Time to Throw Down (2)
"Of course!"
Everyone jumped to their feet in agreement, practically worshipping me. They get safety. No need to hand over supplies. And they even get extras on top. Miss this deal now, and they'd regret it forever—that was written all over their faces. Their eyes burned with near-maniacal obsession and faith as they reached out to me. Oh, fuck yeah. This is what it feels like to be an idol.
"Good. Then everyone—"
"Hey! You there!"
Sudden interruption from some asshole shouting. Everyone whipped their heads around. At the end of the street, five guys were marching toward us. All men, fully armed with rifles, pistols, machetes, knives—you name it. Hell, they even had bulletproof vests. Ah. Daemo's inner circle. I knew it the second I saw them.
"W-We got spotted!"
"Everyone came out saying they'd collect supplies!"
"I told the sick ones to stay behind!"
The crowd scattered in a panic. Coughing fits everywhere—definitely some sick folks. Even without the coughs, their faces were ghastly, and plenty of uncles and aunties needed help just to shuffle along.
"Wait here. Hide if you want."
I pushed through the crowd and strode forward. Well, what can you do? I knew this was coming, right? If I claimed I didn't see these people clinging to me or predict it, that'd be pure bullshit. I'd already anticipated it. In fact, to rebuild civilization, I need people anyway. How long would it take to repopulate just by knocking up women? Makes sense, yeah? Sure, if I could impregnate a thousand at once... not impossible, but, y'know, genetics and shit. Problems like that. Bottom line: people—plural—is a constant, not a variable.
Ideally, all women, but let's face reality. Men are necessary too. So I have to take these folks in. Hell, I want to. Deep down, yeah, that thought was there. And now? Decision made. Those five coming our way? That's the consequence. My choice, my responsibility.
"Heard there's a masked pervert stealing people. Hey, that you?"
"Hey, you! Collection team! Get back to work. Now!"
"Get over here!"
I spread my arms wide, looking all benevolent. Unarmed at the moment. Left arm had a shield, but I wouldn't need it. We faced off. Me with arms out. They could plow through, go around—whatever. These five looked cocky as hell. None taller than me, but they were all built like tanks. How much did they have to eat to stay that jacked? In this era? Just looking at them told me how much effort that Daemo bitch put into controlling the collection teams.
I'm muscular too, but hey, not my body. Still, described as ripped—but scrawnier than these guys. Plus, unarmed except for the shield. To them, I was just some dog-masked punk-ass bitch. Going around me? Nah, pride wouldn't let 'em.
"Move. Or die?"
One drew a knife—a military combat blade, no less. Twirled it fancy, flipped the grip reverse—guy had skills. I replied kindly.
"I'm giving you a chance."
"...A chance?"
One sneered, a thug with a doughy ear. What're you gonna do about it, you dough-eared fuck? Wanna point and laugh right in his face. But no—stern and benevolent.
"Go back. These people are under my guidance. This is your one and only chance. Turn around."
I placed my right hand over my chest. A gesture of sincerity. I'm dead serious.
"...No way, for real? Listen to this guy's dramatic ass."
"You from a historical drama?"
"What kind of retard is this?"
"What's that on your face? Hey, take it off."
He tapped my face. The dog mask, anyway.
"Turn around. Don't waste this precious chance I'm giving you."
They just laughed at my heartfelt advice.
"...Fucking psycho."
"Hey, you dumb fuck. You took the women, right? Where are they?"
"Hand 'em over before I chop your limbs off."
Knife to my throat, chest—whatever.
"Turn around."
"Ha..."
One glanced aside. Another nodded. He lunged—knife to my throat, right at the thick vein.
Squish!
"Die, bitch!"
"Kuhaha! The women are a pain, but if we search the direction he came from..."
I didn't budge. Throat stabbed, still standing. HP down 2. Just 2? My spear poke does 5 easy. These guys—regular humans, huh. He yanked the knife out—no blood. Sand trickled from the wound instead.
I slowly raised my head.
"...Turn around. Don't waste this chance."
"...Crazy."
"Yo, monster! What's that from his neck?!"
"Kill it!"
