The Tales of an Infinite Regressor

[Translator - Jjescus]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 126

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Unbelievers ⅠⅠⅠ

5

It may seem trivial, but Noh Doha was a raging pragmatist. Beyond the principle of "black cat or white cat, as long as it catches mice," he was an extremist who believed that as long as something tasted good, it didn’t matter whether it was a black or white rat (and in the apocalypse, rats were indeed a good source of nutrition).

In short, Noh Doha was specialized in squeezing out extreme efficiency, regardless of whether his opponent was a cultist or whatever else.

"Are you saying we should use them? The Resurrection Church?"

"Yes. I’d like to consult with the ‘Regressor Wiki’ of the Doctor Jang first... but that Resurrection Church won’t last long, right?"

"Of course. The Resurrection Church will collapse within three years at the latest."

Indeed.

No matter how madly the Resurrection Church expanded, no matter if it even set its sights on not just North Korea but also the entire Manchurian region, there was no need to worry. It was doomed to fail soon anyway.

It was different from the Udumbara New Buddhism.

Udumbara actually guaranteed benefits to those infected with the virus. Followers of New Buddhism could regenerate endlessly, even if their arms were cut off, their heads were half-smashed, or their guts were torn out. They could even live well without eating, just through photosynthesis. If not for the minor drawback of having to sacrifice your life to the World Tree when the due date arrived, I would’ve converted to New Buddhism myself.

But the Resurrection Church?

"Mo Gwangseo, that freak, has no powers at all. Aside from the fact that he glows every time he resurrects, he really has no abilities."

"Hmm..."

This had been verified many times.

In one turn, they even kidnapped Mo Gwangseo for biological experiments. They tried burning, roasting, and searing him with aura, doing all sorts of things.

"Will this kill you? How about this?"

They relentlessly tortured him, but the results were disappointing. Mo Gwangseo resurrected every time.

One day, they tied Mo Gwangseo to the spot where a meteor shower was going to hit. Even the meteor shower, which scorched everything in its path to grey ash, couldn’t kill Mo Gwangseo.

There was even a time when they commissioned UFOs to kill Mo Gwangseo. They sent him on a fishing boat timed with the arrival of aliens in the East Sea.

"Screeeech!"

"Kiyaaak! Scree!"

The universe’s strongest warrior race attacked Mo Gwangseo.

Flash! Flash!

Mo Gwangseo died dozens of times per second, dazzling everyone with his light. The East Sea instantly became the hottest club in the world.

Thirty minutes passed.

"Kiyaaak..."

"Kyaaak, kiyaaak..."

Though the aliens could survive in the harsh environment of space, they were somehow designed to dissolve like salt in H₂O, so their miraculous UFO sank.

The aliens, who had given their all to the club party, also melted into slime. These bastards were just Ultraman with a time limit extended from 3 minutes to 30 minutes.

Grinning—

While the aliens evolved into slippery slimes, only Mo Gwangseo remained, smiling calmly on the fishing boat.

It was truly astonishing resilience.

But... that was all there was to it.

The light that Mo Gwangseo emitted didn’t even have a recovery effect as small as that of a Bacchus energy drink, let alone a holy blessing. It was just dazzling.

It was extremely dazzling.

Other than damaging the human cornea, it really had no other, no particular significance.

"Ooooh! Mo Gwangseo, Jesus Christ, who returned from the heavens to save the earth!"

"I believe in youuu!"

But for some reason, people were infatuated with Mo Gwangseo. They worshipped this being who had no other use but shining as a god.

Why?

It was unknown. I’d have rushed to Pyongyang to shout “Mo Gwangseo Amen” myself if I knew.

Isn’t the world truly a mystery?

"Well, there’s no need to analyze why. Leave that to the psychologists and sociologists. What’s important to us is that the Resurrection Church has mobilization power and action capacity..."

Returning to the main topic, Noh Doha spoke.

"All we need to do is defend a few key points. Hm. If the Resurrection Church can draw some aggro from the monsters up north, wouldn’t that be to our advantage...?"

"Oh. Are you planning to use the Resurrection Church as a human shield?"

"Yes..."

Clang.

Noh Doha lightly tapped his ankle brace with a hammer. Even after becoming the national road manager, he personally made or repaired braces if there were no urgent issues to deal with.

