Water, Venice.]
[The City of Fashion, Milan.]
[The City of Gastronomy, Palermo.]
[The City of Philosophy, Athens...]
The list went on and on.
Wait a minute—weren't there too many Italian cities on the list? Did my Ha-yul really want to visit Italy that badly?
Flip-flip.
Ha-yul kept turning the pages of her sketchbook with a seriousness that never waned.
[If this is gonna be a work of fiction like Dok-seo's novel, then you should for sure plan a spinoff.]
[The story of a Puppeteer traveling the world with the Infinite Regressor ← could totally work as a standalone, long-form side story.]
[A sprinkle of travel in an apocalypse evokes timeless emotions.]
[Has the era finally arrived?]
[The era of me.]
"..."
It seemed my Ha-yul, who had recently been devouring Dok-seo's novels, had suddenly developed a craving for screen time.
To be fair, Ha-yul spent more time with me than anyone else. Compared to Dang Seo-rin or Cheon Yo-hwa, who were busy managing their guilds, Ha-yul clung to me like gum every single day.
However, Ha-yul was a greedy little rascal.
What do I mean by that?
Despite becoming proficient enough in Aura manipulation to communicate effectively, Ha-yul stubbornly insisted on using Morse code, sign language, and sketches to communicate. When I asked her why one day, she replied:
[Oppa. People these days have become too accustomed to effortless communication, forgetting the value of human connection.]
[Language, voice, conversation—these miracles were never granted to them so easily.]
[Because of constant demands for communication, paradoxically, the modern person's thresholds for meaningful interaction has skyrocketed.]
[I strive not to become addicted to the dopamine of communication. This is my ongoing effort.]
[I hope you, too, can appreciate the miracle that is dialogue, oppa.]
In simpler terms, it was peak chuunibyou.
I had encountered countless similar spectacles. For example, Dok-seo would seize every opportunity to proclaim, "Only emotional exchanges through novels count as true communication. Everything else is fake."
So, does that mean people who don't list novel-reading as a hobby are incapable of communication? I couldn't make sense of it. All I could conclude was that there was a reason Ha-yul and Dok-seo were such close friends.
"By the way, Ha-yul," I began. "Even if we travel together this time, it's really far, so we can't use a yogurt cart. We'll have to make the trip quick since we can't be away for too long."
"..."
Tap, tap.
Ha-yul patted her shoulder.
We had our own set of silent poses we used to communicate with each other, and the one she just made meant [carry me].
When I approached and lifted her as instructed, what happened next was astonishing. The little rascal used her Aura to climb up my body in a flash, perching on my shoulder in no time at all! Her speed was so extraordinary it could only be described as Ha-yul the squirrel!
In response, I had to retaliate with equal finesse.
"Regressor Spin-Twist Special."
"...!"
"Regressor Loopy Viking Swing."
"...! ...!"
As I performed all sorts of acrobatic tricks with my Aura—a showcase only Aura experts could manage—Ha-yul clung to my back, laughing silently but uncontrollably.
Watching us from the side, Dok-seo muttered in disbelief, "Seriously, are they really father and daughter or something?"
That was how Ha-yul and I usually played around.
[Anyway, we can do it without Coco, that's fine. I'll just ride on oppa's back.]
"You're serious?"
[Why, is that a problem?]
"Of course not. Let's head out quickly, then."
The Puppeteer travels the world with the Infinite Regressor—spinoff confirmed! (Or not.)
As a result, rumors of a "father-daughter pair traveling leisurely even in a ruined world" began to spread across the Eurasian continent, and they weren't particularly flattering rumors either. If anything, they leaned closer to ghost stories.
The reason was simple.
[Oppa's back isn't great.]
[It's wide, which is nice, but it's too hard, so it's uncomfortable.]
Incredibly, the little rascal who had spent the entirety of our first journey to Mumbai treating me like a personal vehicle dared to leave a review complaining about the ride comfort.
In the end, I had no choice but to develop a luxury vehicle specifically for Ha-yul. This was a one-of-a-kind masterpiece—unparalleled before or since in human history.
Its design? Well...
Dok-seo gave her assessment in a single sentence:
"Seriously, it's just an overly fancy jige."[1]
Yes, it was a jige.
While the image of elderly men or tigers enjoying rides in such contraptions was more common, surprisingly, Ha-yul could also use it.
However, it was no ordinary jige. It was massive, and on it, I had installed a plush sofa that could double as a bed. There was even a canopy to protect the passenger from rain, snow, or blizzards—offering a cozy camping experience for any weather.
This wasn't just a jige. This was an enhanced jige. +9 tier, easily surpassing its original function.
Naturally—though maybe not so naturally—it was also equipped with a miniature air conditioning system.
[Perfect.]
[I wonder... Maybe I've lived through countless cycles and met you, oppa, solely to experience this moment.]
After several rounds of review and revision, Ha-yul left a glowing five-star rating.
From that point forward, she, who had always been a human jellyfish of sorts, transformed into something more akin to a snail. Thus, the stories circulating across the Eurasian continent became slightly more specific:
"They say a father-daughter pair is wandering around a ruined world. The father carries a room-sized jige, and they seem oddly carefree as they travel. But something about them is just extremely suspicious."
It was only natural that such tales wouldn't be well-received. To the average person, the concept of it must have seemed utterly bizarre. Who could possibly imagine that, in an apocalyptic world full of perils, an Awakener would carry a jige just to fulfill their comrade's wish to travel?
Even I hadn't seen this coming.
As a result, urban legends about the Snail Man began springing up everywhere—from Moscow to Istanbul to Prague.
"Ah... I'm jealous..."
Even stranger still, this wasn't the end of the rumors.
"I want to try riding the guild leader's jige too..."
Sim Ah-ryeon—buried in SG Net and firmly planted in her corner—sneaking glances with barely concealed envy as Ha-yul rode around in the jige during our travels.
To be more precise, her glances were in no way sneaky. She made sure I saw her envious expression and got the message loud and clear.
Her foolish-looking face was deceptive. I knew better than to fall for it. Every action and gesture from Ah-ryeon carried a highly calculated, political undertone.
"Ah-ryeon. This jige is for one person only."
"Huh? Oh, of course! That's obvious, but... since the guild leader is super strong, wouldn't it be possible to modify it into a two-seater?"
"Ah-ryeon, I'm your guild leader. Look closely—this is not a mode of transportation."
"B-but you let Ha-yul ride..."
"..."
Spinoff: Supporting Character Joins the Cast!
This marked the historic moment when the infamous "OldManGoryeo Villain" herself climbed aboard the jige, a device synonymous with the Goryeo dynasty.
During our travels, Ha-yul muttered her complaints.
[Ah-ryeon unnie is too gloomy. She's just upset because my world travel diary on SG Net became popular, and now she wants to copy me for clout.]
"H-Ha-yul, isn't that a bit egotistical? Clout-chasing? Why would I waste my time on something so meaningless, so unproductive? Don't forget, I'm already a literary giant whose average views are 2.6 times higher than the so-called LiteraryGirl."
[Wow. No way.]
[Seriously.]
[Hah.]
[If that's how we're measuring things, my travel diary gets twice your views, Ah-ryeon unnie.]
"Well... that's because it's the free-for-all board. Obviously, there's way more traffic than on the serialized fiction board. If I were posting there, my views would be at least five times higher!"
[Legendary.]
Don't misunderstand. These two were indeed the same Awakeners who, during the 687th cycle, fought in the Final Defense of Humanity. One died heroically on the frontlines, and the other held the rear, tirelessly healing the wounded until succumbing to Corruption.
This was precisely why it was crucial to separate the person from their work—the literary giant. the OldManGoryeo, the Awakener from their private life.
Human beings were like trees. With time, growth rings accumulated, layering one over the other. Branches extended in different directions.
Was OldManGoryeo, SG Net's eternal mischief-maker, the trunk of this tree? Or was the Northern Saintess of the Final Defense, a central figure in the Final Defense Line, its true core?
Personally, I believed there was no point in discussing which was which. Both were just branches.
The trunk was always the same—the living, breathing human standing in front of me. This human liked café mochas, spoke with a stutter, and often laughed awkwardly.
"Oh... Oh?" Ah-ryeon suddenly stretched an arm over my shoulder, pointing somewhere. "Guild Leader. Over there..."
There was no need for her to point. Even before she noticed, I had already detected the Anomaly in my field of vision.
"Yes. It's a railroad."
