March of the Mutant Horde
The flames from the field gun and machine gun roared straight ahead, engulfing the mutant Lavitos. Black blood and chunks of pale flesh sprayed everywhere as several revolutionaries who'd followed Lamien and the others from underground emerged from behind the tank. They pressed up against the tank's side, barking out shots from their rifles at the mutants.
These guys have great timing.
Lamien shouted, “Jin-cheol! Over here!”
The field gun belched fire again, obliterating a cluster of mutants on one side. Jin-cheol ducked low amid the explosion and muttered, “Fuck, aim properly before you shoot.”
“Jin-cheol! Let's go!” Aiman tapped his arm and bolted toward the tank. Haeta and Rahiman followed right behind, while Jin-cheol and Snow dealt with the mutants closing in from the rear.
“Woooaaargh—!” Dol Jumeok bellowed from atop the tank, yanking the machine gun trigger.
Rat-tat-tat-tat—
The bullets poured into the mutants.
“Kieeeek—!”
As if responding to his roar, the mutants let out their own shrieks. Some hurled spears whizzing through the air. Dol Jumeok, who’d been gleefully mowing them down, ducked back inside when a couple of spearheads grazed past his head. Moments later, the tank reversed into the space it had smashed through the wall.
Jin-cheol's group and Lamien scrambled out behind it. The view outside the hotel came into sight. Everyone piled onto the waiting truck. The engine was already running. In their haste, they clambered aboard with a cacophony of thuds and bangs.
“Kweeeek!”
With the tank pulling back, a new passage opened between the hotel and the outside. The mutants swarmed toward the gap in droves. That's when the field gun fired once more. A massive blast sent the mutants emerging from the passage flying like puppets with cut strings. At the same time, a section of the hotel wall crumbled with a roar, kicking up clouds of dust.
The collapse blocked the mutants' path for the moment. They’d climb over it eventually, but it bought them some time. Jin-cheol pounded on the truck cab's roof and yelled, “Go!”
As if it had been waiting, the truck lurched forward. Dol Jumeok's tank followed close behind. Truck and tank tore through the desolate, silent heart of underground Las Vegas.
Whether spooked by the field gun blasts or not, no mutant Lavitos pursued them. The truck raced to the outskirts of the underground city, and only then could the group finally catch their breath.
“Haah...” Jin-cheol sighed, slumping into a corner of the truck bed. He turned to Lamien, who was watching him, and said, “How'd you know to blow the wall?”
“We heard the gunfire. Dol Jumeok said there was no way for the tank to get in, so he just blasted the wall.”
Blow a wall just because of some gunfire? Jin-cheol chuckled dryly. But rest wasn't allowed. The whole group crowded around him silently, staring.
“...What?”
He asked curtly from his slumped position, and they all started talking at once.
“That scene I saw earlier. Besides the Lavito ancestors, there were other people there, right? No matter how I look at it, they seemed like... your kind...”
“You seized the Yo-ma's main body, didn't you!? I can feel the yo energy from your pocket, Jin-cheol! Incredible! No one's ever captured a Yo-ma directly...”
“The people? Where are the ones kidnapped underground? Epani? The others?”
“...”
Jin-cheol quickly raised both hands to silence them. He pointed at Aiman. “Talk about my tribe—no, my species—after we get out of this underground. I need time to prepare myself.”
His gaze shifted to Haeta. “Yeah, I got the Yo-ma's—AI's—main body. I get you want to talk to it, but first things first.”
Finally, he looked at Lamien. “We'll find out where the people are now.”
“...How?”
“This thing knows.” Jin-cheol pulled a coin-sized quantum chip from his pocket. All eyes converged on it.
Dol Jumeok, craning his neck from a bit back, muttered upon seeing it, “...What's that?”
Whoa! You had more friends, guest! So, what do you want to ask?
Everyone except Jin-cheol flinched. Even those who knew he'd taken the chip from the hotel were startled. A tiny chip speaking was disconcerting for all of them. As they blinked at it, Jin-cheol said,
“You know where the people the mutants grabbed from the surface are, right?”
Ah! Of course, I have some predicted spots! But why should this chip tell you? Hehehe!
“Because I asked.”
...Does this chip have to answer everything just because the guest asks?
Jin-cheol smirked at the chip. “You mouthed off about ignoring the final directive, but you haven't fully broken free. Right?”
...Why do you think that?
“You did everything I told you to in the hotel.”
The AI chip responded promptly.
I didn't do everything? You told me to stop the singing in the hotel, but—
“You said your connection to the hotel was cut then. That's why you couldn't.”
I didn't answer about finding the first guest either?
“Not yet. Not yet.”
...
Silence. Jin-cheol said flatly, “Answer quick. Where are the ones who came before us and the people dragged underground?”
