Chapter 147

The God Slayer II

There was once a Russian medical student from a poor family named Anton Chekhov. As is often the case, Russia was a land filled with a peculiar magic. The more unfortunate the Homo sapiens of that land, the more their writing prowess seemed to flourish. Chekhov died young at 44 from an incurable disease. Having grasped the three accursed elements of 'Russia,' 'poverty,' and 'incurable disease,' Chekhov exchanged his life for an extraordinary literary talent. It was as if all the evil spirits of Russia whispered to him to become a writer. Through this grand dark magic, Chekhov emerged as a great literary figure.

Chekhov once said:

"If a gun is hung on the wall in the first act, it must be fired in the last. If not, don't bother hanging it there."

This is known as "Chekhov's Gun." Chekhov probably intended to say, "Use foreshadowing well, you writers." However, as with all dark magic, Chekhov's spell had unintended aftereffects. Incidentally, Chekhov worked in Siberia, and the weather patterns originating from there are famous for affecting the Korean Peninsula every winter. Even the greatest sorcerers cannot escape meteorological phenomena. Chekhov's dark magic, too, rode the winds and landed on the Korean Peninsula.

Here is a concrete example.

“Hey! Look at this! It’s a gun!”

“Wow. A military unit must have dropped it. Good job! Thanks to you, we found it.”

“Hehe.”

In Seoul, there was a loving couple. Despite the apocalypse filled with anomalies, they were living a pure love story. One day, they found a gun and ammunition left behind by a military unit. The couple, thinking it was a great find, took the weapon.

And then.

-Bang!

Less than two weeks later, one shot the other.

“Ugh... Miro, why...?”

“Sorry, Oppa. I don't have the will to live anymore. So let's die together.”

“No...”

The couple, who had been living a happy love story, suddenly plunged into a tragic tale. This was just the tip of the iceberg.

-Bang!

Another family found a gun and that very night, the entire family was shot dead. Someone, bewitched by an anomaly, hallucinated that enemies were attacking from all directions and massacred their family.

“Aaaaah!”

By dawn, realizing that the 'enemies' they killed were actually their family, the person took their own life with the same gun. Similar cases were countless.

-Anonymous: There’s a group of survivors who built a hideout next to my neighborhood, but last night they got totally wrecked lol.

-Anonymous: I heard gunshots all night. Seems like they had a stockpile of guns. When I checked, they were screaming and shouting like crazy.

-Anonymous: They looked like a tight-knit group from the same hometown, but one gun destroyed them all.

You get the idea.

That's right.

The dark magic cast by the Russian writer ensnared all firearms. Every gun became haunted by the anomaly known as "Chekhov’s Gun."

In this world, if a gun existed, it would inevitably be fired at a crucial moment. More precisely, crucial moments were forcibly created because of the gun's presence.

Lovers’ deaths. The collapse of close-knit groups. Regardless of the people or events, if a gun existed, it would invariably lead to dramatic moments until the ammunition ran out. It was a modern-day version of Paris’s Golden Apple. Wherever a gun existed, discord and tragedy ensued.

“Hey, put down that gun!”

“Shut up! My family’s dead! Why should I stay in the army? You all die too!”

-Bang, bang, bang!

The South Korean military, once advancing towards Seoul to claim the throne of the Korean Peninsula, was swiftly annihilated. While the Ten Legs devouring the military played a major role, the final blow was delivered by Chekhov’s Gun.

“If we start an internal conflict here, we’ll lose all hope...”

“Hope? Screw that! Die!”

“Stop him! Why are you all loading your guns too? Are you insane?”

In short, the entire unit erupted in gunfire. Rumor had it that even the division commander was killed in the crossfire. Fortunately, firearms in South Korea were concentrated in military units, so only military power was lost. The USA, however, where every household deemed a shotgun essential, faced severe consequences. Within a month of the apocalypse, 50% of Americans had died. If they had known this would happen, even the staunchest opponents of gun control might have reconsidered.

Thus,

-[Samcheon] WitchJudge: This is a notice to all members of the Samcheon World guild and all awakened individuals entering Busan. Firearms are strictly prohibited in Busan. Violation will result in...

