Apocalypse’s Teacher

Chapter 73

Do you know what low and safe buildings can be found in post-apocalyptic Seoul?

Something may come to mind right away.

Police stations, fire stations, or district offices, for example—buildings with good security.

Unfortunately, all of those are wrong.

I can guarantee it.

Post-apocalyptic Seoul.

Among the low and safe buildings here, the best one is, in fact, 'a prison.'

After all, it's a building originally designed to confine people.

In other words, a prison is a building that has been meticulously isolated from external access.

Its seclusion goes without saying, and it's also built in a way that makes external surveillance easy.

Therefore, the most likely place where those cult bastards would be is the prison.

Why am I saying this?

Of course, isn't it because there's a prison in Seodaemun?

No, to be precise, I should say it 'used to be' a prison.

It has now become a museum: [Seodaemun Prison].

The place I am heading to right now is there.

'Got it right.'

In the distance, from the location of Seodaemun Prison, dark smoke was rising, piercing through the shadows.

Smoke that was clearly man-made, no matter who looked at it.

It must be the Eternal Pilgrimage Church.

In this Seoul, the only group bold enough to produce such smoke would be them, so the chances of this guess being wrong were practically zero.

'Roughly 30 people.'

The number of people seen in the procession was about fifteen.

Considering the possibility that another procession might have joined later, that estimate seemed correct.

I began to sketch the structure of the prison in my mind, sinking into thought.

'The main entrance and exit are on the same side. The rest is all fences, and there should be a watchtower on the side opposite the gate, so going that way would be a bad move...'

The gate suitable for entry would be the side gate used for vehicle access.

However, even that area was likely to have guards.

The surroundings of Seodaemun Prison are wide open.

For that reason, I had to finish setting up the bombs and infiltrate before sunrise.

'What about the fence?'

There was an area fenced off with a wall that was lower and easier to breach than other locations.

Entering through that place seemed the most plausible option.

I spat on the ground with a 'ptooey' and furrowed my brow.

'Guess I'll have to run like hell.'

Should I consider this fortunate?

Thanks to those bastards occupying the museum, I could clearly discern the internal structure.

What should be considered the practical issue boiled down to just one.

'...I never thought I'd be the one to blow up a cultural heritage site.'

A faint chuckle escaped me.

Hoping that the spirits of the patriots would understand my plight, I began to slip into the darkness, carrying explosives on my back.

*

At last, dawn was breaking.

The cultists who had occupied the prison were nodding off after staying up through the night, working and keeping watch.

It was a grueling schedule that could be called a forced march, but even amidst it, the cultists had no choice but to swallow their complaints.

How could they not?

Wasn't there an order from the upper ranks to occupy the western regions of Gangbuk this winter?

This must be the path of pilgrimage.

Surely, it was a trial placed before them by the Lord on the road to salvation.

Those who had already abandoned rational thought simply repeated such whispers to themselves and carried out the schedule.

One cultist, nodding off in the watchtower near the front gate, squinted at the distance ahead.

Should it be called the horizon?

The rising sun was tinting the buildings of the gray city yellow.

Morning had arrived.

Soon, when the shift change came, he would be able to sleep.

Such thoughts momentarily crossed the cultist's mind and brought a faint smile to his lips, but then calamity struck.

Boom-!

It was an explosion.

Along with an ear-piercing noise that seemed to tear his eardrums apart, a tremor shook his entire body.

Boom-!

His mind blanked out momentarily.

Then, goosebumps belatedly surged all over his skin.

The cultist's complexion turned pale.

His trembling body instinctively reached for the horn at his waist.

An intruder.

And an explosion.

These were the very things the followers of the Eternal Pilgrimage Church feared most.

Even though they had lived for years pretending to forget them, the fear from that time had been so immense that hearing them now only brought instant realization.

Hastily, the horn was brought up to his lips.

Even while stepping backward hesitantly, he filled his lungs to capacity.

Just as the cultist was about to blow into it—

Thud-!

With a heavy impact, the cultist felt a searing pain at the back of his head as if it were cracking open.

"Urgh...!"

The cultist's body crumpled to the ground.

The horn rolled pitifully across the floor.

Thunk-.

Lying face down on the ground, the cultist heard approaching footsteps amidst his blurring vision.

At the same time, he heard a voice as chilling as death itself.

"Idiot, they'd already have woken up from the sound of the bombs. What's the point of blowing the horn?"

