Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Butchers' House
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They'd caught me.
The man stood behind me, ordering me to walk all the way to his hideout.
"Keep walking straight ahead. Try anything funny, and I'll put an arrow right in your skull. Walk straight."
He didn't take my bag or kill me right there.
Instead, he ordered me to carry my own gear.
He planned to drag me all the way back to his place before killing me.
'100% chance this guy's a cannibal...'
Bodies were heavy.
Sunset was coming soon, and killing someone out in the open would make it hard to move the corpse.
So he was probably planning to take me home first?
Perfect for me!
Thanks for the invitation!
"Hey, blood type?"
"O."
"...Nice."
Asking about blood type? Guess he wanted me as a blood bag.
That meant they had medical gear for drawing blood.
By the way, I'm actually A.
Said O to buy some time—they thought it was rare and spared me for now.
This was a total goldmine.
Needles were rare. Blood bags too.
Getting invited to their base meant I could grab all sorts of stuff.
"Any chronic conditions? Diabetes or something?"
"If I had diabetes, I'd be dead already. Right?"
"Fair point."
The guy nodded.
He looked extremely pleased.
Like a butcher facing an A-grade cow.
"Head to that mansion entrance."
The man led me to an abandoned mansion.
The original owners were long dead, no doubt.
Now it was a base for cannibal butchers.
How many survivors had been dragged in here and eaten?
"Bro's back? Whoa! It's a person!"
"Found this idiot wandering nearby alone. Snagged him easy."
"Nice! Feast time after so long!"
"No way. He's O-type."
"What? O-type! Awesome! Dad's gonna love it!"
A massive bald fatty came out of the mansion and inspected me up and down.
Archer was the brother, and this tub was the little bro.
They didn't see me as human.
To them, I was livestock. Food.
"Get inside."
Fatty opened the basement door, and the archer prodded my back with his bow.
The stench of blood was overwhelming.
This basement was their slaughterhouse.
Rotting bones and dried bloodstains everywhere.
Nicely decorated for a grim vibe.
Plenty of tools too.
Even some medical gear.
And that? A generator?
Haven't seen a petrol generator in ages.
So they had power here.
Jackpot.
Remote spot too—no one would come looking, from what I saw on the way.
Way more stable and stocked than my hideout.
Tempting.
I want it all.
"Tie him up."
"Got it, bro!"
Fatty shoved me into a chair and bound my arms and legs.
Meanwhile, archer ripped my shirt and stuck an IV in my arm, starting to drain my blood.
"Bro, why's this guy so docile? Retarded or something?"
"Probably scared of torture if he fights back. Smart, actually."
"Makes sense. Too bad. Wanted to hear him scream."
They chatted casually as they prepped.
Then someone came down.
"Ugh, my back's killing me."
"Dad! We got a person! A person!"
"O-type, right? Heard. Start with the Achilles tendon."
"Yes, Dad!"
Fatty grabbed a razor-sharp kitchen knife and approached me.
This family of three owned the place.
No one else coming.
Butchers all gathered—time to seize their assets.
"Bang."
"Huh? Bang? What the hell? You crazy?"
Wrists tied to the chair, but fingers free.
Aimed at fatty's gut and fired a prepped Fire Bullet.
How much damage would the Fire Bullet that blew up an eye pile do to a person?
Needed a test subject. Fatty's thick fat layer made him tanky—perfect.
Boom!
Fatty staggered back, clutching the hole in his gut, then collapsed.
He stared up at me with bloodshot eyes, like he'd seen something impossible.
Blood poured from his mouth, and he flopped over, dead.
No twitch. Gone.
Like shooting him with a gun.
More like a rifle than a pistol, though.
Very satisfying.
Phlogiston School is god. I'm invincible.
"Wh-what? What just happened...?"
"Youngsik! You fucking bastard!"
Old man too slow on the uptake.
Archer realized his brother was down and drew a knife, charging me.
"Bang."
Fired another Fire Bullet from my fingertip.
Chair recoiled backward from the force.
Archer's right leg blew off at the knee.
"Gaaahhh!!!"
"Junsik!"
"Dad! Run! This guy's a monster!"
"Uh, uhh...!"
Old man tried fleeing upstairs, abandoning his sons.
But he was slow.
Can't just let family go, anyway.
Especially when I have no intention of sparing them.
"Old man. Move and I'll put a hole in your back."
"...Ugh."
He froze mid-step on the stairs.
Melted the cable ties binding me with fire.
Arms and legs free.
I approached the old man slowly.
"Back down. To your workshop."