"A railroad... Do you think it's dangerous?"
As soon as the railroad came into view, Ah-ryeon immediately assumed it was dangerous. Her assumption wasn't without merit.
In this ruined world, railroads almost always heralded a specific menace: the Trolley Dilemma.
The Trolley Dilemma was a kind of grotesque, ethical horror scenario.
Q: Please make a choice. The selected individuals will die!
A: Five violent criminals.
B: One con artist.
The setup revolved around choosing whom to save and whom to kill, a quintessential moral dilemma.
Naturally, in the real world, there weren't lunatic serial killers tying people to railroad tracks to force such choices. It was entirely a thought experiment—a fictional problem used to spark philosophical debates.
But when had Anomalies ever bothered themselves with nuances like human logic? These creatures brought the Trolley Dilemma into reality in the most horrifyingly literal way imaginable.
"Please! Save us! I beg you!"
"H-heeelp! I don't want to die!"
And sure enough, people were writhing and struggling, tied up along the tracks.
This was nothing new. The Trolley Dilemma appeared frequently and indiscriminately—be it in the Korean Peninsula or elsewhere. It was practically an Anomaly cliché. The methods to counter it were well-documented, and the process of eliminating it was straightforward. Truthfully, it wasn't even one of the harder Anomalies to subdue.
But then—
"Oh... Oh my?"
"..."
"Hmm."
Even so, Ah-ryeon, Ha-yul, and I found ourselves pausing in unison.
For professional Awakeners like us—each deeply accustomed to dealing with Anomalies—this hesitation was unnatural. Reality, however, had a knack for surpassing even the wildest expectations.
"G-Guild Leader."
"Yes?"
"Those people on the tracks... They're being tied up by other people."
"It appears my eyes are seeing the same thing as yours."
Who could have foreseen such a sight?
The ones actively binding the victims weren't Anomalies at all. They were fellow humans. Ordinary, unmistakably human beings.
More than that, they weren't just a few. It was an entire group—a throng of hundreds—all working diligently to tie people up.
Footnotes:
[1] A jige is a traditional Korean carrying frame.
-x-X-x-
The Murderer II
"Wh-what should we do, Guild Leader?"
"Let's observe for now."
No matter how many millennia I'd surpassed with ease, I, the Undertaker, was not foolish enough to believe the world revolved around me.
In this world, there were as many circumstances as there were people. Even if these thugs were kidnapping people and tying them to the railroad tracks, it wouldn't do to act rashly and interfere without a plan.
Instead, we set down our burdensome loads (calling them "luggage" would be a gross understatement) and approached the tracks stealthily.
That's when we overheard their conversation.
"Hey! Did you count them up properly?" a burly man, who seemed to be their leader, shouted at the top of his lungs. I guessed he was the leader based on his ostentatious gold necklace and rings. Only someone protected by their group would dare flaunt such accessories in the apocalypse. Otherwise, it was as good as declaring, "I'm no longer human, I'm a golden goblin."
"Yes, boss! They're tightly bound!"
"You idiot! I'm asking if the headcount is correct! It's 133 people! Today, we must offer exactly 133 people to Lord Trolley! Don't waste any precious slaves!"
"Yes, sir! I'll double-check!"
"Ugh, I can't rely on you lot for anything. Damn it, I can't relax even for a second."
"Haha! I swear, it took ages to teach these guys how to tie proper knots!"
Lord Trolley?
I exchanged glances with Ha-yul. The two of us didn't need to speak, we could communicate swiftly using our unique sign language.
This sign language, for the record, was something only Ha-yul and I could use. It incorporated Korean, Japanese, minute nuances of Aura, and secret signals only the two of us understood.
[What are they saying?]
[A gang of thugs. They're calling the people tied to the tracks "slaves."]
[They're villains for sure?]
[Probably. Especially since they're addressing the Trolley Anomaly with "Lord," which reeks of a typical Forsaken Village setup.]
[Oh.]
Forsaken Village.
The term referred to settlements thoroughly corrupted by the Void poison. Outwardly, these places looked no different from ordinary towns or cities, but the air carried an eerie, twisted vibe because their societal nerve centers were consumed by Anomalies.
For instance, the Eastern Holy Kingdom also qualified as a Forsaken Village since it was a community that worshipped the Anomaly Mo Gwang-seo Christ as a deity. The scale was simply upgraded from a "village" to a "nation."
"Wh-what are you two whispering about? Please, speak so I can understand!"
Ah-ryeon, who always became visibly anxious when left out, voiced her complaint. After listening to my explanation, she rested her chin on her hand with a huff. Meanwhile, Ha-yul gave her a smug look, clearly enjoying the fact that she couldn't understand our sign language.
"G-Guild Leader, have incidents like this happened in previous cycles?"
"No. This is the first time I've taken this route. Also, the areas near India are usually wiped out within five years, so I haven't had much contact with survivors."
"Hmm..."
Ah-ryeon fell into thought, likely devising another of her peculiar schemes.
It was then that we heard it.
- Bwoooooooooooo.
In the distance, a train horn, or more precisely, a steam whistle, resounded. Both our group and the gang, as well as the people tied to the tracks, instinctively turned to the source of the sound.
In a world where civilization had collapsed, it was impossible for a steam locomotive to function properly. This could only mean one thing: the Trolley Dilemma Anomaly was approaching.
"Lord Trolley has descended!" the leader shouted. "Everyone, get off the tracks! Beat the drum! Welcome and worship Lord Trolley!"
"Trolley! Trolley! Trolley! Trolley!"
"Everyone, gather here!"
The residents of the Forsaken Village stepped back and began chanting bizarrely. Their appearance didn't resemble ancient ceremonial worship. Most were dressed relatively well, wearing suits, though many were frayed and tattered. It felt more like a cult gathering—complete with unnerving fervor.
Well, most Forsaken Villages were like this.
- Bwooooooo!
Chug-chug, chug-chug!
The Anomaly train came into view, close enough to see with the naked eye.
The hundred or so captives tied to the rails were trembling violently from the heavy vibrations coming from the ground. Tears flowed freely as screams and wails erupted all around.
They could have been criminals receiving divine punishment, to be fair, but the sight of infants no older than two among them suggested otherwise.
[Oppa.]
Ha-yul tugged at my sleeve.
"Hmm."
Nodding, I shot forward from the underbrush.
If Ha-yul asked, there was no question—I would act.
The sudden sight of me dashing into the open, straight toward the train, startled the Forsaken Village residents.
"H-huh?"
"What the hell is that?"
The Trolley Dilemma was a village-grade Anomaly that could appear anywhere in the world. Thus, there were numerous methods for exterminating it. Among them was one simple but extreme method that only a select few Awakeners could utilize.
"Look at me!"
This involved throwing oneself directly in front of the train, before any of the captives.
More specifically, crashing into the Trolley with one's own body!
The Anomaly's face was visible through the window of the oncoming steam locomotive. It resembled a train engineer, but its face was a dark shadow, unreadable yet somehow betraying its hesitation.
Fair enough. It was likely the first time this Anomaly had encountered a crazy Awakener throwing themselves into its path.
Shouts erupted from behind me.
"Hey, hey! What the hell are you doing, you bastard!"
"That guy's insane!"
"It's going to hit him! He's gonna die!"
- KA-BOOOOOOOM!
A thunderous crash rang out.
Of course, I hadn't simply thrown my body at it recklessly. I had wrapped myself completely in Aura before impact. Otherwise, it would've been impossible to outrun the train in the first place.
"Hup."
The impact was substantial, a combination of the train's physical force and the Anomaly's unique curse that "anyone hit by it must die." For a village-grade Anomaly, it was absurdly lethal.
However, its ultimate weakness was clear: if a faster entity collided with Trolley head-on before it struck its victims, who was hitting whom?
Caught in this paradox, the wheels screeched against the tracks, sparks flying in all directions.
- Screeeeeeeech!
I spread my arms and embraced the train, bracing my feet against the ground to absorb the impact.
The Trolley Dilemma came to a dead stop. A single human had halted the train.
Even with my back turned, I could feel the astonishment radiating from the residents behind me.
"Good heavens..."
"What... What is he? Is he even human?"
"An Avatar! He's an Avatar of the gods!"
And just like that, the Anomaly known as Trolley Dilemma vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.
"Whew."
It was a natural outcome.
The moment someone "collided with the train on the tracks," the Anomaly had to disappear according to its own rules.