The sneer was dripping with sarcasm.

Yet, even amidst that, there was a certain heat simmering somewhere.

The cultist's eyes rolled sluggishly.

In his half-closed, blurry vision, something came into focus.

"Don't resent me too much."

With a sound of ringing, a blade gleaming white disturbed his vision.

At its tip was a face twisted like a vengeful demon, staring him down.

"You're dying because you deserve to die."

The blade rose high into the air.

Its sharp gleam foreshadowed what was to come.

At the sight of it, the cultist unknowingly let out a lament.

"Ah...."

A feeble sound.

That was his final breath.

Squish-.

*

The prison turned into a hellscape in an instant.

Those standing guard, those quietly waking up for the shift change, and those still deep in slumber to relieve their fatigue—all were jolted awake in shock and fear.

The heretic had returned.

The demon clutching gunpowder had come back.

Only that fact, and the existence that still filled them with fear whenever recalled, began to dominate their minds.

Kwoooom-!

Explosions echoed here and there with time delays.

Vibrations felt moment by moment and the fear of what was to come.

Those were eating away at them.

This was what Seokho intended.

What would be the best weapon to use against a group when facing them alone?

Fear, a weapon he already knew to be the most effective at making beasts that had abandoned reason shrink back, was what created this situation.

Kwoooom-!

Cultists, dazed and confused, tried to flee.

Yet, another deafening roar filled the space among them.

If this continued, they would fall apart miserably.

Though they were fanatics who had committed all sorts of atrocities, their essence was still human—mere lives that could be ended with a single blade. This was inevitable.

However, fortunately for the cultists, there was someone here who maintained his composure.

"Siiiiilence-!"

A deep and strong voice.

A shout that pierced through the deafening roars with a profound resonance halted the cultists' movements.

Their gazes turned to the origin of the sound.

Already out of the building.

A middle-aged man standing in the prison's central plaza surveyed those who looked at him with a stern expression.

"What kind of disgrace is this-!"

There was no need for further explanation.

He was their leader, a cultist newly appointed as the branch head from the Eternal Pilgrimage Church's main body.

His name was Byeongchan, a fanatic completely engulfed in madness.

Feeling his insides boiling, Byeongchan shouted at them.

"Back to your positions-! We can stop this-! All of this is a trial given by the Lord-! We must overcome ittt-!"

Could there be a more convincing speech for fanatics than this?

Could any words resonate more with them than the term 'Lord'?

Rational beings would have been different, but these were beasts who had forsaken their humanity under the guise of pilgrimage.

The one delivering this speech and those who were moved by it, all believed this destruction itself was a trial given by the Lord.

Irrationality is directly tied to ignorance.

Ignorance, too, becomes reckless bravado disguised as courage.

Byeongchan watched the cultists, who had regained composure, with a satisfied smile.

He spread his arms toward the sky, tears streaming from his eyes.

"We must stand against Satan-! We shall unite and overcome this trialll-!"

Byeongchan genuinely believed it.

All of this was merely a trial from the Lord.

Like Job recorded in the ancient scriptures, they too were merely standing before a trial.

Byeongchan pulled out a pistol from his coat.

"Now, the Lord does not give trials that cannot be overcome-! Seek Satan-! Find him and make him kneel before us-!"

Lost in his own convictions, he tightly shut his eyes and shouted.

The cultists were profoundly moved by this and continued their prayers.

Then they began to spread out in all directions.

Their morale, once again on the rise.

The true embodiment of pilgrims united to face the trial together.

This speech, filled with such emotions by Byeongchan and the cultists, provided a perfect opportunity for someone.

Roll-.

The sound of something hard rolling across the floor.

Byeongchan, puzzled by the noise, opened his eyes.

He lowered his gaze.

A small, pitch-black metal object had rolled to his feet.

What it was...

He could not possibly be unaware of it.

'A grenade...?'

His thoughts froze momentarily.

And his gaze followed the direction from which the grenade had rolled.

While the other cultists were running in various directions, there was one gaze still fixed on this place.

A young man, his cultist robe pulled over his head but now removing his hood.

Half-hidden behind the building, he stood there with a cold smile.

The young man's lips moved.

Byeongchan could easily understand the meaning of those words.

'Idiot...?'

The moment he grasped their meaning, an explosion erupted beneath Byeongchan's feet.

Kwoooom-!