Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 109: Poverty

In an instant, the betrayer changed his stance. I stared at him with bewildered eyes.

'What the hell.'

Honestly, this group of survivors wasn't an easy bunch to deal with. Their determination to die together, their sense of distance—knowing they could kill an opponent even after being shot, their quick wit in using the stove and boiling porridge as weapons.

Every one of them was an experienced survivor, and yet...

'No. This betrayer is just looking for a way to survive. He knows we don't harm informants. Quick thinking on his part.'

This worked out well. I could use this. As I slowly lowered my pistol, the betrayer rushed over and frantically rambled on.

"Those guys, they're complete bastards! Ah, I don't need any incentive. Just kill them for me."

"Hey! Are you insane? What the hell are you doing?!"

A quarrel broke out among the survivors. They glared at each other with deeply furrowed brows, waved their blades threateningly, and raised their voices.

I watched the argument between the betrayer and the survivors with fascination.

"Those who can survive should survive."

"Have you lost your mind? If you give up our food, you'll die too!"

"Yeah, by our hands! I'll kill you somehow, no matter what!"

"No. You're the ones who'll die. Can't you see their guns?"

Internal division was common in the apocalypse, but I'd never observed it from a third-party perspective before. Usually because I was the one playing the betrayer.

As harsh curses flew back and forth, I raised both hands. The argument stopped. I grinned as both the betrayer and the survivors looked at me.

"Internal strife? Interesting. Sort out your own issues first."

I shoved the betrayer hard. He stumbled backward, falling awkwardly. As he looked up at me with trembling eyes, a survivor's knife pressed against his throat.

'Well done. Fight among yourselves.'

I'd wait for an opening while they fought each other. Then I'd strike when their attention was divided and kill them safely.

But the situation unfolded differently than I expected. The capabilities of survivors who had made it through the apocalypse couldn't be taken lightly.

The survivor holding the knife muttered coldly:

"Friend. I'll forgive your betrayal."

The knife pressed upward, digging into his neck. The betrayer hurriedly tried to get up. Panicked words tumbled from his mouth.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I must have gone crazy for a moment. Put the knife down. I'll help you kill those damn raiders."

"Sure, help us out. You can take a bullet for us, right? We're friends, after all."

Just as the betrayer's pupils dilated in fear, the blade sliced across his throat. It must have cut an artery precisely—blood gushed like a fountain.

Simultaneously, another survivor moved. With a loud crash, he kicked over the wood stove, and burning logs burst out, illuminating the darkness like fireworks.

"I'll use this traitor's body as a shield against bullets! Run!"

"Get out now!"

One survivor charged at me using the corpse as a shield while others bolted for the windows.

I tucked my pistol away with a grin.

'Just one? While the others are escaping?'

Missing the chance for a surprise attack was disappointing, but this wasn't bad either. With my eyes fixed on the knife, I tensed the muscles in my arms until veins popped, leaned forward, and planted my feet firmly.

"Don't shoot! Save the bullets!"

The distance between me and the survivor wielding the corpse shield and blue-gleaming knife closed instantly. I kept my focus solely on the knife. I just needed to block it. My companions could handle the killing.

"Die!"

His knife stabbed directly toward my neck. I'd expected that. My head, torso, and arms were covered with protective gear, leaving only my face and neck as vulnerable points.

I jumped up to catch the knife with my torso. The police bulletproof and knife-proof vest compressed with a thud. I reached out, grabbed his hand, and held him in a tight embrace.

His knife hand was trapped. We tumbled across the floor where embers flickered.

"Kill this bastard quickly!"

"You, you!"

The survivor kicked away the corpse, thrashed his entire body, and desperately swung his knife-wielding hand, but I didn't let go. The eerie sound of the blade scraping against my vest reached my ears.

My heart pounded. Adrenaline surged through my brain. That thrilling sensation of walking a tightrope between life and death.

"How dare you attack our captain!"

"Son of a—"

One of my companions swiftly slashed his knife repeatedly, killing the survivor. Blood spilled onto my clothes. I quickly got up and tapped the hammer against his head several times to confirm the kill.

Perhaps because I'd taken such a dangerous risk, a strange smile crept across my face. The room, with embers shining like stars, looked beautiful.

The embers threatening to evolve into a full-blown fire, companions stamping them out, others searching the house, some throwing furniture out the windows.

