Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 129.2: The Voice (2)
It’s true that the Necromancer-type is weak in close combat.
It’s the monster I’ve hunted the most in close-range fights—Professor’s signature prey.
But if you asked whether it’s an easy monster, I’d say no.
Most of my hunts occurred when it wasn’t prepared, when I could seize the initiative.
The Necromancer reveals its true nature not in defense, but in offense.
In large-scale battles—especially in urban combat—it becomes a terrifying threat, dragging thousands of zombies like a shepherd of the dead, rivaling even some mid-sized monsters in danger level.
And now, that very type, fully prepared, is advancing on us, leading thousands of zombies like livestock.
Uuuuuuuu—
Thousands of zombies stagger forward on the road, heading straight for us.
Frozen in the attire of their past lives, with familiar faces you might have seen before.
They once breathed the same city air, lived the same daily routines.
Now they’re puppets of the monsters. Despite their appearance, clothing, and whatever their listed addresses once were, they surge at us—the living—with a single will.
“Zombies incoming!”
Tatata-tang!
The soldiers lined up around us opened fire.
The commanders shouted at them to conserve ammo and take precise shots, but when countless zombies are right in front of you, how many people could keep their cool enough to aim for the head one by one?
Tatatatatang!!
Despite the warning, every soldier empties their 30-round—or 25-round—magazine in seconds.
They’ll have to pay that bill later—Kim Byeong-cheol, their superior, or themselves. But isn’t that a cheaper price than dying now?
Zombies fall one by one, but they don’t feel fear.
Just like the lyrics of that song about trampling over fallen comrades’ corpses—these guys, already corpses, trample over the fallen and crash into our lines like a wave.
Fwoooosh—
Humans fight back with everything they’ve got.
Fire has always been one of the most effective weapons against zombies.
In India, where zombies were especially vicious, the poor burned them. In the end, many ended their own impoverished lives by burning themselves too.
Naturally, even through the walls of fire, there are still those who come through.
Click—
Soldiers armed with riot-grade reinforced plastic shields and spiked maces stepped into formation like medieval knights.
They are the anti-zombie unit—specialized troops.
They stand at the front lines, blocking the zombies that manage to push through the gunfire.
Uwooooo!!
Zombies crashed against the wall of shields like waves.
Whack!
Clang!
The interlocked shields shoved the zombies back, and the maces and blunt weapons crushed zombie skulls.
“First wave’s over. But more are coming.”
Cheon Young-jae, stationed atop a nearby building, gave an update through the transmitter based on what he could see with the naked eye.
Drones are rarely used in monster battles.
Apparently, the lesson from China hit hard—most monsters react aggressively to drones flying overhead like gnats.
Back when drones were cheap, disposable human substitutes, they were easy to toss around. But now, when drone production has stopped, they’re a precious asset that can’t be wasted.
“What about the shepherd’s location?”
“Shepherd” is the common nickname for Necromancer-types in situations like this.
“That bank building with the big hole in the middle of its gut. Across from us. You won’t see it from your side.”
“About 400 meters?”
“Probably.”
“Density?”
“Packed. Best not to go in. We’ll have to hold out a little longer.”
The most annoying part about Necromancers in large-scale urban battles is that they force humans to pay a fair cost.
Even before the war, that cost wasn’t trivial—but in these post-war times, when everything is scarce, it’s enough to bankrupt an entire warlord’s faction.
“This... it’s endless.”
You can’t blame Kim Byeong-cheol’s subordinate for complaining.
Their survival is on the line too.
What’s more meaningless than a military without bullets?
In truth, only Kim Byeong-cheol and I find deep meaning in this battle.
The others don’t understand why we’re even doing this.
It’s common knowledge by now—monsters can just be avoided.
Most of the soldiers here, and the refugees huddled beneath that tilted apartment, can’t understand why we’re not just falling back.
Maybe they’re right.
But for someone like me, I need to draw in that unknown frequency—Necropolis.
And Kim Byeong-cheol wouldn’t want small-class monsters nesting near his hidden assets either.
It’s much easier to hunt monsters on the move than ones that have already settled in.
And Kim Byeong-cheol has ambitious plans to build a new settlement around his hidden assets—his last political gambit.
This battle is the result of our aligned interests—but I’m not someone who wants to see Kim Byeong-cheol crumble too quickly.
“Can I get a strong rope?”
A little risk needs to be taken.
“What? A rope? What are you planning?”
To the tense officer’s question, I pointed at the damaged building.
“Looks like it’ll be better if I take it out myself.”
“Didn’t you ask us to handle the zombies?”
“I did. But at this rate, it’ll never end.”
We do what needs to be done.
Bang! Bang!
Tatata-tang!
With support from Cheon Young-jae, Defender, and a small elite squad, we reached the building via an alternate route and climbed the steep stairs.
The view may have been blocked, but the monster—with its intrinsic detection abilities—sensed our presence and sent a wave of thousands of zombies surging toward us.
Dozens of zombies swarmed up the stairwell.
BOOM!
We’d prepared for this—I detonated explosives, blowing up the only stairwell.
“Isn’t this a bit reckless?”
Cheon Young-jae asked with a half-smile.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
“If Kim Byeong-cheol runs out of bullets, everything becomes reckless.”
“True enough. Not that I care much about that guy.”
“Cover me.”
Two reasons.
First, Necromancers are weak to close combat—they die to me without fail.
Second, if the Necromancer dies, the zombies it summoned—no matter how many—lose control.
I ran across the floor of the abandoned building, littered with dust, debris, and shattered glass, and laid eyes on the monster beyond.
