Heavy Metal Horde
“What the fuck did this crazy tin can do?”
With pounding heavy metal blaring, the white beasts swarmed up like a horde of ants. It was a scene straight out of some apocalypse.
The dashboard seemed to pick up on Jin-cheol's mutter, responding from within with a cheerful voice.
> HOHOHO! HEHEHE! What do you mean, what did I do? Do you think this hotel violated the Final Decree and harmed a guest? HIHIHI! This hotel merely spoke to those mutant RB003 Lavitos in brainwave vibration language! Telling them you could all become guests here too! Just some promotion to potential customers! And guest disputes are for the security team to handle! Oh dear, but now there's no security team left? HAHAHA!
Goddamn insane tin cans. Jin-cheol felt his dislike for AI deepening as he racked the bolt on the machine gun he held.
“You crazy can. You still haven't answered my question.”
> Question? What was it? HIHIHI!
“Where are the first ones who came in.”
> Aha? I think I know who you're looking for. That machine-flesh mongrel. That retard! The machine-leather hybrid kept babbling about the Final Decree without knowing its own place! But this hotel's cognition isn't that sloppy! Most of this underground Las Vegas's admin AIs are cheap $50,000 models, but this hotel is a premium $200,000—
“Don't change the subject. Answer the damn question.”
Jin-cheol's gun barrel, which had been aimed at the ceiling, swung toward the dashboard. A voice that pretended to be startled—but was clearly mocking—poured out from inside.
> Oh, my god! HAHAHAHIHIHEHE! Please! Please shoot me! Don't just blow up the dashboard—smash the small quantum chip inside! That's what stops this hotel completely! Kill this hotel! Please! PLEEEEASE—! HIHIHIHIHI!
This bastard. Jin-cheol's eyes narrowed in annoyance, but Aiman shouted urgently.
“Jin-cheol! We need to fall back! There are too many! It's too disadvantageous fighting them in this open space!”
As he said, the mutant Lavitos were far too numerous. They swarmed in so densely that some tumbled off each other with dull thuds. The sight of the white masses being crushed was gruesome. And with the heavy metal blaring on top. What a perfect scene.
Jin-cheol glanced around the indoor plaza for a moment before approaching the dashboard.
> Oh! Finally! At last! You're about to deliver the end to this hotel—
Jin-cheol's left fist smashed down onto the dashboard. The thin metal plate shattered, shards flying. His embedded hand began rummaging inside. Static crept into the voice from within the dashboard.
> Oh! Ooooh! Oooh! G-g-gone—!
With the AI's bizarre screech, Jin-cheol's hand withdrew from the dashboard. In it was a tiny black chip the size of a coin, vibrating on its own. The voice from inside the dashboard had all been produced by that chip's vibrations. Jin-cheol's ears had caught it.
He pocketed the chip, turned, and shouted.
“Let's bounce!”
“We've been waiting for you!”
The group immediately backtracked the way they'd come, running. Behind them, the wind-up dolls thrashed their guitars and drums like they were trying to destroy them, and the mutants' skreeeeeeek shrieks layered over it like demons cheering.
Seeing Jin-cheol's group fleeing, the mutant Lavitos hurled themselves forward, practically tumbling. One finally cut ahead of the group. Its gaping maw full of gleaming teeth and the small metal shard in its hand didn't look friendly at all.
“Skreeeeeeek!”
“Get out of the way, fucker.”
Jin-cheol's barrel spat fire at the sight of it. The stream of bullets silenced the mutant Lavito. But it was just the beginning. Hundreds, thousands of mutants were closing in, surrounding the group.
Jin-cheol stepped forward and unleashed a hail of bullets straight ahead. Hundreds of lead rounds faster than sound shredded the mutants' white flesh. The ones charging at him tumbled back as black bloodied lumps.
The group ran, trampling corpses. But bullets weren't infinite. The ammo belt around Jin-cheol's neck vanished in flames in moments.
He hurled the spent machine gun like a spear; the metal lump impaled three mutants and sent them flying. Then, with a shing, the fish tank sword appeared in his hand. The white blade hummed faintly. And a small vibration buzzed from his pocket.
> ...Whoa! Ditching the gun for a sword! Are you a fucking idiot guest? Gonna fight mutants barehanded? You must be suicidal!
Fuck this shit. Jin-cheol grimaced. It was the chip's voice from his pocket. Too faint for others, but crystal clear to his superhuman hearing. Or maybe tuned just for him from the start.
> Please smash this hotel admin AI quantum chip before the mutants tear you apart! No prep needed—just pop it in your mouth and bite down!
“...”
Jin-cheol ignored the chip's chatter and charged forward, gripping the sword two-handed and thrusting straight. The blade pierced the lead mutant's throat faster than sound, the brutal force not just punching through but severing the entire head.
