The soldier''s condition was better than I had expected.

    His body was covered in dirt, seeds, and vines from wherever he had crawled, but he had no major injuries or illnesses. Nor did he show any signs of the typical afflictions of alcoholism.

    I waited for him to recover before beginning the interrogation.

    Since I didn’t want my location to be exposed, I conducted the questioning by the stream where I had captured him.

    "State your rank and name."

    I had no formal training in interrogation.

    We’re survivalists dealing with monsters, not soldiers. If the day comes when monsters are subjected to interrogations, maybe I’ll be more prepared.

    Still, I’d seen Chinese soldiers and mercenaries interrogate civilians during my time observing them. Drawing on those memories, I tried my best.

    His name was impossible for me to pronounce, thick with tones unfamiliar to me. So, I decided to call him Ma.

    Ma’s rank was "Xiaojiao"—equivalent to a major in Korea. He looked no older than his late twenties, but ranks in a fallen country hold as much value as the currency of a collapsing economy.

    He confirmed my suspicions: he belonged to a Chinese landing force stationed near Dangjin.

    He mentioned the complex chain of command within the "Liberation Army" of some obscure province, but I let it go in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t important.@@@@

    What I cared about was what he had told me earlier—Seoul and a nuclear explosion.

    "Seoul is gone," I said. "Some people may have survived, but there’s no one living there now."

    Ma corrected himself.

    "Not Seoul. Near it. A big port city where many people live."

    "Incheon?"

    He nodded emphatically.

    "They’re planning to destroy it. Kill everyone there."

    "And how exactly can we stop that?"

    If a nuclear missile were launched now, what could we possibly do?

    During the war, the U.S.-provided missile defense systems had worked well. But China had countered with an overwhelming number of ballistic missiles, some of which had hit Seoul and devastated the surrounding areas.

    It’s been three years since the war began. Even if some defense systems remain, are they operational? Especially given the civil war with the Legion faction?

    "We only have one left," Ma said. "If it’s intercepted, it’s over for us. That’s why we’ve planned this operation carefully."

    Ma’s Korean, initially clumsy, became increasingly fluent as he spoke. By the end, he sounded almost indistinguishable from a native speaker.

    "There isn’t much time. The contact in Incheon is already preparing to receive the nuclear warhead."

    "A contact in Incheon?"

    A collaborator. A traitor.

    This was the moment when Ma’s story began to gain credibility.

    "The contact holds a position that allows them to transport large cargo into Incheon without suspicion. They’ll receive the warhead, separated from the missile on a submarine, and detonate it in the city center."

    I looked him straight in the eye and asked evenly: "Why is a soldier from the Chinese military telling me this? You must have a motive."

    Spreading false information is a common tactic. Even on PaleNet, government operatives often try to twist narratives, like turning Dongtanmom’s demise into a conspiracy.

    "What’s your reason?"

    Noticing the coldness in my gaze, Ma lowered his eyes and sighed.

    "It may not mean much, coming from a soldier of the nation that started this war, but I hate seeing people die. It’s all over—this war, my country. Everything is finished. Why should we wipe out the people of this land too?"

    Anyone can say something like that.

    I could easily spout the same sentiment to a Chinese person.

    Time to change the subject.

    "Are you by any chance Korean-Chinese?"

    His fluent Korean made it seem almost certain.

    He shook his head. "I’m Han Chinese."

    "You speak Korean well."

    "I went to school here."

    "Which school?"

    "One of those ‘third-rate universities’ Koreans often mock. It was in Gyeongsangbuk-do. But I liked it. In spring, the cherry blossoms were beautiful, and people were kind. I made a lot of friends."

    "How long were you there?"

    "Five, maybe six years. I remember arguing with my father about coming home after six years."

    If what he said was true, he had studied diligently.

    I’d spent a similar amount of time in China, yet I couldn’t string together a proper sentence in Chinese.

    "There’s no time! The advance team is about to meet the contact."

    "What do you expect me to do?"

    "Connect me to someone in the Korean military—someone with decision-making authority."

    I could make introductions.

    But would they believe him?

    Even I found his story hard to swallow.

    He had no proof. His overly fluent Korean and convincing backstory might persuade some, but to me, it felt rehearsed—like a textbook case of espionage.

    "By the way, where did you come from?"

    Ma pointed southwest.

    "Did you encounter anything on your way here?"

    If he had come from the Chinese forces in that direction, he couldn’t have missed Gold, the ruler of those lands.

