Chapter 37
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Raid on Hansol University
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I couldn't have a long conversation with Alicia. James came looking for her in the middle of it.
She said it wasn't urgent and told me to wait a bit.
But with the survivors of Shelter Apocalypse waiting, we promised to talk next time and left Shelter A.
On the way out, I ran into Johnson, but he just glared at me without saying a word. Not that I planned to respond even if he did.
I climbed into the truck and turned on the speaker. Music built into it started playing.
Last Night
The truck I was riding blasted down the road to the upbeat foreign pop song. Zombies swarmed at the sound of the engine, but they couldn't keep up.
Any that did were sent flying like bowling pins under the truck's wheels.
It was a boring two-hour journey, but we finally arrived at the main gate of Hansol University.
After hopping out of the truck, I gripped my heavy shotgun. As we lingered by the gate, something charged out from inside.
A quadrupedal variant zombie—a Lion.
Among variant zombies, it was one with an especially keen sense of smell. It must've caught our scent.
The survivors panicked and fired, but it ignored the bullets and barreled straight at me, jaws wide.
Tentacles sprouted around its face like a lion's mane, lunging toward me. I shoved the shotgun barrel into its open mouth and pulled the trigger.
The heavy shotgun already outdid a regular one in destructive power. Taking a point-blank blast to its most vital spot, the Lion had no chance of surviving unscathed.
Its head exploded clean off, turning it into a hunk of meat. Splatter. I wiped the chunks of flesh and blood from my hair and body.
It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but I'd been through it so often it was just routine now.
I turned to the survivors staring at me with slack-jawed faces.
"Let's move."
"Yes, sir!"
I reached out toward the closed gate. Using Metal Transformation, I wrenched it open, then got back in the truck and drove inside.
Gunshots must've drawn them, because zombies poured out from within. Not just one—dozens of them... Though to me now, it wasn't an overwhelming number.
I set the heavy shotgun aside and grabbed the assault rifle by the truck. Pulled the trigger. Bang, bang, bang. Zombies dropped as bullets tore through them in rapid succession.
The other survivors' guns blazed too. No variants mixed in—just regular zombies, and dozens of them didn't take long to clear.
We made it smoothly along the path to our target: the agricultural lab.
I entered the building with the survivors. The moment I opened the door, a zombie waiting at the entrance dropped like a spider.
No chance. I swung my fist to shake off the snapping zombie, then smashed its skull with a rolling steel pipe.
Thwack! Its head burst like a watermelon with a satisfying crunch.
To guard against any zombies from outside, I shut the door again. The already dim interior grew even darker. Aside from emergency lights, there was no illumination at all.
"Don't stray too far. Follow close."
I led the way for the tense survivors.
My perception was one thing, but the night-vision goggles from Emily let me see inside like broad daylight.
Zombies kept coming steadily. I handled them solo, and we finally reached the electrical control panel. I placed my hand on it and used Metal Transformation.
The switches flipped automatically, and the ceiling lights flickered on.
Blink, blink.
Power seemed scarce—unlikely all the bulbs were busted at once—so they strobed like club lights, but securing visibility alone eased the survivors' nerves.
Clearing the first-floor zombies didn't take long. I had the survivors gather supplies in the hallway.
Then I headed up to the second floor alone.
The stairwell was caked in decayed corpses and dried blood. I slipped through the half-open door to the second floor. And got ambushed.
A zombie? No, less a zombie and more...
Vrrr.
An elderly zombie with graying hair swung a chainsaw at me.
"Die!!"
Shockingly, human speech came from what I'd thought was a zombie. A variant that could talk?
No, less a zombie and more a familiar face...?
No time to think. The chainsaw's whine was no joke. Unable to use my gun, I charged the old man and swung my fist.
He toppled backward from the hit to the face. I'd held back, but his teeth shattered and rained down.
I stomped his hand and yanked the chainsaw free.
That's when he bit my leg. But with Aegis on, his few remaining teeth couldn't scratch me. I lifted my leg. His grip was insane; he clung tight. I slammed it down. Bam!
Only after smashing his head into the concrete did his strength give out. Eyes closed like he'd passed out, his body went limp. I slowly examined the unconscious old man's face.
'Alex.'
Hansol University agriculture professor, Alex.
Unrelated to the zombie virus, he suffered from mania due to a chronic illness and had locked himself inside the university—that was his lore.
But why was Alex here?
He wasn't supposed to be.
Because Alex was a character deleted from the game for a 'balance patch.' And quite a while ago.
Specifically, when the second-anniversary event started—eight years back.
'A bug?'
Just a simple bug?
'Or...'
I stared at the unconscious man, lost in thought for a long while.
* * *
We swept the agricultural lab's first, second, and third floors clean. Plenty of zombies inside, but mostly regulars, with variants few enough to count—made it doable.
Our primary goal, the seed stock, was overflowing. Sorted by type, we loaded them neatly into the truck bed, along with fertilizers and pesticides.
And we loaded Alex too. Awake now, he thrashed and screamed incoherently in resistance, but the iron chains I'd made kept him secured.
Bug or my 'hunch' confirmed, didn't matter. With him in hand, we'd never lack 'food' again.
Goals met, I ordered the survivors to guard the truck, then headed alone to the main university building.
For the secondary objective: a high-performance computer.
I planned to install Queen on it to deploy way more Sentry Guns.
But I knew it wouldn't be as easy as it sounded. Thanks to the variant zombies infesting the main building.
Dozens of them, including a Destroyer. I'd gotten much stronger, but tangling with a Destroyer was no picnic.
'Still gotta try.'
I reloaded the heavy shotgun and flung open the basement door. Opting for the basement over the Destroyer-guarded main entrance.
I inhaled the basement stench and crept down the corridor. Step, step. Night vision revealed a zombie ahead—not regular, a variant: Flower.
Tentacle-flowers bloomed from its back.
Dozens of tendrils lashed at me. I raised the heavy shotgun and fired. Bang! The shot punched through the tendrils and into Flower's torso.
True to its variant status, it survived a direct hit to the body. Barely, on the brink of death.
I finished it with another blast and looked up. It wasn't the only variant down here.
Five variants crammed in this narrow passage. No way the noise didn't draw them...
Thud, thud.
Something heavy was charging.
Speak of the devil: a massive thudding rushed this way. And ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it'd be a zombie.
I aimed the heavy shotgun toward the sound.
Finally...
It appeared. The moment I saw it, I spun and bolted.
No second thoughts.
'Why the hell is that thing here?!'
A giant three to four times human size filled the corridor, barreling at me. I reached the basement door, flung it open, and dove out.
It rammed its huge head into the doorframe. Boom—the basement shook. Once, twice... Astonishingly, the concrete wall crumbled.
No surprise there.
Per its in-game feats—like smashing [Mithril Walls]—the basement holding three hits was impressive.
No plan to fight; I just turned and ran. Heart pounding from fear, breaths ragged, but I couldn't stop.
Stopping meant getting caught.
It was meant to appear midway through the mid-to-late game.
Champion? Devourer? Chaser? Nothing like those small fries.
A Tyrant.
The survivors lounged by the truck, smoking idly. I yelled at them.
"Get us out of here!"
They gave me confused looks, then spotted whatever chased me—their faces drained white.
I turned. It was faster than the truck. Had to slow it, even a little. I climbed atop the truck and aimed the heavy shotgun.
Rumble, rumble—the engine roared to life, truck shaking.
I pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Apocalypse All-Purpose Machine