Charge to the 20th Floor (2)

After witnessing Catherine's terrifying 'real combat' axe work firsthand, I hurriedly opened my stat window and upgraded the combat skill Weapon Mastery. Just in case Catherine betrayed us. For some reason, I had a feeling I couldn't win against her one-on-one.

'Even our platoon sergeant couldn't swing an axe like that...'

After throwing two zombies out the window and securing room 1103, I completely disabled the elevator to control the movement of the other survivors.

With the search progressing faster than expected, we changed our plan to clear up to the 20th floor by the end of the day. By the time we'd cleared up to the 14th floor, Catherine and I had taken down six more zombies with increasingly skilled techniques and teamwork. Catherine's axe swings, always severing zombie heads in one blow, were utterly terrifying... The good news was that her Betrayal Detection reading had dropped to 10%.

Then, the moment we reached the 15th floor, five blue dots indicating survivors appeared on the scanning map. Two in room 1603. Three in 1704.

We quickly swept the empty 15th floor and headed to the 16th... only to find a barricade of chairs, desks, and cabinets blocking the stairs. It looked hastily piled up purely for 'sealing' off access, not accounting for entry or exit.

This confirmed there was a survivor group in the upper floors. For now, we started clearing the furniture filling the staircase. With floors 6 through 15 secured, the barricade was pointless anyway.

It took about five careful minutes to dismantle it without causing the stacked furniture above to collapse. Then, from beyond the remaining half-obstruction, we heard a door open and a woman's trembling voice.

"Wh-who are you?"

Fortunately, things went smoothly, and we were invited into 1604, where we had a 'peaceful' conversation with the 13 upper-floor survivors. Everyone was armed, of course.

"So... you're all from the 7th floor?"

"Yes. We've secured floors 6 through 15 along the way."

A man in his 50s eyed our weapons warily, confirming we were from the 7th floor. His sturdy build and the vibe from the others suggested he was their leader. When we explained the lower floors' situation and our securing of the path up here, various expressions bloomed on the survivors' faces—relief for some, hope for others, and worry for a few.

Right then, a middle-school girl from the corner jumped into the conversation.

"Um, were there any survivors in 1204? My mom went to share some side dishes with the lady there... and then this happened?"

She held out her phone screen showing a photo, asking if we'd seen her mom. The moment we saw it, all three of our faces hardened.

We'd seen a zombie that looked just like her—specifically, the one on the 12th floor that Catherine had cleaved from crown to chest with her axe. Their facial features were strikingly similar.

In other words, we'd killed the girl's mom, who had already turned into a zombie, on our way up.

I was at a loss for how to break it to her when Hye-yeon auntie, the adult among us, gently took the girl into the master bedroom.

"N-no way! Mommmmy!"

Soon after, gut-wrenching screams echoed from behind the bedroom door. Shadows fell over the faces of those left in the living room.

Recruiting the upper-floor survivors would have to wait.

'No real MILFs among these survivors, huh. The women are all kids or aunties.'

As I scanned them instinctively for any MILFs, my phone vibrated on my left forearm.

Bzzz.

'A quest? Now?'

About ten minutes after the girl started wailing in the master bedroom of 1604. Her cries over losing her mom still echoed from behind the door, mingled with Hye-yeon auntie's soft consoling voice. Meanwhile, I called out the upper-floor leader, Park Sang-hyuk, to talk privately outside.

He stood up—shorter than me, but with a solidly built frame that screamed manual labor. I spoke first.

"First off, we're truly sorry about that middle school girl losing her mom."

"Ah, yes... But you said she'd already turned into a zombie, so there was no other choice. We'll take good care of Sua on our end. And thank you for the news from below."

Park Sang-hyuk bowed slightly to me, a guy thirty years his junior, using polite speech. First impressions weren't bad. He seemed civilized enough for 'deals'.

I cut to the chase without wasting time.

"Since we're in similar straits, let's get to the point. I asked to see you alone to make a 'deal' with the survivors here."

"A deal?"

"Yes. Have you seen those NewTube videos of zombies with weird shit in their heads?"

"Ah, the ones that split open from the crown..."

"Exactly."

"But why bring up those freaky zombies all of a sudden?"

"What I want to trade with you all is 'clean water'."

Park Sang-hyuk furrowed his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠brow in slight confusion at the sudden mention of a 'deal' and the grotesque tadpole-like things in zombie heads. When I revealed clean water as the item, suspicion and anticipation mixed on his face.

Sensing the moment to drive it home, I continued.

"As you know, the apartment's water and power could cut out anytime—maybe even in the next minute."

"True, but... how do you plan to produce clean water, Minwoo-ssi?"

"I can't go into details, but I have a stable water source, purification equipment, and even a way to generate power. I want to trade the water it produces with you all."

His face lit up with inevitable human greed at the idea of some undisclosed 'device'—one that could produce clean water. At the same time, his betrayal reading jumped from 20% to 40%.

I placed my hand on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knife at my belt, issuing a blatant warning.

"If you're thinking of doing something to my group and stealing my setup, I recommend backing off cleanly. It has anti-theft measures—won't turn on without me."

"N-no, nothing like that—"

"Oh, and that blonde foreigner inside swings her axe like she's possessed... Never failed to split a zombie head clean open on the way up here."

Gulp...

Interrupting him with obvious threats, he glanced around 1604 and swallowed dryly. His on-screen betrayal score plummeted to 25%. My intimidation had worked.

This guy really cared for his people—a true leader.

He wiped his forehead and asked the most 'important' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠question of our talk.

"So, what do you want from us in exchange for the water?"

"What I want is very simple. Your 'goodwill'."