Apocalypse's Teacher - Chapter 33
Chapter 33
A Rod is Not a Choice, But a Necessity (4)
***
In this world, a “large shelter” was akin to the apex predator of the food chain.
And as such, there was something that all its occupants overlooked.
The idea that they, too, could become targets of an attack.
They lacked the awareness that they could become someone else’s prey.
Having always wielded power, they never had the fear that the muzzle could be pointed at them.
Hence, something like this was possible.
Rumble—
The ground shook.
The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the shelter.
Th i s wa s co p i ed fr o m k i n g mtl . o r g
Confusion caused by time bombs and remote bombs.
I infiltrated by following the memorized map, disrupting the shelter’s defenses.
I headed straight for the research lab inside the shelter.
I didn’t pay attention to the CCTV.
The first target was the power supply room.
T h i s was c o p i e d f r o m ki n g m t l.org
‘It’s empty.’
The hallway was deserted.
Which was expected.
Most of the strike team had moved out for external defense, so the remaining personnel were deep in the shelter.
Th i s w a s c op i e d f ro m ki n gm t l .o r g
The guards left inside would be stationed in the core to protect the leadership.
Since the only person I encountered was that drunk young guy, it was clear the place was practically empty.
‘Turn right here.’
Recalling the directions, I double-checked the map I had taken out just in case and arrived at the research lab.
I frowned.
“Grrrr…”
Behind the densely packed iron bars were living zombies.
They were all stuck into the walls or floors.
‘They should keep this place cleaner.’
If they were worried about being bitten, this was a good measure, but the aesthetics were terrible.
As I closely observed the zombies, I realized something.
‘These are still pre-experiment.’
This wasn’t the main experiment space.
I needed to go deeper into the research lab.
I sighed deeply and headed toward the visible passage.
The power outage made the basement hallway incredibly dreary.
It was like a scene from a horror movie from when civilization was still alive.
I found myself chuckling at the thought.
‘Why did I enjoy such movies back then?’
Old memories surfaced.
I thought about the media I used to enjoy.
Movies set in abandoned hospitals or haunted houses.
Various media set in a post-apocalyptic world.
A saying came to mind.
Life is a comedy when seen from afar, but a tragedy when seen up close.
That saying was true.
A great intellect had left a timeless quote.
‘This sucks.’
Even as someone who enjoyed horror media, when it became my reality, I felt like I was living in a terrible tragedy.
It was a realization that media is best enjoyed as just media.
Lost in my thoughts, I reached the end of the passage.
Ahead was a tightly closed opaque glass door with a card reader beside it.
A structure that was impossible to enter by ordinary means.
But it wasn’t a problem.
Crash!
If it doesn’t work, make it work.
If there’s no way, create one.
I put into practice what my senior had told me in the military.
The broken glass crunched under my boots.
I heard a rustling sound.
I shone my flashlight inside.
‘This is it.’
The walls were filled with research logs.
Drugs and kits.
And in the middle of the lab, a zombie was tied firmly to a bed, struggling.
“Grrrr-!”
Its eyes rolled and met mine.
“What are you looking at, you bastard?”
Crunch!
I crushed the zombie’s head with a wrench.
Since it was tied up, I had no hesitation or fear.
It was something that needed to be killed, and if I were to be bitten by a tied-up one, I’d have died long ago.
‘This one too.’
There were surgical marks.
I stared at it for a moment, then took out explosives from my backpack and attached them to the wall with the research logs and drugs.
‘Thirty minutes should be enough.’
I set the timer.
Then I left.
Backtracking to the entrance of the lab, I set up more explosives and returned to the hallway.
As I walked down the corridor,
Rumble—
Another tremor shook the ground.
***
Although I achieved my initial goal, it didn’t mean I was retreating.
What I had done was merely neutralize an immediate threat.
To truly prevent such incidents, I had to deal with the root cause.
So, I climbed back into the vent and headed deeper into the shelter.
Rumble—
There were still explosives left.
The ones I had set beforehand, with a time delay, were still instilling fear in them.
From the vent, I looked into the shelter’s core.
In a not-so-spacious area, people were huddled together.
Mostly young women and grimy workers.
They were likely kept aside for shelter restoration.
The absence of the elderly and children was obvious.
Mapo Shelter’s children had all escaped with me.
The elderly…
‘These bastards must practice Goryeojang too.’
