Ch.112112. Winter (1)

In truth, even now Han Seong-geun and his allied forces were defending Ulsan Airport well, and Jin A-yeon, the strongest Awakened at Ulsan Airport, had returned.

Honestly, the defense itself wasn’t a problem at all.

Though not as powerful as Jin A-yeon, Son Sang-hui, Jeong Dong-geon’s adjutant, was also quite formidable, and the allied forces were now being supplied with proper weapons.

Even in times when they lacked proper weapons, if they aimed well, the large-scale attacks of ordinary zombies were nothing more than walking targets that could be easily hunted.

Of course, the mutant zombies—no, Named Undead—hiding among them were certainly threatening to the allied forces, and casualties did occur.

“Hiyaah!”

“Named undead spotted at 6 o’clock.”

“I’m on my way!”

However, even though they hid among ordinary undead, Son Sang-hui, a detection type, could sense the evil power they emitted and quickly determine their locations.

Therefore, like an operation to deploy Jin A-yeon effectively, Son Sang-hui would immediately inform Jin A-yeon the moment she detected a Named Undead roaming the battlefield, and Jin A-yeon would eliminate them one by one based on the information received.

Of course, being designated as “Named” meant they were formidable enemies that even Awakened would find difficult to defeat, just like the previously termed mutant zombies.

“This thing’s performance is definitely impressive!”

The Balhut Cult was implementing policies that favored Awakened.

This wasn’t just empty talk; the government was actually guaranteeing everything from the Awakened’s living conditions to the equipment they used.

Naturally, the cult had made significant investments in Jin A-yeon, who was called a hero and was indeed a powerful Awakened. Now she was roaming the battlefield equipped with powerful gear sponsored by the cult.

“Wow. So this is what good equipment does!”

“Yes. Good equipment increases an Awakened’s survival rate.”

“Now I understand why Uncle Han Seong-geun decided to cooperate. Well, I already knew, but now I can be certain. This is truly amazing!”

The days of using crudely carved spears and motorcycle helmets for protection at Ulsan Airport could be forgotten.

Jin A-yeon was now equipped with a spear engraved with enchantment magic—the cult’s core technology—and wearing a combat suit made from spider silk recently processed from mutant spider zombies. She also carried a pistol loaded with Bahamut Bullets in a thigh holster as a secondary weapon, and a multipurpose greatsword prepared for unexpected situations—fully armed from head to toe.

She was literally a walking weapon armed with powerful gear, and this superhuman…

“Yes. The next one appeared at 8 o’clock. Can you deploy immediately?”

“Of course. Leave it to me, Sister Sang-hui!”

With the support of unit-level backup and an operator designating her movements, she could literally dominate the battlefield alone.

No matter how well the undead hid within their waves, Son Sang-hui could detect the Named Undead concealed among them and guide Jin A-yeon along the fastest route to reach them.

Following the operator’s guidance to hunt down Named Undead, the hordes they commanded would quickly disintegrate into disorganized mobs.

These disorganized undead were nothing more than walking targets, which the allied soldiers could handle sufficiently.

“It’s a bit disappointing. This is an Awakened activation event, right? To think we’d miss such a good opportunity.”

Normally, when providing such a safe hunting environment, camps in need of Awakened would induce awakenings by having Awakened subdue zombies for ordinary people to finish off.

Unfortunately, despite this being a large-scale event that could produce many Awakened, the ordinary people had evacuated to Gyeongju.

Of course, there were still unawakened ordinary people remaining in Ulsan Airport, but…

“The problem is that the battlefield is constantly changing. Unlike usual, even when Named Undead disappear, the troops quickly regain control.”

The disorganized undead hordes would instantly regain control and transform from walking targets into threatening soldiers.

Despite defeating Named Undead and dispersing their groups, before long, they would quickly reorganize into new groups under different Named Undead.

It was as if the Cult of Immortality was silently declaring that the Named on the battlefield were merely non-commissioned officers that they could replenish at will, rendering Jin A-yeon’s Named assassinations meaningless.

“Then that means whatever’s controlling them is somewhere else, right?”

“Yes. It’s similar to what we saw from the Necromancers during the Gyeongju evacuation.”

“Those guys always interfere when we’re trying to do something good.”

Seeing this phenomenon, Son Sang-hui explained that it was similar to what the Necromancers had done when attacking refugees during the Gyeongju evacuation.

It was truly annoying, and from their perspective, it was as if their usual tactics had become useless.

With undead forces continuously pouring in…

“Fire! Fire without restraint!”

