Chapter 3
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Shelter A
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It looked like the mini-map function had been implemented on the smartwatch. In the center of the smartwatch, there were green dots, and quite a distance to the north, a large blue dot was positioned.
The green dots probably represented us, and the blue one the Survivor Shelter. In short, if we kept heading north, we could reach the shelter.
'But heading straight for the shelter isn't the best choice.'
There weren't many zombies, but on the flip side, items to farm were sorely lacking. Of course, going solo was still impossible for me, so I quietly followed behind the group.
After about ten minutes of walking, we ran into a horde of zombies. Not just one or two, but dozens. They were no match for people who had started actively using their abilities.
On top of that, several people had acquired new skills thanks to their job levels rising from killing zombies.
"Look at this, everyone. It's the new skill I got."
Johnson's pistol transformed into a shotgun. He swung it wildly at the zombies. Boom! The 12-gauge shotgun blast hit a zombie square on. Its head exploded in a literal spray of gore.
Chunks of flesh scattered across the city streets.
"Ooh, so that's the Gunner's skill..."
It was a skill called "Shotgun Transformation," acquired when a Gunner's job level reached 2. It would eventually become obsolete as shotguns fell out of use, but for now, it was pretty damn useful.
Its accuracy from range was low, but its destructive power was incomparable to a regular pistol.
Honestly, it wasn't anything special, but given my situation, I couldn't help feeling envious. Not just the Gunners—job levels had risen across the other classes too.
The Bladers could swing their melee weapons more destructively, the psychokinetics could hurl objects with telekinesis, and the Healers had gained healing abilities.
Even I, as a Mechanic, benefited. Party play. Moving together allowed shared experience points. My job level was now 2.
Unfortunately, new skills started at level 3, so I hadn't learned any yet, but my body felt a bit more agile. I felt more energized than ever.
But on the other hand, I felt uneasy.
If they found out experience was shared rather than individual, that Johnson guy wouldn't let it slide. If I didn't get kicked out, I'd count myself lucky.
"We've awakened our healing skill too. Light, aid us!"
No need for all that flashy dialogue. Anyway, Gunners, Bladers, Psychos, Healers—we were all fulfilling our roles.
They'd started out uncoordinated due to different races and genders, but as time passed, they were even trading jokes with some leisure.
"Sorry for calling you beanpole earlier. You know I didn't mean it, right?"
"Thanks, shorty."
"What'd you say, you lanky bastard?"
The Asian and the Black guy were already buddying up. Well, buddying up might be a stretch...? Anyway, they didn't seem on bad terms.
Looking around, I seemed to be the only one anxious.
'I'll have to think about plans once we reach the shelter.'
Sticking with this group would be nice, but if I was going to get ditched anyway, it might be better to go solo sooner.
Finally, we reached the blue dot. No massive walls, but Survivor Shelter A, using supply trucks as makeshift barriers.
"Come on in."
A redheaded woman standing on one of the trucks, holding a massive sniper rifle, moved it aside for us. We bowed our heads in greeting, and she let us into the shelter.
The shelter wasn't huge. But it was decent enough.
"Where are you from?"
The redheaded woman—if the game lore held, her name was Emily—asked us, and Johnson spoke for the group.
"We're from the lab."
"The lab? Wasn't that already overrun by zombies? Then... are you Team Apocalypse?"
"Team Apocalypse?"
"The superpowered folks made to fight the zombies."
More survivors knew about Team Apocalypse than I'd thought.
"Not sure about superpowered, but we can pull off tricks like this."
Johnson showily transformed his pistol into a shotgun.
Emily's eyes went wide. Only players and variant zombies could use skills, so this was probably her first time seeing one.
"I can do tricks too."
Fueled by Gunner pride.
A Blader who looked Chinese swung his sword. Whether he'd trained in it before or not, his movements were cleaner than the other Bladers. The boulder next to the truck split in two.
"Hmph, what good's a sword? Nothing beats psychokinesis."
The Psycho concentrated, and the split boulder floated up lightly. That seemed to be its limit—it didn't rise further and dropped back down...
'Why the hell are they doing this?'