A daily routine. A note attached to Noh Doha's brace had the name "Shin Soobin" written on it. He was one of the few elders who still regarded him as “Orthotics Technician” rather than “National Road Manager.”

"Doctor Jang. If you think about it coldly, the Resurrection Church isn’t really a nuisance to us, aside from their northward advance. If we assign them the role of meat shields, wouldn’t that be the correct way to use life...?"

"Hmm."

I rested my chin on my hand.

In previous turns, I hadn’t interfered with the Resurrection Church. I saw them as a slow suicide funeral for the remnants of South Korea.

Christianity. The religion most deeply rooted in Korea. The Resurrection Church only mimicked the language and grammar of that religion on the surface.

Northward Advance. The ideology most deeply entrenched in Korea. The Resurrection Church also borrowed the colors and smells of this ideology.

A cult among cults.

A parasite among parasites.

But a parasite cannot survive if its host dies. Civilization had collapsed. South Korea was dead.

Only the parasites wriggling in their last season remained on the corpse that had stopped breathing long ago.

I didn’t respect their lives, but I did respect their deaths. After all, shouldn’t people have the right to choose their own way of dying? ‘Eastern Holy Kingdom’ and ‘Pyongyang Holy City’ were the graves and coffins they had chosen to lie in.

"Let’s devour the brains of the Resurrection Church..."

And Noh Doha was the type who would use even a corpse if necessary.

I momentarily set aside my personal sentiments in the shadow that gloomily deepened in Noh Doha's eyes.

It wasn’t difficult. I did not need to disregard the opinions of a life I valued for lives I did not respect.

"You’re suggesting we take control of the leadership of the Eastern Holy Kingdom and play puppet masters?"

"Yes..."

"It won’t be easy. The Eastern Holy Kingdom isn’t a state. It’s not even a cohesive group. It’s merely a collection of cultists who come together and fall apart under the symbol of Mo Gwangseo. We would have to bring all twelve of the so-called ‘Apostles’ to our side, or at least choose one of them as a ‘Pope’ and support them. Naturally, we’d also have to provide clandestine support to keep the Eastern Holy Kingdom going. Is it worth the effort?"

"It’s not... no, it’s not worth it..."

Noh Doha chuckled.

"But wouldn’t it be profitable if we could control Mo Gwangseo alone...?"

"What? How? If you’re considering using Cheon Yohwa’s mind control, we’ve already tried that. The brainwashing resets every time Mo Gwangseo resurrects, so it doesn’t work. And Yo-hwa can’t keep traveling to Pyongyang every week to play preacher."

"No, not Guild Master of Baekhwa. Don’t you have a slacker in your guild? You might as well save her for making soup..."

I blinked. A slacker?

"Oh."

There was that option.

6.

"Gi-Guild Master? Why are you suddenly looking at me like... like that...?"

"No, not you, Aryeon."

"Huh?"

There were two slackers in our guild.

One was Sim Aryeon, who dreamed of becoming Professor Quirrell’s tongue. The other was currently nestled in Sim Aryeon’s arms, tilting their head.

When our eyes met, the slacker waved. Then the maid behind the sofa, connected by invisible strings, spoke.

"What?"

Puppeteer Lee Hayul.

Hayul rarely appeared in my stories, for a simple reason. From time to time, without telling anyone, she would suddenly take off.

You could say she loved traveling. It wouldn’t be wrong to describe her as a wanderer with a restless spirit. Hayul would pull out just enough puppet strings to be useful in the frontline, and then disappear for weeks or months on end.

Sometimes, truly out of the blue.

"This time, I want to go to India, Oppa."

"Uyuni Salt Flats. Let’s make rice balls at the Uyuni Salt Flats. You cook the rice, Oppa."

She would even pester me to travel to dangerous places.

Isn’t there a saying that those who enjoy something cannot be beaten by those who work hard? That rule applied perfectly even in the apocalypse. Lee Hayul was thoroughly enjoying life in the apocalypse.

If Hayul ever became the protagonist of a spin-off, the genre would instantly switch from survival to a road trip movie.

Perhaps she was a natural-born counter-revolutionary, having been oppressed by the mayor of Jung Sangguk from birth—I could only speculate.

