Chapter 15
The Black Marsh Wasteland
As time passed, the soil ahead darkened and the trees grew sparse. The road was no longer rough.
Watching the changing scenery, Yong Yeohong suddenly frowned.
“Something about the outside feels strange—like something’s missing…”
Seong Geon-woo, sitting upright, replied in a calm but steady voice.
“There are no people.”
No people… That’s it!
Yong slapped his thigh.
“Right! Except for a few stationed in the roadside checkpoints, we haven’t seen a single person!”
The ones inside the checkpoints were, of course, company staff.
“Most locals were either recruited by the company or moved somewhere with food…”
Jang Mok-hwa abruptly shifted the topic.
“Once we pass that checkpoint ahead, we’ll be in the true Black Marsh Wasteland. You might meet people there—
but maybe not the kind you’d like to meet…”
Baek Sae-byeok muttered without turning her head.
“What was that?” Jang asked.
“Team leader, eyes on the road!” Sae-byeok called back with a forced smile.
Geon-woo and Yeohong fell silent, watching the ever-widening view beyond the windows.
After a while Yeohong spoke again.
“Team leader, I didn’t even tell my family I’d be away for outdoor field training and couldn’t come home for a while. What should I do?”
“Head office will send someone to notify them,” Jang said, lightly turning the steering wheel.
Yeohong closed his mouth, and silence once again filled the jeep.
After they passed Vango Bio’s border outpost, the terrain leveled out.
On the soft gray-black earth lay a tangle of tracks—some from vehicle tires, some from animals, others human.
Trees grew even sparser, revealing the distant black marsh itself.
Their trunks were nearly black, their leaves a deep green. Some towered twenty to thirty meters; others were barely human-height. All were twisted like dead monsters, unnaturally dark even under sunlight.
“At the marsh’s edge we don’t need to be too cautious,” Sae-byeok explained to the others. “But once we enter deeper, slow the jeep and constantly check if the path is submerged. If we slip into the marsh, abandon the vehicle and retreat immediately.”
Spotting something, she nodded toward Jang.
“Team leader, there’s a clean water source over there.”
“Good. Let’s rest and refill our water. It’s open ground, safe enough. Geon-woo, Yeohong—your turn to drive afterward. I’d like to finish your driving lesson today,” Jang said, steering toward a sparse riverside grove.
Here an underground stream surfaced for hundreds of meters before plunging back below.
Jang retrieved the solar charger and a large electric kettle from the jeep roof and spoke as she walked to the water’s edge.
“This flowing groundwater is usually fine, but we still check two things:
first, any obvious mutations in nearby plants; second, whether aquatic creatures look abnormal compared to their kind.
Ideally, boil the water before filling the canteens. If that’s impossible, drop in a bio-cleansing capsule.”
She crouched to fill a kettle, plugged it into the solar charger, and took out a small white capsule the size of a pinky nail—Vango Bio’s specialty.
Yeohong watched with fascination, itching to try. For him, who usually had to visit the supply market just to get hot water for his large family, this was novel. Energy rations were tight, and an electric kettle was expensive, so he normally filled a thermos with market-boiled water.
As Jang stood and noticed his curiosity, she gave a half-scolding smile.
“Instead of staring, get out the Icemos. Be ready in case something tries to ambush us or steal our supplies. Sae-byeok is seasoned, and look—Geon-woo is already on perimeter watch.”
Geon-woo, Icemos pistol drawn, suddenly spoke.
“Team leader, something’s over there!”
Jang instantly turned toward where he pointed, drew her own 9 mm Icemos, and scanned the area.
“What exactly did you see?”
“Wearing very ragged yet heavy clothes. Looked like a tarbagan,” he replied, still alert.
Jang raised an eyebrow.
“How do you even know a tarbagan?”
This was Geon-woo’s first time outside the company grounds, and tarbagans were only seen in research zones. For a fresh graduate to recognize one was surprising—unless he’d memorized a textbook photo. But to recall it from someone’s clothing alone was remarkable.
Geon-woo gestured across the river.
“There—one right there. Looks exactly like the picture.”
Following his finger, Jang spotted a tense tarbagan before it gave a single cry and dove into its burrow.
“Good eye,” she said much later.
Sae-byeok looked up at the sky.
“If someone’s wearing thick clothes in this season and time of day and wandering alone, he’s likely a wasteland drifter. No need to worry—we outnumber and outgun them.
The only risk is if he’s linked to a bandit crew, but we’re not staying long.”
“If there are bandits, it’ll be good training for you two!” Jang added with a grin.
Yeohong’s heart dropped.
“Team leader, aren’t you worried the bandits might be large in number or heavily armed?”
Jang laughed aloud.
“We’re not far from the company, and Security runs regular drills here. Any large, heavily armed gang would’ve been wiped out already.
Besides, Ashland’s bandit groups aren’t like you imagine—they’re just wanderers huddling for warmth to survive. They can’t gather enough resources to stockpile weapons or grow in size. In fact, the weaker, thinner ones sometimes become food for the rest.
Of course, the infamous gangs are harder to deal with; they’ve found ways to survive longer.”
Food… for each other… Yeohong shuddered.
“Team leader, how can you say something so cruel so calmly?”
“You’ll get used to stories like this after enough time roaming Ashland,” Jang replied, glancing at the kettle on the solar charger.
Still scanning the surroundings, Geon-woo asked,
“Why call the people inside settlements ‘wasteland drifters’? That person we just saw seemed the real thing.”
Sae-byeok pulled her scarf tighter and answered gravely.
“Settlements are never stable.
Changes in water sources, soil quality, weather, or monster migration all decide whether a place can remain a base. When the environment shifts, the people scatter again, searching for a new base.
But the greatest force driving them to move is the big powers.”
“Why?” Yeohong asked.
“Because the most notorious threat above Ashland isn’t the largest bandit gangs—it’s the slave-raiding squads of First City,” Sae-byeok said.
“They destroy settlements and capture people as slaves. Countless die in First City’s occupied mines and factories.”
Jang nodded.
“Some bandit groups do the same, especially those holding mines themselves.”
“If First City’s raiders didn’t catch them first, slave-trading would be Ashland’s biggest business,” Sae-byeok added, then shifted topics.
“And most bases can’t feed everyone with their own production. So people leave to forage fruit, hunt beasts, or scavenge trade goods. In that sense, they remain wasteland nomads.”
Listening, Yeohong thought of his own life—meat only once a week, nights waking hungry. Yet he’d never truly faced death. Compared to the drifters, he lived in paradise.
“So pitiful…” he murmured.
“Yes, but you can’t go soft when meeting them,” Sae-byeok warned.
“The only real difference between drifters and bandits is how hungry they are, what weapons they carry, and how prepared they are.
When I lived as a drifter, I was ambushed often—and sometimes I ambushed others. To them, there’s no good or bad, only life and death.”
Her voice was low; Jang barely caught the words and shook her head, her black ponytail swaying.
“You can’t generalize. I’ve met drifters who knew gratitude and repaid kindness with kindness.”
“Like who?” Geon-woo asked.
Jang broke into a bright smile.
“Like Baek Sae-byeok herself!”
Sae-byeok was silent for a long moment before managing,
“Team leader, the water’s boiling.”
Jang nodded.
“Bring four water bags from the jeep,” she told Geon-woo and Yeohong.
