Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Rat in the Poison (1)
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The minion endowed with Igniter Exit slunk low along the ground.
This black magic, which suppressed its presence, seemed effective not just on humans but on zombies too. The dozen or so zombies armed with swords, axes, and firearms merely growled lowly, completely oblivious.
The minion slipped naturally between the zombies' legs, burrowing into their midst, and soon...
——Boom!
It triggered a menacing explosion.
Kieeeek—!
Kyahahaak—!
KuEEEEEEK—!
Zombies shrieked in agony amid the blast.
Oliver focused his eyes.
As expected, the explosion drew the zombie horde toward them, but Oliver issued another command to the minion he'd sent far ahead.
"Please, minion."
With those words, an inhuman scream echoed from afar.
Kaaaaaaaak—————!
Kaaaaaaaak—————!
Kaaaaaaaak————!
Kaaaaaaaak————!
The distance muffled the volume, but the sheer presence of the sound was undeniable.
The zombies charging their way halted abruptly and all turned toward the source of the Creepy Scream.
Oliver nodded, and with Jo in the lead, the mercenaries armed with jungle knives, axes, and entrenching tools began mopping up the survivors of the blast. It wasn't particularly difficult.
The zombies' terror lay solely in their overwhelming numbers.
With their ranks thinned by the explosion, they crumpled helplessly amid the sounds of thud!thud!.
Oliver scooped up a few intact heads as he spoke.
"We should move fast. The Creepy Scream scattered them, but if there's nothing there, they'll swarm back here. These zombies seem pretty smart."
The mercenaries just nodded without much reaction, but Jo and the other black mages wore grim expressions.
They knew the bare minimum, at least.
Zombies being "smart" was an oxymoron at best.
And at worst, it spelled utter catastrophe.
It was a problem that barely needed explaining.
If zombies—in overwhelming numbers and notoriously hard to kill—could wield weapons and act in an organized fashion, it was a disaster by definition.
And Jo's group, Oliver included, was right in the heart of it.
To verify if zombies were truly ambushing fixers in organized, armed packs, Oliver had decided to help Jo's crew for now—and the evidence was mounting that it was true.
"Alright, let's move out again."
The group trudged onward.
Their destination was where Jo's other comrades were holed up.
According to the communicator, they were inside a ruined building deep in the contaminated zone.
While hunting looters and black mage groups hiding in the zone, they'd been ambushed by a zombie horde, pushed into a defensive position, and suddenly surrounded by even more zombies en masse.
It was a dire situation.
Individual zombies were no big deal, but their danger multiplied exponentially with numbers.
On top of that, they'd only brought minimal supplies for easy cleanup.
If ammo and morale ran dry, they'd be fighting hand-to-hand—which was as good as a death sentence.
'No matter how you slice it, we're the ones being hunted... And it's one hell of a well-laid trap.'
As Oliver assessed the situation, Jo approached and said,
"First off, thanks for coming along."
"No problem. I'm just curious if zombies wielding weapons are for real."
"Fair enough... On that note, what do you make of this? Zombies forming units, handling weapons, moving with organization?"
"Hm... Definitely not normal."
Oliver understated it heavily.
Even issuing commands to zombies was limited to basics like attack or hold—more like herding a beast than directing a person.
Of course, with enough numbers and black magic enhancements, they could still be threatening, but wielding tools and displaying intelligent maneuvers was a whole other level.
It required not just simple orders but sustained, precise control—which meant a substantial number of black mages.
Jo asked about it. His specialty was disease magic, so his knowledge of manipulation seemed shallow.
"How many would it take?"
"Well..."
Oliver thought it over.
Anthony's research tomes stated that such detailed command and management required a high-grade disciple at minimum, and even then, one could handle an average limit of twenty zombies.
Beyond that, actions grew sloppy and inefficient.
"We've seen over a hundred, maybe two hundred zombies already... So you're saying there are at least dozens of black mages targeting us?"
"Who knows? I don't have the details... If we're lucky, maybe that's all."
"Lucky?"
Just then, a mercenary shouted softly.
"Everyone stop! We're here."
Jo's group and Oliver halted their quiet advance.
Sure enough, hundreds of zombies surrounded a massive building, just as the communicator had said.
The problem was they weren't just howling and flailing at thin air—they were mounting a proper assault.
Incredibly, some dragged ladders to scale the walls, while others climbed adjacent buildings to bridge over with planks.
Still more smashed at windows and doors with axes and sledgehammers.
"Fuck... This isn't a dream, right? We're at war with a zombie army?"