Whatever the psychological reason, it didn’t matter. From the perspective of Noh Doha, who believed humans should invest 25 hours and 59 minutes out of every 24 hours in labor, Lee Hayul was naturally a ‘slacker.’

That slacker was currently lying on the sofa, using Sim Aryeon’s lap as a pillow, munching on potato chips.

"Hayul."

I tried my best to maintain a gentle and kind smile.

For the record, I also believed that, though maybe not as extreme as Noh Doha, a person should dedicate at least 20 hours to labor.

"What?"

[Translator - Jjescus]

[Proofreader - Gun]

"You like dolls, right, Hayul? I found a doll up north that I think you’d like to play with. What do you think? Interested?"

"..."

Blink, blink. The golden eyes of this slacker wanderer kid blinked emotionlessly.

"Not interested."

"Hmm... What would make our Hayul interested? Don’t you think it’s about time you started working, Hayul?"

"I don’t need to work. Only I can make the transmission lines. It’s patented. Other guild masters are begging me to install them in their hideouts. I could live comfortably off consulting fees alone."

This spoiled, talented brat...

"I even finished reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms like you told me to. At least three years of immunity, please."

"Hey. If you had any conscience, would you call that reading properly? If you read it properly, huh? How could anyone side with Wei?"

"East Wu is practically invisible, a transparent country. Shu Han is a blacklisted country with infinite labor. If you’re not a native of Xu Province, is there any reason not to choose Wei?"

"...If you don’t help me with this, I’ll tell Seo Gyu to delete your SGNet account."

"Oh, I must have been from Xu Province in a past life. How can I help you, Oppa?"

Puppet strings stretched from Seoul to Pyongyang like a highway.

To lay about 250 kilometers of puppet strings, Hayul had to spend two whole years as a machine weaving spider webs, but it wasn’t a big issue.

She installed the strings unnoticed by anyone, and the strings themselves were transparent. Unless someone used aura, it was almost impossible to cut them.

I sneaked into Pyongyang Holy City.

"Hm? Just now..."

"What’s wrong?"

"Is it just me, or did I feel a breeze? Maybe I’m imagining things."

Mo Gwangseo was surrounded by an awakened security force, but evading their eyes was no big deal. After all, 30% of them were opium addicts.

Some of the guards even had guns. Guns, in this day and age? Amateurs who didn’t value their lives.

I snuck into the ‘Mo Gwangseo Christ Cathedral,’ erasing my presence.

This place, once called the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun, had been haphazardly renovated with spires and crosses scattered around the building. Some of them had bent and collapsed in the wind.

In the heart of it all, Mo Gwangseo was alone in the hall that had been transformed into a cathedral. Without an altar or tabernacle, it was as if his presence alone sufficed. He sat on a golden throne.

“……”

It wasn’t time for mass, so he was the only one there, but there was no telling when a follower might enter. I quickly attached puppet strings to various parts of his body.

“Saintess, everything’s in place.”

[Yes, I’ve informed Hayul. …Hayul says the distance makes it difficult to control.]

“Does that mean it won’t work?”

[No, she says she can still manage basic mouth movements.]

I nodded. I’d been putting Hayul through rigorous aura training for the past two years for this mission.

“Tell her to try saying something, anything, as a test.”

[Understood.]

A moment later.

“Oppaaaa.”

Goosebumps rose all over me. The lips of Mo Gwangseo, who had always maintained a smile, were slowly moving.

“Can I take a break from training now?”

“…Sure, Hayul. Just endure it on the days when mass is held once a week.”

“You… that hypocritical bastard, who betrayed Liu Zhang, the warlord of the Yi Province, like a piece of trash. The neck of Zhang Fei dangles— the neck of Guan Yu swings— Brother, why aren’t you coming, Brother? Have you forgotten the Oath of the Peach Garden? Hurry up and come, Brother.”

Thunk.

Mo Gwangseo’s mouth returned to its original position.

“……”

Rage flared up from within me, but I held it back. Fine. The kid had endured hellish training, pulling puppet strings non-stop for two years; I could allow her this much stress relief.

In my mind, I slightly adjusted Lee Hayul’s awakened rank from 1,000 meters to 900 meters, then slipped out.

