The Spoils (1)
"Kgh! You crazy—"
The cyborg pinned beneath my foot was still alive. His lower body had been completely destroyed and his upper half was shattered, but even so, he tried to resist me.
"You're dying with me, you bastard!"
"Not happening, you tin can!"
What he pulled out was a detonator. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed the switch on the device.
Nothing happened.
"Wh-what? Why—"
He frantically mashed the switch again and again, but the bomb refused to respond.
I reached into his torn-open abdomen and pulled out the half-destroyed explosive.
'Just as I thought.'
The reason I'd come to finish him off personally instead of sniping him from a distance was precisely this bomb.
Among cyborg soldiers and mercenaries, there were always a few who carried bombs inside their own bodies. There were two reasons for it: the first was to deal damage to the enemy even in death, and the second was the thrill.
The former was the case of a player planting a bomb for purely practical purposes. Since it was just a game, they'd prepared a self-destruct mechanism purely out of spite — a middle finger to whoever managed to kill them.
But here, this was reality. So this had to be the latter — a man who'd embedded a bomb in his own body in pursuit of a thrill.
'The more of yourself you replace with machinery, the duller your sense of being alive gets.'
The cyborgs' homeland, the Star Union, was — unlike Mega Corp — a society that suppressed individual desire and emotion. Perhaps because of that, plenty of cyborgs betrayed the Union in pursuit of extreme pleasure.
'The ones who defect to the Spacedogs were the most numerous, then Mega Corp, if I remember right.'
The Spacedogs saw deadly battles break out every single day, and indulging in twisted desires wasn't exactly forbidden — a popular choice for unhinged cyborgs. Which meant cyborgs belonging to the Spacedogs never implanted bombs in themselves for the sake of thrills.
'Guys overflowing with love for life aren't the type to plant bombs in themselves.'
They'd happily rig someone else's body for fun, but when it came to their own, they treasured it.
Mega Corp, on the other hand, was better off than the Star Union, but its outlets for desire were limited. So cases like this guy in front of me — cyborgs implanting bombs for the thrill of it — cropped up now and then.
'That was the lore behind the cyborg suicide bombers of Mega Corp.'
Ordinarily, I would have dismissed it as mere flavor text.
But I'd already fought a Hulk Mutant with a bomb wired to its heart aboard Yu Seong's ship. Knowing that lunatics who carried bombs in their bodies could exist in reality and not just in game lore, I couldn't afford to be careless.
Suppose I had killed this cyborg with a sniper round and the bomb had gone off. No. 26 and Adhai would have been fatally wounded.
'Better to play it safe than sorry.'
"F-fuck! Why won't it explode?!"
My caution hadn't been unfounded. The cyborg wailed at the sight of the bomb in my hand. I stomped down on the chest of the noisy bastard and seized his head with my combat hand.
When I applied pressure, the cyborg let out a groan that was almost a scream.
"Ughk, ghaaaaah!"
He was the one who'd tormented No. 26, and I considered killing him slowly for it — but there were still enemies left, and no time for that. I tightened my combat arm's grip around his head and wrenched upward in a single motion.
"Ghk?!"
"Tin can!"
When I tore the cyborg's head off, the mechanized spine came with it. The dead cyborg's tongue lolled out, and from his half-shattered spine, black oil mingled with blood and dripped down.
"You— you bastard!"
The heavy-weapons specialist, who'd been staring blankly as I executed his comrade, finally snapped to his senses and swung the muzzle of his multi-purpose grenade launcher toward me.
The kids were right there. Obviously I wasn't about to let him lob grenades at us. I hurled the cyborg's head from my hand straight at him.
This was a man whose very skull was coated in steel. It was a bludgeon in its own right — and thrown with Amorph's monstrous strength, there was no way he walked it off.
"Gwaaagh!"
The cyborg's head slammed into the heavy-weapons specialist's shoulder. He screamed and dropped his weapon.
"Nimigassip! Sseobaal!"
