Chapter 415: Social Tidying Up (7)
Chapter 415: Social Tidying Up (7)
The mission objective had shifted from eliminating The Enemy’s limbs to gathering intelligence, but the execution remained essentially the same.
Scour the area for anything suspicious and annihilate any glaringly anomalous entities.
Basically, our specialty is annihilation.
Even if the Assassination Team’s past duties occasionally overlapped with espionage, the only person among the current members who could be considered an expert in that field—if I were being extremely generous—was Brantley, and he was a medical specialist.
As for Harvey… he’s an expert in his own right, but his knowledge is so pathologically niche that he’s out of the question. Besides, he isn't even here.
In such a situation, what else were we supposed to do?
Reminding myself once again of the justification for our actions, I moved.
One more.
Thwack.
I thrust my palm forward, killing the man who had been typing a suspicious document at his computer.
Struck from behind, his subclavian and carotid arteries both pierced, the man died instantly, spraying blood across the glowing monitor.
A few seconds later, he too turned into liquid and collapsed.
…
I’ve become so accustomed to this phenomenon that I no longer feel anything when I see it.
I haven’t even encountered it that many times, yet everything I run into ends up like this, so it’s harder not to get used to it.
At this point, I’d probably be more surprised if a corpse actually remained.
After finishing the job, I flicked the blood off my hand and pushed aside the chair, now sticky with the remains of the melted corpse, to look at the monitor.
Blood was splattered all over the screen, making it impossible to read everything, but there was no need to read it all—nor was it even possible.
I don’t know every language on Earth, but I could be certain of one thing.
The document on the screen was not written in any language used by humans.
A mess of special characters, numbers, and a few random letters couldn't possibly be a language.
It looked like the result of a toddler randomly mashing a smartphone touchscreen while watching a video, and it didn't seem to hold any meaning, but…
“…I guess I’ll send it in for now.”
To an expert, this gibberish might actually mean something.
It could just be a bizarre repetition of a daily habit, like the Pie Woman who continued her routine even after being contaminated. But as seen in her case, there was often malice woven into those actions.
Chopping off one's own hand to put it in a dish couldn't possibly be a normal behavior; it had to be something they inserted into the routine.
If so, this nonsensical document might also hide some hidden meaning.
The probability of it being meaningless seemed higher, but deciding that wasn't the role of those of us gathering primary intel at the scene. Whether this was worth interpreting or not was a problem for the Management Bureau’s Information Analysis Department to lose sleep over.
With that thought, I transmitted the file to the Bureau and stepped out of the room.
A cheap housing complex.
A five-story villa. Depending on who you asked, it might be called an apartment or a mansion. A building with four doors per floor, no elevator, only stairs.
By a rough estimate, it was a villa packed with about twenty households…
“…Total annihilation, then.”
I couldn't feel the scent of life here either.
All that remained were former humans who had lost their minds like that man, or empty rooms that had evaporated into nothingness, leaving only the traces of former inhabitants.
Seeing the stains of unidentified slime or blood left in those rooms, it seemed the residents had either died for some reason while performing those strange actions or had been murdered while trying to resist after noticing the anomaly.
Grisly stuff.
At this rate, the death toll will easily surpass ten thousand.
In fact, it was safe to assume these Type S of collective residences were completely wiped out.
Every human I encountered inside the buildings was a contaminated entity.
The only times I ran into anyone relatively sane were people living in private residences or shacks.
Those people were being sent straight to Ultimate.
Of course, they might only appear normal on the surface while rotting away inside, but it wasn't my place to judge and erase them.
With that thought, I looked up the stairs leading to the floor above.
I’m on the fourth floor, so the next one is the last.
I hadn't made any major breakthroughs in this search either.
Unless I had an ability like Svetlana’s to leap through space at high speeds, it was difficult for me to maintain stealth for long.
I could hide my presence, but I couldn't combine that with high-speed movement. No matter how well I controlled my body, physical limits were unavoidable.
Of course, among martial artists, there are Footwork Techniques in the form of "Forms" that allow one to move at high speeds while remaining undetected.
But I wasn't capable of handling such specialized Forms.
Sure, I could pull off something out of a spy movie—sprinting a short distance while hidden to get behind someone and twist their neck 180 degrees.