…must have been abandoned by the shelter.
It was a sad story, but one that happened often.
This wasn’t a world kind enough to provide resources for elderly who could no longer work.
‘These unscrupulous bastards.’
Of course, with large shelters, the story was different.
I tightened my grip on the wrench.
‘Fine, if you want to be full, I’ll give you a big one.’
I intended to make them figuratively ‘burst with fullness.’
***
Boom—
A massive explosion.
And a tremor.
An indescribable fear swept through the shelter.
“Stay still!”
Armed guards shouted.
They pointed their guns at the workers.
The workers trembled and clung to each other.
Boom—
Another explosion.
T h is w a s co pi e d f r o m k i ng mt l . o rg
While they threatened the workers and pretended to be calm, the strike team members were not at ease.
T hi s w a s co p i ed f r o m ki n g m t l . o r g
It was an attack.
An explosion that could threaten their lives.
The strike team members thought of one thing.
‘Gi-chul, that bastard…’
The youngest member’s story might be true, that it might be him attacking the shelter.
They thought the madman who single-handedly destroyed Sillim Shelter three years ago might be targeting them now.
Fear had a peculiar trait.
It fed on imagination to grow.
The shelter’s blacklist.
The mad bomber.
And the explosions that hadn’t stopped for hours.
The ingredients were plenty.
The fear didn’t resist the feast they made.
Boom—
The faces of the strike team members darkened.
Their shoulders started to hunch.
Boom—
As the explosions got closer, their true nature emerged.
The survival instinct.
Boom—
An instinct that rules could not suppress reared its head.
An impulse that gnawed at reason enveloped their bodies.
And here was someone who could provide an excuse for such behavior.
“I-I’ll report to the inside. You guys manage the workers here!”
T hi s was c op ie d fr o m k i n g m t l . o r g
A middle-aged man with a bulldog-like, saggy face.
The only distinct feature was his limp.
He shouted, being the team leader.
The strike team members showed resentment, but none could defy him.
Th i s w a s c o p i ed f r om k i n g m t l. org
He was the shelter leader’s brother.
If the situation passed and the shelter regained peace, they knew what defying him would lead to.
The limping man, brandishing a handgun, headed deeper into the shelter.
They resentfully watched him go.
And there was a hunter salivating.
***
Former shelter orphanage director.
Current strike team 3 leader, Heo Dae-chang.
He ran with all his might, cheeks quivering.
‘Crazy bastard…!’
T h i s w a s c o pie d f r o m k i ng m t l. o r g
He had to escape.
No, he had to hide in a deeper place.
T hi s w as c o p i e d f r o m ki ng m t l .org
Where his brother was, a solid wall that those bombs couldn’t breach.
Everything would be resolved there.
The bomber would ultimately fail, and once the external defenders returned, he’d kneel before them.
A grin crept onto his face.
A psychological defense mechanism to suppress his rising fear.
But he had overlooked something.
T h is wa s cop i e d f r o m k i ngm t l. o rg
Things rarely went as planned, and sometimes the most unwanted outcomes were forced upon you.
“Hello?”
A voice pierced his ears.
A presence felt from behind.
Dae-chang twisted his body in shock.
Something kicked his leg.
“Aaahhh!!!”
Thud!
Dae-chang fell, rolling on the floor, screaming until he abruptly stopped, trembling as he looked up.
A man, grinning, looking down at him, tapped his shoulder with a tool.
“Are you the orphanage director?”
Despite the smile, what was clear was the blatant anger in his eyes.
“On my way here, I had three things I thought, ‘I must handle.’”
Step.
Step.
The man approached.
“One was the damn research lab. The second was the damn shelter leader. And the third…”
A limp body takes more effort to rise than an average person.
Especially in this situation.
Fear and injury clouded his mind, pinning his body to the floor.
The man bent down.
“…was a disgusting pedophile.”
Bloodshot eyes.
“Heek…!”
Dae-chang couldn’t understand.
Who was this man before the apocalypse?
Who were the people he was with before coming here?
And who was the child he cherished like his life?
“Sigh, I don’t even want to talk anymore.”
So Dae-chang never understood.
Why the man lifted the wrench.
Why it came crashing down.
Crunch!
The pain spreading from the groin to his entire body.
End of Chapter
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Kzalca
LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO! You get what you fucken deserve!
Thanks for the chapter!