His shoulder shattered, he spat out curses thick with fury and fled.
Rather than chase him, I checked on No. 26 and Adhai. No. 26 looked unscathed.
[Zzzzng (Are you okay?)]
｢Yeah. But check Little Baby first, not me.｣
Just as she said, Adhai had been caught by the enemy's net and lay sprawled on the ground in an awkward, uncomfortable position. I used my claws to slice the nets into tiny shreds.
｢Great Little One｣ ｢Thanks｣
[Zzzzngng (Any injuries?)]
｢Me｣ ｢Wounds｣ ｢Minor｣ ｢Fine｣
The nets were the constricting kind, designed to squeeze whoever they caught, and now a lattice of thin cuts covered Adhai's blue scales.
Adhai had no recovery-related trait, so it would take a while for them to heal.
'...The heavy-weapons guy is for Adhai, then.'
Eating him should lift her spirits a little.
After checking on the two of them, I turned at last to William. He was watching us with a conflicted expression, unable to decide whether he ought to be relieved or terrified.
'His only options are dying by my hand or living as my slave — not much room for joy there.'
Adhai was a little hurt, but thankfully no one had taken a fatal wound. I called to No. 26.
[Zzzng zzngng zzzngng (There's more prey over that way)]
｢More prey?｣
[Zzzng zzngng zzng zzng (One is alive, and one is dead)]
｢Then we just eat the dead one, right?｣
She'd grown sharp from spending so long with me — she understood at once. I stroked her once to say exactly that, then went after the fleeing enemy.
The end of the hunt was drawing near.
—
"Hah, hah, hah…"
Hope ran with his broken shoulder clutched in one arm. The shipping containers that would have offered a sense of security on any other operation looked different today — wrong somehow.
"Huk?!"
Hope spun around in terror at the sensation of someone staring down at him from above. He searched like a madman, but there was nothing on top of the containers.
Then a rush of wind came from behind him — like the blades of a ventilation fan turning, or maybe the wingbeats of some enormous animal.
He whipped around, but the spot behind him was empty.
"…"
Trembling, Hope unslung the weapon on his back and gripped it in his hand. A Gauss rifle he'd bought with his own money to keep his body in one piece.
'Gotta swap the ammo, fast—!'
This thing hadn't died to a grenade. Hope figured nothing short of armor-piercing rounds stood a chance against it.
"Kgh, damn it!"
His right shoulder was shattered, so he had to reload one-handed with his left. Managing to seat the AP rounds at last, Hope raised the Gauss rifle.
Hope thought.
All these countless obstacles scattered around were working against him. The thing could fly. Even now it could be watching him from somewhere high above.
'I have to get out of here!'
The vehicle Jennet had parked at the edge of the Earth perimeter. Fleeing in that car was his best option.
With his target fixed, Hope ran again. The ominous wingbeats echoed in his ears once more, but he forced himself to ignore them.
By protocol, he should have reported to Sihyeon Yujin immediately — but Hope was no longer in his right mind.
He'd crawled through every battlefield imaginable, yet he'd never seen a monster that tore out a living comrade's neck — and then threw it. If any of his squadmates had been left, they might have talked him back from the edge. But the people who could have done that were all dead.
'Is— is this the right way?'
He kept running, but the perimeter fence refused to appear. Only identical-looking containers stretched out before him.
Pain and fear made it nearly impossible for Hope to tell whether he was even headed the right way.
'No! It's right! It has to be right… huh?'
As he ran, coaxing himself along, something that wasn't a container finally came into view.
Jennet sat slumped against a container, her entire head drenched in blood.
The goat horns she'd always flaunted were snapped clean off, and her white hair — soaked crimson — looked as if it had always been red.
"Jennet?"
"Uuuh… H-Hope?"
Hope rushed over and looked her over where she leaned against the container. Up close, her wounds were worse than they'd seemed. A large patch of her scalp had been torn away, exposing the white of bone.
"A-are you okay?"