A mercenary muttered in dismay.
It was understandable—hundreds of zombies moved like a proper army.
Even Oliver marveled at how it was possible, but then something caught his sense. He turned.
"Huh?"
About two hundred meters away, something stirred underground.
A massive wave of zombies had awakened.
"We need a plan first. Anyone have any good ideas—"
"—I don't think we have time for that."
"Hey, we're grateful for the help, but don't try to take charge on the sly."
"Sorry. But the reason I'm saying this is because zombies have us flanked from behind. A lot of them."
At that moment, one zombie tugged something, and zombies began emerging onto the surface one by one.
This had been a trap for rescuers from the start.
"W-what? What do you—"
"—Hold on."
Jo calmed the panicked mercenary and focused his eyes like Oliver. The other black mages did the same.
"Damn it... We have to move now! Zombies really have our rear. Lots of them!"
"What?! They weren't nearby!"
"I don't know. They just appeared!"
Oliver cut in.
"They prepped corpses in a basement or something and turned them the moment we approached. Looks like it's all a trap. We've been lured."
The mercenaries stirred uneasily.
Ignoring them, Oliver asked Jo's group,
"Can I borrow some emotions? Two flasks' worth."
A black mage named Sam recoiled.
"What, again?"
"Sorry. I'll repay it when we get out. If we mess up, we'll be surrounded front and back. Better to punch a path now, right?"
"Give it to him."
Jo said. Sam grumbled,
"Even if we brought plenty, we can't just—"
"Who else here can wipe that horde with this amount besides him?"
Sam ground his teeth and handed Oliver the emotions.
Oliver immediately extracted from the flasks.
Oliver marked intervals in the zombie horde surrounding the building with Targeting, then conjured a mass of Wrath Booms.
He overlaid Black Darts atop the Wrath Booms and scattered them toward the Targets.
A sharp whistle cut the air as the Black Darts embedded. Some zombies stared dumbly at them.
Then...
Pop—!BOOM-BOOM—!Pop!Pop—!
A barrage of small explosions erupted.
Oliver extracted the remaining emotions and charged forward with Jo's group.
The zombies, fixated on the building, took heavy losses and broke formation. Jo led the way, sweeping the remnants as they rushed the structure amid zombie wails like grinding metal, dull thuds, and gunfire.
Oliver reached the building first. Jo dashed to the firmly shut entrance and yelled,
"It's me, Jo! Open the door!"
Eyes peered through gaps in the barricade of debris, followed by the sounds of things being moved.
The door swung open, and Jo's group slipped inside one after another.
Oliver glanced at the fallen zombies outside, but Jo urgently called,
"What are you doing? Get in!"
As Oliver entered, the original occupants inside barricaded the door again with scrap.
"...Your group has this many people?"
Oliver asked, eyeing the sizable crowd.
"...No."
"Jo!"
Someone descended from upstairs.
He wore gear like Jo's mercenaries, but with added shoulder pads. A man, and seemingly augmented like the others.
"Thanks for coming! Knew you wouldn't abandon us."
"No, we're trapped too. Zombies swarmed out of nowhere."
As if to prove Jo's words, someone shouted,
"Ah, fuck...! Another horde between the buildings!"
The shouter was a woman wielding a peculiar shotgun, topped with a silk top hat. She looked familiar.
"Wait, aren't you the one with Arthur?"
The silk-hat woman eyed Oliver.
"...? Ah! The T-zone black mage who didn't want to team up?"
"Uh, yeah, that's me. It wasn't that I didn't want to... Anyway, nice to meet you."
"Ah... Wasn't hoping to meet like this, but nice anyway... That attack earlier—you?"
Her words tumbled incoherently, but everyone seemed pretty rattled.
Made sense—they'd come for cleanup and ended up battling a zombie army.
When Oliver confirmed, she murmured to a comrade and headed off somewhere.
Wondering where, a mercenary who'd been talking to Jo approached Oliver.
"Hey there. Name's Hugh, captain of the Goodman mercenaries. Glad to meet in these times."
Urgent tone. He needed Oliver's help.
"Likewise."
"Straight to it—dire straits. That bombardment earlier—you?"
Oliver nodded.
"Then help us! We'll make it worth your while! Blast open an escape route again."
As Oliver opened his mouth, the silk-hat woman returned, dragging a man.
Stone-fist Arthur.
"Hey, Dave. Good to see you again. Help us out."
Not just him—others emerged from everywhere, approaching Oliver.
After hearing them out, Oliver said,
"...Can I say something first?"