    "No."

    "I see."

    I nodded and began to turn away when Ma blurted out:

    "I avoided the dogs’ territory."

    "A detour?"

    I turned back to face him.

    "Yes, I took a detour. That’s why my body is in such bad shape. I went through places no one would call a path, and it exhausted me."

    He looked at me with a despondent expression, his voice tinged with sorrow.

    "The friends who deserted with me were foolish. They went straight into the dogs’ territory. The noise was deafening. I doubt anyone survived."

    "Are you transporting the warhead over land?"

    Ma nodded.

    "It has to be. The submarine can’t get close. Every time it tries, depth charges rain down on it as if they knew exactly where it was."

    "But what about the mutations on land?"

    Transporting a nuclear warhead would require at least a 2.5-ton truck. Getting to Incheon from their base would mean crossing Gold’s territory.

    The mutated dogs were likely to attack anyone entering their domain.

    It may have been sidelined by motorcycles, but in situations like this, a bike could be more useful.

    Luckily, the sky was filled with countless stars, and a bright moon nearing full illuminated the dark earth.

    Using the stars as a guide, I headed north for about 30 minutes before I found Ma.

    He was groaning, his body battered and bruised.

    His face was swollen beyond recognition. I helped him up to check if he was conscious.

    “You... you’re...”

    Thankfully, he recognized me.

    I didn’t ask who had done this to him.

    He should consider himself lucky to have been left alive.

    “Do you know the contact’s name?”

    “The contact? I know the location, but... oh, wait...”

    Ma opened his badly swollen eyes as wide as he could.

    “Heo. The contact’s name was Heo.”

    “Heo?”

    Defender’s earlier curses flashed in my mind, along with someone I’d met before—someone connected to Defender.

    “Heo Jong-chul?”

    Ma nodded.

    “Yes, that’s him!”

    Heo Jong-chul.

    A former hunter and minor Awakened.

    He hated this country and its people.

    It was easy to imagine him conspiring with the Chinese to annihilate the citizens of Incheon with a nuclear bomb.

    This man had allied himself with the Chinese—those in possession of a nuke.

    Defender’s communicator buzzed faintly.

    “Confirmed three mutated dog corpses.”

    For a brief moment, my pupils trembled.

    But the unease didn’t last long.

    “Among the corpses, was Gold one of them?”

    “Can’t tell. It’s night, and I observed from high altitude.”

    That sealed it.

    Ma’s story was true.

    The Chinese had joined forces with Koreans, cleared a path through Gold’s territory with the help of a hunter, and were transporting a nuclear bomb to Incheon.

    I took a moment to think.

    I’m no savior.

    I have no right to step onto a battlefield.

    I’m just an old-school hunter who chose a life of isolation.

    But I’m not so irresponsible as to ignore an impending catastrophe right in front of me.

    Not one or two lives.

    Not even a thousand or ten thousand.

    Three million people.

    Maybe fewer, maybe more.

    Their lives were now in my hands.

    “Can you help?”

    A heavy sigh came through the communicator.

    “...If I go, I might end up siding with him.”

    His words didn’t shock or disappoint me.

    Instead, I asked a question.

    “Were you on the same team?”

    “Yes.”

    I nodded.

    If they’d been teammates, I could understand his hesitation.

    Even if you dislike a teammate, instinct often overrides thought when they’re under attack.

    That’s the way of us old-school hunters.

    “Got it. Then I’ll go alone...”

    Just as I resolved myself to act alone, Defender’s sister Da-jeong’s voice burst through the communicator.

    “What are you doing?”

    Her cheerful tone was entirely out of place for the situation.

    While I fumbled for words, she scolded me:

    “Why aren’t you using the summoning ticket?”

    “The what?”

    “The ticket my dumb brother gave you—the one who’s never had a proper romance in his life.”

    Ah, right.

    Defender had once given me a crudely drawn “Defender Summoning Ticket.”

    I’d completely forgotten about it.

    The memory brought a faint smile to my lips as I spoke into the communicator:

    “Summoning ticket. Call.”

    A resigned chuckle came through the line.

    Moments later, Defender appeared before me, hauling a truck.

    “Defender, reporting for duty.”

    I stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. Then I blurted:

    “...Are you a kid?”

    “Better than trying to beatbox, don’t you think?”

    He held out his fist.

    Reluctantly, I bumped it with mine.

    The reluctance shattered, replaced by determination.

    “Let’s go.”