-[Baekhwa]13thGrader: An illegal firearm was found in Sejong City! There will be a public execution in front of the government building at lunchtime today. Please show your support! (>_<);;

Not just North America, but the entire world, including the Korean Peninsula, began rigorously regulating firearms. Possession of a firearm was almost a guaranteed death sentence. Killing someone was bad, but possessing a gun was worse. Guns didn't just kill; they sowed discord and ensured tragedy. In a way, "Chekhov's Gun" was less fitting a name than "Forced Tragedy Ensurer."

“Hm? Uh, let’s see... North Korean nuclear missiles?”

“Those didn’t even scratch the Ten Legs and disappeared. Think of a weapon more practical for human use.”

“Um... The Four Tiger Evil-Cutting Sword?”

As expected of the student council president of a prestigious private school, she was knowledgeable about peculiar artifacts. Incidentally, Cheon Yo-hwa scored top marks in Korean, Math, English, and Korean History on the college entrance exam. In case you’re wondering how she took the exam in a collapsed world, well, a unique anomaly and void appear in Korea every November called the "College Scholastic Ability Test." Despite the bizarre questions, Cheon Yo-hwa achieved near-perfect scores. If you searched her bag, you’d even find an 'Honorary Seoul National University Student ID.'

In any case,

“That sword is quite powerful, but it’s still weaker than my cane-sword. It never created any true legends. The strongest weapon today is one that holds a powerful 'story' capable of defeating anomalies.”

“Um... I don’t quite get it. I’m not very interested in weapons. Did our country ever have such a weapon?”

“There is one.”

I smiled.

“Yo-hwa, have you ever heard of 'The Heart of a Beast'?”

“The Heart of a Beast?”

The bullet that killed a god. A German-made Walther PPK pistol. Serial number 159270. The strongest treasure on the Korean Peninsula. The bullet that pierced the heart of Yu-sin.

That’s right. The gun that assassinated the former president was calling out to me, the Undertaker, to come and claim it.

Surprisingly, the firearm that achieved the monumental feat of 'assassinating a president' wasn’t preserved in a museum. Its whereabouts were completely unknown.

After the assassination by the head of the Central Intelligence Agency, the pistol was moved to the Army Forensic Science Laboratory. After forensic analysis, it went to the Security Command, then to Army Headquarters. After the trial concluded, it was supposed to be returned to the Central Intelligence Agency.

In Korea, when an item passes through more than three government agencies, it means its ownership is eternally relinquished. The 'strongest treasure on the Korean Peninsula' was no exception. Naturally, the Walther PPK pistol vanished.

The Central Intelligence Agency claimed:

-The Security Command confiscated it.

The Security Command asserted:

-We returned it to the Central Intelligence Agency long ago.

If this scene seems familiar, it’s not a coincidence. Bureaucrats everywhere share the same DNA.

However, it’s not just a matter for ridicule. Facing a cursed demon gun... no, a demon pistol, the bureaucrats might have instinctively felt fear. It was a monstrous relic that shouldn’t exist in this world. Mere mortals were eager to send it back to the divine realm.

Yes. The bureaucrats were right. The wisest way to deal with a curse was to pretend it didn’t exist. The Korean government succeeded in sealing the cursed relic using the most sensible method.

And now, I, the Undertaker, needed that relic. Desperately.

Immediately after parting ways with Cheon Yo-hwa, I headed north from Sejong City. I arrived in a district of Seoul.

[...Mr. Undertaker.]

The Saintess, who often spent her time monitoring my activities through the countless CCTV cameras she had set up, finally spoke.

“Yes?”

[Are you really planning to enter there? You’ve always warned me not to enter that void.]

“Yes. You shouldn’t go in, but I can.”

[......]

I ignored the Saintess’s silence and looked up at the scene before me. In the background stood Namsan, a landmark of Seoul. Naturally, there was a building that should be there.

The headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency, or the more familiar "Agency for National Security Planning" for some. Now, it was a void.

That’s right.

As mentioned in the previous story, the pinnacle of genre literature, "monopolizing opportunities," had met its end in our world. The sinister anomaly known as the Total Luck Law saw to that. But why grieve? A specialized Chinese restaurant’s sweet and sour pork is better than a buffet’s. Even if monopolizing all dishes was forbidden, enjoying the best one was enough. I, the Undertaker, prided myself as a gourmet, second only to Dang Seo-rin and the Ten Legs on the Korean Peninsula.

“Saintess, I’m going to farm the 'weapon that slayed a god.'”

[.....]

“Please watch over me.”

Today, I was going to claim the greatest treasure on the Korean Peninsula.

Footnotes:

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