Chapter 121

Chapter 121
## Chapter 121: The Kaesong Fortress

*Clack, clack, clack.* The rhythmic metallic tapping filled the silence of the room. Han Sang-ah was seated at the dining surface, her eyes fixed on a point in space, seemingly lost in thought.

Before her sat a Newton’s Cradle. It consisted of five silver spheres suspended by thin filaments—pulling one back and releasing it triggered a continuous, swinging chain reaction.

“What are you occupied with?”

“Observing the steel spheres.”

Her reply to my inquiry was clipped and brief, after which she returned to her vacant contemplation of the swinging weights. Jeong Oh-hoon let out a frustrated click of his tongue.

“Is it really alright for you to just lounge there? Our recruitment numbers have been frankly embarrassing so far.”

Han Sang-ah turned her attention toward Jeong Oh-hoon to provide an answer.

“Sitting here or pacing around won’t change the outcome. In any case, this lack of interest was anticipated.”

The community of hunters was showing zero passion for the cause. Even the few who reached out to inquire generally lacked the necessary prowess to be useful.

As Han Sang-ah watched the cradle, I kept my eyes on her, and Jeong Oh-hoon began nervously scratching at his scalp. In the background, an analyst’s commentary drifted from the television set.

―At this juncture, national defense must remain the absolute priority. The recent supernatural escalations within Korea have defied all previous logic. Merely containing the Erosion Zones is no longer a sufficient strategy.

―The administration has allocated massive financial resources toward civilian safety, finalizing extensive new agreements with independent hunters. While we previously stationed our forces primarily along the border regions and the 38th parallel, the current deployment strategy has shifted significantly.

Terror had taken root in the public consciousness. Seizing on that collective anxiety, the government had managed to secure a vast number of hunters by offering incredibly lucrative contracts.

Han Sang-ah shifted her gaze to meet mine.

“The compensation and perks they’re offering are incredible. To be honest, any hunter with actual talent has no incentive to risk their lives in the Samhyeol-dong subjugation right now.”

“It’s logical. And given the climate, even if I tried to promote our mission…”

Jeong Oh-hoon cut me off with a weary shake of his head.

“Don’t bother. You’d only invite hostility. The gossip is already spinning out of control.”

The narrative being pushed by the public could be condensed into a few bitter sentiments:

‘Our neighbors are being slaughtered right now—how can they justify running off to hunt Erosion Cores?’

‘He has one lucky win and suddenly he thinks he’s a solo superstar.’

‘If he actually cared, he’d use those powers to protect the citizens. What is Yoo Chan-seok even thinking?’

‘That Yoo Chan-seok fellow is clearly just hunting for the biggest payday.’

The only reason the vitriol wasn’t even worse was because of my prior successes, which bought me a tiny bit of grace.

Still, it was frustrating. Ultimately, it always circled back to this fundamental disagreement.

My philosophy remained unwavering: if you want to protect people, you don’t just shield them; you go to the root of the rot and cut it out.

The issue was that the people currently trapped in the middle of the chaos found it impossible to agree with my logic.

In truth, I wasn’t looking for their approval, so the insults didn’t exactly wound my pride.

However, the public mood was becoming a functional obstacle.

“The authorities claim that once they’ve analyzed the creatures manifesting outside the Erosion Zones and identified the source, these emergency protocols will be lifted,” Han Sang-ah noted.

I let out a dry laugh at her report.

“Do you honestly believe they’re investigating with any urgency? Why do you think the populace is enduring these restrictions without a riot?”

It was the terror of the beasts. If that fear vanished, no one would put up with the current state of affairs. I certainly wouldn’t.

Furthermore, I was entirely convinced that the disaster in the international residential sector was a government-orchestrated mess. They weren’t about to investigate a crime where they were the primary suspects.

“So, what is our final headcount?”

Han Sang-ah checked her data before answering.

“Roughly thirty individuals. The corporations are offering some nominal assistance, but their heart isn’t in it.”

They were providing some baseline funding, but they weren’t pouring in the tens of billions they had gambled on Jaun-gok.

“We actually secured the crown—I can’t believe we’re stuck like this!”

Jeong Oh-hoon grumbled, casting a frustrated look at the artifact resting on its pedestal.

I walked over to the crown delivered by the Association, placing my hand upon it and circulating a thread of mana through the metal. It immediately emitted a gentle, radiant white luminescence that filled the room.

It was undeniably potent. Just as Sa Seung-hee had claimed, if we pushed this crown to its full potential, any undead entity within its radius would be vaporized instantly.

“What a waste. We went through literal hell to claim this top-tier crown, and now it’s just a fancy paperweight.”

Jeong Oh-hoon squinted at the shimmering relic. After staring at the light for a beat, I made a decision.

“We’re pivoting. Change of plans.”

“To what?”

Han Sang-ah’s focus sharpened instantly. While she had appeared detached while watching the pendulum, she had clearly been stewing over our predicament.

“We produce results first, then we worry about the headcount.”

We were simply reversing the standard operating procedure.

If nobody wants to invest in your new venture and you can’t find staff, you launch the company anyway and force the world to take notice through sheer performance.

At the end of the day, success is the only language people listen to. You can try to lure them with a grand vision, but if that fails, you lure them with a trophy.

“First, we take the team we currently have and we break through to the Unique Trait.”

“Man, the bureaucrats are going to have a fit,” Jeong Oh-hoon predicted.

“If they don’t like it, they can go to hell.”

We weren’t relying on government grants or state funding. We weren’t a government agency or a public utility.

They had no legal leverage to stop private hunters from entering Erosion Zones to eliminate threats.

With a skeleton crew of roughly thirty-three hunters including our core trio, we would make our move.

“We’re heading to Paju. Alert the hunters who signed on.”