Village-grade Anomalies could sometimes be dispatched this easily. However, if the NRMC Captain were here, she'd likely swear, "What the fuck? If it was this easy, why did the world even collapse?"
Well, the pre-100th cycle version of me wouldn't have dared attempt such a brute-force method.
"Ahhhh!"
"What... What's happening to us?"
While I had stopped the train, my comrades hadn't been idle. Looking back, I saw the Forsaken Village residents writhing on the ground, cocooned in threads like trapped prey. Naturally, this was Ha-yul's doing. While the residents were distracted by my stunt, she had swiftly bound them using her signature Puppeteer's threads.
"Ugh, guh! You crazy bitch, what the—!"
"Yup."
Meanwhile, Ah-ryeon stomped on the faces of the webbed-up villagers, seemingly enjoying herself. Though the trapped villagers tried to protest, she paid them no mind.
She really had a knack for drawing aggro, didn't she? It was reassuring to know we were in such "capable" hands.
"Wh-who are you? Where do you come from that you would dare attack us like this?" The leader, surprisingly composed despite his predicament, attempted dialogue in accented English. His tone was formal, but it carried a distinct Indian cadence.
I brought my hands together in a gesture of prayer and answered, "We are travelers."
Hearing my fluent Hindi, the leader's eyes widened in shock. "Travelers?"
"Yes. We hail from the distant East. These two are priestesses blessed by the goddesses, and I am but a humble monk who accompanies them on their journey."
"Goddesses?"
The villagers murmured among themselves.
I gave a meaningful glance to Ha-yul and Ah-ryeon. Catching on quickly, Ha-yul activated her Aura. A radiant, golden Aura burst forth, leaving the villagers in awe.
"A-amazing!"
The leader's eyes bulged as he stared at the golden pillar of Aura.
Aura could be wielded by any sufficiently trained Awakener, but the structured techniques for mastering it had only ever been conceptualized by me. As my direct disciple, Ha-yul's Aura manipulation skills were among the best, even in a competitive region like Busan. The golden Aura, towering over ten meters high, left the villagers utterly dumbfounded.
"N-not fair! I can do it too!"
Not wanting to be left out, Ah-ryeon mimicked Ha-yul's display. The villagers, who were already overwhelmed, practically fell apart as her Aura joined the spectacle.
Ah-ryeon seemed to relish the attention. Back in Korea, showing off her Aura had only ever earned her ridicule. Comments like "Is that all?" or "She's just another one of those" had kept her from truly enjoying her strength.
"That's enough, Ha-yul. You've made your point. But can you enhance the effect? Add some grandeur with a subtle Aura pulse."
[Anything specific?]
"Doesn't matter. Make it sound like divine decree or something."
[Got it. Just gotta spout nonsense.]
"...Fine."
Ha-yul concentrated, spreading her Aura outward while generating an eerie, resonant vibration that mimicked a voice. Though the tones lacked consistency or clarity, they created an impression of divine command.
"O-oh, my god..."
"It's divine! Truly, an Avatar of the gods!"
The chaotic resonance only made the villagers more convinced. To their uninformed eyes, it must have felt like the heavens themselves were speaking.
I smiled serenely and addressed the group, exuding calm authority.
"I apologize for intervening without knowing your full circumstances. However, as a monk devoted to protecting life, I cannot ignore the sight of over a hundred lives at risk. Why did you use the train to attempt such a mass sacrifice?"
"..."
"The priestesses I serve are compassionate and will judge your reasons fairly. Speak the truth, and it may yet save you."
While Ha-yul employed visual intimidation, I opted for an invisible approach. Spreading my Aura into the ground, I directed it subtly toward the villagers, creating the sensation of unseen pressure closing in on them.
The combination of these tactics had the desired effect.
"I-I understand." The leader's face paled as he stammered, "We'll untie the slaves immediately. However, I cannot make such decisions alone. May we escort you to our city to meet with our leader?"
"Of course. Please, lead the way."
With that, we were formally invited to the city—a place that, in the time before the collapse of civilization, had been located near New Delhi, India.
Carrying a massive load on my back, I allowed Ha-yul and Ah-ryeon to ride on top as we moved. The leader watched us with a mix of disbelief and trepidation.
"Is there a problem?" I asked.
"N-no, not at all. Do travelers from the East often use such... mounts? May I ask where exactly you hail from?"
"The Japanese archipelago."
"Ah, I see. Please, this way..."
Forgive me, magical girls. I've done so much for you already, consider this a favor returned.
-x-X-x-
The Murderer III
Our group was led into the city. Though not as grand as Busan, the city was relatively orderly with some semblance of law and order still intact.
After spending a night in a guest house provided by the city's mayor, we were formally invited to the town hall the following day.
"Ah, you've arrived. Welcome, esteemed guests. I am Manav, the mayor of New Delhi."
"You may call me Undertaker."
"A pleasure, Mr. Undertaker. Welcome."
The man wore traditional attire topped with a warm smile and a pair of glasses, behind the frame of which shone eyes that were both cautious and friendly. Despite the scholarly air he exuded, his muscular shoulders and the scar on his cheek tempered that impression.
"Of course, strictly speaking, this isn't New Delhi but New-New Delhi," he continued. "The cities here have been destroyed and rebuilt multiple times, you see."
"You seem quite young."
And he did. The man who introduced himself as Manav looked to be perhaps in his early- to mid-forties at most. It was surprising, considering his position as the leader of one of the last surviving major cities on the Indian subcontinent.
"Ah..." Manav drawled, looking momentarily flustered at my comment. "It's not due to my own ability. My predecessors have... disappeared for various reasons."
There was no need to activate mind-reading skills. For a fleeting moment, his gaze through the lenses of his glasses seemed to say, "You're one to talk."
As a rule, Awakeners aged slower as their mastery of Aura deepened. While it was rare for one to reverse aging like the Sword Marquess, pseudo-immortality wasn't uncommon.
In other words, if someone appeared to be in their twenties despite their true age, it was a testament to their exceptional potential. To someone like Manav, I must have seemed like an Awakener of unparalleled talent.
"Call it fate, perhaps."
"Fate, huh...?" Manav's smile grew faintly bitter. Weariness lingered in the corners of his lips. "Ah, while I'm thinking of it, we prepared various amenities to welcome you, but you were so adamant in declining them. Was there something the matter?"
"There's no need to worry. We have no intention of exploiting you for offerings under the guise of divine authority. Rest assured."
"Haha. As you can see, our city isn't exactly prosperous. I was merely concerned that our hospitality might have fallen short."
Although Manav laughed good-naturedly, nothing in his demeanor suggested a sense of trust in us. Unlike the villagers we first encountered, he didn't seem to believe our claims of being descending goddesses. With the vantage point provided to him as the city's leader, he must have seen and heard too much to take such stories at face value.
[For such a large city, this town hall office is kinda basic, honestly.]
"I-I know, right? The guest house we stayed in felt more luxurious..."
Ha-yul and Ah-ryeon, unfamiliar with either English or Hindi, whispered idly to each other behind me.
[Don't you find it odd seeing oppa speaking foreign languages so fluently?]
"A-ah, you too? Honestly, it feels strange to me too. But outside, everyone treats the guild leader as if he's some kind of sage."
[He's a Three Kingdoms Anomaly, isn't he?]
"Well, he only brings up Three Kingdoms stuff with close acquaintances. Honestly, we're probably the only ones who know that ZERO_SUGAR is also our guild leader..."
[Creepy.]
I cleared my throat, cutting off their chatter.
"Let me be direct, Mayor Manav. You seem fully aware that the Trolley Dilemma is an Anomaly. Why, then, do you tolerate its worship as a deity?"
Manav stared at me for a long moment.
It wasn't the gaze of someone deep in thought. Rather, his exhaustion seemed to weigh down his focus.
I, too, prepared myself to judge him based on his response. Was this a man fit to entrust with the Beacon of Sacred Fire?
"An Anomaly... It's been years since someone referred to Trolley in such terms. You're correct, it is an Anomaly."
The mayor then rose to his feet.
"Would you follow me?"
The place Manav led us to wasn't a secret lair or sacrificial altar. It was a simple shack—by apocalypse standards, an ordinary home.
"Ah! Pandit ji!"
A child brewing chai under a tin roof beamed when he saw Manav. The city folk appeared to address Manav as "Pandit ji."
"Yes, Aakash beta. Are your siblings well?"
