Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Death Solves All Problems
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Poor Man was one of the viewers of my stream.
Even when hardly anyone else tuned in, he always watched.
One time, he was the only one watching, so people called him a loyal retainer.
He never skimped on donations whenever he watched my broadcasts.
He'd whine about grueling part-time jobs, making people secretly look forward to it.
I wonder what part-time gig he'll brag about this time.
I'd always laughed it off whenever Poor Man mentioned part-time work.
If he has time to watch streams, he's just donating from that...
"..."
After the zombie outbreak, I'd completely forgotten about him.
I figured there was no way he could still be alive.
But now I'd run into him again.
Or more precisely, I'd heard from these guys claiming he was still kicking.
They'd coveted his traits, locked him up, and exploited him.
When he escaped, they spun it as "taking care of him," and now they were hunting him down.
What should I do?
"...Been a while since I've felt this fired up."
I slapped my cheeks hard with my palms.
My head cleared in a flash, blood rushing to my eyes.
His name was Ji-man, right?
"If he gets caught this time, he's in for hell..."
Whiner #5 had said it multiple times.
Poor Man had stabbed him in the back and bolted.
True or not, it didn't matter.
What was clear was that things between them were ugly.
And if Poor Man got nabbed this time, he sure as hell wouldn't walk away unscathed.
"I even admitted I get obsessed..."
Whiner #5 was the type who'd snap someone's leg without a second thought.
My job was clear.
No point talking it out—time to throw down.
"Sorry, guys. Gotta use this here."
I pulled the Pardon Scroll from my slot and gripped it tight.
Guilt?
I've already killed plenty of people.
System might not count it as murder, but it was straight-up killing.
Still, I felt zero guilt.
If I hadn't killed them, I'd be the dead one.
Someone once said it:
Death solves all problems.
If problems linger, you just didn't kill enough.
Least in the apocalypse, spot on.
"I'll kill every last one of you."
.
.
.
"Hey, drive him that way!"
"He's escaping!"
The Servant Society members chasing Thumb Man were half-possessed by hunters.
Fun game, huh?
The prey might as well have been a rabbit—no real attack options.
Meanwhile, they were loaded with attack traits and weapons.
Four or five of them—more than enough to corner him.
"Into the alley!"
"Don't block the front!"
The real goal of this hunt? Satisfy their leader Hong Ki-seop's sadism.
Thumb Man had backstabbed them and run, so payback was due.
And Hong Ki-seop, as leader, would collect it personally.
He'd told his teleporter Jong-su to herd the guy but not catch him.
Ki-seop wanted the hands-on takedown.
Everyone pictured Ki-seop grabbing Ji-man's collar and wailing on him, smirking to themselves.
They weren't born sadists.
Living in the Servant Society just normalized violence.
No laws, morals, or cops to stop them.
In an apocalypse of total freedom, sadism bubbling up from the psyche's depths was inevitable.
Not everyone ignored Ji-man's plight.
Especially the women.
But even they were brainwashed by Ki-seop's logic.
—We protected him, fed him, and he runs? That's betrayal. Betrayal.
They weren't idiots, but nobody dared contradict Ki-seop.
Maybe some primal fear of traitors ran deep.
...Anyway.
Ji-man was sprinting for his life from the Servant Society goons.
He'd ditched his backpack.
His stamina was above average, but too many pursuers.
Plus a teleporter—escape was no picnic.
Dashing through a narrow alley, he spotted a lanky guy pop up out of nowhere and freaked.
"Gah!"
"Told you it's pointless. Make bro waste energy, and you'll get it worse."
"..."
Ji-man backed away slowly.
Jong-su clicked his tongue.
"Just give up already. Bro won't go too hard. At worst, a cast on the leg or something."
"That's the same as breaking my leg!"
Ji-man snapped, and Jong-su got pissy.
"What else to stop you running? We looked after you, and you betray us?"
"I never betrayed anyone."
"Bull. Our society's one big family. Running off without permission? That's not family."
"I've never once thought of you as family."
Ji-man raised his voice. Jong-su closed in, shaking his head.
"Ki-seop bro said you'd pull this. Said a talk after we grab you would fix it... Hey!"
By then, Ji-man had vaulted the fence into a house.
Quick little shit.
But a scary bastard was waiting.
Jong-su rounded the corner into the yard and burst out laughing.
Ji-man was in Ki-seop's clutches.
"Long time no see, huh?"
"Uh..."
Hong Ki-seop—Whiner #5 to Sung-ho—hoisted Ji-man up by the collar.
He turned to Jong-su.
"Round up the others. Tell 'em we got Ji-man."
"Got it."
Ki-seop pivoted back with a soft tone.
"Ji-man."
"..."
"Thumb Man."
"..."
No reply.
Ji-man kept his lips sealed, head turned away.
Check out this brat's attitude.
Ki-seop smirked and backhanded his cheek.
Smack!
"Hey, Thumb Man."
Still nothing.
Rage boiled over. Ki-seop shoved his face right up to Ji-man's nose.
"This fucker ignores me and runs? What about us who've been looking after you, huh?"
"Y-you didn't lo-look after me..."
"What do you mean no? Fed you, housed you, let you live with us—what more you want? You're asking too much."
He tightened the collar grip. Ji-man couldn't even respond.
"Uh... Gack!"
That was how it went.
Ki-seop forced his views with a side of violence.
Submit and bow your head? He treated you decent.
Resist like Ji-man? Torment till the end.
