Chapter 231
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 231
Chapter Title: Fourth Generation Medical Recruits
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The 4th generation candidates were, if I had to compare, similar to the 2nd generation.
They were a bit different from the 1st and 3rd generations, whose average looks were all outstanding.
‘But if it keeps going like this, won’t it become a tradition where the odd generations are pretty and the even ones are average…?’
“Their looks are definitely average.”
“Yes, well..., this batch..., the six 4th gen candidates were selected prioritizing professions and abilities.”
Nodding at Hye-jeong's explanation that they'd been picked for their jobs and skills over appearances, I quickly scanned the 4th gen candidates' professions.
‘Med school student, nurse background, nursing assistant background, doctor background, dentist background, oriental medicine doctor background.’
The 4th gen candidates were as follows.
1. Lee Ji-woo, a nurse with 10 years in OB-GYN
2. Guk A-hyeon, an anesthesiology doctor
3. An Ji-won, a nursing assistant with surgical and ER experience
4. Eo Ga-yun, a med student aspiring to ENT
5. Namgoong Yeon-ah, a dentist who'd just opened her practice
6. Yeo Yul, an oriental medicine doctor
It was the numbering that Pussy Slaves from generations 1, 2, and 3 had decided on after huddling together...
“Oriental doc and dentist rank lower than nursing assistant...?”
“...Well, in a zombie apocalypse world, oriental medicine..., you know..., we might leisurely get acupuncture treatments, but... yeah? Right?”
“What about dentists? Don't aching teeth matter?”
“Dentistry's important too, of course... But in a zombie apocalypse, other injuries are way more serious than toothaches.... We figured we could just yank 'em out if they hurt.”
“Hmm, fair enough. I get why OB-GYN's number one.”
I glanced at the slightly swelling bellies of the 1st gen Pussy Slaves, who were starting to show just a bit.
I knew full well why an OB-GYN nurse was top recruitment priority.
An actual OB-GYN doctor would've been even better, but there weren't any among the apartment complex survivors.
“So the entire 4th gen is medical personnel.”
“Yes, Master. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, it's fine. Their looks aren't bad at all... You did well picking relatively young women in the field.”
“Yes..., truth is, there are way more doctors and nurses in the complex who are women over 40 or guys? But we figured you absolutely wouldn't accept them, so we compromised here.”
“Good job.”
The apartment complex's population had exploded geometrically, surpassing 1,000 people before we knew it.
Just a month ago, it was around 200, but word must've spread that the place was safe, drawing in survivor groups from nearby and turning it into a small village.
‘This area's survived way more than I expected. Because of me? Did I thin out the zombies that much?’
I'd been killing zombies en masse to rack up points from the start, and ever since my Pussy Slaves and I started operating military drones, we'd been dropping grenades whenever they clustered near our base... That had slashed their numbers big time, letting more survivors hang on.
‘I was earning points by watching from drone cams in the sky and bombing clusters with grenades and explosives... Daegu's survival rate at this point might be way higher than the usual 0.1%.’
“Impressive how many medical folks survived relative to the population. Lucky break.”
“Medical personnel get treated like premium talent everywhere. From eavesdropping, I heard they often avoid dangerous frontline work and stay in the rear among survivor groups. Once groups get organized, they're usually kept safe in the back... So their survival rate's higher than other jobs.”
In a zombie apocalypse, once groups hit a certain size, roles get assigned roughly by profession.
Scouting teams, farming teams, medical teams, and so on...
Unless a burly guy had some rare skill, they all got thrown into dangerous scouting or farming duty to secure safety and food.
But the prime exception was medical pros with the rare skill of 'medical treatment.'
People instinctively think, 'If I get hurt, that guy's gotta stay intact for my odds to improve even a little,' so they protect them or pull them to the rear.
Of course, if a zombie bites you, doctor or not, you're done...
But zombie apocalypses don't kill you just by getting bitten—tripping while fleeing, injuries from work or farming, attacks from other humans...
All sorts of risks make medical personnel perpetually valuable.
‘Though for us, I can just buy healing potions with points, so they're not essential... Still, having them saves points. Nice to have around.’
I accepted the Pussy Slaves' recommendations, finalized the 4th gen recruit list, and headed to the apartment complex.
“Master, hold on a sec.”
“Yeah? What?”
“How about bringing the 3rd gens along?”
“Why?”
“The 3rd gens who joined about a month ago have been raving about our base. It'll make the medical recruits we want come without much resistance.”
“Hmm... Maybe.”
“Yeah, I think so. Plus, the 3rd gens kinda wanna go back, catch up with friends, chat and brag... I think it'll work great.”
“Hmm...”
“It'll have a positive effect. Even Jeong Su-ah and Jeong Hye-bin, who hated you at first, are itching to brag about all the delicious food you give them.”
“Okay, got it.”
I fully geared the 3rd gen Pussy Slaves in level 3 pot helmets, level 3 armored suits, and full defensive kit, handed out all the guns they wanted, armed them to the teeth, and set off for the complex.
Most 3rd gen Pussy Slaves were packing one AR rifle, one SMG, two handguns, that sort of loadout.
At the complex, we called for that village chief from last time and named our 4th gen targets. Being medical staff, he looked troubled.
But since we weren't asking for what they'd see as key assets like a middle-aged male surgeon, they seemed willing to hand them over without much fuss.
We said we'd pick them up in two days and headed back to base.
Oh, the 3rd gen Pussy Slaves, dying to brag about the feast, ended up gossiping with old acquaintances for two hours, delaying our return.
If I hadn't cut the chit-chat short, they'd have yapped all day.
Back at base, I enjoyed a group orgy with the Pussy Slaves before exiting Tower floor 1.
I was itching to check out other floors.
#
Tower lobby.
Standing in the empty space of nothingness, I savored the brief emptiness.
Should I call this Tower floor 0 or the lobby? I pondered it for a second before realizing it was pointless and dropped the thought.
“Got some points from Tower 1F and 2F—time to open the shop and do some shopping.”
My Pussy Slaves and I had amassed a solid pile of points together.
Meaning we'd offed a ton of zombies in Tower 1F's Project Zombie World.
Plus occasional runs on Tower 2F for shootouts that padded our reserves nicely.
I opened the shop window and checked the Absolute Cock upgrade first, as always.
Truth be told, my shopping list was pretty much set in stone.
A normal person might waste points on other stats, but I'd already concluded with my superior insight that cock was king.
That matched the advice from Solomon Cock, whom I only met in dreams lately.
-'Upgrade your Absolute Cock, my friend.'-
“Okay!”
Borrowing some wise words from long ago and adapting them:
‘Wealth lets you buy first-class seats on passenger jets to bang stewardesses as a regular or get a private jet for your personal one— that's plenty; strength lets you protect your woman and rape others'—that's plenty. The one thing you crave endlessly is supreme cock power.’
Cock power.
The most important thing for a man.
If I'd invented pussy power as a scouting metric for women back then, men needed cock power as their unit.
So I dumped every point I'd saved into Absolute Cock upgrades.