Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 85: Urban Warfare

Combat doesn't begin with gunfire. The meeting dragged on as discussions about weapon production, intelligence gathering, and mission planning poured forth.

The military unit resembled an infantry battalion. We discussed their likely entry points, anticipated roads, surveillance using people and drones, and maps marking dangerous zombie hordes.

"We have cooperating survivors. We've distributed radios to them so we can receive news quickly."

"We'll monitor with our drones too."

"Then let's keep the intelligence and communications team here at the hospital."

The general hospital had become the command center. The Delivery Vigilantes were assigned to transportation, scavengers handled resource supply, and productive organizations manufactured weapons.

The archers would conduct night raids, police would defend key positions, and mercenaries would handle the labor-intensive tasks.

As the meeting was wrapping up, the topic of mercenaries came up. The police squad leader stroked his shotgun and glanced at me.

"The mercenaries' job is simple. Patrol the streets and set traps at designated locations."

"That's exactly what I was hoping for."

"We'll recruit people and assign them to you. We'll provide radios and such, but we can't spare weapons."

Of course not. I grinned. I had plenty of stockpiled weapons anyway. Above all, I didn't necessarily need to get weapons from them.

"We can always get weapons by killing soldiers, can't we?"

Military-grade weapons are the best, after all. Plus, I was arguing that spoils belong to those who fight for them.

The people fell silent momentarily, then nodded.

"Equipment looted through direct combat belongs to the mercenaries. If they're the ones doing the fighting."

***

Perhaps because a formidable enemy was approaching, everything moved quickly. Just one day had passed, and the alliance had already recruited mercenaries to show me.

People desperate for food, those who saw combat as an opportunity, others hoping to attach themselves to the alliance—all sorts gathered at the general hospital. Even though they'd only recruited people with some connection to alliance groups, their numbers were considerable.

I looked them over carefully.

"The rumors were true. Marauders have come together to kill people."

"Every day is already a war."

"If we can just survive..."

Some muttered apocalyptic theories I'd spread earlier, while others assessed the reality and made their decisions like gamblers.

'Their condition isn't great.'

Perhaps it was because I'd just seen the top-tier survivors in the alliance. I wasn't impressed. They looked physically weak from hunger, and their mental state seemed precarious.

But their desperation made them useful.

I briefly recalled my companion, Sa Gi-hyeok. I'd learned some techniques from him. Stimulate people's greed, he'd said. Once their initial suspicion is dispelled, once they're given a reason to trust, people will deceive themselves.

I also remembered the skills of Professor Kim, the master psychological manipulator.

'Since I can't win them over instantly, I'll have to work on them gradually.'

After surveying my companions nearby, I stepped forward and raised my voice.

"I'm Da-in, appointed by the alliance leadership to manage mercenaries. From now on, I'll be commanding you."

The huddled mercenaries looked at me. I couldn't quite read the emotions in their eyes. Suspicion? Wariness? Hope? Jealousy?

But it didn't matter. I could gradually guide their emotions.

I drew my gun, holding it casually as I spoke.

"You've all joined because you dream of a better future. I'll be direct: spoils will be distributed fairly. As long as you survive, I'll ensure you won't have to worry about food."

"Fairly?"

A mercenary questioned with a voice full of distrust. I nodded.

"Military equipment, food, whatever. Why become mercenaries if we can't even get spoils?"

The mercenaries' eyes glistened—like hungry beasts. Some still looked doubtful, suspecting I might pocket everything myself despite my promises.

That was something I'd have to prove gradually through actions.

At that point, I gestured toward Do-hyung.

"And here are your weapons. Since the alliance isn't providing any, I've purchased these myself. Please take one each."

Electric spears bought from the electricity nomads, slingshots acquired from Hope Community.

The atmosphere immediately soured. Mercenaries began complaining one after another.

"How are we supposed to fight soldiers with these?"

"Spears? We'll be turned into honeycombs before we can even stab anyone."

That wasn't quite right. The alliance actually intended to use mercenaries as trap-setters. Not for direct combat, but for other purposes.