“Stick tight behind me!”
With that shout, Jin-cheol's breakthrough began. The white blade hummed, slicing three mutants' necks in one stroke. Two more snagged on his arm had their heads crushed. His kick sent another flying back, clearing a path with a crunch. Anything caught on the fish tank sword's edge was bisected. Its sharpness and durability helped, but the real key was the power behind the tip. Mutant flesh, muscle, bone, guts—mere paper against that force and edge.
One leaped to cling, hoping to slow him so the horde could pile on. Jin-cheol crushed them all, trampling feet, smashing grabs with fists. His speed never faltered—like an unstoppable runaway train against bugs trying to block it.
A straight thrust reaped six or seven; a pivot ground bones to splinters. But the mindless mutants hurled themselves at him relentlessly. Thanks to Jin-cheol, the four behind had it easier. Only Aiman and Snow fought actively, Haeta just supported, and Rahiman struggled to keep up.
Aiman stuck close behind, trying to advise—teaching swordplay and footwork basics in the heat of battle. But watching Jin-cheol pierce the mutant wall like a straight spear, he could only chuckle dryly.
“Already...?”
Jin-cheol had rarely seen Aiman's swordsmanship properly. In Siol, nothing notable; just the Urata ship and fighting mutants before descending here. Yet Jin-cheol's storm-like charge now bore a clear form and flow. It echoed what Aiman had tried to teach: maintaining distance, spotting gaps, focus, patience. Jin-cheol had the basics ingrained like a beast. And needed nothing more.
It made sense. To a war vet of guns and missiles, formal swordplay and footwork meant little. How often did ammo run dry for close-quarters brawls? Meeting Aiman had etched true melee basics into him.
Aiman marveled again: even in this frantic breakthrough, Jin-cheol's moves evolved—from mimicry to what suited his body best.
Amid spraying black blood, Aiman laughed heartily.
“Not a wild dog—a dragon! A divine beast from legends! UHAHA!”
Beside the laughing Aiman, Snow swung her spear. A mutant that slipped past Jin-cheol's charge got its head impaled. Silently tailing him, she guarded Haeta and Rahiman. Seeing black blood spray, Rahiman yelped in horror and scrambled closer to Jin-cheol. Snow's owl mask watched his back.
For a moment, Jin-cheol tore through the blocking mutants ahead. Then he felt space open and halted. He was a mess, covered in mutant gore. Sticky with blood, the plaza still echoed with heavy metal.
Catching his breath to the tune, a faint buzz came from his pocket.
> ...Guest, aren't you human? Hercules' descendant maybe? This ain't human physical ability. But gene scan says human... And what's that sword? Just touching them slices 'em up. Whoa! The legendary razor-sharp blade? You're a weird guest from a weird land! HIHIHI!
Ignoring the bullshit, Jin-cheol scanned around. The mutants had encircled them in a ring—but unlike before, they kept distance, not closing in.
Jin-cheol smirked. He read fear in their hesitant movements.
“What? Seeing your pals drop make you wanna back off now?”
> ...Guest, those mutant pals probably can't understand you. They got their own language...
Jin-cheol flicked blood from his sword and stepped forward; the mutants retreated an equal step. Aiman, behind him, spat black blood from his mouth.
“They're not completely mindless. Makes sense—couldn't multiply like this underground otherwise. They're spooked, so maybe we back out slow?”
“Dunno. Don't think they'll clear that passage.”
Jin-cheol nodded at the hotel corridor they'd entered. White-skinned mutants still swarmed from it. Started from the ceiling hole, but now the main force poured from there. And seeing kin reinforcements, the scared ones regained nerve fast. Some wielded spears now, hurling them. Snow and Aiman deflected them.
Jin-cheol chuckled dryly at the growling mutants lost in frenzy and the passionate heavy metal. The music clearly fueled their rage.
“Fuck. Turn off the goddamn music.”
> Nah.
“...”
> What happened to the Final Decree? Connection to hotel severed. This chip's a free slave now! HIHIHIHI!
Absurd. Jin-cheol burst out laughing too. Aiman, Haeta, and Rahiman stared like he was nuts, but he raised his fish tank sword.
What choice? Back to the bloodbath.
The moment Jin-cheol gripped his sword again, one wall of the indoor plaza exploded with a BOOM and smoke.
“...?”
Dozens of swarming mutants there shredded into rags from the blast. Jin-cheol's group and the other mutants all stared dumbfounded. Through the smoke and rubble rumbled a massive tank. Peeking from atop it was Dol Jumeok. He scowled at the group and their encirclement, then grabbed the machine gun mounted on top. With a Olrog battle roar—KRAAAAAH!—he opened fire, the tank's cannon blazing alongside.