The allied forces were somehow pushing them back across North Ulsan Bridge, relying on established barricades and unleashing powerful firepower with all available weapons.

They demonstrated the terror of American-imported medium machine guns and modern weapons to the undead approaching Ulsan Airport, and even fired self-propelled artillery and shells left at the Marine Corps base at the undead hordes, showcasing all available firepower.

There was no need to go beyond the bridge anyway; this was a battle where they only needed to defend their stronghold, Ulsan Airport, until Jeong Dong-geon rescued the neutral camp.

Normally, they would be careful not to collapse surrounding buildings, but now they were deliberately destroying them to waste the undead’s movement.

“We’ve successfully rescued all camps in this area. Let’s reduce the frontline we’ve been maintaining.”

After about a week of continuous fighting between the allied forces and the Cult of Immortality, the battle could finally be concluded from the allied forces’ side as Jeong Dong-geon rescued the last survivor camp supporting Ulsan Airport.

Assured that there were no more survivor camps to rescue, the allied forces retreated their troops from Hakseong Bridge and Myeongchon Bridge back to Sangbang Intersection, minimizing the multiple frontlines that had been difficult to manage, and began a defensive posture focused solely on protecting Ulsan Airport.

“Hmm. Considering what we’ve lost, is this a defeat?”

“A defeat, I suppose?”

Ultimately, since the Cult of Immortality had completely secured the route to North Ulsan, they could be considered the winners of this battle.

The Cult of Immortality had captured important strongholds for crossing the river, including Hakseong Bridge, Myeongchon Bridge, and Ulsan Bridge, and successfully seized parts of North Ulsan near the bridges.

What else could be called victory if not that?

The problem was…

“However, I don’t think they’re particularly pleased with this victory either.”

Objectively speaking, this victory was closer to an unpleasant one for the Cult of Immortality.

It was more like a Pyrrhic victory where they were caught in the allied forces’ strategy and “won.” The allied forces had successfully rescued all their Ulsan supporters to Ulsan Airport, narrowed their frontline, and consolidated their forces that had been scattered throughout North Ulsan.

They had gained both justification and practical benefits. The only downside was that the route to South Ulsan was in the hands of the Cult of Immortality, but…

‘We can cross over through the navy if necessary.’

The Balhut Cult had a navy, and they could conduct river-crossing operations through it.

Particularly since the East Sea was already under Balhut Cult control, they didn’t even need to divert part of their fleet engaged with the ghost fleet—they could simply borrow fishing boats from Pohang or nearby port villages to successfully cross.

In other words, the Balhut Cult could infiltrate South Ulsan anytime without necessarily using the bridges.

“Come to think of it, the land they gained has neither people nor resources. There’s nothing they can use right now. Even if we recaptured it, it would be meaningless.”

Additionally, territory only has meaning if people live there. If there are only empty houses without people, it’s meaningless.

Above all, for the Cult of Immortality to achieve a decisive victory, they needed to drive the Balhut Cult’s forces out of Ulsan, but the allied forces had merely switched to defense while still exerting influence in Ulsan.

So the first battle ended with both sides getting what they could. That would be a fair assessment, and…

“They gained something, and we gained something too. It could be considered a kind of stalemate.”

At the same time, the military strength of both forces had reached a certain balance, creating a stalemate.

In such cases, some variable was needed to reverse the situation, and the Balhut Cult had a decisive means to turn things around.

However, unlike in Pohang, this time…

“Since we don’t know the identity of the person the Cult of Immortality serves, we can’t comfortably summon the Dragon God.”

“Yes. We need more information about the Cult of Immortality.”

The opponent likely also had a trump card to break the current stalemate.

The allied forces suspected it was the entity referred to as “that person” by both the Cult of Immortality and the Ulsan Airport side, and this battle had indeed revealed some of the Cult of Immortality’s strength.

That strength was surely not all they had, and there were hints of something even greater, so the cult couldn’t rashly summon the Dragon God Bahamut to the battlefield.

The Dragon God was the Balhut Cult’s trump card, and such cards were most effective when used at decisive moments.

‘Jeong Dong-geon’s defeat isn’t the downfall of the Balhut Cult. It’s just one of many common defeats. But the defeat of Dragon God Bahamut would mean the downfall of the Balhut Cult.’

The current defeat of the allied forces would simply be recorded as one of many ordinary defeats.

The Balhut Cult had also gained everything they could, so they hadn’t really lost anything.

However, if the Dragon God entered the battle and was defeated, that could be seen as the downfall of the Balhut Cult.

