The Soldiers' Gift
Twice already, this goddamn zombie—
Pssht—
There was something so damn satisfying about popping a can open with both hands. If I had cans to spare, I could've cracked dozens just for the pleasure of it, even without eating a bite.
Of course I had no intention of wasting food. Long-life cans were limited stock in this world.
I cracked one open and dumped the whole baby potatoes straight into my mouth.
"Hup— mmph."
Silence hung heavy inside the tent. Six people sat there, yet no one was in any hurry to speak.
Couldn't, more like.
The story Baek-ajumma and I had just laid out wasn't the kind of topic you could toss an opinion around on lightly.
Right now the tent held me, Baek-ajumma, Minu-ssi, Hocheol hyung, Jiyu, and Yohan hyung.
When I asked where the old hardware guy had gone, they told me he'd died during the school's attack.
"Tsk."
Just thinking about it left a bad taste. He'd been the one who kept my axe in decent shape.
Maybe it was the tongue-click mid-chew that did it—every pair of eyes in the tent swung toward me. Jesus, what a reaction.
Yohan hyung, who'd been watching me, seemed to steel himself and finally spoke.
"Let's settle this clearly, Baek Jinsook-ssi."
"Settle what, exactly?"
"The soldiers the school mentioned. Lee Hyoseong is dead, but the school itself is still standing, isn't it?"
Their leader was gone, yet the group called the School remained. They might be rattled, but after a few more bodies hit the floor someone would claim the empty seat.
Lee Hyoseong's School had fractured, but the physical campus was intact and the supplies were still there—so yes, it was possible.
"So what do you want to do, Yohan-ssi? Join hands and hit the school?"
"There's a reason they aren't moving directly and are using the school as a middleman to take people."
"And if we hit the school? Between our people and the Church's, how many can actually fight?"
"If we bring the Gym in as well, we might keep the losses down."
"You want us to team up with those thugs over there…?"
"They're still the ones who know how to fight. They've been quiet lately, but… this is necessary."
While Baek-ajumma and Yohan hyung went back and forth, I asked Jiyu for another can.
Pssht—
The cheerful sound of a saury can opening. I ignored the oil and dumped the whole thing into my mouth.
I knew the temperature difference between their heavy conversation and my casual eating was ridiculous, but what exactly was I supposed to do about it?
I wasn't part of any group. I was a solo survivor by choice.
The only thing that snagged in my mind was the possibility that the people they called "soldiers" might actually be the Shelter.
I didn't buy every word Lee Hyoseong had said, but the guess still carried weight.
"I'll go myself and ask for their help."
"Khh—?! Cough, cough…!"
I was mid-swallow on a piece of saury when Yohan hyung's words hit. It lodged hard and I choked out a string of coughs.
"Yohan hyung?"
My eyes snapped to him before I could stop them.
Knowing what I knew about his situation, hearing him say he'd go in person was no different from watching him walk straight into a death trap. That was why it hit harder.
"……We can't leave everything to them."
"I know. But the Gym will be easier to persuade if I go myself."
Baek-ajumma caught my reaction and tried a restraining gesture, but Yohan hyung's resolve was already set in stone.
After that the discussion didn't move much further.
They traded a few more problems back and forth, and the meeting wrapped with the Church putting the Rooftop Market somewhat in its debt under the banner of "support."
I couldn't stay here long either. If I hung around any longer I was genuinely afraid Jiyu would grab my hand and never let go, so I started packing to leave.
"Here—oppa's clothes… I washed them a little. The bloodstains didn't come out completely, but they're wearable."
"Thanks. Finally free of the permanent shirtless look."
I took the clothes, the steel plate, and the stab-proof vest from her.
The hole where Lee Hyoseong's bullet had punched clean through the vest and my gut was still right there. That fucking bastard…
I pulled on the gown that had gone completely black-red with blood.
Luckily the shirt underneath hadn't discolored too badly thanks to the vest covering it.
"But oppa, you're not fully healed yet. You're still leaving…?"
"I'm not part of this group. Staying longer just makes me feel like a freeloader."
"Nobody's giving you dirty looks…"
"It's me who's feeling awkward. It's fine—I'll rest until I'm better."
"…Okay. Be careful. Or—wait, should I just walk with you as far as nearby?"
If I left her like this she really might follow me all the way to my base, so I reached out and pressed down on the top of her head.
"Uuugh…"
"You stay here and help Ajumma. Looks like she's got plenty of work."
She hadn't always been this clingy. Minu-ssi had said he and Baek-ajumma fought and he hadn't shown his face. Maybe she was filling some missing-oppa void with me because she hadn't seen him either.
"Then at least take this machete."
She said it and handed back the machete I'd given her at the school. With my axe gone, I was lucky to have even this.
"What about yours?"
"I've got others. I couldn't grab them when the school caught me, but I've got more weapons, so it's fine."
