Marauder of the Apocalypse
Chapter 122: Moving

I smiled brightly as I aimed my pistol at the back of a moth's head.

"You see those people ahead? Charge."

"At least untie the rope around our necks. So we can run properly."

The moth made his request while staring straight ahead. Having realized what was happening, he seemed to be racking his brain for a way to survive.

I tapped the back of his head with my gun barrel.

"Ask those people living there to untie you. Or should I really untie you? I could set you on fire and make you charge—that would loosen the knots naturally."

I wouldn't actually do that. It would be dangerous if this moth turned around and attacked us instead. If the fire spread to our magazines or cart ammunition, it would be a terrible accident.

But what mattered was what they thought.

"Damn it."

The moth gritted his teeth and took a step forward, as if believing I might actually do such a thing. The moth tied to him by the neck had no choice but to follow.

My companions' rifles were all aimed at the moths' backs. I grinned and said:

"When I say 'three,' start moving. If you try to run away, we'll shoot you dead. Keep that in mind."

The moth who had asked for his neck rope to be untied suddenly cut in:

"Let's walk calmly, in step, and ask those people for help. That's our only chance of survival right now."

The moths who had lived in the same area and competed with each other were now united. They all wore similar expressions—faces of people desperately trying to figure out how to survive.

I didn't try to stop them.

'There are no third parties here.'

Only enemies and allies. The townhouse residents and us, the outsiders. No matter how clever these moths tried to be, to the townhouse survivors, they were still unfamiliar outsiders, and in today's world, outsiders meant enemies.

Like a starting gun at a track meet, I aimed my pistol at the house that served as a watchtower and pulled the trigger.

"Three! Go!"

I shouted the signal without bothering to count down. The moths hesitated, then began walking slowly.

"Left foot, left foot, walk in step! Don't fall! If you fall, you won't be the only one to die!"

One moth called out the left foot rhythm like a military drill.

I shifted my gaze to the townhouse watchtower. While we were drawing attention, the townhouse survivors had prepared themselves.

People had gathered on the watchtower roof holding something, and beyond the barricade of cars and wooden fences, others waited with what looked like spears.

Someone who appeared to be the townhouse leader shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Stop or we'll kill you! Stop! I said stop!"

"If you stop, you'll get a bullet in the back of your head! Keep walking!"

I shouted back just as loudly and fired another shot from my pistol. Perhaps due to the distance, the bullet merely scraped the ground.

The moths picked up their pace, and all kinds of voices erupted:

"Help us! These guys are crazy!"

"Those lunatics are after your territory! We can give you information! Don't kill us!"

"Look at what they've done to us! They torture people and use them as slaves!"

The moths were clearly trying to surrender, but it was pointless.

I gestured to my companions.

"Don't waste bullets. Fire carefully, one shot at a time. Mr. Park Yang-gun, please identify their weapons."

"Easy enough."

Bang, bang, sporadic gunshots rang out. One person standing on the watchtower roof collapsed and fell. That marked the beginning of the real battle.

"Defend!"

The townhouse people immediately ducked down. At the same time, they extended poles, swinging them in an arc from back to front, launching something.

Heavy objects cut through the air randomly, then rolled down the slope. Like marbles scattered on stairs.

"Bricks? Stones?"

"Not a slingshot. What do you call those things..."

Quickly racking my brain, I barely managed to guess the nature of the weapon. Slings. Staff slings.

A weapon you could make with just a piece of leather attached to a string. You place a stone in the leather, swing it around, and launch the stone. They had attached sticks to make staff slings. Weapons that could throw stones like catapults.

"The power of those things..."

I seemed to recall it was considerable. As a mass weapon, the accelerated stones could cause fractures or serious bruising. A hit to the head would obviously be fatal.

The moths were already dying.

"Aah!"

"No! Don't fall, gack!"

Moths hit by stones fell down, and the moths connected to them by ropes had their necks tightened. It seemed like more were dying from the nooses than the stones, but that was just an impression. After all, the stones were the root cause.

The moths who barely made it to the barricade raised their bound hands and shouted:

"We surrender! We surrender! We're victims too! Let's join forces against those bastards!"

"Get lost!"

With a curse, a refrigerator fell from a second-floor window of the watchtower. Thanks to the meticulously designed barricade position, it landed right in front of the barricade, crushing a moth.

'They're certainly well-prepared.'

I rolled my eyes intently, assessing the situation. Uphill terrain. The position favored them. They had ranged weapons that were quite deadly. They also had defensive measures to utilize their positional advantage.

As I was thinking, Park Yang-gun belatedly exclaimed:

"Ah! David! The weapon David used against Goliath!"

"We can't let our guard down."

I couldn't lose like Goliath. We should learn from what's good. I looked for Jeon Do-hyung.

"Do-hyung. Can you make one of those?"

"Give me a moment."

After observing the townhouse through a telescope, Jeon Do-hyung tilted his head ambiguously.