They probably judged that providing mercenaries with enough firepower to fight and loot military equipment would make them a future threat. In truth, just having mercenaries diligently roam the city setting traps would be enough.

But that wasn't my objective. I intended to gradually transform these mercenaries into raiders.

"Anyway, for now you'll just be setting traps, not fighting directly. Ah, right."

I pretended to flip through a notebook from my pocket—the one belonging to the paranoid man. Then I rolled my eyes, randomly selecting one of the mercenaries.

I beckoned him over, and he approached hesitantly.

"Why me?"

"Nothing special."

I put the notebook back in my pocket and aimed my gun at the mercenary's head. As his eyes widened, I pulled the trigger.

Bang, the gunshot rang out, and the body with a hole in its forehead collapsed backward. I calmly waved my gun.

"Just weeding out the infiltrator. The alliance informed me he was a military spy."

Actually, that was a lie. The alliance had merely warned us to be careful without providing specific information.

This was purely to instill fear. Since I couldn't win them over with just words, I'd first overwhelm them with fear, then gradually persuade them through actions.

The mercenaries closed their mouths and stared at the corpse. They swallowed their complaints and began collecting the weapons I'd provided.

Then, the police radio crackled to life.

"Da-in. Da-in."

The voice, distorted with static, almost sounded like "Die." It delivered news:

The military had begun to move.

***

The military started looting from the outskirts of the city. Without any specific route or destination, they were killing and looting any survivors they encountered wherever they found signs of human presence.

Their image had completely changed from before. The military that once approached peacefully, engaged in dialogue, and provided markets had completely transformed into raiders.

Our mercenaries moved quickly, carrying various explosives on our backs.

"These aren't going to explode on us, are they?"

My companions had decided to join me as mercenaries for now. Sa Gi-hyeok nervously eyed the bag on his back, and I shook my head.

"They need to be armed separately to explode."

Some became time bombs when a digital watch alarm was set, others detonated when a lid was opened or a wire was disturbed—things like that.

I'd learned it all in a day. Surprisingly, the operation and installation methods weren't that difficult.

"But how do we set these up? We need to place them somewhere soldiers are likely to touch, make them look convincing."

"That's for us to figure out."

How to disguise them, how to set the timers—all that was entirely up to me.

Looking at it positively, it was freedom; from another perspective, it was responsibility. If I wasted bombs without killing soldiers, the blame would fall on me.

I chose to focus on the freedom aspect.

'Somehow I need to kill soldiers. Get firearms first to arm the mercenaries.'

Kill soldiers and secure firearms—that was the priority. Only then could the mercenaries become a force to be reckoned with.

Do-hyung, holding the radio and map, tilted his head in confusion. After the typhoon, both cellular and internet communications had failed. The police radios were our only means of communication.

"We can't pin down the military's route. They seem to be just searching wherever they see people."

"There must be places they avoid."

"They do seem to avoid areas with zombie concentrations."

I grabbed the map to examine it. Do-hyung had penciled in the military's route—a jagged, irregular path. Information transmitted via radio.

One platoon was moving aggressively, looting as they went, while a weapons company armed with machine guns guarded the retreat path and base camp. Several other platoons busily transported resources back and forth.

I stared intently at the looting platoon's route. Being a raider myself, their thinking was clear to me.

'They avoid zombies since there's nothing to gain from fighting them. They hunt humans to acquire resources, so they prioritize places where people might be.'

The looting platoon's seemingly random movements eventually revealed a pattern. They prioritized apartment complexes and residential areas.

They avoided commercial districts and large buildings where zombies tended to congregate.

'In that case...'

I pointed to a spot on the map. An exceptionally expensive apartment complex in this city. Large and tall. Just looting the kimchi refrigerators in that complex would yield substantial resources.

"Let's go here."

The military would eventually head there. We'd get there first and set up. And maybe raid some nearby survivors while we were at it.

The mercenaries sighed when they heard the location.

"That's so far. It'll take ages to walk there."

The distance was considerable. It was already hot being summer, and walking with heavy equipment would be challenging.

But we had no choice. This was essentially a war for control of the city. Marching was inevitable.