NTN 16

The Mindless

After refilling their water, Seong Geon-woo and Yong Yeo-hong began learning how to drive the jeep.
The road was wide and empty, so there was no need to park in a fixed spot.
Both of them were members of the genetically enhanced new generation, blessed with excellent focus, reflexes, and hand-foot coordination, so they picked up the driving skills with hardly any difficulty.

“It feels like flying,” Yong Yeo-hong said wistfully as she handed the steering wheel to Baek Sae-byeok.

Geon-woo nodded in agreement.
The ground grew softer as they neared the swamps, demanding more attention; otherwise Yeo-hong would have kept driving as if she really were flying.

“The sun’s setting—we should be careful,” she added, moving to the back seat.

Baek Sae-byeok pressed the accelerator and spoke.
“There are ruins up ahead. They used to be a roadside rest stop from the old world. Anyway, we’ll camp there tonight.”

Taking the chance, Jang Mok-hwa addressed the group.
“Stopping after dark isn’t mainly because of the dangerous creatures. You can meet those even in daylight.
It’s because once the sky goes black, visibility shrinks.
We can’t spot puddles or marshes in time, and we might not notice something dangerous approaching us either. That’s when things turn deadly.
Remember this: most beasts and monsters aren’t a real problem if you spot them early and have enough firepower. Our worst enemies are our own kind—and disease.”

Baek Sae-byeok cut in while driving.
“I once ran into a swarm of mutant mosquitoes. Each as big as a finger, countless in number—like a never-ending black storm cloud.
They drank blood and released a venom that paralyzed their victims and slowed their thoughts.
Dozens of wanderers were drained dry that day.
Handguns, rifles, even bazookas barely hurt them.
Luckily, we still had a few flamethrowers, and thanks to those only about a third of us survived.”

Yeo-hong shivered at the story, her fear of the wasteland deepening.
Geon-woo’s eyes narrowed, as though pondering the best way to fight such a creature.

Mok-hwa gave a small nod.
“In that kind of situation, the company’s herbicidal grenades are your best bet.”

While the four talked, the jeep reached a modest ruin.
The tallest building was only three stories, most of it collapsed and buried under ivy, like a green wave swallowing the past.
A wide clearing lay in front, littered with stones, and plants poked through cracks in the ground.

Baek Sae-byeok parked and scanned the area.
“No fresh human traces… Good. We’ll stay here tonight. There’s a clean water source nearby.”

Following Mok-hwa’s instructions, Geon-woo and Yeo-hong gathered firewood and lit a campfire, then used solar chargers—baked all day in the sun—to top up the jeep’s high-capacity battery.
Unless you knew exactly which areas or ruins still had gasoline, internal-combustion vehicles could only operate inside one’s own territory. With petrochemical resources scarce at Bango Bio, hauling full fuel drums was rare.

They had no tents, planning to sleep in the jeep instead, so two people had to keep watch while the other two rested in shifts.

As the firelight grew brighter against the dusk, Mok-hwa pulled out some military canned food to heat.
Having already eaten an energy bar, Geon-woo patrolled with a company-issue Berserk assault rifle.

Something caught his attention.
He lifted his head and looked toward a vine-covered ruin.
A black shape darted along the upper edge and slipped out of sight.

Rather than panic, he turned to the others.
“We should eat quickly.”

“Huh?” Yeo-hong blinked.

“There’s something out there,” he said evenly.

Startled, Yeo-hong instinctively grabbed the Berserk rifle beside her and sprang up, torn between holding on to her lunch box or dropping it.
Mok-hwa calmly glanced around.
“I don’t hear anything…”

Then she looked back at Yeo-hong and smiled.
“Don’t tense up. It’s not right on top of us yet.
Sit. Once the cans are hot, we eat.”

She tapped the Tyrant grenades lying nearby for emphasis.
Across the fire, Baek Sae-byeok scanned the darkness, then returned her gaze to the food.

“But team leader, if something attacks suddenly—?” Yeo-hong protested.

“That’s why Geon-woo’s on guard,” Mok-hwa replied, eyes on the cans.
“We can’t sit hungry and exhausted just because something might come. That’s even more dangerous.”
A faint smile spread across her face.
“Unless the sky falls, you still have to eat to live.”

Still uneasy, Yeo-hong sat, glancing often at Geon-woo to make sure no threat slipped past his watch.

The cans soon boiled over the roaring fire, sending out an indescribably savory smell—pork, beans, salt, spices—so rich it felt as if an invisible hand were forcing it down their throats.

“All done,” Mok-hwa said with a grin.

Just then, from the vine-choked roof of the ruined building, a black shadow leapt straight toward Yeo-hong.

In the flickering firelight they finally saw it clearly:
a human female, filthy skin bristling with coarse hair beneath ragged clothes, hair matted and greasy.
Her long, sharp nails glinted coldly, and her bloodshot eyes were clouded like a beast’s.
Her body was hunched, but she swung along the vines with the speed of an ape.

Bang!

Before Geon-woo could fire, another shot rang out.

Thud!

The black figure collapsed mid-charge.
A massive wound gaped between her left breast and shoulder.
After a few convulsions, the woman lay still.

Mok-hwa lowered her Union-202 pistol and said flatly,
“A Mindless.”

Mindless…

Yeo-hong stared at the corpse in shock and grim curiosity.
The term was infamous in Ashland’s history and described vividly even in Bango Bio’s internal textbooks.

A Mindless was a human who had lost their mind to Mindloss Disease—also called Spiritless Fever or atavistic syndrome.
Victims lost all reason, thought, and emotion, becoming something like wild beasts.
They retained only hunting and survival instincts and could use simple tools.
Unable to communicate, they viewed ordinary humans as prey and attacked aggressively.

The disease first appeared when the old world collapsed.
Cities saw their populations transform in a short time, and unprepared survivors perished at the hands of the Mindless.

To stay alive, these creatures had to keep eating like true animals.
After the great famine that followed the collapse and the stripping of all stored food, most starved.
Today, fewer than one percent of their former numbers remain.

Historians observing Ashland noted that the Mindless hunted both humans and beasts, dug up tree roots, gathered fruit, and ate rats—mutant or not.
When starvation grew extreme, they sometimes turned on one another.

Because of such brutal conditions, few lived past thirty, though they bred quickly.
Second-generation Mindless were slightly smarter and even better hunters.

On paper, it seemed modern humans—armed and somewhat re-organized—should have little trouble eradicating them.
In reality it wasn’t so simple.

Mindless couldn’t maintain or build weapons, but they could use them, as if by instinct—an instinct stronger in later generations.
And being human in origin, they could become infected or mutated themselves.
Sometimes that killed them painfully, but sometimes it produced elite predators.

Still, even the most skilled Mindless hunter couldn’t match a well-armed human army; they had no science, no manufacturing.

Meanwhile, humanity had developed gene-modification techniques, still imperfect but enough to crush creatures that survived only on day-to-day luck.

The greater difficulty lay elsewhere: no one knew how the disease spread or how to prevent it.
Soldiers feared infection and avoided Mindless-infested ruins.
Major factions eliminated only the ones near their borders and rarely ventured into old-world wreckage to root out the rest.

Thus the shadow of Mindloss still loomed over humankind.

Even someone who never left a fortified base could fall asleep perfectly normal and wake as a mindless beast, while friends and family remained unaffected.
Long-term observation confirmed it.

One prominent leader, terrified of the disease, slept only in sealed rooms and wore a respirator and protective suit outside—yet one day abruptly became Mindless.

Fortunately, since the rise of new powers, the overall incidence of Mindloss has stayed low.
Had it been otherwise, humanity might already have been wiped out.