"Ji-man, Ji-man... what do I gotta do to make you listen? Just behave, and life's easy for everyone. This leg the issue? One's plenty for getting by, right?"
While Ki-seop rambled nonsense,
Hee-won, heading to check on Ji-man, blocked the suddenly appearing Sung-ho.
"Go somewhere else."
"..."
No response.
The hulking Sung-ho advanced with bloodshot eyes.
Hee-won scowled and raised her voice.
"I said go somewhere else. Why won't you listen?"
"Slot 3."
"God, what the hell?"
Irritated, she tried activating her ability—but Sung-ho's body stretched long.
No, that was her illusion.
She glimpsed a gray blade hurtling toward her neck.
'Too fas—'
Before the thought finished, the blade severed her neck.
Hee-won's head thudded limply to the ground. Blood sprayed from the stump.
Sung-ho vanished.
.
.
.
Raw killing intent flooded my body.
After lopping off Hee's neck, I hunted the next target.
Combat Instinct fired up, vision bathed in red.
There.
Some smirking bastard on the roof.
Leave him be, he'd interfere.
I vaulted the fence and hit the second floor.
The guy whipped around and panicked.
"Wh-what the?"
People or monsters—same issue.
Act first, freak later.
He snatched the bow from the floor, but I was already leaping.
His eyes bugged out saucer-wide.
Thud!
He tumbled from the second story, skull cracking against the fence. No more movement.
I dropped onto his gut.
"Gaaah!"
He screamed like he was bursting.
I pressed the longknife firm against his chest.
Slight resistance, then it sank in.
Scream and heartbeat hit together.
Thump, thump.
Been ages for this feel.
Not like I haven't played killer before.
Any Survival Life veteran has.
Needed for those epic deathmatches.
Killer gig bored me quick, though.
Anyway, two kills in, murderer status unlocked.
Exclusive Murderer Skill Unlocked
Exclusive murderer skill popped in my view, stats exploding.
Combat Instinct-boosted trio nearing 25.
Boom!
Heart exploded sound, deathmatch triggered.
Dunno how many inside, but zombies would swarm 'em now.
Checked the horde, kicked off the ground.
Hit the street—two guys spotted me.
"Murderer!"
"Fuck, zombies incoming! Link up with bro first!"
No running.
Whirled the hook, hurled at one.
He launched skyward, rope snagged, yanked right to me.
"Huh!"
Too late fumbling for his waist knife—I was faster.
"Eek! This—!"
Dropped the rope, charged, soccer-kicked his skull.
Crunch. Head snapped back.
Neck snapped—instant kill.
Heartbeat thundered louder.
Everything red-tinted.
IR vision off, but Life Tracking and Death Mark worked fine.
Survivors lit up around me.
There.
Sniper shot Elderwood Longbow as the runner crested a fence.
Where's Whiner #5?
Prowling streets beast-mode, zombie wall blocked three runners.
Two plus one slung over Whiner #5's shoulder.
"Bro! Murderer's here!"
"Fuck, shoulda finished him back then!"
Whiner #5 glared back, spat.
I bolted wordless—gap closing fast.
They ran forever, finally loosed an arrow.
Swoosh.
Shoulder twitch dodged it.
Combat Instinct plus murderer bonus—agility ~25.
Dodging arrows? Cake.
They gritted teeth, kept firing. Caught the last one inches away, snapped it.
"...He caught it?"
"B-bro!"
Whiner #5 steeled up, shoved the shoulder cargo to the other guy.
Poor Man, no doubt.
"Hide him somewhere. I'll..."
No need to hear more.
Slot open, flung flying knives at the lanky one.
Blinked away.
How long you got?
Predicted spot, showered Emeras knives—screams rang out.
Then Whiner #5 charged me.
"Raaah!"
Swung wild—I snagged both wrists one-handed each.
Instant grapple.
Physical build or not, I was stacked with every buff.
"Wh-what strength..."
His muscles bulged, but he yielded ground.
I wrenched the arm full-tilt.
Crunch—
Vile snap, wrist spun wrong.
"Gaaaah!"
Clutched the floppy limb, crumpled.
Smashed the other wrist, drew longknife, aimed chest.
He groaned through pain.
"Wh-who... the fuck are you..."
"Kimbap Lover mean anything?"
"Wha...?"
Eyes popped wide.
Pupils danced in shock and confusion.
"No way... you wouldn't do something this dumb... why go murderer..."
"Got this, though."
Flashed the Pardon Scroll—he stared holes through it.
"You can't be..."
"Event clear dropped it. Thanks for the freebie."
"Urgh! Hnngh!"
Tears of fury.
I gripped the knife hand.
Blade dug into chest.
"Please! Nng! Spare me! Just spare—"
"I don't do regrets."
Shoved hard—it sank deep.
He thrashed, then slowed... stilled.
Stood with bloody blade in hand.
Back-to-back kills—heart drumming like warbeats.
Done...
A few deaths, and every problem vanished.
Servant Society? Donezo. Survivors too beat to pick fights.
Tore the Pardon Scroll—calm returned, vision cleared.
Stats and skills normalized.
Crushing fatigue hit, but I wanted to see Poor Man.
Rope-bound, he squirmed at the sight of me.
Early twenties?
Kind eyes, for sure.
Cut the ropes and tape—he bolted to run.
Murderer vibe? Smart move.
I called to his nape.
"Poor Man-nim, when did I say you could go? Sit."
"Ah."
Words straight from an old stream.
He froze, turned slow.
Death Solves All Problems End