Since we had previously humbled Seong Si-hoon, we were well within our rights to demand logistical help.

“Do you really think those guys will actually lift a finger to help us?” Jeong Oh-hoon muttered skeptically.

I was fairly certain Seong Si-hoon would provide substantial support.

That was assuming he possessed a functioning brain, and he was far from an idiot. A man doesn’t reach the top of a massive hunter conglomerate by being slow-witted.

If I were in his position… I looked up at the tilted television screen.

―This just in: Seong Si-hoon, CEO of Taebaek LLC, has issued an official statement pledging comprehensive logistical and material support for the Headhunter team’s Samhyeol-dong mission.

Exactly as I expected. He didn’t really have a choice. If he failed to back us publicly, I would have a perfect excuse to start another feud with him.

In this landscape, a leader’s objective was straightforward.

I intended to squeeze every bit of utility out of that support until there was nothing left. What would his angle be?

I knew there was no love lost between Headhunter and Taebaek.

This move would effectively silence any rumors of a shadow war between the two groups. It was a clever PR play; I had to hand it to him.

It was framed as simple cooperation, not a joint venture.

If we failed or died out there, Taebaek could simply shrug and say, ‘We only provided the gear—the operation wasn’t ours!’

“There’s your answer. Let’s get moving. The monsters and the Erosion Zones won’t wait for us.”

“It’ll just be more of those rotting ghouls anyway.”

Virtually every creature currently terrorizing Korea from the Erosion Zones was of the undead variety. Aside from the newly emerging Erosion Cores, it was a consistent rule.

“Jeong, stop complaining and get your equipment ready.”

In the meantime, Han Sang-ah was tapping away at her phone.

“The hunters have been notified.”

As we began our final preparations, I asked a quick question.

“Most of the recruits were part of the Jaun-gok raid, right?”

“Yes.”

They had bled with us once before, so there was a foundation of mutual reliance. Because that trust existed, they were willing to follow us again.

If Samhyeol-dong had been our first mission under these conditions, we wouldn’t have even gathered thirty people. It was a small stroke of luck.

“Let’s move out.”

We departed immediately for the Taebaek branch located in Paju.

“We’ve been expecting you. I am Lee Hee-seon, the manager of the Taebaek Paju facility.”

We were met by a woman dressed in black denim and a rugged riding jacket. A line of about fifteen subordinates stood at attention behind her.

“I appreciate the welcome. I’m pleased your CEO kept his word regarding the support.”

Lee Hee-seon’s response was noticeably frosty.

“Given the state Hunter Yoo Chan-seok left Hunter Yoon Sung-hyun in, the CEO is being remarkably forgiving.”

Ah, she was referring to the deceased one.

“I attempted a civil conversation, but he wasn’t interested in talking.”

So, a confrontation became unavoidable. To be fair, I hadn’t set out with the intent to kill Yoon Sung-hyun. But what choice did I have? He attacked with lethal intent; I wasn’t going to just stand there and take it.

“This is the roster of participants.”

Han Sang-ah passed the paperwork over to Lee Hee-seon.

“Understood. We will process these and escort your hunters to the staging area.”

“I’m interested to see this staging area.”

Lee Hee-seon immediately escorted us toward our designated quarters.

“Your team will be stationed at Munsan Dang-dong-ri. All equipment and medical supplies will be routed from the Taebaek Geumchon branch via the Tongil Road.”

Slightly north of Munsan sat Imjingak, and beyond that was the Dora Observatory, which used to be North Korean soil.

If you traveled just a bit further from Dora Station, you would arrive at the notorious Kaesong Industrial Complex.

“The primary objective is to secure a corridor through Kaesong.”

The path went from Kaesong to Sariwon, then from Sariwon to Pyongyang. Once we reached Pyongyang, Pyeongseong—the location of Samhyeol-dong—was essentially within arm’s reach.

“The issue is that Kaesong has been turned into a literal fortress.”

I raised an eyebrow at Lee Hee-seon’s description. Fortified to that degree?

“Can you provide more specifics?”

“Of course. We will share all relevant intelligence. My team will handle your equipment and transport it to the lodgings.”

Lee Hee-seon led the three of us into a high-tech briefing room within the Taebaek facility. On a massive wall-mounted display, detailed data and imagery of Kaesong—the gate we had to kick down—were laid bare.

“A defensive field.”

Han Sang-ah tilted her head, scanning the technical readouts.

“It looks somewhat similar to the barrier technology currently being utilized in the United Kingdom.”

“Only in appearance.”

It was a completely different beast. To be blunt, they weren’t even in the same league. This was a triple-layered defensive shell. More importantly, the central layer between the inner and outer shells was a complex honeycomb structure—a hexagonal grid.

“It is effectively impenetrable with the personnel we have on hand.”

That was Lee Hee-seon’s conclusion. Naturally, that was merely her perspective.

“It’s robust, I’ll give you that.”

But barriers of that nature meant very little when facing me. It didn’t matter how complex or durable the construction was; it was irrelevant.

“We could reach out to the military for support—have them rain 120mm mortar fire on the position to weaken it.”

Paju was dense with military installations. Asking for a few mortar strikes wasn’t an unreasonable request; it wasn’t like we were asking for tactical nukes.

“Conventional mortars would be neutralized instantly.”

According to Lee Hee-seon, behind the energy field stood a massive star fort—low-profile, thick masonry walls arranged in a star configuration.

Floating above each angular bastion were ominous, pitch-black spheres pulsing with a sickening energy.

“Those spheres are designed to intercept any incoming high-velocity projectiles.”

So, military intervention was off the table. I turned my gaze toward Jeong Oh-hoon.

“Well, looks like you’re going to have a very busy day.”

After all, what was the point of having a master marksman on the team if not for this?