Chapter 112
Even now, Han Seong-geun and the allied forces under his command were effectively defending Ulsan Airport, and with the return of Ulsan Airport’s strongest awakened being, Jina Ahn, there were no issues with the defense itself.
Although Son Sang-hui, deputy to Jung Dong-gun, was not as strong as Jina Ahn, she was still a formidable force. Additionally, the allied forces were now being supplied with proper weaponry.
Even in the days when there were no proper weapons, a large-scale attack of ordinary zombies could be dealt with effectively if aimed properly, reducing them to nothing more than walking targets.
However, the presence of mutant zombies—or rather, the Named Undead—hiding among the ordinary undead posed a clear threat to the allied forces and even resulted in casualties.
“Let’s go!”
“Named detected at six o’clock!”
“I’ll be there shortly!”
Even if the Named Undead concealed themselves among the ordinary undead, Son Sang-hui, who had detection abilities, could sense the malicious energy they emitted and pinpoint their locations swiftly.
Thus, like an operation designed to deploy Jina Ahn, Son Sang-hui roamed the battlefield, detecting Named Undead in real time and relaying the information to Jina Ahn.
Using this data, Jina Ahn systematically dealt with the Named Undead stationed across the battlefield.
Although being labeled a “Named” indicated they were as formidable as the previously mentioned mutant zombies and challenging even for awakened beings to defeat, Jina Ahn had an edge.
“This gear works wonders!”
The Balhut Cult actively supported awakened beings.
This wasn’t just talk; the cult genuinely ensured their well-being, providing everything from living arrangements to powerful equipment.
Naturally, they heavily invested in Jina Ahn, who was both a hero and an exceptionally powerful awakened being.
She now roamed the battlefield equipped with advanced gear sponsored by the cult.
“This is what they call equipment advantage!”
“Yes, good gear increases an awakened being’s survival rate.”
“Now I understand why Han Seong-geun decided to collaborate. Well, I already knew, but now I’m convinced—this is incredible!”
The days when she wore crudely carved spears and motorcycle helmets for head protection at Ulsan Airport were long gone.
Now, Jina Ahn wielded a spear engraved with the cult’s signature Enchantment Magic and wore a battle suit crafted from the silk of mutant spider zombies, a recent breakthrough in silk processing.
As a backup weapon, she carried a pistol holstered on her thigh, loaded with Bahamut Rounds, and even had a versatile greatsword for unforeseen situations.
She was essentially a walking arsenal equipped for any battlefield scenario.
“Next one detected at eight o’clock. Can you deploy immediately?”
“Of course. Leave it to me, Sister Sang-hui!”
With support from an operator like Son Sang-hui, who coordinated unit movements and provided battlefield directions, Jina Ahn could dominate the battlefield single-handedly.
No matter how well the undead blended into their ranks, Son Sang-hui could detect the Named Undead hidden among them and guide Jina Ahn on the fastest path to confront them.
Once Jina Ahn hunted down the Named Undead, the horde they commanded would collapse into disarray, becoming a group of disorganized stragglers.
These disorganized undead, reduced to little more than walking targets, could be easily dealt with by the allied forces.
“It’s a bit disappointing, though. Isn’t this the perfect opportunity for an awakening event? Missing out on such a great chance.”
Under normal circumstances, camps that needed awakened beings would create safe hunting environments, allowing zombies to be subdued by ordinary people, thereby triggering awakenings.
Unfortunately, despite this large-scale event being an ideal chance to produce many awakened beings, most civilians who could potentially awaken had already evacuated to Gyeongju.
There were still some unawakened individuals within Ulsan Airport, but—
“The problem is that the battlefield is constantly changing. Unlike usual, even after a Named Undead is defeated, their troops quickly regain control.”
The disorganized undead horde would swiftly reorganize and transform back into a threatening force, no longer mere walking targets.
Even after defeating a Named Undead and scattering their forces, it wouldn’t be long before they regrouped under another Named Undead’s command.
It seemed the Immortal Cult was signaling that the Named Undead deployed to the battlefield were mere subordinates who could be easily replaced.
This implied that Jina Ahn’s assassinations of the Named Undead were ultimately meaningless.
“That means the one controlling them is elsewhere, right?”
“Yes. It’s similar to what we saw during the refugee evacuation in Gyeongju, caused by necromancers.”
“Ugh, whenever we try to do good, they always interfere.”
Son Sang-hui explained that the phenomenon was reminiscent of the necromancers who attacked refugees during the Gyeongju evacuation.
It was an incredibly bothersome tactic, effectively negating the usual methods used to deal with such situations.
With the undead forces continuing to pour in—
“Fire! Don’t hold back, fire everything!”