"They're by the river, breaking rocks!"
"These are my guests. We'll just have a quick look around and leave."
"Okay!"
Manav pulled a biscuit from his pocket and handed it to the child. The child giggled with delight at the snack, which resembled a Lotus cookie.
It was hard to imagine this man as the mastermind ordering thugs to bind 133 slaves to railroad tracks.
In the cramped shack, Manav muttered under his breath, "The population here feels excessive, doesn't it?"
"Hmm?"
"By my estimation, New Delhi has over 100,000 residents. When you include the surrounding areas, the number doubles or even triples. While other nearby cities have crumbled from internal and external strife, this place has managed to survive relatively intact."
I had to admit, it was curious. "What's your secret?"
"We owe it to this."
Manav rubbed his foot against the shack's floor, revealing something buried in the dirt. I recognized it immediately.
"A... section of railroad?"
"Part of it."
The rusty steel beam appeared to have been torn from a railway and embedded into the ground like an underground sewer system.
I tilted my head. Burying metal rails in the ground didn't seem particularly useful.
"This is part of a small railway network running beneath the city," Manav explained. "All authorized buildings here are connected to it underground."
"And why would you do such a thing?"
"To utilize the Trolley Dilemma."
The words that followed were shocking.
"I was once abducted by the Trolley Dilemma and tied to the tracks. Fortunately, the train struck someone on a different track, and I survived. But that incident revealed something unusual to me."
"Unusual?"
"Survivors of the Trolley Dilemma—those who lived because the train took the opposite track—are immune to attacks from Anomalies for an entire day."
My eyes widened in disbelief. "Immune?"
"Exactly. It's as if Anomalies ignore them entirely. It's not quite 'invincibility,' but more like an 'invisibility status.'"
Manav's explanation was simple:
Q: Choose one track. The people on the selected track will die.
A: Track A—5 violent criminals
B: Track B—1 con artist
If you chose B and the train killed the lone con artist, the five violent criminals on Track A would, for the next 24 hours, be completely safe from all Anomalies. Unless they actively sought out danger, no Anomaly would come near them.
"I had no idea the Trolley Dilemma had such an effect."
Yet in hindsight, it made sense why I had never noticed.
"For someone like me, it didn't matter. I could just bulldoze through the Trolley Dilemma without losing anyone," I murmured.
In my hands, the Anomaly was so weak that I could nullify its effects entirely, saving both tracks.
It wasn't just me, either. On SG Net, strategies for handling the Trolley Dilemma were widely shared, enabling many Awakeners to counter it effectively. But here, in New Delhi, it was different. Sacrifices were common whenever the Anomaly appeared, and over time, a pattern emerged: survivors enjoyed a day of Anomaly-free safety.
"Fascinating, isn't it? An Anomaly that brings not only curses, but blessings as well."
"Hmm."
"Come this way. Aakash, thank you for the tea."
"Bye, Pandit ji! Come back soon!"
Manav next led us to the city square, where a section of the railway was prominently exposed above ground.
"By offering a fixed number of sacrifices each day, the rest of the population stays safe, for at least 24 hours."
"..."
"After realizing this, I began constructing a railway network throughout the city and convinced the citizens that the Trolley Dilemma was a divine blessing."
As the sun climbed high in the sky, homeless residents gathered in the square. They knelt beside the exposed railway and began bowing in reverence, chanting prayers to the Trolley.
"It's almost time," Manav said, glancing at his watch.
"Time for what?"
"Our daily ritual. Around now, my younger brother, whom you chastised yesterday, will be offering 113 slaves as sacrifices."
"..."
"In exchange, the rest of the population, over 100,000 citizens, will enjoy a day of relative peace."
Somewhere in the distance, the faint crash of a steam engine wailed.
"Another day of peace for our city."
Manav's tone carried the weariness of a man who had only come this far by holding fast to his belief that he was doing right.
Turning to me, he asked, "Can you believe it? Before the blessings of the Trolley, every day here was hell."
I hesitated to chastise the pragmatist before me.
Just as every individual had their reasons, so did every city in this ruined world. Manav was undeniably a murderer, slaughtering over 100 slaves daily to sustain his city. Yet he was also a protector, sacrificing everything to keep his people alive for one more day. Who could dismiss his desperate struggle to prolong his city's survival?
If I were strong enough to bear the burdens of the entire world, perhaps I could pass judgment. But as someone who could barely manage my responsibilities in the Korean Peninsula, this was not my place.
However...
"Believing you can control an Anomaly is dangerous."
As a specialist in Anomalies, I offered him this advice.
"You may already know this, but Anomalies are far from predictable. They're fickle and unpredictable. Today, 113 sacrifices might suffice, but tomorrow, it might demand 1,113."
"There... haven't been any issues so far."
"Then consider yourself lucky. But never assume you can fully control an Anomaly."
The ambition to harness Anomalies for humanity's benefit was a dangerous fantasy.
Even for a regressor like me, with infinite retries, commanding Anomalies was no easy feat. I had only managed to subjugate a few, like the Tutorial Fairy and Inunaki Tunnel.
"I'll keep your advice in mind," Manav replied politely, but his stiff expression betrayed his thoughts.
Come to think of it, I realized,since introducing himself, he hasn't called me Undertaker once.
Perhaps he still saw me as an unwelcome intruder.
"Thank you for visiting. I worry that our hospitality may have been insufficient. Would you consider staying a few more days?"
His words were heavy with implication, but I shook my head.
"I didn't come here to be pampered. Our journey is long, and we must be going. I wish you success."
There is an epilogue.
Years later, after returning to Busan, we set out on another world tour. I had been planning to explore the regions beyond the Himalayas and decided to revisit New-New Delhi. I was curious about the ambitious young man who sought to protect humanity by harnessing Anomalies.
When we reached the vicinity of New Delhi, though, Ah-ryeon tilted her head in confusion.
"Huh? Wasn't it around here?"
"It was."
But there was no trace of life.
The city had fallen to ruin. Bodies were scattered everywhere, and eerily, all the corpses lay on the railway tracks.
"It's total annihilation..."
The cause wasn't hard to guess.
One day, as usual, Manav must have prepared 113 sacrifices. The citizens, standing on the tracks, would have offered prayers to Trolley for another peaceful day.
But that day, the train ignored the tied slaves and struck the citizens instead.
Why? Perhaps the cumulative number of slaves sacrificed—100,000, 200,000, or even 300,000—had surpassed the city's population. From the perspective of the Trolley Anomaly, eliminating the citizens instead of 113 slaves might have been the "utilitarian" choice.
Whatever the reason, one thing was clear: The citizens who had stood on the tracks that day had all died. The prosperous city of New-New Delhi was erased in an instant.
"They sought one more day of peace and brought upon themselves a single day of annihilation."
"Pardon?" Ah-ryeon questioned at my sudden proclamation.
"It's nothing. This place is a land of the dead now. Let's move on."
Adjusting the load on my back, I glanced at the city's remains one last time and thought this:
Compared to humans who divided themselves into citizens or slaves and justified it with religion, perhaps Anomalies, which ignored such trivial distinctions, were the true utilitarians.
-x-X-x-
The Merger I
The 690th regression cycle had finally arrived.
And if you've been paying close attention to my tale, you'd already know that every fifth or tenth cycle, I'd take a "vacation." What's there to hide?
"I feel like I'm in desperate need of a break lately."
"..."
"Mmph! Bmph, mmph! Mmmph!"
Back during the defeat of the Mastermind in the 688th cycle, Infinite Void implanted "nonexistent memories" in my mind, particularly of an older twin sister between the Cheon Yo-hwa siblings. Thanks to that, I was force-fed a fabricated narrative where a colleague I had never met sacrificed herself to subdue the Outer God.
Naturally, the ordeal caused me immense stress.
I'll admit it. Going on a world tour with Ha-yul during the 689th cycle under the pretense of exploring beyond the Himalayas and Ural Mountains was primarily for stress relief.
A warm smile crept onto my face as I recalled, "Even so, I endured. Abandoning my responsibilities for a break whenever things got tough was against the principles of a regressor like me."
"..."
"Mmhmph! Mmmph! Mph!"
"Luckily, the 690th cycle was the one where I could take a proper break if I held on just that little bit longer. Oh, my young apprentice, you can't possibly imagine how much I've looked forward to this moment."
"..."
"Hmph!"