That left me with nothing more to say. I slid the returned machete back into my belt.
I looked out at the city now fully claimed by darkness.
—Kkieek, kkaak—!
From far off came the faint sound of zombies scraping their throats.
I listened for a moment, then tossed the words out like a stone into still water.
"I really hate this, don't you?"
I didn't specify what.
"Yeah… I really do."
She seemed to understand. Her voice was low and heavy as she nodded.
What a shitty world—one where saying goodbye and handing someone a weapon was just another ordinary day.
Where people hated and killed each other while tangled human relationships spiraled toward catastrophe.
Get bitten and you die. Die and you become a zombie that wanders the city.
Zombies and people alike.
I hated all of it.
That was why I craved the Shelter even more.
A place to escape all of this—somewhere I wouldn't have to stain myself with black blood or red.
I reminded myself of my purpose once more and shifted my gaze to my left arm.
"I'm going."
I left those short words behind and walked out of the Rooftop Market, waving off the worried calls Jiyu threw after me several times.
Thud, thud.
I passed the door I'd smashed and headed down the stairs still stained with blood that hadn't fully washed away.
—Kkieek, kkiik—!
Outside, their distant cries drifted through the night—sounds of things hunting people from the shadows of empty buildings and alleys.
I walked toward those sounds in silence. To go back.
I aimed for solo survival. Nothing new, but that was the truth.
I wasn't rejecting groups on principle. I admitted a group had more advantages than going it alone when it came to numbers and handling multiple tasks at once.
But maybe I'd pinned too much hope on groups once.
Having watched one collapse in vivid detail had left me thoroughly sick of the idea.
Maybe I was just scared—scared of being jerked around again by politics, factions, and people with no way to fight back.
Ah, if only I had a Status Window.
How great would it be if I could just awaken something broken and live a cheat life?
I still didn't have skills… but I had gained one thing.
Kkudeuk.
I stepped into an alley, confirmed no one was around, and quietly raised my left arm.
Kkeudeuk, kkeudeudeuk—
I wrung every last drop of strength out of the arm, the kind of effort you dig up from infancy.
"Ugh… kkh…!"
A headache slammed through my skull in time with my heartbeat—a horrible pain crawling up the back of my neck.
Sweat instantly soaked my back. Heat flared in my head and left arm. Crimson muscle fibers burned hot, twisting and coiling.
Kkadeudeuk—!
A cracked shell layered over the surface of my left arm. The fingertips, already longer, sharpened to an even finer point.
The skin of the muscle Mutant I'd faced at the school—the tough shell my axe had barely scratched—was perfectly reproduced on my left arm.
I still didn't really understand how I knew to do this. After waking up, whenever I unconsciously put force into the left arm, that twisting sensation had just… come.
The reason was probably that moment when the left arm seemed to tear into and devour the muscle Mutant.
Kang—
Even when I slammed the machete down on the arm in this state, it didn't react—like it had judged the threat not worth noticing.
For now it only recreated a Mutant's traits in a simple way. But once I got used to it, maybe I could use it more freely.
"Kkagak… kkagagak—!"
The sound of the machete strike drew zombies like a magnet.
The Rooftop Market was still noisy, so a fair number had gathered nearby. Cleaning up the area while testing the arm didn't sound half bad.
Puh-uk—!
A light swing of the arm crumpled a zombie's head and blew it apart. I hadn't even used the hand—just brushing against the arm was enough to pulp the rotten skull out of existence.
"…Impact?"
I remembered how the muscle Mutant's ground-slams had made my insides lurch and my head spin with nausea.
So it hadn't been pure strength. Something else had been at work?
I reached out with my right hand and touched the red, cracked shell. A sharp vibration shot straight into the bone, forcing me to pull away.
"Holy shit."
Biological hypervibration coating?
No. Even for a Mutant, that crossed a line.
Puhk—
A zombie came at me. The left arm reacted to the threat, shot out, and the longer fingers punched straight through its skull. And then…
Pung—!
The head exploded. Brain matter and clumps of blood sprayed. Looking at it, I felt far more horror and fear than joy.
Even Mutants only bent biology a little past the usual limits.
Hypervibration was a completely different technology—something from another field entirely.
It felt like someone had drawn a crossroad connecting the parallel highways of bioengineering and electrical engineering out of nowhere.
Mutants might install 360-degree loops and stunt ramps on the bioengineering road, but they never left that road.
Kwaak—!
Puh-eong—!
I stretched the left hand and seized a zombie's throat. Its rough thrashing scraped at the arm but left no mark; the neck burst and the head tore free.
A gift…
According to Lee Hyoseong, the muscle Mutants were a "gift" from the soldiers.
He'd called them disposal, but something about that still bothered me.
One thought flashed through my head.
It was ridiculous… but fuck, the government had already pulled similar shit before. I swallowed without meaning to.
"They improved the Mutants?"
Again?