The very next day, during the Sunday mass, the hypnotic app of the Eastern Holy Nation (backdoor installed) showed off its prowess.

“Soon, strange beings will come from the distant frozen land.”

The worshippers were shocked as they listened to the mass.

“T-The Leader…?”

“Mo Gwangseo Christ has spoken!”

There was a commotion.

The cult followers were astonished by the words of their leader, who had not uttered a single word since his resurrection. Some of the more zealous ones were already on their knees, weeping.

Mo Gwangseo spoke in a low voice.

“You have purified the kingdom with your faith, and now it’s time to surround it with walls made of your body and blood. When winter comes, the army of demons will descend upon us. Build fortresses and barriers at every path to testify to your faith.”

“A wall, you say…?”

“Your kingdom must be preserved for a long time so that the lost sheep can arrive, even if late. Protecting this place is protecting the path to ascension. My beloved children, prepare to fight against the armies of monsters and demons. But do not persecute my people; let the walls be made of your voluntary faith alone.”

“Ooooooh!”

Mo Gwangseo’s official first statement caused a massive stir.

The Crusaders, who had been marching northward with the belief that life was worth discarding on the roadside, stopped and began constructing fortresses. The leader’s command was inviolable.

Even if the fortresses were built, they probably wouldn’t deal any meaningful damage to the monsters. But it was certainly better than pointless expansion of the cult. The number of monsters descending from the north decreased immediately.

And that wasn’t all.

[The ‘Morning Star of the Second Coming’ issues orders to the faithful.]

We even created a constellation that mimicked Mo Gwangseo.

On days when mass wasn’t held, the Saintess pretended to be Mo Gwangseo, sending ‘constellation messages’ to control the followers.

Claiming to be the resurrected Jesus, thus the Second Coming. Mo Gwangseo’s name, Gwangseo, means “morning light” when reversed, hence the “Morning Star of the Second Coming.”

Of course, this constellation was newly established exclusively for awakened believers of the Resurrection Church.

[The ‘Morning Star of the Second Coming’ prophesies the coming of the monster armies.]

[The ‘Morning Star of the Second Coming’ guides you on the path you must take.]

[The ‘Morning Star of the Second Coming’ instructs the National Road Administration not to antagonize believers, as they are tools to fulfill the divine will.]

The malicious software secretly installed by Lee Hayul and the saintess within the Resurrection Church worked perfectly.

Now the Resurrection Church followers were nothing more than puppets to be controlled at our will.

“Excellent….”

The person who had ordered this grand hacking project, Noh Doha, looked quite satisfied. Confirming that the backdoor was functioning correctly, the head of the National Road Administration smiled faintly.

“Now we can use it subtly whenever necessary. You’ve done well, Doctor Jang….”

“No big deal.”

From this point on, the area we effectively controlled extended not only to the south of the Han River but also included the northern regions.

It took about 2,000 years, counting all the rounds together, to get to this point.

Could this be the slowest territorial expansion combined in all genre novels and alternate history novels?

7

There’s a short epilogue.

No matter how much of a direct highway was opened from Seoul to Pyongyang using puppet strings, occasional maintenance was necessary.

Once every six months, I would infiltrate the cathedral in Pyongyang Sacred City to adjust the puppet strings.

Just like any other day, I had finished the tuning work and turned around when—

“Enter through the narrow gate.”

I turned around.

Mo Gwangseo’s unfocused eyes were staring at the floor.

“For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.”

“……”

“But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. Scribe, enter through the narrow gate.”

With that, Mo Gwangseo fell silent again.

The atmosphere was a bit eerie, but I didn’t take it too seriously. I just thought Hayul was messing with me again.

When I returned to Seoul, I asked him.

“Hayul, I didn’t know you read the Bible.”

“Huh?”

“You quoted the Gospel of Matthew in Pyongyang earlier. But why did you call me a scribe?”

“…?”

Lee Hayul tilted his head.

“I’ve never read the Bible.”

“……”

“I don’t have a religion.”

…Whether Lee Hayul’s words are true or false, I’ll leave that judgment to you readers.

-Unbeliever. The End.

[Translator - Jjescus]

[Proofreader - Gun]