"...Pl-please spare me. I-I'm a former doctor from Dae sung Hospital. Kn-know medicine. Surgery, internal med, all of it. Pharmacology too."
"Shut your mouth and go down."
His legs shook; he half-crawled down.
I blocked the basement entrance and looked down at the dying archer and trembling old man.
Of my five years surviving...
Today topped the dopamine charts.
Finally punishing butchers who captured and butchered innocents.
I'd always avoided these dangerous types.
Hid, ran, did everything to stay off their radar.
Ended up crawling to nowhere, eating bugs to survive.
My survival record was pathetic.
"What are you? Eat human flesh?"
"...Hah... hah... you fuck... bastard..."
"Old man. Stop that guy's bleeding."
"...O-okay."
Hovered a flame in the air and ordered; old man, terrified, treated archer's stump.
Stopped him from using clean bandages.
He wrapped it in dirty rags to staunch the blood.
Infection? Not my problem.
"Now, answer again. Eaten human meat?"
"...Who hasn't? Meat's meat, fucker."
"True enough."
Of course, I'd never touched it.
Mom said long ago: eat human meat, get sick.
These guys were definitely diseased.
Filthy.
"What were you gonna do with the blood? Make blood sausage? You seemed thrilled it was O-type. Connections? Selling it?"
"..."
"No answer, huh."
Were there secret societies of these scumbags I didn't know about?
Makes sense—raiders and killers forming their own communities.
Need to scout potential threats early.
Find out where they sell the parts to prepare.
'People with medical knowledge are rare. Killing the old man means they'll hunt the culprit.'
Need intel on enemies.
Vital for looting this place clean.
"Y-Yellow Boss. Buys eyes, kidneys, blood regularly."
"Yellow Boss?"
"B-big shot in Yongsan area. Brings food, fuel. And if he finds out you did this shit here? You won't die easy. That guy's a total psycho."
Even without this, capture means no mercy anywhere.
Threatening me now?
"Got it. Yellow Boss from Yongsan visits regularly."
"T-tomorrow. Coming tomorrow. Don't know if you're superpowered or whatever. But can you really stand up to real guns? Just go. I won't say a word about you."
Burned archer's head to a crisp.
Heard all I needed.
Leave no loose ends—eliminate thoroughly.
Humanity or murder guilt? Numbed after five years.
Year five of the ice age.
Surviving this long means killing at least three people.
Me too.
"A-ahh! Junsik!"
"Old man."
"Hiiik..."
"Yellow Boss tomorrow, right?"
"Y-yes."
"How many?"
"Drives... about 12..."
"What time?"
"M-morning. Comes morning, drops off meat to process, picks up finished..."
"Just a processing shop?"
"...Y-yes."
"They take blood and cuts—what do they do with it in Yongsan?"
"D-don't know. Eat it? Make something? How should I know."
"You just do as ordered?"
"Y-yes. Just follow orders."
Don't need to know exactly what they do.
Just that scum in Yongsan visit tomorrow.
"If you die, will they get mad?"
"Th-they'll hunt you down. Yellow Boss eliminates any threats..."
"Got it."
Fired a Fireball at old man's head.
He burst into flames.
Never planned to spare him.
Even with medical skills, trusting a butcher at my back is insane.
One regret: have to abandon the mansion.
'Grab what I can and bounce.'
Wanted the whole place.
But location exposed to Yellow Boss—gotta ditch.
"Tons of meat here."
Stockpiled for the butchers.
Didn't touch. No human flesh.
'Antibiotics? Grab 'em. Syringes too. Beakers, flasks? Potion Addict would love these.'
Stuffed my bag full.
Medical supplies, saws, axes—everything.
Then swept the rest into duffels and suitcases from the house.
Burned a family of three, looted their home.
'Want the generator... Handcart? Found one.'
Searched the back—found a bloodstained handcart.
Probably for hauling bodies.
Load generator and heavy stuff here.
Wipe wheel tracks later.
"All packed."
Farming done as sun set.
Spend the night here.
Stay up all night, but haul's worth it—excited.
Move at dawn.
Escape when undead hide from sun.
Logged into the gallery for some mental relief.
Posted that I survived; the mages welcomed me.
Didn't mention killing or near-death.
Not ready yet.
Sort my thoughts, tell tomorrow.
Wanted calm now.
Chat with normal folks, exchange light jokes.
No need to relive it.
After seven hours of gallery chatting...
Sun finally rose.
Time to return to my hideout.
Leave the rest...
'Burn it all.'
Set the house ablaze.
Destroy the crime scene—no traces.
The butchers' den, where they slaughtered survivors, went up in flames.
Warm.
Hope the world gets this warm more often.