Chapter 248
Chapter 248
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 248
Chapter Title: 103. Struggle (4)
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Noisy traps serve two functions.
One is the obvious one: alerting you to the enemy's approach.
But I'm paying attention to the other one.
The person who triggered the noise gets startled by the sound, feels fear, and shrinks back.
Some realize they've been spotted and shed their stealth to act aggressively, but others freeze in place like they're dead, trying to gauge our movements.
The unknown enemy beyond the fog seems to be going with the latter.
Lying prone on the rooftop, gun aimed, staring toward the sound, desperate to spot even the tiniest shadow.
It was dusk.
From my experience, this is the hour when countless stars overhead start piercing the veil of light one by one—a time when a pretty stiff wind usually rides the ridgeline from the summit toward the outpost.
That wind does push back the damn fog a little, sure, but the deepening darkness cancels it out. No dramatic effect there.
In the end, sight's off the table. Time to bring in the other senses.
Hearing's the most straightforward.
Touch works too.
If they're close enough, you can feel their presence through faint vibrations.
But the real key is thinking ahead.
If you've got scenarios mapped out—like where they'll come from, what angle they'll hit from, how they'll attack—you can react faster when shit hits the fan. Personally, anyway.
Your reflexes won't speed up, but it slashes decision time to damn near nothing.
Three possibilities.
Mutation. Human. Monster.
I update the odds in my head in real time, glaring into the fog.
"...".
Not a monster.
Monsters aren't like living things or animals. They're boundary blurs, running on pre-programmed algorithms. They don't pull off sophisticated moves like halting an advance just because they hear a noise.
Means no holding back on the firepower.
I flicked the selector from single-shot to three-round—no, full auto.
Three-round burst is efficient on humans, but mutations need the punch of sustained fire.
Shring—
For any surprises, I drew an axe and braced the barrel with it.
Then I went dead-still, breath shallow, every nerve on high alert around me.
No footsteps. No breathing.
Just the wind from the summit endlessly shoving fog aside, only for it to refill the space in that hypnotic battlefield loop.
"...".
In a standoff like this, it's decided in one shot.
They won't budge even if we wait out the night.
Sunup's a ways off, and I can't guess when this fog'll clear.
I was holding my breath, eyes locked wide on the fog beyond, when—
Step—
A footfall.
No mistake.
Something human-sized hitting the ground.
Thirty meters out, tops.
No rash trigger-pull. I tuned everything to my ears.
Swoosh—
Wind cutting.
But this sound...
"?!".
I sprang up, twisted sideways.
Swoosh—
Something ice-cold whipped past me, slammed into a solar panel with a deafening whoosh, shattering it.
In the pitch black, shards flying everywhere, I zeroed in on the dark lump that punched straight through the panel.
"...".
Spear.
A spear.
Black-painted, crude bends in the shaft, but that shape—the wicked tip ricocheting off after gutting the panel—pure primitive human javelin.
Human.
Human.
The instant the call clicked, my ears snagged another death whistle.
Swoosh—
Same cut of wind.
Toward—
Clang!
My torso, dead-on.
The thrown spear, melding with the dark till it was nearly invisible, hit my sightline—I batted it aside with the axe.
Step—
Footsteps closing.
Twenty meters.
Not getting tagged.
Suppressive fire into the shadows.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!
Right after the burst, I bolted from the roof into the outpost.
Emergency power on—rooftop floodlights, every damn bulb fired up.
Thump!
Like massive springs uncoiling, the outpost's sleeping lights blasted darkness away all at once.
In that chaos of glaring beams screwing with my eyes, I caught black silhouettes melting into the milky fog beyond.
Spot on.
The mystery man hunter hitting this outpost, picking off people—it's humans like us.
Low-level Awakener, to be precise.
Reported up the chain pronto.
"Yes. Correct. Attacked just like I reported. Human. Got evidence. Short throwing spears, painted black. Threw 'em at me precise as hell through the dark and fog. Masterful, refined work."
Anyone else? Dead.
Didn't say it, though.
I know when to keep it humble.
In Red Archive board lingo, no "bragging".
Unlike the cold no-comments reception at first, now it's full of warm welcomes.
Like coming in from the cold and slurping down hot stew from someone you love.
Slurp—
Popped a caffeine capsule, washed it down with water.
Probably pulling an all-nighter.
No telling when that mystery bastard strikes again.
One thing's clear: that spearwork.
No amateur hour.
Call it kinship—only another cold-steel user gets it.
Every toss screamed pride. Faith his spear wouldn't miss. No one beyond his reach.
He's earned that swagger.
If I hadn't rigged those can alarms around the outpost, I'd have clocked the killer only when he was right on top of me. Unprepped, bad terrain, forced fight.
Odds of winning? Slim to none.
This Park Gyu could've been another missing person vanishing through this post.
Short breather done, heading back to the roof—
Sudden flicker: incoming chat window.
Someone messaged.
Opened it.
Unknown user.
But that nick... rings a bell.
Half-doubting, replied.
Clinging to others' help ain't healthy for morale.
Sometimes the hopeless hold up better than the vaguely hopeful.
If Unicorn ain't stepping out, I hunker down.
Luckily, no more hits that night.
Dawn patrol: tin cans and wire tripped, tracks left.
Beyond alarm zone, prints wiped—but flanking ones peg enemy count.
Four, probably.
Two women or small boys: two different 270mm sneaker soles, one each 225mm, 230mm.
Only one threw, but brought three more? Likely after my corpse and outpost loot.
No trap triggers, but tracks show they skirted to 20m—knew locations? Nah, lucky steps in clear spots.
Fortify: berms around traps, obstacles.
Didn't forget support request.
"Need backup. Can't hold solo long. Tonight? No clue."
Not holding breath for quick reinforcements.
"Sorry. No authority here—just passing top brass calls. They're treating it seriously, deepest apologies, but please hold just a bit longer!"
Long-winded = no dice.
Already felt the malicious hands circling me back on Jeju.
Gong Kyung-min prime suspect, but even post-fallout, I don't buy him pulling this.
Maybe some "lucky lowbie Awakener" I don't know, jealous, hoping I rot here.
"...".
Relocated monitor and keyboard.
Mat under desk, gear on top—prone setup.
Bad for back, awkward, but based on old crew debates: best play vs. lowbie Awakener packs sieging isolated posts.
One sharp guy—no Awakening hints then—nailed it.
"Lowbies ain't invincible. Detection's rough position only—no contour like hi-end IR. X-ray counters IR range, but short leash: 5m max. Detection's the bitch."
Grinned: "My take for that scenario: rest and watch from same spot. They can't clock when you're sleeping or alert. Separate bedroom? Begging to die."
“Gong Kyung-min, my classmate. We cut ties, but not his smarts.”
Observatory life kicked off.
Meals, watches, downtime—all there.
Night raiders ghosted after, and as predicted, Jeju gov stiffed me on backup.
Waiting unknown shift, I dive into new hobby for soul salve.
Click
Click
Click
"...".
Switched up my online vibe.
Ditched selfish posts flaunting thoughts for selfless: slap context-fitting cute girl emotes on eye-catchers.
Hide myself while standing out—pure Zen answer style.
Martial arts term: softness beats strength.
Results? Pumped.
...
...
The kids who iced me out at debut? Now they're name-dropping, watching.