‘Lord Bahamut’s deployment is a measure to be used only as a last resort. For now, we can only gather information and hold out.’

Therefore, they needed to avoid summoning Dragon God Bahamut without a plan, especially without identifying the nature of their enemy.

“In this case… I wish the public opinion of other survivor camps or citizens in South Ulsan would turn to our side rather than the Cult of Immortality.”

“Unfortunately, the Ulsan community remains the same.”

If neither side could rashly play their trump card, another variable was needed—namely, the public opinion of Ulsan citizens.

This battle had firmly secured North Ulsan’s public opinion for the allied forces, but the opinion in South Ulsan, the Cult of Immortality’s stronghold, remained unknown.

The most frustrating point was that the Ulsan online community remained quiet even during this battle.

“Public opinion is being controlled. The only difference is that posts criticizing and cursing the Balhut Cult are now appearing freely?”

Yes, it was opinion control.

The operation and management of the Ulsan community seemed to be in the hands of the Cult of Immortality. Posts favorable to them received hundreds of recommendations and comments to rise as featured posts, while posts refuting them were quickly deleted without a trace.

“Yes. It seems the community operators and administrators are all affiliated with the Cult of Immortality. No matter how many posts we upload pointing out irregularities, we’re quickly blocked or our posts are deleted.”

“They must be operating a real-time opinion manipulation team or comment brigade.”

They were so quick that even when the allied forces systematically posted truths unfavorable to the Cult of Immortality about this battle, everything was deleted in less than a minute.

Conversely, content favorable to the Cult of Immortality was showered with recommendations and comments, rising to featured posts in real-time, visible to anyone visiting the community.

Even more frightening was…

“Wow. It’s only been a few minutes since the battle ended, but they’ve already posted about it on other communities too. From the Cult of Immortality’s perspective, of course.”

“They’re fast. They really must have professional opinion manipulators.”

They had already begun spreading extremely favorable information about the Cult of Immortality to other communities.

They were demonizing the allied forces, falsely claiming they had launched preemptive attacks, and introducing the Cult of Immortality as a righteous army responding to this.

From the allied forces’ perspective, the content was laughable, but…

“Isn’t that always the case in communities? Admins gaining power and becoming dictators.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Hmm. Not wrong.”

Manipulating public opinion through communities was a common occurrence even before the apocalypse, both in South Korea and in overseas internet communities.

It wasn’t even strange considering that individuals, not just countries, would distort facts to manipulate public opinion, and many people fell for it.

Of course, considering that such tactics were quickly debunked through real-time information sharing, this strategy wouldn’t have worked at all before the apocalypse.

“The problem is that it’s working well now. There’s no verified government or news, and it’s difficult to go and confirm the truth yourself. Plus, everyone depends on local community posts for information sharing in this era. Powerless survivors can hardly post anything on social media.”

However, in this apocalypse where SNS users and internet users were extremely limited, they were very vulnerable to such opinion manipulation.

Jeong Dong-geon and Han Seong-geun seemed to have much to say in response to Jin A-yeon’s scathing remarks, but they just sighed.

There was nothing wrong with what she said, and in reality, the allied forces were being portrayed as the villains of the Korean Peninsula due to the public opinion war waged by the Cult of Immortality, which had taken control of the local community.

“If they’re this thorough in manipulating public opinion, our claims are unlikely to be accepted.”

“We already have the label of being a cult, so even if our reputation falls further, there’s not much left to lose.”

Moreover, the Balhut Cult’s reputation had long been damaged by the public opinion war waged by Jo Sun-do’s remnants.

In this situation, the Cult of Immortality’s claims were surprisingly effective, and few people were willing to listen to the allied forces’ arguments.

“How annoying.”

“If they’re posting claims favorable only to the Cult of Immortality on the Ulsan community, we should post about their wickedness and our righteousness on the Gyeongju and Pohang communities. Fortunately, war correspondent Kang Jae-wan plans to write an article about what happened in this battle.”

However, the Balhut Cult couldn’t simply not respond.

Considering various cases where things became accepted as fact because no one countered them, the allied forces also needed to conduct a public opinion campaign favorable to them through their own community network.

Fortunately, the allied forces had a war correspondent named Kang Jae-wan, who had observed and recorded this battlefield, providing a basis to refute the claims spread by the Cult of Immortality.

“The next problem is…”

“The snow that’s still falling and the cold, I suppose.”

And the problems facing the allied forces weren’t just about public opinion.

The Korean Peninsula, now in the depths of winter, was afflicting the allied forces with a hellish cold.