Chapter 5
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Screw Gun and Sci-Fi Notebook
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"You have synthesized Electric Drill x1 and Screw x1 to create a Screw Gun."
"Metal Transformation (Lv.1) experience points have increased."
"Screw Gun"
Durability: 9/10
Attack Power: 5~22
Description: A gun that fires screws. Low attack power, but almost no recoil or noise.
Restrictions: None
The Screw Gun's attack power was a measly 5. Regular zombies in the very early game had 60 HP, so numerically speaking, it would take 12 direct hits to kill one.
But Team Apocalypse had a critical hit system.
Critical hits dealt three times the base attack power, so landing just four shots to the head or heart would take down a zombie.
'Should I tackle that spot from earlier?' I scanned the second-floor classroom before heading down to the first floor. I planned to take on the room where two or more zombies had been trapped. First, I checked the window with my flashlight.
And I freaked out. A zombie was plastered right against the window. Rattle, rattle. The moment it spotted me, the half-smashed-faced zombie started shaking the window.
'This bastard, trying to scare me.'
Calming my startled heart with a deep breath, I swung the pool cue hard at the window. Crash. The regular glass—not reinforced—shattered easily.
The zombie tried to climb through the broken gap. I pressed the Screw Gun as close as possible to its head and pulled the trigger. The pre-loaded screw burrowed into the zombie's skull.
One shot, two shots, three shots, four shots.
"Job experience points have increased. (Solo party bonus +150%)"
It flopped backward pathetically. This was the power of civilization for you. Muttering that lame line to myself inwardly, I pulled the trigger on the approaching remaining zombie.
"Job experience points have increased. (Solo party bonus +150%)"
"Job level has risen to 3."
"Acquired Metal Reinforcement (Lv.1)."
I'd accidentally hit two non-vital spots, so it took six screws to drop this zombie. But a smile spread across my face.
I'd leveled up. I used the new skill on the Screw Gun.
"You have used Metal Reinforcement (Lv.1) to reinforce the Screw Gun."
"Screw Gun"
Durability: 8/8
Attack Power: 7~27
Description: A gun that fires screws. Low attack power, but almost no recoil or noise. Reinforced by Metal Reinforcement (Lv.1).
Restrictions: None
The skill level was low, so it was an even trade. Attack power went up, but max and current durability dropped by 1 each.
Still, no complaints. What took four screws to kill now took three.
Having successfully taken down the two zombies, I shone my flashlight through the broken window gap. No more seemed to be inside—those two were all there were.
To be safe, I checked thoroughly before touching the padlock from earlier. I altered its structure with Metal Transformation.
Click. It unlocked easily.
'This is...'
A musty smell wafted out from inside, probably from the zombies. Gripping the pool cue tightly, I peered in.
"Half-eaten cracker pieces x1"
"Rotten apple x1"
'Bust?'
Nothing much inside. Disappointed, I rummaged through every desk drawer. I'd finished the second row and was on the third when...
I found a notebook in one of the drawers. It looked like a shabby notebook at a glance, but it was sparkling.
'This is...' My expression shifted subtly. Of course I knew this item: the Sci-Fi Notebook. In Team Apocalypse, it was basically a blueprint.
Of course, to actually use it as one, I'd need the Blueprint Synthesis skill at level 15.
"Acquired Sci-Fi Notebook x1."
I opened the notebook. Inside were drawings of medieval armor and Da Vinci's anatomical sketches, with pages filled with cramped handwriting beside them.
#Making armor like this should dramatically boost defense.
#But if it doesn't fit the body, movement will be restricted, so it must be tailored to the wearer's build.
Anyone unfamiliar would think it was some foreign fantasy novel, but I knew what this notebook really was.
'Power Suit.'
An engineering masterpiece that exponentially amplified human strength. If I equipped one now, I'd gain power comparable to a Blader or mutant zombie.
Of course, it'd require a bunch of materials to make.
'I've got a goal now.'
Reach level 15, learn Blueprint Synthesis, and craft the Power Suit.
Anyway, having scored this unexpected loot, I cleared the third and fourth floors too. There was a little mishap with two zombies bursting out of the third-floor bathroom, but I hunted them down safely and finished farming.
Now, the problem was getting out.
[Evergreen School] had two exits. The front gate I'd closed with the shutter, and the back door secured with a triple padlock. I chose the back door.
The front probably had those zombies from earlier swarming it.
I pulled the master key from my backpack. It clicked as I inserted it into the padlock, unlocking it. I undid all the locks, pushed the door forward, then stepped back slightly.
Just in case zombies were waiting. Thud, thud. Footsteps. I raised the Screw Gun with a tense face. Then someone stepped inside.