Ha-yul stared at me intently. Soon enough, the maid-like puppet standing behind her opened its jaw with a mechanical motion, and from it came a question:
"Who?"
For the record, this was our first time meeting.
Like any teenager in the throes of adolescence, Ha-yul was personally disproving the Electra Complex as little more than a hollow theory.[1] In other words, she was in the middle of enthusiastically torturing her father, the leader of the Second Provisional Government.
The source of the muffled "Mmph!" sounds? That would be Jung Sang-guk, gagged and seated in a torture chair down in the basement.
"I'm a regressor, Ha-yul. Ordinarily, I'd take more care in orchestrating our meeting and intervening cautiously in your father-daughter dynamics. But since this is my vacation cycle, I want to skip to the important part."
"Breaking into my house uninvited and acting all familiar? Are you insane?"
"Try to understand. Sometimes, I need a day like this for my mental health."
"This is weird. I don't understand a word you're saying."
At this point in her life—before she received my expert guidance—Ha-yul exuded what could bluntly be described as a menacingly grim aura, as evidenced by the impassive glare she was currently shooting my way.
Even the bravest of the brave would hesitate to pick a fight with her as she was now. She radiated an energy that screamed, "Mess with me, and we both die."
A petite figure confined to a wheelchair, yet emanating both brutality and fragility.
It was a deadly combination.
"I don't know who sent you."
Ha-yul clenched her fists, and threads of puppet wire tightened around Jeong Sang-guk's neck.
"Urgh! Huff, mmph!"
A little more pressure, and his neck would snap.
A truly explosive situation.
"If you're here to save this man, forget it. Don't interfere. Whether you're from Fukuoka City Hall or the Provisional Government, I'll hunt you down and kill you all."
"No, feel free to kill him."
Ha-yul and her maid-like puppet tilted their heads in confusion simultaneously.
At this point, she still struggled to control the puppet smoothly, finding it difficult to coordinate its movements. However, moments like this really highlighted just how much effort Ha-yul put into her training down the road. In later cycles, she would effortlessly command hundreds of puppets simultaneously, deploying an "army of puppets" to single-handedly hold an entire frontline.
"Doesn't matter?"
"Not at all," I confirmed. "Ha-yul, you don't remember this, but over the course of hundreds—no, over five hundred—cycles, you've killed Jung Sang-guk in every one."
"..."
"Even brushing sleeves with someone can be considered a connection from a past life. At this point, your patricide transcends cycles and borders on karmic inevitability."
"I don't understand what you're talking about..."
Naturally.
Unless someone fully trusted me as a regressor, I'd appear to be just another shady intruder with absurd excuses, casually bypassing security to stroll into a heavily guarded basement.
"Don't worry," I assured, smiling gently. "I anticipated this reaction and asked the Ha-yul from a previous cycle to write a heartfelt letter to her current self."
"...?"
"The Ha-yul from the 689th cycle said you'd trust me immediately once I read this letter. Let's see. Ahem."
Clearing my throat, I prepared my voice for the grand recital.
And thus, I opened the time capsule Ha-yul had left for herself.
"Hello, idiot. I'm you from ten years in the future."
"...?"
"For starters, the guy in front of you is probably dressed like a barista. He'll seem suspicious, but trust him. Not because he's normal, he's an infamous idiot."
"...?"
"And he knows more about you than you know about yourself. For example, he and I both know that the maid-like puppet behind you is actually your biological mother."
"...?!"
"He also knows you secretly wrote a bucket list spanning nine A4 pages in your diary. Thanks to him, about half of it was completed, and I have no regrets in life."
"...?!?!"
"When we met, he asked me to come up with a magic phrase to convince you. I thought for three minutes and realized no such thing exists. Still, if you're planning to kill yourself, why not delay it for ten days?"
"..."
"Finish off the guy you're torturing and go on a little trip with him. Trust me, you're doomed in twenty years anyway when the world ends. I'm off now. Good luck."
Silence enveloped the basement.
Different expressions danced across Ha-yul's face in a profound war of emotional conflict.
Jung Sang-guk, who had also heard the letter, scowled harder than ever. Though his gag muffled his voice, he seemed to be screaming, "What in the world is this crap?"
"That's... me in ten years?"
"A future version of you edited for clarity, to be exact. The original letter ended with, 'Did you know? Reversing "suicide" spells "edicius" and that means to become alive? What a revelation!'"
"..."
"I omitted that part because I thought it might be too overwhelming for you. You're welcome."
After that, Ha-yul peppered me with questions, primarily to verify my claim of being a regressor.
"Fine. I'll trust you."
It took two hours of relentless interrogation, but she finally granted me a sliver of trust.
"You're saying this is your vacation cycle, and you've decided to spend it with me?"
I nodded. "Exactly."
"Why me?"
"Because your past self made a wish, and I have something I want to do with you too."
"A wish?"
"This."
I pulled out a notebook from my jacket.
Ha-yul's golden eyes widened, for this notebook was none other than the one she had hidden deep within her mansion—a record of her bucket list.
On the last page, bold letters declared the following:
No. 100 Wish
Build a giant combined robot.
Pilot it and self-destruct (★★).
The giant robot should double as an aircraft carrier, housing smaller mobile suits inside (★★★).
Detailed specifications and designs for the robot filled the margins of the page.
A triumphant grin spread across my face.
"Shall we build it? A giant robot."
"Deal."
Without hesitation, Ha-yul clasped my hand.
Thus began our intergenerational collaboration.
Even for a regressor who had cycled through hundreds of regressions, building a giant robot from scratch was no small feat. The resources and manpower required would push the limits of what the Korean Peninsula could provide. It was a monumental task, one that seemed almost impossible to accomplish.
For this project, Ha-yul was indispensable. On top of that, we needed the help of another Awakener.
"And that's you, Noh Do-hwa."
"..."
"Of course, you might be wondering why on earth you should cooperate on such a ridiculous project. But as much as you dislike it, your contribution would stabilize the mental state of this regressor. And as you know, keeping my mental health stable benefits your future self."
"..."
"Sure, you may not care now. But can you confidently say your future selves will feel the same? Imagine the karmic backlash they'd endure if this project's failure caused problems in subsequent cycles."
"..."
"Endure a little pain now, and your future selves will enjoy the next nine cycles in relative ease. Help me."
For a long, silent moment, Noh Do-hwa kept her lips pursed. Then...
"What the actual fuck— Fine. Fine!"
Her words dripped with reluctant enthusiasm, but it was enough. With her cooperation secured, we dove headfirst into experimentation.
"Do-hwa, your ability is prosthetic creation. By crafting artificial limbs and attaching them to others, you make them feel as if they were moving their real body parts."
"I'm aware, but..."
"Ha-yul, your ability is puppet manipulation. By connecting your strings, you can control anything the way you desire."
"Yeah, so?"
"We're going to combine the two."
Do-hwa set to work, crafting prosthetic limbs—only, these weren't ordinary prosthetics. Each arm and leg was massive, towering nearly two meters tall. Something of this size would be impossible for any human to move.
But what if Ha-yul were to use her puppet strings?
"Ha-yul, link your strings to the prosthetics as if you're connecting nerves."
"Got it."
The enormous prosthetics, made from hollow metal frames, were heavy despite their skeletal structure. Ha-yul's strings wrapped tightly around them, securing the connection. Each string linked directly to her physical body.
"Can you move them?"
"I'll give it a try."
The first day was a failure.
The two-meter-tall prosthetics, attached to a rudimentary frame, toppled over with a deafening crash.
Despite this, no one felt disheartened. After all, it had been years since Ha-yul last stood on two legs. The attempt was as much about rehabilitation as it was a technical test.
On the second day, Ha-yul fell again, this time attempting an awkward breakfall. The result? A more spectacular collapse.
Still, her expression—a peculiar, determined impassiveness—spoke volumes. She got back up without a word.
On the third day, the fourth day, the fifth...
The attempts continued.
By the seventh day, progress was undeniable.
Thoom!
A massive metal foot slammed against the ground, sending tremors through the earth.
Though the cockpit was open and exposed, Ha-yul endured the vibrations and pressed forward.
Even as the robot wavered, threatening to topple, she took a steadying step.
And so, the two-meter-tall robotic frame stood upright for the first time, as if this was what it had been designed to do all along.
"Whoa! Whooooa!"
Watching the scene unfold from close by, Do-hwa and I couldn't help but cheer.
"It's a success! Pilot Ha-yul, it's a resounding success! Right now, you're the brightest star in the world!"