"Have to— have to report to the Lady, have to report…"
Hearing her stammer, Hope remembered what he was supposed to do. He hurriedly pulled out his communicator.
"Hey! You can't die on me too! Stay with me!"
"Ha… out of everyone, it had to be you I see last. Goddamn…"
Jennet murmured with a hollow voice. Even in a situation like this, her response was exactly the same as always, and Hope opened his mouth to fire back.
"Even now, you crazy bitch, still running your mouth?"
"Heh, y-you'd do the sa—"
Before she could finish.
Something pitch-black descended from atop the container and seized her head. A hand dark as the night itself yanked Jennet straight upward.
Then came the sound of meat being ground, and blood spattered down from the top of the container. Jennet's trembling legs went slack and limp, and her trousers soaked through dark and wet with blood.
"H-Hiiiik!"
Hope didn't even think about counterattacking with the rifle in his hands. He simply ran.
Years of accumulated training. His résumé as a heavy-weapons expert. Countless kills to his name.
Every element that made up Hope meant nothing in this abnormal situation. All he could do was flee like a frightened child.
And then — did heaven take pity on him?
The edge of the Port District came into view.
He even abandoned the Gauss rifle he'd been carrying, shedding every ounce of weight to run faster.
"Ha— hah, hah, hah…"
His broken shoulder swung wildly with every stride, but overwhelming fear had seized his brain, and he felt no pain at all.
He sprinted at full tilt like an Olympic athlete and scrambled into the car. By some mercy, Jennet had left the keys in the ignition. Who could have predicted the mission would end like this?
He turned the engine over. As the sedan's engine woke with a gravelly growl, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator.
Like a launched missile, Jennet's car shot forward. The mountain of containers in the Port District shrank away in the rearview mirror in an instant.
Hope let out a sigh of relief.
He had finally escaped that hell they called the Port District.
'F-first, contact—'
He should have reported the moment his comrades started dying. Belatedly but still in time, he raised his communicator to pass the news to Sihyeon Yujin.
His left hand had to stay on the wheel, so he was forced to type the message with his right. With his shoulder broken, his hand and arm barely cooperated.
Having finally sent the message to the right number, he checked the mirror once more to make sure no one was chasing him.
"Huh?"
Beyond the mirror, near the edge of the Earth perimeter, a small object caught the light.
Tiny light glinted off the thing, and a moment later the car's body rocked violently. The tire punctured, the vehicle slipped Hope's control entirely and careened on its own.
"N-no, nooo!"
Hope grabbed the wheel with both hands, but it was already too late. A utility pole was waiting dead ahead.
A thunderous crack rang out, and Hope flew through the car's window. Like one of his beloved grenades, he sailed through the air in a graceful arc — and slammed, forlorn and broken, onto the road.
Then the pole the car had struck toppled over on top of it.
Sparks burst from the camera mounted on the utility pole, and flames roared up from the body of the car, fuel streaming out in rivulets.
"Ugh, uuu, ugh…"
He had to get out of here somehow, but his body refused every command. As he squirmed like a grub, he heard the crunch of footsteps on broken glass behind him.
It was here.
The thing had followed him.
The monster that had chased Hope down stopped before his eyes and tossed something long at his feet. It was the sniper coilgun his comrade Dewayne had carried.
"They say true magnanimity is sparing your enemy when you could have your revenge."
Behind him where he lay fallen, a woman's voice he'd never heard before.
A voice utterly calm, without a trace of inflection. There was no doubt whose it was — the monster that had slaughtered his entire team.
"But I am not magnanimous."
It seized him roughly.
"N-n-nooo…"
'Stop! Please! Spare me! Please! I'm sorry! I was wrong!'
Hope begged — but his jaw must have shattered, because only a wheezing hiss of escaping air came out of his mouth. Ignoring his pleas, the thing wrapped itself around him and began walking, back toward the Port District.
Behind Hope as he was dragged off to hell, nothing remained but a car blazing merrily in the fire.