"What happened to the others?"

A companion by the window answered vaguely.

"I think we missed a few. Can't see clearly, so I'm not sure how many."

"One. One guy escaped. The rest are lying in the street."

Park Yang-gun responded as he pulled his head back in. I quickly assessed the situation.

Like experienced survivors, they had prepared escape routes through the windows in advance. But we were experienced raiders too—we caught all but one.

"Four of you go out and confirm the kills. Don't chase the one who escaped. The rest of us need to put out this fire first."

I quickly stamped out the growing flames. There would be no solution if the fire spread. It had to be extinguished early.

***

A few days later, Chuseok arrived. To create a festive atmosphere, we all opened the storage and generously prepared food.

We went to the survival zone to get meat and eggs, used flour and frying batter with some shelf life left to make sujebi and kimchi pancakes, and even opened tuna and spam cans we'd been saving.

Using stoves and braziers on the rooftop, the entire street filled with the aroma of food.

I stood quietly in a corner of the roof, watching my companions.

"Ah, if only we had onions, green onions, and garlic."

"This is practically a feast already."

"What kind of salt is this? Why is the salt pink? Is it food coloring? Isn't that bad for your health?"

"Haha. You really don't know, do you? But it's understandable."

"This guy is a bit..."

Even companions I thought were only good at killing participated in cooking, and their families gathered cozily, sweating as they diligently fried pancakes.

This was the height of wealth. Outside of the alliance, no one could even dream of such abundance.

'This is why we can't stop raiding.'

Scattered survivors everywhere were already suffering from famine. Only the alliance, which built its foundation through raiding, and us, professional raiders, had any kind of comfort.

This was all the result of our hard work. The wealth gained from resources obtained by killing people.

I quietly turned and placed my hands on the railing.

'Still, autumn and winter will be harsh.'

The streets were empty. We'd used up all burnable wood and furniture. Even the distant mountains showed signs of baldness. Like a receding hairline forming an M-shape, bare soil was visible from the foothills and along the hiking trails.

People would probably become more desperate. The threats from survivors we confronted were already increasing. They might even risk their lives trying to steal our resources.

"Bullets. We need more bullets..."

To enjoy a pleasant raiding lifestyle in this world, we needed more ammunition.

How could we get more bullets?

'Should I contact the military? Offer to keep the alliance in check? Or the police? In exchange for doing dangerous or dirty work? Raid the police?'

Just then, a companion on lookout shouted loudly.

"People coming! Raid! We're being raided!"

The warm atmosphere on the rooftop changed in an instant. Companions grabbed their rifles. I frowned and stuck my head over the railing.

There was a familiar face.

The survivor who had escaped from the group where the betrayer had appeared. With eyes burning with what looked like vengeance, he shouted in a rough voice:

"I smelled something delicious and came looking. Seems like you have plenty, huh?"

***

They had prepared quite thoroughly to attack us.

They brought carts loaded with corpses or bricks as mobile barricades and bulletproof shields, along with firewood and gas torches, apparently intending to start fires.

They even used cover strategically.

Their intentions were crystal clear. Intimidation. Wearing us down.

They would threaten to set fires and stall for time to make us waste ammunition.

'That survivor seems bent on revenge. Are the others after our food? Where are they from? How did they gather?'

I looked for Jeon Do-hyung and Sa Gi-hyeok.

"Who are these people?"

"I've seen them around the solar street light area before. They seem to be survivors living in this general area. They're not a single organization."

"They appear to have gathered spontaneously to steal our food."

Their answers came quickly.

I adjusted my mask. These were like a pack of wild dogs. Their only goal was our food. Selfish individuals without any sense of solidarity, who wouldn't care if others died as long as they survived.

The type of people who would actually be happy if others died because it meant more for themselves.

A companion on lookout gripped the light machine gun tightly on the opposite rooftop. Since we'd taken down two squads, we had two machine guns. One was mounted on the combat cart, the other positioned on the roof for defense.

"Should I shoot?"

"No."

Bullets were more precious than food. I'd rather give up food than waste bullets.

With a grin, I gestured to Sa Gi-hyeok.

"Mr. Sa Gi-hyeok. Let's go handle this business."

People without allegiance, with poor armaments, whose only goal was food. With people like these, there was no need to use guns at all.