But that was only for assassinations, maintaining it for a very short time over a short distance.
It was impossible to keep that up constantly during a search like this.
In fact, Svetlana was the one bringing in the most information during this operation.
I don't know why she’s so full of motivation when she’s usually so lazy.
Maybe she’s worried she won't be able to slack off if the world ends.
Thinking that, I continued my destructive exploration.
Killing every enemy on sight—an act far removed from stealth.
It would obviously draw the enemies' attention.
But so what?
Let them come.
The Enemy already knew we were here from the moment we arrived in Detroit. And they knew it in a way so subtle I couldn't even detect it.
There was no need to play it safe.
The main force for this operation was the Defense Force arriving in two days anyway.
Our role was to act as bait, drawing The Enemy’s gaze and buying as much time as possible while gathering intel until they arrived.
I could have gone on a flashy rampage, but there was no telling what those mad doctor bastards would do if I did…
I could grind Detroit to dust on my own.
But if those crazy doctors had a self-destruct button or a frenzy trigger for the infected, I couldn't handle that alone.
Therefore, the main force of this operation wasn't an individual like me or Ultimate, but the Defense Force, which wielded the violence of numbers.
We were the bait dangling before their eyes, being monitored while ensuring The Enemy didn't do anything reckless.
Recalling that, I suppressed the urge to tear all of Detroit apart right now to kill the doctors and climbed the stairs.
Thud. Thud.
The sound of my boots hitting the concrete stairs of the old apartment echoed through the surroundings.
A sound I created alone in the silent building.
After a few more steps, I reached the top floor.
I glanced at the next set of stairs—the ones leading to the roof—before approaching the nearest door.
I didn't sense any particular information on this floor.
On the previous floor, I could faintly catch the sound of someone frantically pounding on a keyboard, but there was no such peculiar data here.
So, with a somewhat relaxed mind, I turned the doorknob.
Click.
Locked.
It was common. Even in a residence this messed up, half were locked and half weren't.
And whether a door was locked or not wasn't a problem for me.
If I could walk in by turning the knob, it was convenient; if it was locked, it was just one extra step in the process.
To perform that extra step, I formed a fist but kept my thumb pointed straight out.
Stab.
I jammed my thumb directly into the keyhole.
Creeak. Click.
I twisted my fist, forcing the door open.
It was such a routine action that I didn't give it a second thought as I turned the knob again.
Just as the door was opening normally—
Tug.
The opening door hit something and wouldn't budge any further.
What?
I peered through the crack to see what was going on, and I realized immediately.
A door chain?
I saw a rusted chain pulled taut between the door and the frame.
A security device to stop someone from entering even if they forced the lock.
This physical security measure only worked if someone was inside…
Is someone in there?
The thought crossed my mind for a moment.
But I quickly changed my mind.
Rather than the possibility of someone being alive, it was more likely they had died while holed up inside for survival.
Still, it was definitely the first time I’d encountered this.
I’d seen plenty of houses with locked doors, but one with the security chain engaged?
Maybe there’s something here.
With that thought, I reached out, easily snapped the chain, and pushed the door open.
Creeeeak.
The door swung wide.
The house was silent.
Thump. Thump.
Only the sound of my boots echoed as I walked calmly through the house.
I scanned the surroundings immediately, but nothing special stood out.
No corpses, no stains.
All that was there was the dust stirred up by my entrance.
I opened the other doors to check the remaining rooms, but the situation was the same.
The thought that this was a bust ran through my rational mind.
But my intuition was giving me a different answer.
There is something in this house.
I didn't know why I felt that way.
To anyone else, it was a house with no inhabitants.
There was always the possibility that someone had set the door chain and then escaped reality through a window.
However, something inside me led me somewhere, certain that there was something in this place.
There were two rooms connected to the living room.
Of those, it was the second room I opened.
Compared to the first, the second room was significantly smaller.
But the care poured into this room was incomparable to the first room or the living room.
Anyone would understand why the moment they saw the state of the room.
This was a child's room.
Though the colors had faded, it was mostly pink, and the toys suggested it belonged to a girl.
Even living in a slum like this, it was the heart of a parent who wanted to give their child the best.
That heart had made this room the only one that didn't reek of the slum's gray atmosphere.
