Chapter 112
Chapter 112
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: Flesh Guardian
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The mayor hesitated even after hearing the curfew order.
He didn't even seem to understand the day he'd sided with the mercenary captain.
So I tacked on words I didn't really mean.
"If the mayor insists on getting involved, I'll leave. For now, I've cleared the surrounding aliens, so it should be safe for a while. In the meantime... "
"Ah, no... !"
The mayor paled as he caught my meaning and rushed over.
"That's not what I meant at all! Of course, protecting the city should be left to those more capable. I'll head straight back to city hall and focus on calming the citizens. So please, don't talk about leaving... "
He was literally clinging to my pant leg.
I paused for a moment, pretending to mull it over, then nodded.
"If the mayor cooperates, I might reconsider. And please understand—this mercenary captain and I worked together on operations before. He's from the instructor corps, too. He helped me out a lot back then."
"...Really?"
"Why would I lie?"
"You should've said so sooner. Captain, I had no idea and messed up."
"Ah, no, it's fine."
His attitude flipped with dazzling speed.
The mercenary captain looked baffled as the mayor bowed his head in apology.
"If you need anything, just say the word. I'll stake my position as mayor on helping you!"
"...Just provide manpower for outreach outside the city and setting up barricades."
"Of course that's something we have to help with!"
It felt like something had swept through.
The mercenary captain and I stared at the spot where the mayor had vanished.
"He's quite the guy."
"In more ways than one."
At least he didn't seem like he'd cause trouble, which was a relief.
I'd been worried I might have to do something about him.
*
We circled the city's outskirts in the battleship, wiping out every sizable alien pack.
Including a mid-mission rescue of some refugees we spotted, we'd been at it nonstop, and a whole day had slipped by before we knew it.
"The numbers aren't dropping at all."
"There seems to be a hatchery around here somewhere."
No clue on its estimated location.
They popped up like they were growing from the ground—even after we'd cleaned an area, we'd spot more aliens if we circled back.
That was a clear sign of a hatchery nearby.
Judging by the types showing up, it was probably a Grade 3 at most, but taking it out was the only way to get a break from worrying about the city.
'Where could it be?'
I studied the map closely.
It was marked with nine prime candidates based on the aliens' movements we'd logged so far.
Nine suspects, just among the likeliest spots.
A surface hatchery would be obvious at a glance, but this one was underground, with aliens crawling up through tunnels they'd dug all over, so pinpointing the exact spot was impossible.
In peacetime, there'd be no need to agonize over it.
We could've methodically cleared aliens with troops while searching every suspicious site.
But we didn't have that luxury now.
First, we had to handle the hatchery activating near the city, then head to the defense force outpost for resupply.
"Hmm... "
I peered at the map carefully.
Alien movements looked chaotic at first glance, but closer inspection revealed habits and purposes.
Others might shake their heads at the explanation, calling it nonsense, but that's what got me top grades in Real Time Alien Tactics at the academy.
'Here?'
I pointed to a spot on the map.
Twin peaks about 20 km north of the city.
I'd narrowed it down to three till the end, but factoring in terrain and alien movements, this had the highest odds.
"Frederick, I'm heading out to take down the hatchery. Hold down the ship for now."
"Should I contact the mercenaries?"
"Yeah."
"Got it."
Taking out a hatchery solo was impossible.
If you didn't wipe it completely, it could reactivate, so the standard was to go in with demolition gear.
Time to sync up with the mercenaries again.
We parked the battleship over the city once more, and only Roze and I disembarked.
At the outskirts, the mercenary captain and thirty mercs were waiting, geared up with everything we needed.
"Found the hatchery?"
"Not for sure. I've got three prime spots in mind, so we might be walking into nothing."
"That's not many. Worst case, we check 'em all."
I'd picked one, but I didn't always nail it.
Confidence level? About eighty percent.
The captain looked like the cost didn't matter.
We split into three shuttles and floored it.
We ran into a few aliens en route, but nothing that could stop us.
At the twin peaks, the mercs slung on radar gear and scattered in teams of three.
Results came quick.
After about twenty minutes of searching, they found one of the aliens' tunnels.
"We're breaching now."
The captain took point.
About a kilometer in, aliens started showing.
"Claws! Monkey Hounds too!"
"Watch the teeth!"
Monkey Hounds were Grade 2 threats.
They resembled monkeys, with insanely long arms, near-silent movement, no neck but a massive shark-like maw that could shred steel once it clamped down.
'Lucky they haven't hit the city.'
Their physique let them exploit terrain and cover masterfully.
If they showed in the city, they'd leap between high-rises, massacring civilians—a total headache.