"It looks easy to make. I could probably manage with some tree branches, string, and cloth cut from clothes. But since I've never made one before, I'm not sure if it'll work properly."

"That's fine. As long as it can throw something far enough to reach them."

It would make excellent cover fire if we attached Molotov cocktails to it.

By this time, all the moths had fallen. Bodies lay scattered on the uphill path, some with head injuries or broken bones, others crushed by thrown furniture near the barricade.

Surprisingly, there wasn't much blood visible. Fitting for a season of famine, I liked that even blood was scarce.

"So for now..."

The townhouse survivors turned their attention to us. They seemed to have extended hand mirrors or something similar, as flashes of sunlight sparkled like stars.

Then bricks started flying. Launched from the high ground through staff slings, they landed threateningly close to us.

Unlike gunshots, the noise was heavy and dull.

I quickly backed away.

"Let's retreat."

***

This was practically a siege battle. That meant we needed patience and persistent attacks. We had to keep them pinned down so they couldn't come out, raid them to wear down their mental strength, and wage an information war.

We waited leisurely at the bottom of the slope, within sight of the townhouse watchtower.

"Mr. Park Yang-gun. What did you observe?"

"I confirmed their weapons. The people are mostly middle-aged. The water system is definitely working."

Park Yang-gun pointed to his face. Without proper washing facilities, he looked grimier compared to before.

"They all looked clean."

"That's good news. How about their food situation?"

"Doesn't seem abundant. No one looked fat. Rather thin, actually."

I'd heard from the real estate guy that the townhouse people grew small crops in their yards. Apparently not enough for self-sufficiency.

If that was the case, simply preventing them from leaving might be enough to starve them out.

I suddenly scratched my head.

"I don't like dragging this out."

"If we don't take our time, we'll end up with a lot of injuries and deaths."

The terrain made a frontal assault unfavorable. From what I could see, the main gate barricade was positioned perfectly for dropping furniture out windows, and the townhouse interior was probably designed similarly.

Even with guns, you'd die if a refrigerator fell on you from above.

As we were discussing, the companions I'd sent to scout returned.

"We checked the surroundings. Every entrance except the front is blocked. Cars, construction soundproof walls, fences—they've sealed everything meticulously."

"No back door? Any place we could attack as a diversion?"

"As for a back door..."

My companion, whose combat boots were covered in dirt, shook his head.

"The upper area seems to have been swept away by landslides, and that side is just a steep path. They've even set traps with banner strings."

This townhouse was apparently a natural fortress.

A prolonged battle was our best option, though it didn't suit my taste.

Just then, Jeon Do-hyung approached, holding something that dangled. It was a long wooden stick with a string hanging from it, and at the end of the string was a piece of black leather. A staff sling.

Jeon Do-hyung swung the string in circles as he spoke:

"I made something that looks roughly similar. But I have no idea how to use it."

"Well done. We can learn how to use it by watching them."

With skilled instructors right in front of us, there was no need to worry. They'd demonstrate the usage method for free if we just approached.

"Everyone, let's attack lightly once more. Bullets are precious, so aim carefully."

"Yes!"

My resting companions got to their feet. Since this was just a light raid, I took only our best shooters up the slope again.

The townhouse people who were watching us reacted immediately. Instead of physical attacks, they tried psychological warfare.

"Betray them and join us! We have electricity and water! If you switch sides, you can enjoy the same benefits as us! No, if you bring ammunition, we'll treat you even better!"

Trying to divide us? Urging surrender? I couldn't help but laugh. Did they think this would work? My laughter spread like a cold, flowing from my companions' throats as well.

"Hahaha. What's he saying? If we kill them and take everything, it's all ours anyway."

"Or should we pretend to join them? We could pretend to surrender, get inside, and shoot them easily."

I chuckled and waved my hand.

"Just ignore them. If you pretend to surrender and go in, you might end up dead."

Perhaps because we were openly laughing, the townhouse survivor seemed confused, pausing before shouting again with a louder voice.

"Didn't you feel anything watching them use living survivors as meat shields? You could be disposed of the same way! We're living like proper humans here!"

One of my companions cursed.

"What's he talking about? Our captain takes such good care of us."

Such simple rhetoric couldn't shake the fences I'd planted in their minds. How many fences had I planted during our considerable time together?

Fair distribution, a life without hunger, power to threaten others instead of being threatened, the performance of caring for families.

Conversely, a merciless attitude toward enemies and a record of never being defeated.

I had planted both benefits and consequences deep in their minds.

I reached out my hand.

"Do-hyung. The staff sling."

"Oh, is that what it's called?"

I gripped the long stick and swung it in the air, getting a feel for it. There was plenty of ammunition for testing. The bricks they had thrown were scattered all over the road.

I placed a stone in the leather pouch, swung it around in circles before throwing, and also tried swinging it from back to front like a catapult, mimicking the movements they had shown us.

"Give me a Molotov cocktail," I said briefly.

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