Boom!
I spotted the ash-gray creature.
I wrapped the rope around the exposed steel frame poking out between cracked concrete and jumped down.
Shiiiiiik—
The wind brushes past me.
Once upon a time, wind like this, the rapidly shifting scenery, and the sensation of falling used to make me drowsy. But not anymore.
With sharper focus than ever, I stare down the rapidly approaching monster and draw my two axes.
Srrrk—
My ever-faithful companions.
Someday, even these blades will rust, break, and become unusable. But before that, I’ll need to fell plenty more monsters.
Crack!
The axe buries itself into the ashen surface.
Monsters don’t feel pain—there are no screams, no reflexes. The monster slowly turns its head to find the human responsible for the damage.
Crack! Crack!
But the chopping has already begun—and it doesn’t stop.
Uooohhh—
The real threat is the zombies swarming from all directions.
But there’s a solution.
Bang! Bang! Tatatatang!
Cheon Young-jae, Defender, and a few soldiers stationed on the building’s roof open fire, carefully popping zombie skulls just like that officer on the front line had instructed: “aimed, deliberate shots.”
Uninterrupted, my axe grows in ferocity, moving faster and faster.
And then—
...
The monster’s body crumples and begins to disintegrate into shimmering particles.
Fleetingly beautiful golden motes scatter, and a thought crosses my mind.
What are these particles?
What do they mean?
Where do they go?
Do they, as some past theories suggest, fall to the ground as spores and accelerate corrosion? Or are they used for some purpose we still don’t understand?
And above all—do these particles carry intent?
A sharp burst of gunfire in the distance cuts off the string of questions spiraling in my mind.
I speak into the communicator.
“Target ‘Shepherd’ down.”
No response.
To make myself clear, I add one more line.
“Conserve ammo. Over.”
That should ease the pressure for now.
The next monster approaching is a relatively easy one—a Dancer-type.
Not for me—for the soldiers.
*
During a brief lull, I headed down to The Hope’s underground parking lot.
A rather amusing sight had unfolded.
Soldiers and refugees had flooded in, looting supplies from the warehouse without hesitation.
Well, considering that a horde of monsters is bearing down on us, there's no longer any need to worry about Woo Min-hee watching.
Among the crowd were a few familiar faces.
“Yo~ Skeleton~!”
It was M9.
Next to him stood a man and woman with their faces hidden behind cloth and bandanas, heads lowered.
I let out a soft chuckle.
Probably Ji Chang-su and Ji Young-hee.
I’m not a mind reader, but I imagine they’d love to strangle M9 right about now.
Trying so hard to stay hidden, and this guy’s blowing their cover right next to them.
Well, it’s none of my business.
I waved casually and stepped inside the parking lot.
The soldiers saluted as I passed.
Something I never used to see.
Well, I did save them a few thousand rounds of ammunition—they owe me at least that much.
My destination was the back of the warehouse, where soldiers were guarding and forklifts were hauling out gear.
Past the debris of shattered drones and ruined sentry guns, deep inside, sat a large truck.
“Necropolis reception is progressing smoothly.”
Ballantine greeted me with a smile.
He held out a smartphone to me.
“Check this out.”
After the war, it had become nearly impossible to see signal bars light up on a phone.
Outside of the Seoul-Incheon area, where the telecom network barely still functioned, smartphones weren’t really phones anymore—they were cameras, personal journals, maps, and entertainment devices.
Mine was no different.
Having never been to Seoul or Incheon, my phone’s signal bar always stayed at zero.
But now—
“Hm?”
There it was. Signal bars.
That meant it was receiving a signal.
“What is this?”
I felt a bit bad toward Ballantine.
But for now, I could set that guilt aside.
“It’s the Voice of the Dead!”
Ballantine was giddy, his voice excited as he looked between the dashboard and monitor.
“The magical network that builds its own servers has finally landed in Korea!”
“But it’s not usable yet, right?”
“No. We need to dig deeper. How should I put this—some kind of wave? No, more like... we need a ‘Necropolis-like presence’ to really get a solid two-way connection.”
His bloodshot eyes stayed glued to the screen as his fingers danced across the keyboard.
“...But the more I look at it, the more unbelievable it is. To me, it looks like just an ordinary wave. So how does this act as a server?”
He was immersed in his work.
He was enjoying it.
Well, if he hadn’t been, he would’ve left Johnanon’s side a long time ago.
The faded photo he carried showed nearly ten people. Now, he’s the only one left.
There’s something I want to say to him.
That maybe this network he considers humanity’s greatest innovation... wasn’t born of human intellect alone.
Let’s be real—how can a radio wave alone function as a massive server?
No matter how much of a genius you are, you can’t create something out of nothing.
The innovation Ballantine believes in might just be the voice of ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) the monsters.
I mean, they’re still coming even now.
“Hunter Park! Hunter Park! Emergency! It’s an emergency!”
The soldiers’ frantic voices rang out through the communicator.
“How long do we have?” I asked Ballantine.
“One day. At best, a day.”
I nodded and gave the mysterious vehicle one last look.
An 8-ton trailer rig outfitted with massive broadcasting equipment.
Power cables were connected, and judging from the attached hardware, it seemed to run on large batteries—enough to broadcast independently, albeit with limits.
“...Got it.”
I burned the shape of the trailer into my memory and headed for the battlefield.
There, the biggest obstacle everyone had feared was slowly, but surely, marching toward us.
The Praetorian-type.
The apex predator that, alongside the Krakens, ended the Indian killzone—now approaching us, humanity’s foe.