They charged. Stabbing my body, bashing with a bat, dough-ear even tried to tackle me. But I didn't topple. 'Cause I'm heavier than you think, dumbass. Over 200kg. Probably 300. And way stronger than I look. Good luck budging me. He froze mid-tackle, arms locked around me. They tried heaving me up—couldn't even pry his arms off my chest. Panicking, staring—meanwhile, attacks rained down. Sand poured from my arms, waist, mask, everywhere.
Ma'at's Rest
HP dipped to the teens. I whispered it. Sand whooshed back, restoring me instantly.
"F-Fucking insane!"
They stumbled back, terror on their faces. I took a step forward.
"...I am a god. I protect humanity. I don't want to kill humans. This is your chance. Go back. This is the command of a god."
"U-Uwaa!"
One pulled a gun. Bang! The others snapped to, unloading on me.
Rat-tat-tat! Bang-bang! Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Only thing on my mind? No pain at all—feels like nothing. Bullets do 2 HP each? Sand body perks, huh. Convenient.
Ma'at's Rest
Dozens of holes riddled my body. Sand spurted, body crumbling—then whoosh, reformed good as new. Hand on chest wasn't just for show.
Click, click. Empty mags.
"U-Uwaaa!"
The armored goons recoiled, asses hitting the dirt. I stepped closer.
"The god commands: Go back. This is your final warning."
"Uwaaa!"
One bolted. The rest followed, scrambling like roaches. I watched them go, stone-faced.
...Fucking satisfying. Y'know, if they kept coming at me, I'd have to kill 'em. But at least they know now: charge me, you die. If they still rush after that? Oh well, their funeral.
"Hm."
They ducked into an alley, gone. Running like hell, the fucks. Anyway, perfect.
Turning back—"G-God!" Desperate voice. Someone down, clutching his gut. Blood pouring. Shit. One of the bullets must've punched through me into him. Knelt before him.
"Shot?"
"Y-Yes—cough!"
Blood from his mouth. Gut, side—lungs hit too. Can't let him die. Dead followers tank faith. Hand on him.
Ma'at's Rest
Light rippled through his body like waves. Bleeding stopped. Bloodstains remained, but wounds? Gone.
"...Huh?"
Uncle blinked, patting himself down.
"...Doesn't hurt."
Dozens stared. He cried out in awe.
"It doesn't hurt! Doesn't hurt! I-I, uwah, anemia..."
...You lost a shitload of blood, dude. Of course you're dizzy yelling like that.
"Wound's healed, but rest up for a bit."
"Y-Yes, God!"
Their gazes, expressions—two miracles right in front of them. Body shrugging off endless blades and bullets, sand flying but unkillable. Bringing the dying back in a flash. No more "What's with the dog mask?" looks.
"Go... God!"
"Real... real god!"
"The true god! My god!"
All knelt before me.
* * *
Guess I need to tweak the plan. Was gonna use the mage to sweep zombie hordes, level up. Mental power up one with levels—spam Nile's Quagmire, farm 1000 coins easy. That was the idea.
But these folks moving into my apartment complex? Big risk: zombies sneaking from who-knows-where, infecting or killing someone. Unavoidable. So mage becomes the complex's guardian deity from now on. Warrior handles coin farming outside.
Our apartment parking lot. The crowd was wiped out—starved, exhausted, emotionally wrecked from the show. But hope got 'em here.
"Wait here a sec."
"Huh?"
Left 'em staring, unsummoned. Summoned Nephkeha the mage, stepped out from home toward them. That's when they noticed: "Something's off with that apartment."
"...Why's that apartment like that?"
"Illegal extension...?"
"Nah, what extension's like that? Look at the pillars."
Thick pillars at every outer corner of my Shrine, carved intricate. Not some dirt pile. Straight-up ancient stone mansion vibe.
Leaning on his long staff, he approached.
"You've all worked hard getting here. This complex will be your new home."
"Go... God?"
"Dog mask... sir?"
"Yes. Me. The dog mask you saw was my avatar. This is too."
Raised the staff.
"I promised safety while you stay with me. I keep my promises."
Chanted like a spell. Whispered:
Three Sand Claws
Please designate a target.
Zombies? Nah. Now I know there are monsters besides zombies.
"All monsters, including zombies."
Staff slammed down. Three sand waves burst from the tip, spreading wide. Kept activating. Endless waves roared out. 15 times. All my mental power dumped in.
The crowd gawked at the spreading sand, shocked, panicked. Some collapsed, screamed. The waves brushed past harmlessly.