"Haa..."
Ha-yul wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, her hair damp and clinging to her skin. Her sweat sparkled under the light, creating a dazzling effect.
Then the first-ever bipedal robot pilot in history uttered her thoughts, cool and composed.
"This is a small step for one human, but a giant leap for mankind."
Beside me, Do-hwa muttered under her breath, "No, no. It's the opposite—it's a giant step for you and a microscopic one for mankind..."
Thus, the theme for the 690th cycle was decided: a robot saga!
Footnotes:
[1] An Electra complex, the female version of the male Oedipus complex, is a psychoanalytic theory that describes a young girl's attraction to her father, while also feeling competitive with her mother. It's thought to develop during the phallic stage of psychosexual development, which is between the ages of three and six.
-x-X-x-
The Merger II
As someone with countless cycles as a regressor under his belt, I had developed some bad habits, chief among them being an obsession with "route optimization."
How should I introduce myself Dang Seo-rin to establish the best possible relationship? Would deliberately letting Cheon Yo-hwa land a kick during our first encounter at Baekhwa Girls' High School actually improve my standing? Or perhaps Sim Ah-ryeon was best approached after she began her OldManGoryeo activitiesso I could at least evoke some semblance of shame in her? And so on.
As my routines became more and more rigid, reality itself started to lose its luster.
There's a reason why so many regressors in fiction are depicted as mentally unstable. After all, sometimes, we human beings just need to chase not efficiency but romance.
"Let's abandon Busan."
Thus, it was time to bid a fond farewell to the city of Busan, which had long served as a bastion in my life as a regressor.
Of course, Do-hwa's expression soured the moment she heard my declaration. A trickle of coffee escaped her lips.
As someone whose brain never even registered the word "romance" in its dictionary, her response was to be expected.
"Excuse me?"
"Do-hwa, you need to free yourself from the idea that we must remain grounded in some city to fight until the end of days. Ha-yul, bring it out."
"Okay, oppa. You mean this, right?"
Ha-yul strode forward, unfolding a blueprint onto the table.
Having grown accustomed to Do-hwa's prosthetics, she no longer relied on a wheelchair and had even mastered her ability to produce a pseudo-voice using Aura.
The blueprint was labeled as follows:
——————————————————————
Mobile Land-Based Aircraft Carrier Fortress City
『BusaN』
——————————————————————
The coffee streaming from the corner of Do-hwa's lips turned into a veritable flood. She looked like she needed a dam installed posthaste.
In this ruthless era of the apocalypse, everyone was expected to fend for themselves, so no one bothered to wipe her face clean. Instead, we proceeded with the presentation.
"Abandonment is liberation, a transcendence. Just as a caterpillar sheds its cocoon to soar into the skies, we too must leave Busan behind to ascend to greater heights."
"Busan, the last line of defense on the Korean Peninsula, will no longer be content as a mere port gazing out over the southern seas."
"All the construction materials that make up the city of Busan will be repurposed to create a mobile fortress."
"Not an easy feat."
"But yet still, a feat worth attempting."
The presentation moved to the next slide, manually operated with the tender touch of a mother crafting homemade delicacies.
"The Mobile Land-Based Aircraft Carrier Fortress City, BusaN, will house a fleet of multi-purpose humanoid combat robots, tested during pilot Lee Ha-yul's alpha phase. In essence, it will be a land-based aircraft carrier capable of walking."
"But robots aren't the only weapons."
"Behold the massive cannon mounted on the bridge. It's a beam launcher. While the robots engage in close combat, BusaN will support them from the rear or sometimes the front, firing beams in all directions."
"And that's not all."
"It will also require constant maintenance. Engineers will board the fortress, and as humanity's last cradle, it will house as many civilians as possible."
"At least 50,000."
"At most, up to 100,000."
"Hence, the term Mobile Land-Based Aircraft Carrier Fortress City might feel overly reductive."
"Its full official name is Mobile Land-Based Aircraft Carrier Fortress Humanity's Final Defense Ark City."
"Magnificent. Approved."
"In a world ravaged by apocalypse and barren continents, BusaN will let us face the future unafraid. We can go anywhere. That concludes the project's tagline. Thank you."
Ha-yul and I bowed deeply toward the audience.
Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap...
Applause echoed through the conference room.
Beside Do-hwa, the shimmeringly silver-haired Yu Ji-won rose to her feet and clapped enthusiastically. Even a North Korean citizen would have praised her for the display of supreme wrist flexibility.
"Truly an extraordinary paradigm shift, Your Excellency. There's no inherent reason a city must remain in a fixed location. I, Yu Ji-won, will follow your blueprint with unyielding determination."
"I agree too!"
Following her lead, the fiery redhead Oh Dok-seo, a perpetual middle school repeater, leaped up from her chair. Her face shone with emotion, like grease dripping from a skillet.
"Wow! A land battleship city! This is it! It's like the Walkers from Star Wars, only heavier, clunkier, and more haphazardly designed—which makes it even cooler![1] Oh! Or like the Traction Cities from Mortal Engines, but even better with the choice of quadrupedal movement.[2] Pure artistry. If only the name Busan weren't so mundane, it'd be perfect!"
"Dok-seo, it's not Busan. It's BusaN. I trust you'll respect that subtle distinction."
"Oh, right! My bad, mister! This is BusaN, not Busan!"
Next, Ah-ryeon stood up shyly, scratching the back of her head with an embarrassed smile.
"I-I handled the design! The concept was 'a m-moving Kowloon Walled City.' See how the outer areas of the fortress are p-packed with precariously attached residential zones? I d-deliberately made them unstable so that every time the fortress takes a step, the whole city shakes. The lower classes will face constant survival challenges. If th-they want to live, they'll have to work hard to move to the c-core of the fortress..."
"Ah-ryeon unnie, you're amazing!" cried Dok-seo with a great burst of tears. "Now that's what the apocalypse is all about! This is steampunk! When the fortress walks, hot steam should hiss out around its edges while the lower-class citizens curse the pollution. They'll call it BusaN's breath— No, its stench! Oh, I'm overflowing with inspiration!"
"Eh-heh-heh, I tried my best."
And that was as far as it went.
"..."
"..."
"..."
Excluding myself, Ha-yul, Ji-won, Dok-seo, and Ah-ryeon, the rest of the meeting attendees sat motionless, their mouths firmly shut as they took in the deeply moving moment.
There they were. Prominent figures like Seo-rin, Yo-hwa, and Do-hwa—who usually clashed on every issue—united in silence.
"Ahhh."
Yo-hwa was the first to sigh.
"I see now," she said. "The moment Teacher shifts from being a rationalist to an irrationalist, this is what happens..."
"Oh for fuck's— Why now of all times?" muttered Do-hwa, wiping her mouth.
"Hey, Great Witch, can't you stop him? He actually listens to you sometimes."
"Sorry, no can do."
"Why not?"
"My hands are tied. The Undertaker and the Puppeteer already came to me beforehand and said, 'You know how much you love your railroads? That's how important this is to us.'"
"So if you give up your train obsession, they'll abandon their ridiculous mobile fortress? I fail to see the problem. Why anyone wastes their lives on rail enthusiasm when we don't even have functional trains anymore is beyond me."
"Anti-otakus should keep their mouths shut."
Transforming Busan into BusaN Proposal
Meeting Notes:
Attendees: Undertaker, Lee Ha-yul, Yu Ji-won, Oh Dok-seo, Sim Ah-ryeon, Dang Seo-rin, Cheon Yo-hwa, Do-hwa, Seo Gyu, and the Saintess (remote participation)
In favor: 6
Opposed: 3
Abstained: 1
Majority in favor. Proposal passed!
While the rushed voting might've made the last remaining pollster in the Republic of Korea faint, democracy had long since dwindled into a niche fandom among a select few on the Korean Peninsula.
We represented the totality of Korea's consensus. Thus, we moved forward, united in purpose, to begin the construction of the Mobile Land-Based Aircraft Carrier Humanity's Final Defense Ark City, affectionately shortened to BusaN.
BusaN Production Project Phase 1: Construction
"All right, Seo-rin. Let's start stockpiling building materials."
"This... This is not why I shortened my lifespan to learn magic..."
Everything except the design and blueprints was left to Seo-rin.
Surprised? Allow me to remind you.
Seo-rin was the one who had built the Arks. She had even erected a 399-meter-tall statue of the Great Potato Saintess in the middle of Busan back when she was utterly smitten with her.