It was like male peacocks flaunting their feathers to court a female peacock. What should I show? Make a hammer with screws in front of her?
While I was lost in silly thoughts, the Healers introduced themselves too.
"We're Healers. We can treat all viruses and physical wounds... that's what it says."
Emily beamed at Zixuan's words.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Though it comes with a price... but for the right payment, anytime."
Emily showed deep interest in the Healers. Makes sense—there were probably plenty of sick folks in the shelter. She was likely going to ask them to treat patients.
I shifted my attention from them to the shelter interior. Shelter A was fairly well-stocked. Compared to the shelters ahead, it was in decent shape.
Of course, that was because variant zombies hadn't appeared yet—only regular ones had.
By then, Emily's conversation with the group seemed to wrap up.
"Our shelter welcomes you. Stay as long as you like, however you want."
And so, the group decided to stay at Shelter A. We were assigned the hotel as lodging. The 5-star Grand Hotel, the shelter's best accommodation.
No running water and lights out, so not exactly perfect, but the soft beds and good insulation made it plenty restful.
The group—Team Apocalypse—gathered in the Grand Hotel lobby to discuss future plans.
"It's safe now, but later in this game, stronger zombies show up."
Johnson sipped the green tea given by the survivors.
"Like what?"
At Emily's curious question,
"Zombies that can jump over walls. Or ones strong enough to smash them down."
Just say Jumper and Tyrant—why beat around the bush? Newbies... Of course, I kept my eyes down and said nothing.
I'd be strong enough to punch those noobs later, but right now? No chance. To leech, stay quiet like a parasite.
"In short, we need to level up our abilities by then."
"What if we end up dead like Martin?"
The fluffy-haired white guy who'd wailed "Damn it! Martin's dead!" earlier.
"Better than sitting around waiting to die, I think."
"Hmph, don't make me laugh. I see it differently."
This time, a Black guy raised his middle finger. Same Gunner class—the Black woman who'd boldly pressed a pistol to Johnson's head and taken his item earlier.
Alicia, was it?
"If we don't progress the stages, no strong zombies show up, right?"
Not entirely wrong... but after 10 game minutes, Chasers activate. Chasers have stats stronger than variant zombies.
In other words, stall on stages and Chasers rip you apart.
'But how much is 10 minutes here?'
No clue how game time converted to real time. Even as a hardcore vet, I didn't memorize dates.
"Alicia's right. You're scaring us to play leader, huh?"
The Psycho Black woman said playfully. The Black Blader guy nodded.
The three Blacks sided together. Oh, and that Korean guy (I was pretty sure) who'd been trash-talking friendly earlier joined the Blacks.
Zixuan and the Chinese Blader guy stayed neutral.
Johnson's side had three whites, so 4-4 split. Arms bend inward—other whites likely back Johnson?
Hadn't they seemed harmonious earlier? Was I wrong?
No idea how it turned into a race war overnight, but division was inevitable at this rate.
I debated chiming in but stayed silent. Don't butt in, idiot. No need to burst a prawn's back on a whale's. In the end, the Blacks left with sour faces, leaving whites and three Asians.
"Those bastards are dangerous."
The white guy covered in tattoos pointed at the departed Blacks and declared. Goyle, his name—Johnson's staunchest supporter.
"Why not take them out now? One psychokinesis blast and I could pop their heads without a trace."
Doubt it. Mutual attack lock makes killing not that easy.
"Don't talk crazy."
Olivia shook her head. Others eyed him like a loose cannon. Funniest part? He enjoyed it.
Not just Psycho class—Psycho personality too.
Johnson finally reined him in.
"Yeah, don't cross the line."
Goyle nodded.
"So damn it, what now? Really team up with those guys? I'd rather drown in the river out front. Oh, add that Asian too."
I wished they'd just drown.
Of course, I stayed silent again. But in my head, I was plotting ahead.
Before variants, max level up and make defenses. Which route? Sentry Gun's best.
Auto machine-gun Sentry Gun—minus it shooting me—is top-tier defense.
'Gotta hustle starting tomorrow.'
Decision made. Sticking with this party? Risky. Infighting brewing, psychos abound.
So, go solo.
Apocalypse All-Purpose Machine