The allied forces relied on barricades they had set up and unleashed their full firepower, utilizing all available weapons to push the undead back beyond the northern Ulsan Bridge.
Every undead approaching Ulsan Airport was met with the terrifying power of heavy machine guns imported from the U.S. and modern weaponry.
They even brought out self-propelled artillery and shells from a marine base to bombard the undead forces, employing every available firepower.
There was no need to push beyond the bridge; the only goal was to protect Ulsan Airport until Jung Dong-gun returned with the survivors from the neutral camps.
Under normal circumstances, they would avoid collapsing nearby buildings, but now they were deliberately destroying structures to waste the undead’s movements.
“We’ve successfully rescued all the camps in this area. Let’s reduce the frontlines we’re holding.”
After roughly a week of continuous battles between the allied forces and the Immortal Cult, the fight concluded with Jung Dong-gun’s successful rescue of the last survivor camp that supported Ulsan Airport.
Confident that there were no more survivor camps to rescue, the allied forces retreated from positions as far as Hakseonggyo and Myeongchon Bridge back to Sangbang Intersection.
This allowed them to consolidate their forces and focus solely on defending Ulsan Airport.
“Hmm. If we consider what we lost, this feels like a defeat, doesn’t it?”
“A defeat, indeed.”
In the end, the Immortal Cult fully secured the route leading north to Ulsan. This made them the undeniable victors of this battle.
With this victory, the Immortal Cult gained control of key locations such as Hakseonggyo, Myeongchon Bridge, and Ulsan Bridge, which were critical for crossing the river.
They also managed to capture parts of northern Ulsan near the bridges.
If this doesn’t qualify as a victory, what does?
If there was an issue:
“However, the victory on their side isn’t exactly something they’d find pleasant either.”
In an objective evaluation, the Immortal Cult’s victory was closer to an unpleasant one.
It was more of a Pyrrhic victory, as they fell into the allied forces’ strategy and were practically forced into their win.
The allied forces successfully evacuated all their supporters from Ulsan to Ulsan Airport, narrowed their expansive frontlines, and concentrated their scattered troops across northern Ulsan into a single location.
In essence, they achieved both their ideological and practical goals. The only regrettable aspect was that the route to southern Ulsan was now under the control of the Immortal Cult.
‘If necessary, we can cross over via the navy.’
The Balhut Cult had a navy, and they could easily conduct an amphibious operation using it.
Especially since the eastern seas were already under the Balhut Cult’s influence, there was no need to divert any part of their fleet currently engaged with the Ghost Fleet.
They could simply borrow fishing boats from Pohang or nearby port towns to successfully cross.
In other words, the Balhut Cult didn’t need to rely on bridge-based strategies to invade southern Ulsan.
“After all, the territory they gained is practically useless without people or resources. If there’s nothing usable, retaking it holds no real meaning.”
Territory only holds value when people live there. If it’s just filled with empty houses, it’s meaningless.
Moreover, for the Immortal Cult to secure a decisive victory, they needed to completely drive the Balhut Cult’s influence out of Ulsan.
However, even though the allied forces had shifted to a defensive stance, they still wielded considerable influence in Ulsan.
Thus, it would be fair to say that this first battle ended with both sides achieving what they could.
“The other side gained something, and so did we. It’s safe to call this a stalemate.”
At the same time, the strength of both forces seemed relatively balanced, creating what could be described as a stalemate.
In such cases, the situation could only be overturned by some sort of variable. On the Balhut Cult’s side, they had a decisive trump card that could change the tide.
However, unlike in Pohang, this time—
“We can’t recklessly summon the God Bahamut since we don’t know the identity of the one the Immortal Cult serves.”
“Yes. We definitely need more information about the Immortal Cult.”
The other side likely had their own trump card to break the current stalemate.
This trump card, as inferred by the allied forces, was the figure referred to by both the Immortal Cult and Ulsan Airport as “that one.”
In this battle, the Immortal Cult revealed a portion of their power, hinting that this wasn’t the full extent of their capabilities and implying they had something even greater in reserve.
As such, the Balhut Cult couldn’t recklessly summon the God Bahamut onto the battlefield.
The God Bahamut was the Balhut Cult’s ultimate trump card, and such a card was most effective when used in critical situations.
‘Jung Dong-gun’s defeat isn’t the downfall of the Balhut Cult. It’s just one of many common defeats. However, the God Bahamut’s defeat would signify the downfall of the entire cult.’
The allied forces’ defeat would simply be recorded as one of many losses.
The Balhut Cult had achieved all they could in this situation, so they hadn’t truly lost anything.
However, if the God Bahamut were to be summoned and defeated, it would signal the end of the Balhut Cult.