A child holding a Barbie doll. But I knew full well a kid surviving alone in this zombie apocalypse world wasn't easy.
Unfocused eyes, lifeless skin. I pulled the trigger. The screw lodged in the child's head. Two more shots in that state, and the child zombie crumpled.
"Job experience points have increased. (Solo party bonus +150%)"
Confirming the child zombie was dead, I let out a heavy sigh.
On the way back to Shelter A, I spotted a vending machine. It was still powered, lights blinking. I touched the coin slot. Metal Transformation opened it.
I grabbed the drinks packed inside. Nice and cold. Should store them in the hotel freezer and drink later.
I cracked open a cola, chugged it, and returned to Shelter A.
"You're back safe? How'd it go?"
Emily set down her anti-materiel sniper rifle and spoke from atop the truck. I nodded and replied.
"Not bad."
I said that while pulling a can of cola from my backpack and handing it to her. She took it lightly.
"Oh, such a precious item."
Soon after, she moved the truck, and I was able to enter Shelter A.
"Ahh, refreshing. Welcome back to Shelter A."
Emily gulped down the cola with a beaming smile. Her smile was lethally captivating to most men, but instead, I smiled back at her and said,
"Emily, I've got one request..."
Emily glanced at her half-empty cola can. Not only that—she recalled how the man who'd gone out alone earlier had returned with a bulging backpack.
'He looks frail, but... a superpowered one after all?'
Wandering the outside in this apocalypse world—solo, no less—was impossible without exceptional courage.
Weren't they struggling to form their own scouting party? Yet he'd completed it effortlessly.
'If the other superpowered ones are on his level, our Shelter A won't fall.'
She'd heard of shelters destroyed by zombie hordes. But with fourteen supers of that caliber, Shelter A was safe.
Unless some logic-defying zombie showed up.
Thinking that, Emily finished the rest of her cola and turned her gaze to the hotel. Her eyes weren't on the zombies outside the shelter, but on the people inside.
Strangers. Team Apocalypse. Superpowered ones.
Shelter A's leader had said they were needed, but also to stay wary. Their powers, from what she'd glimpsed, transcended common sense.
"Why only thirteen?"
Johnson scanned the group. Excluding Martin, who'd died in the lab, there should be fourteen including himself. But thirteen. One short. He counted again—same result.
"Yeah?"
Beside him, Goyle growled, rolling up his sleeve like he was showing off tattoos.
"Which crazy bastard's missing?"
Everyone quickly realized who was absent.
"Oh, that Mechanic's gone."
"Did he run off alone? Makes sense—he was acting all high and mighty about being leader yesterday, probably embarrassed and bolted."
The Chinese Blader, Qinghan, muttered sharply. The others stayed silent. Only the black woman, Alicia, shot Johnson a displeased look.
Finally, Johnson spoke.
"Whatever, doesn't matter if he ran or got eaten by zombies."
The Mechanic was a super too, but as far as they knew, the worst 'trash' class. He'd been useless in yesterday's fight, proof enough.
"Anyway, he wasn't helping."
To them, the Mechanic was exactly that: useless and unnecessary.
"Excluding that guy, we're heading out today. Destination: the highway. We can snag a car there."
He hadn't played the game much, but he'd been impressed watching a 'Veteran' head to the highway, grab a car, and do it.
Early-game full-tank truck, mowing down zombies via roadkill. His ideal leveling strategy.
"Boss, do we really need to go all the way to the highway? Can't we just borrow a truck here?"
"Borrow a truck, and these guys might slap us with debt or some crap. Best to give and take nothing with Shelter A's people."
The others nodded. No better options, and above all, they were 'Newbies' who didn't know the game well.
Alicia and the other blacks looked conflicted, but soon nodded at Johnson too.
And so they left Shelter A as well. Destination: the highway Johnson mentioned.
What I'd asked Emily was to assign me separate lodging. Staying in the same hotel would lead to too many unwanted encounters.
Emily acted on it immediately. I set my backpack down in the newly assigned room and had a late breakfast with the canned goods I'd brought.
Tuna and fruit cans for nutrition, half a bottle of water gulped down. Belly full, my mood improved.
Next, I sorted my items. Criteria: 'for my use' or 'for bartering.'
For my use: tools, screws, and such for Mechanic crafting. For bartering: everything except a few bottles of water...
'Still, I packed pretty well—might get a broken pistol at least.'
Downside was sourcing or crafting ammo, but its attack power blew my makeshift Screw Gun out of the water.
As I pondered in the motel room—twice as shabby as yesterday's—someone entered my door.
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