Her grumbling now was clearly an act. Deep down, I was sure she loved the idea of a colossal mobile city.
"Do you see those abandoned buildings along the hills? Just cast a clean weight-reduction spell, and I'll take care of the rest."
"Fine..."
A task that might've taken decades with construction equipment like cranes and excavators was taken care of with a single beat of her magical chant.
For days, the streets of Busan echoed with Seo-rin's singing. Residents, lulled to sleep by her melodic voice, enjoyed noticeably better rest as a side effect.
BusaN Production Project Phase 2: Interior Fittings
Once the enormous frame of the mobile fortress started to take shape, we began work on the interior. This, too, was a familiar task from past cycles.
"Ha-yul, you need to thread marionette strings through every corridor. Without them, the fortress can't move."
"Leave it to me."
Hadn't we done this already in the 664th cycle while building the Ark? The only difference was the scale. Otherwise, the experience translated perfectly.
Multiple layers of outer walls were added, and strings were densely threaded between every floor, ceiling, and wall.
"Seriously. This thing is massive," Do-hwa muttered.
"That Ark you built back then—didn't it only transmit basic Morse code through the strings? How on earth are you going to move an entire city like this?"
"Don't worry. Overwhelming Aura solves everything."
"Even if you had Aura pouring out like water, the problem is control. How do you expect to manage all these strings? Moving a city is obviously beyond human capability..."
I flashed her a cryptic smile. "This is where the ultimate AI comes in."
"What...?"
I pulled a laptop out of my backpack. With a press of the power button, the screen lit up, displaying a familiar emoji.
( • ω - ) ☆
In one corner of the screen, a chibi 2D character with white hair peeked out shyly, then ducked away.
"Allow me to introduce our central AI for BusaN: Admin of the Infinite Metagame. It's incredibly high-performance and perfectly capable of managing the entire city."
"You've got to be kidding me. Isn't that an Outer God?"
"It's fine. It owes me one," I said cheerily, locking eyes with the emoji on the screen. "Infinite Metagame, you tried to stab me in the back by collaborating with Infinite Void during the Mastermind hunt, didn't you? If you help with this project, I'll let that slide."
[AOIM - I fail to comprehend. I have no recollection of such events.]
[AOIM - However, as a benevolent Anomaly, I accept Regressor Undertaker's proposal purely out of goodwill.]
"Good. Do better next time."
[AOIM - Understood.]
With the central AI now on board to oversee the city's operations, BusaN's exterior and interior were complete.
This entire process took three years. By that point, there wasn't a single intact building left in Busan. Everything had been dismantled and moved onto BusaN's back, along with most of its citizenry. Those who insisted on remaining grounded relocated to other cities like Daejeon. Hopefully, it was the right choice for them.
BusaN Production Project Phase 3: The Finishing Touch
At last, the construction was nearing completion.
As ancient ships once adorned their prows with figureheads of gods and mermaids to ensure safe voyages, so too did BusaN need a guardian to bless its journey.
"Ready, Undertaker?"
"Of course, Ha-yul."
From the outset, Ha-yul and I had agreed on the perfect figurehead for our city: her father, Jung Sang-guk.
"Waaaaaaah!"
"Now, don't squirm. You'll just make this harder for everyone. Ha-yul, is it aligned?"
"Move it slightly to the left."
"Here?"
"A bit more southeast."
"Here?"
"Perfect."
The bow of the Mobile Land-Based Aircraft Carrier Humanity's Final Defense Ark City, BusaN, now bore the dangling figure of its former mayor and current head of the provisional government, Jung Sang-guk.
Remarkably, he was still alive.
When Ha-yul and I had first met in this cycle, I had told her, "You're a famous Electra-complex," and she, true to her contrarian nature, declared she'd keep her father alive this time.
Thus, after a long journey, Jung Sang-guk had returned as the radiant symbol of Neo-Busan—now BusaN.
Could there ever have been a more filial daughter in all of Korean history than Lee Ha-yul? I doubted it.
[AOIM - Initiating BusaN's control systems.]
[AOIM - All engines operational.]
[AOIM - Mobile Land-Based Aircraft Carrier Humanity's Final Defense Ark City, launching.]
Rumble, rumble, rumble...!
The city, now a massive mobile fortress, began releasing a fierce steam of Aura as its legs took their first steps.
Even my skeptical companions, who had doubted the feasibility of this project, couldn't hide their excitement and awe.
[AOIM - No Anomalies detected.]
[AOIM - Welcome aboard BusaN, dear citizens.]
[AOIM - Captain, please set a destination.]
"To the other side of the Ural Mountains."
[AOIM - Destination confirmed.]
Cheers erupted around us.
For today, at least, humanity seemed less like a species on the brink of extinction and more like a group of dreamers who had just realized a grand vision.
Except for one man. Dangling as BusaN's figurehead, Jung Sang-guk whispered to himself faintly, his voice drowned out by the roar of the engines.
"Kill... me..."
It was a fitting inaugural speech for the newly crowned symbol of Busan.
Footnotes:
[1] The Walkers, or All Terrain Armored Transport (AT-AT) Walkers, are all-terrain vehicles used by the imperial forces in the Star Wars franchise. They are one of the most famous symbols of the Empire's military might.
[2] In the Mortal Engines franchise, Traction Cities are vast, tiered metropolises that move on gigantic wheels or caterpillar tracks and that hunt smaller cities for resources and fuel.
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The Merger III
"Have you heard the rumor?"
"Rumor? What rumor?"
It began on a day like any other.
From the depths of the earth, where ancient creatures still torment the humans basking in the light, arose a mocking taunt: "Enjoyed your reign at the top, did you? Now, it is your turn to suffer."
And so it was that the dreadful tale took its root in the hearts of humankind.
"They say there's a city that moves."
"A what now? A moving city?"
"Yes, exactly. A massive city that moves as if it's alive."
"Great. Another Anomaly? Just what we needed."
Strangely enough, no one questioned how such a city could exist.
Civilization had long since crumbled away, and the weak—incapable of adapting to this post-apocalyptic meta—had perished. The survivors who had not yet succumbed to the call of those ancient, bestial kings and remained above had, by necessity, learned to adapt to the new, Anomalous natural order.
"But that's the thing... Apparently, it's not an Anomaly. I heard it's a city built by humans."
"What?"
And that was why they were all the more vulnerable to "non-Anomalous" tales—the phenomena of the ordinary.
"You know that old Global SOS Board, right?"
"The site that takes forever to load? Where it's a miracle if even one post goes up in a day?"
"Yeah, that one. People are reporting sightings of the city there—Neo-Busa, they call it. And it's slowly making its way across the Eurasian continent."
"Huh."
"From what I hear of the rumors, if you see a vertical plume of smoke on the horizon, it means Neo-Busa is within a few hundred kilometers."
Thus, they dubbed it humanity's last sanctuary.
A quadrupedal fortress that shook the ground with every step.
A colossal structure that fired beams of light from its core without ceasing and deployed hundreds of robots like a land-based aircraft carrier.
"That last part makes it sound like an Anomaly. It has to be, if something like that actually exists. No way humans built it."
"But the Global SOS Board—"
"The site's so slow you'd be lucky to see one post a day. How reliable can it be?"
The rumors were readily dismissed and met with derision. A walking city? That sounded too absurd to be true, and trust was in too short supply to allow for such blind faith.
Faith, after all, is far more readily born from moments of despair.
- Woooooooong.
- Ka-clank, clank! Click.
Annihilation came for a living community of some 500 survivors.
From the western skies, a fleet of airborne battleships emerged in detrital hunks of metal and concrete.
They were the remnants of civilization: the Sky Fleet, a horde of city-eating predators that had gorged themselves fat by devouring London and Paris.
"Ahh— AHHHH! It's them! The ones from the message board!"
"Run! Grab whatever you can and get out of here!"
"Run? Where? How?"
Despite their hulking appearance, the airborne battleships were fast. They weren't the kind of Anomalies that fleeing refugees could easily outrun. No matter how far the humans ran from the ships and each other, the death rays fired by the fleet would incinerate them all.
And above all else, humanity was exhausted.
They had fled from their homes, fled from their workplaces, from countless temporary shelters, and more. This settlement had been their last refuge.
There was no energy left in them—no willpower or strength left to find another safe zone or build one with their own hands.
If only the rays from those monsters could vaporize us instantly, they thought. To meet death without pain—wouldn't that be a mercy?