‘The deployment of the God Bahamut is a measure reserved for the very last resort. For now, the only option is to gather information and hold our ground.’
Until they could ascertain the true identity of the enemy, summoning the God Bahamut without a plan was to be avoided at all costs.
“In this case… it’d be great if the other survivor camps or public opinion in southern Ulsan shifted to our side instead of the Immortal Cult.”
“Unfortunately, the Ulsan community remains unchanged.”
If neither side could recklessly reveal their trump cards, another variable—namely, public opinion among the citizens of Ulsan—would have to come into play.
The battle had firmly secured northern Ulsan’s public opinion in favor of the allied forces, but the public opinion in southern Ulsan, the stronghold of the Immortal Cult, remained uncertain.
The most troubling aspect was that the Ulsan community remained eerily quiet even after this battle.
“It seems their public opinion is being controlled. On another note, criticisms and slander against the Balhut Cult are surfacing without restraint, aren’t they?”
Indeed, it was public opinion control.
The Ulsan community’s operation and management appeared to be in the hands of the Immortal Cult.
Hundreds of posts unfavorable to the Balhut Cult were quickly upvoted and received countless comments, becoming featured posts.
On the other hand, rebuttal posts were swiftly deleted, leaving no trace.
“Yes. It seems the community admins and moderators are all part of the Immortal Cult. No matter how many suspicious posts we upload, they’re quickly blocked or deleted.”
“They likely have a real-time public opinion manipulation team or a comment squad.”
The speed was remarkable. Even when the allied forces tried to systematically upload posts revealing the truths unfavorable to the Immortal Cult, everything was deleted in under a minute.
Conversely, posts favorable to the Immortal Cult were flooded with upvotes and comments, appearing prominently as featured posts, ensuring they were the first thing visitors to the community would see.
The scariest part:
“Wow. It hasn’t even been a few minutes since the battle ended, and they’ve already uploaded details about it on other communities. Of course, from the Immortal Cult’s perspective.”
“They’re fast. They must truly have a professional public opinion manipulation team.”
They had already started spreading highly favorable information about the Immortal Cult in other communities.
From labeling the allied forces as demons to falsely accusing them of initiating a preemptive strike, they painted the Immortal Cult as a righteous army merely responding to such aggression.
From the allied forces’ perspective, the claims were laughable.
“This sort of thing happens all the time on communities, doesn’t it? Power-hungry admins become dictators.”
“Yeah. That’s true.”
“Mm. Not wrong.”
Public opinion manipulation through online communities was nothing new, having been prevalent in South Korea and abroad even before the apocalypse.
It wasn’t even uncommon for individuals—not just governments—to distort facts and data to manipulate public opinion. Considering how many people fell for such tactics, it wasn’t surprising.
Of course, in pre-apocalypse times, such strategies would quickly be debunked through real-time information sharing, rendering them ineffective.
“The problem now is that these tactics are working. There’s no verified information or trustworthy news, and people can’t easily check the truth for themselves. In this era, most rely on local community posts for information. Powerless survivors can barely even post on social media.”
However, in this post-apocalyptic era, where both social media and internet users were severely limited, such tactics were incredibly effective.
Jina Ahn’s sharp remarks left Jung Dong-gun and Han Seong-geun looking like they had much to say but instead sighed deeply.
Her statements were entirely correct. The Immortal Cult had weaponized local communities to portray the allied forces as villains, and it was working.
“If they’re so thoroughly dominating public opinion, it’s likely our claims won’t gain much traction.”
“Well, we’ve already been labeled a cult, so losing public opinion won’t hurt us much more.”
The Balhut Cult’s reputation had already been tarnished long ago due to propaganda spread by Do Josoon’s remnants.
In such a situation, the Immortal Cult’s claims were unexpectedly effective, and few people bothered to listen to the allied forces’ arguments.
“This is annoying.”
“If they’re going to use Ulsan communities to spread claims favorable to the Immortal Cult, we should counter by posting about their atrocities and our righteousness in Gyeongju and Pohang communities. Journalist Kang Jaewan is already planning to write an article about this battle.”
Still, the Balhut Cult couldn’t sit idly by.
History had shown countless examples of unchecked propaganda becoming accepted as truth.
The allied forces needed to launch their own public opinion campaign through their network of communities to counter the Immortal Cult’s narrative.
Fortunately, the allied forces had war journalist Kang Jaewan, who had witnessed and recorded the battle. His articles would serve as a foundation to debunk the Immortal Cult’s claims.
“And the next problem is….”
“The ongoing snow and cold.”
Public opinion wasn’t the only challenge facing the allied forces.
The harsh winter gripping the Korean Peninsula brought a hellish chill that tormented the allied forces.
—
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