There is nothing in this room either.
My senses told me so.
But I kept walking.
Because I had seen a situation like this before.
Back then, I had definitely opened something.
Creeak.
A door opened.
Not the room door.
What I opened, following my instinct, was the small closet in the room.
The gap widened, and I felt a reaction.
I saw two bright lights.
A person's eyes, staring at me.
The Child held her breath.
She looked at me with eyes brimming with tears.
Was she six or seven years old?
Her physical condition was a mess.
Her clothes were filthy, and her hair was a tangled mess, as if it hadn't been groomed in a long time.
That child was staring at me.
“….”
How was I supposed to react?
How… could she still be alive?
Outside this room, there were only contaminated humans.
Food aside, even the water supply had been trashed long ago.
The probability of surviving in this situation was—
It’s a trap.
My reason told me so.
It told me to check the state of the entity before me.
Following that, I reached out toward the small being who feared me.
With hands that smelled of blood from killing person after person.
“Hi… hieee….”
I heard The Child’s whimper, but I kept reaching out.
To do what I had to do.
I wasn't going to kill her. Just… verify.
As those few seconds passed and my hand was about to touch the girl—
Something caught my eye.
A red bag stamped with the Management Bureau mark.
A survival backpack guaranteed by the Bureau.
Small plastic wrappers scattered around it.
The moment I saw that, I immediately withdrew my hand.
A survivor.
She had been able to survive this situation because of that backpack.
I didn't know how long this phenomenon had been going on.
But that survival backpack, filled with food patches and "dry water"—items that defied common sense—guaranteed survival for two weeks to a month for an adult male.
It was an expensive item, but it seemed the owner of this house hadn't considered it a waste.
With that, survival was possible.
Furthermore, that "two weeks to a month" timeframe was based on an adult male.
For a child whose daily requirements were far lower…
Just how long had she been enduring this phenomenon?
That child was staring at me, paralyzed with terror.
It was only natural.
To her, I must be just as strange as the monsters outside.
Someone reeking of blood, staring at her with an expressionless face.
The moment I realized that—
My mind went blank.
Fuck. What the hell am I doing?
Hey. Get it together, Lee Ha-ram.
That’s a kid. A little kid.
No matter how suspicious it is, what the hell are you doing?
Realizing this, I immediately opened my mouth.
“Ah. Sorry. Are you okay?”
I finally spoke, but with such useless words, The Child continued to look at me with fearful eyes.
This isn't working.
“Where are your parents?”
I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
But the moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d stepped on a landmine.
There was no one else in the house.
Only a child hiding in a closet, holding her breath.
The conclusion was obvious. What is wrong with me?
“…Mommy… Waaaaaaaah!”
The Child began to wail.
I am really failing at this.
“Don’t cry. Shh. It’s okay.”
I tried to fix it somehow, but the girl’s crying only grew louder.
I started scouring my brain for a way to resolve this.
Dammit, how did other Heroes act in times like this?
It’s been so long since I did search and rescue or public service that I can’t even remember!
So, hell. How do you do this?
As I agonized, something flashed in my mind like a bolt of lightning.
“It’s okay! Big sis is here! You like Magical Girls, right?”
I raised my voice, making it as cheerful as possible.
Is this right? Is this really it?
I thought I saw a toy wand earlier, didn't I?
Please. Fuck.
“…Magical…?”
The Child’s crying subsided slightly, and a hint of interest mixed into her gaze.
Dammit. Fine, I’m going with this.
This is no time to worry about embarrassment.
“Magical, magical, spin-and-twirl~☆”
I quickly summoned a small hammer from thin air, instantly altering its design to look cute with little wings, and spun it in my hand.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The Child, having stopped crying, watched me with interest.
“Magical… girl?”
“Yep! A Magical Girl. You’re safe now!”
I smiled as brightly as I could and struck a pose.
Chest out with confidence, hand holding The Hammer thrust straight forward.
Fuck.
The Child stared at me blankly.
Just as I was reaching the limit of what else I could possibly do—
“Mommy…. Mommyyyyy!”
The Child burst into tears and lunged into my arms.
I caught her and held her.
My mind continued to spew curses.
But this time, I suppose it couldn't be helped.
Fuck.