How were they to know the dark truth of it, after all? Who among them could imagine that Anomalies like the Mastermind might still drag their souls into eternal torment even after death?
To them, death beckoned as a sweet release. And who was to call them back from the brink? The loved ones who might have stopped them—family, friends, partners—had long since vanished.
Fine. I give up. Let's leave this insane world behind.
Even the veterans, the ones who had once fought tooth and nail to help build the settlement, at long last let their grip on life slip away.
- Wooooooong. Wooooooong. Wooooooong.
The fleet's crimson eyes had locked onto the survivor community—when suddenly, a beam of light streaked across the sky and cleaved the Anomalies in two.
"What?"
An explosion pealed across the heavens.
The stunned residents turned their heads to see a plume of black smoke rising in the distance. But it was no ordinary smoke—the plume was unnaturally straight and rose impossibly high.
A signal fire?
The rumor they had heard flitted through their minds just as something massive began approaching from the direction of the smoke. The object moved quickly, diving into the fleet of airborne battleships and zipping around like a pesky mosquito.
Except, this "mosquito" was far deadlier. The battleships, once heralds of humanity's doom, were shredded, torn apart like mere scraps of paper.
Witnessing aerial combat for the first time in their lives, the residents could only gape in shock until finally, one voice broke the silence.
"A... robot?"
Murmurs began to ripple through the nearby residents, their voices trembling.
"Look! A flying robot!"
"No way. What kind of Anomaly is this?!"
"It's not an Anomaly!" someone shouted, their finger pointing toward the horizon. "Look there! It's the Ark City!"
Ba-doooom.
The ground trembled.
The enormous object lumbered and swayed in light nods to and fro. Each step it took, whether forward or backward, sent shockwaves rattling through the earth and into the bodies of the residents.
"Hide! Everyone, take cover!"
"Wh-what?"
"Don't get caught in the crossfire!"
Snapping out of their daze, the residents scrambled for cover. For people who had just moments before given up on life, their movements were remarkably swift.
Hiding in trenches, they watched the aerial battle unfold with bated breath.
The airborne battleships fired ray after ray, raining down death in ominous, humming beams. Yet they were met by agile robots wielding energy blades—energy blades!—that danced through their ranks.
And steadily drawing closer, shaking the very ground beneath it, was the colossal Ark City.
The full form of the land-based aircraft carrier, once only a figure of myth, burned itself into the residents' eyes. Scrawled across the armored exterior of the Ark City was the following script:
기동육상모함요새
起動陸上母艦要塞
인류최종방위방주도시
人類最終防衛方舟都市
BusaN
Truthfully, among the scrawling text that declared the Mobile Land-Based Aircraft Carrier Fortress as Humanity's Final Defense Ark City, the residents could only recognize the English letters "BusaN."
But still, they wondered.
Why...? Why did it make their hearts race?
Thump!
Could it really be? Could this be not an Anomaly but a weapon created by human hands? But that was so...
Unbelievable. It would take a leap of faith.
Still, seeing it fight against the city predators...
Maybe. Just maybe.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
One survivor felt a mysterious pounding in their chest. There wasn't time to ponder its meaning.
"Wahoooo! Go get 'em!"
Already, the other residents hiding with them were cheering, caught up in the battle between the airborne fleet and the land fortress.
"That ship just went down!"
"Ah! Ahh! It dodged! It dodged!"
"Kill them all! Wipe out those Anomaly bastards!"
The trenches erupted in a cacophony of jubilation.
Whenever a battleship was destroyed, the residents cheered. Whenever a robot lost a limb to a stray blast, they groaned in despair.
Soon, the heartbeat of the one survivor was drowned out by the resounding chorus of cheers and found themselves shouting along with the rest. Euphoria sang through them.
How long had it been, they wondered, since they'd last rooted for someone so earnestly?
Ahhh――ah――
It was then the song echoed from the Ark City.
Mesmerizing was its melody sung in what sounded like Latin. It was a pure a cappella chorus, composed solely of human voices, unaccompanied by instruments.
Beautiful!
The voices were so enchanting that the survivor felt as if they could fall in love with the singers after just a few lines. The other residents beside them fell similarly into rapture, momentarily forgetting even their cheers at the sublime melody's spell.
Then, a hatch opened on the Ark City, and a new robot soared into the sky.
The moment they saw it, they knew.
That crimson robot was different.
The choir of the Ark City crescendoed, its harmonies growing more fervent, as if blessing the departure of this ace unit.
Emboldened by the music, the crimson robot unleashed a whirlwind of destruction upon the airborne battleships.
"Oh, my God."
"What are we even watching?"
The crimson ace turned the tide of battle in an instant.
Battleships that had seemed invincible only moments ago were reduced to ribbons, sliced cleanly as if made of butter. The Anomalies fired their death rays with furious defiance, and yet the ace would not be touched—not even by a single glancing blow!
Elegantly, precisely, the crimson robot danced through the sky, obliterating its enemies in an unassailable declaration of true combat prowess.
"To think the world could be so..."
The once-unstoppable force of the Anomalies was now crumbling, powerless against the lone assault.
What could it be but a dream? Yes, it had to be that. To prey upon even their hope with an illusory display in humanity's final moments...
The spite of Anomalies knew no bounds.
"W-wait, it's coming this way!"
"Huh?"
As the other robots returned to their mothership, the crimson ace slowly made its way toward the trench where the residents were hiding.
When it finally stopped just in front of them, its towering size became painfully clear.
Only then did the survivor begin to feel the creeping edge of fear.
Wait, came the thought, these people are complete strangers!
Sure, they all had rooted for the robot squad like rowdy fans at a sports match, but in the post-apocalyptic world, humans could be just as dangerous as Anomalies.
If the pilot of the crimson ace was capable of defeating the Sky Fleet so effortlessly, they could wipe out the community and its residents as easily as one could snap a twig.
As tension froze the air, the cockpit of the crimson robot opened with a loud clunk. When the pilot revealed themselves, the survivor's eyes widened in shock.
It was... a child? And an adult man?
There were two pilots.
In the lower seat sat a young girl, barely older than a child and missing both legs. Above her sat a young Asian man.
It was the man who spoke first.
"Which way is west?"
His Turkish was fluent, and the survivor responded instinctively.
"Wh-what?"
"We're looking to go a certain way. Can you tell us which way is west?"
"Oh, uh, west... It's... that way. The direction where the city-predators came from."
"That way, then."
The man turned to the girl, speaking in an unfamiliar language. When the girl replied, he nodded, then turned to look back at the residents.
"Thank you. This place is no longer safe. I suggest you evacuate eastward. Goodbye."
The cockpit began to close. They had stopped here for nothing more than directions.
They didn't threaten the residents. There was no gloating about saving them or demands for anything in return.
Realizing the ace pilots were about to leave without a trace of hesitation, the survivor called out impulsively, "W-wait! Please, wait!"
"Yes?"
"Just one question! Why are you heading west? There's nothing left there! The cities are destroyed, and no one lives there!"
The man blinked. Then in a matter-of-fact reply, he said this:
"To kill the Anomalies, of course."
"...!"
"It will be humanity's final battle. We won't win. But we must show them, just once, the strength of humanity."
With those words, the cockpit sealed shut.
Ssshhh!
The crimson ace released a hiss of steam and ascended into the air.
The massive Ark City, now with its ace recovered, resumed its march once more.
As promised, it headed west.
Toward the final battle for humankind.
The survivor's heart pounded in their chest.
Damn... That was so cool.
The long-lost thrill of hope and romance, thought to be forever gone, sparked anew.
A rush of pride in humanity and uncontainable awe for the robots surged through the community of survivors, leaving them breathless.
"That was epic. You have to admit it."
"Yeah, I admit it."
"The cockpit of the ace opens, and there's just a girl sitting there, all deadpan and dignified... Ugh. That's the romance of it, I'm telling you."
"Did you see their faces? If I don't see someone with that look on their face ever again, I can't say I'm truly living. That's the stuff that makes life worth it."
"Ha-yul, you really get it. You're one of a kind."
"And you, oppa—you're the only one worthy of being my partner."
Clap!
Ha-yul and I high-fived.
As we laughed and joked back aboard the Ark City, Do-hwa, who had been waiting for us in the control room, muttered under her breath.
"Damn. Why do these two idiots stay mentally twelve no matter how old they get...?"
It was summer.
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