Smart, too—they avoided strong foes.
If something seemed tough, they'd bail and hunt the weak instead.
The ones we faced probably wouldn't have shown if we hadn't entered their tunnel to the hatchery.
"They fight well."
Roze let out an admiring sigh from behind me as she watched.
"They've got experience."
Metal Gear Mercenaries weren't your average shoot-from-afar types.
Most were martial artists who preferred close-quarters brawls over firepower.
Even against agile foes like Monkey Hounds, where you'd normally cluster for firepower, they dove into the melee.
'This is the bare minimum... '
I watched the mercs closely.
If they couldn't handle this, there'd be no point hiring them and saddling myself with their three hundred thousand mouths to feed.
"Hyah!!"
The standout was the captain, naturally.
He turned his whole body into a weapon, pulping aliens left and right—his frame so tough that Monkey Hounds' teeth shattered on him repeatedly.
"All clear."
"Good work."
After the brief skirmish, we pressed on down the tunnel.
First Monkey Hound encounter, but it was urgent, and there'd be later chances, so I held off on my abilities.
Radar signals strengthened, confirming we were on track.
'Why no follow-up attacks?'
But no other aliens had blocked our path since the initial clash.
The mystery cleared up moments later.
At the tunnel's end, where it opened into a cavern, we spotted a swarm of aliens.
And that wasn't all.
More poured in through our tunnel—must've looped around via others.
"Captain, what's the play?"
"Cover the rear. We'll handle this side."
"Can I fight too?"
"Yeah. Let's clean 'em up fast."
Roze stepped up eagerly, like her body had been itching for it.
"They're all dead."
She plunged into the alien horde.
The ones charging like it was a gift exploded on her fists one by one.
The usual overwhelming sight.
Before her core weapon, she'd shown some human limits, but now? No back-and-forth at all.
'That's a true physical superhuman in action.'
Unlike ability users, physical types got tougher defenses with core weapons.
Their innate abundant inner energy meshed with the weapon's emissions, hardening the body further.
These physical superhumans were living tanks.
Nothing stopped them till their stamina ran dry.
Their weakness versus ability users was mass destruction, but tight spaces like this were perfect for physical types.
"More coming!"
She'd already bagged thousands, but the horde seemed endless.
The mercs, who'd started with fisticuffs, grew weary and switched to their prepared weapons.
I busily thinned the aliens while mapping the situation in my head.
'Definitely Grade 3.'
Even accounting for the ones we'd killed outside, this output was too high for 1s or 2s.
The proportion of Grade 2s backed it up.
But after we'd culled near ten thousand, their numbers finally thinned.
"Moving out!"
Once somewhat cleared, we pushed deeper without pause.
Hatchery takedowns were a race against time.
A standard Grade 3 at full tilt spat out nearly a thousand aliens per hour.
And with external aliens sensing the threat and turning back, we couldn't bank on numbers dropping.
"Smash every energy vessel you see!"
"Thick one's moving overhead!"
"Don't leave any!"
Past the cavern, we entered the true hatchery zone.
Energy vessels were like veins.
Paths channeling energy the hatchery had absorbed via various routes—they doubled as storage, so wrecking them crippled production.
The mercs hustled, destroying every vessel in sight.
For the deep or massive ones too tough to smash outright, they used explosives for certainty.
Krurrruk!
Aliens kept coming.
Resistance intensified the deeper we went.
Not just Hounds and Grade 2s—Grade 3s showed to grab at our ankles.
"Huff! Huff!"
"Conserve stamina! Tired ones, fall back to formation and catch your breath!"
Endless fighting plus vessel destruction wore even these stamina monsters down.
The captain looked frazzled juggling unit status and smashing aliens.
'Sshould've brought more bodies?'
For a Grade 3, our numbers were light.
The mercs' skills and Roze let us bulldoze in, but casualties wouldn't be surprising.
But shying from sacrifice was laughable.
Zero losses on a Grade 3 hatchery run?
Even with full prep, dozens died in standard ops.
With a superhuman, fewer—but none without? Worse.
"Almost there!"
After a bit of wrong turns, we found a cavern that looked like a hatching chamber.
At Grade 3, these split into multiples, so low odds of a core here—but finding one meant we'd reached deep.
I scanned the chamber interior, then spoke.
"No need to touch this one yet."
"Don't we have to wipe everything?"
"Just immature specimens. Fresh chamber, barely set up. It'll wither once we kill the core."
An overlooked fact.
Most knew but razed them anyway since they were eyesores.
The captain nodded once and ignored it.
We passed the chamber and went deeper.
"Flesh Guardian!"
And we'd reached the hatchery's heart.