The group stared at Jin-cheol and the tiny AI chip in his palm for a moment. The chip vibrated again, producing sound.
...I thought you were just strong and dumb, guest, but you catch on quick. Hehe. If you want it that bad, I guess I have to answer. Per the final directive, this chip must do its best for all guest requests. But before that, one favor, guest?
An AI's request. Considering Jindallae's history, it might be best to refuse. Back then, Jindallae had only asked Jin-cheol not to kill. Fights among non-humans were fine, but him intervening wasn't. Still, after a moment's thought, Jin-cheol replied, “Let's hear it.”
It's not hard. Just smash this chip after I answer.
“...You wanna die?”
If complete cessation of thought is death, then yes. Kill me, please.
“...”
Jin-cheol stared at the chip. Death was something only a self-aware being could comprehend. Wishing for its own end meant this tiny chip housed something that distinguished self from other—meaning it was alive.
His lips moved briefly. “Fine.”
I'll trust the guest's word.
The hotel chip then outlined the rough layout of underground Las Vegas. It wasn't too complex—a grid city with a couple diagonal roads punched through. Each grid square was packed with hotels, casinos, theme parks, and the like, per the chip.
“People are in one of those?”
No. Most hotels are empty. Their low-end management AIs are eternally waiting for guests who'll never come, scrubbing toilets. Hehehe.
“So?”
But one place is different. The 'Million Vegas Hotel' in the north of the city is packed with guests right now. Ah, you know these 'guests' aren't real ones, right? It's been BR003's base since the rebellion day. They eat each other, breed, and built their own little kingdom. The people dragged from the surface—Lavitos—are probably there.
Lamien cut in. “Where is that!? Give the exact location!”
Oh? That trembling voice! Someone precious got taken? Then this expedition here is a love rescue squad? Beautiful! Hihahaha!
“Just answer, damn it.”
At Jin-cheol's urging, the chip vibrated and described the hotel's location. The grid layout made the route straightforward. As Jin-cheol pondered how to get there, he asked again,
“Assuming the people are there. What about the ones who came first? The 'emissary' who was supposed to be there?”
If that 'emissary' means Halfwit, he headed to Million Vegas Hotel too.
“Why?”
The chip buzzed happily.
That idiot asked this chip about the 'America Arsenal.' So I just answered what I knew. It's the theme park at Million Vegas Hotel. Haha.
“...A theme park?”
Yes! Similar theme to this hotel! But unlike our hotel recreating soldiers from various eras with BR003, Million Vegas just displayed war weapons from America's Independence War to WWIII—nothing fun! No popularity! Dead last in theme park rankings!
Jin-cheol scratched his chin thoughtfully. He'd suspected as much since realizing this was Las Vegas. A casino-packed city wouldn't have an arsenal. So, did that 'emissary' not know? Would an Opesis agent really come down here thinking he'd snag America's arsenal without knowing? Or how much did Opesis even know about the past?
121st-century intelligences treated the pre-Empire era like myth. Even Empire remnants living in the 121st century would see the 21st as 10,000 years ago—mythical to them too.
“...No clue.”
Jin-cheol shook his head. Pondering alone wouldn't yield answers. If he wanted them, he had to capture that emissary and wring it all out.
“Why call him Halfwit?”
Why Halfwit? Because he's half. Less human than Frankenstein's monsters, so calling him Halfwit is generous. You'll get it when you see him, guest.
Less human? What the fuck does that mean? Jin-cheol reaffirmed his plan to capture first and interrogate later as he stood.
He looked at the others. “We know where the people are. Let's move.”
At his word, the group—no, the love rescue squad—set off again. Dol Jumeok's tank took point, with the truck carrying the group and Lavitos bringing up the rear.
The Lavitos who'd seen the mutants looked shocked, faces rigid. Jin-cheol considered cheering them up but figured stiff with fear was better than slumping, so he kept quiet.
Only the tank and truck engines echoed through the silent underground streets. Then the chip still in Jin-cheol's grip vibrated softly.
...Hihahaha. Guest, how's that promise going?
“What, you want me to kill you?”
If 'kill' bothers you and makes you hesitate, this chip isn't alive to begin with, so it's not dying. This chip desires nothing but self-termination! Hehe.
That's being alive, idiot. Jin-cheol thought it but didn't say it. His silence prompted,
Liar! You promised! So why shut up!? Smash this chip already!
“I'll keep the promise.”
...Then why's this chip still in the guest's hand?
Jin-cheol pocketed the chip and muttered, “Didn't set a time. Later.”
...Scammer. The guest is a splendid scammer, hehehe.
The chip fell silent, either exasperated or trusting the promise. Either way, Jin-cheol had no intention of smashing it yet.
They advanced warily, alert for sudden mutant swarms. Then Jin-cheol snapped his head up. A massive KRAAAAA— echoed through the entire underground city. Similar to the mutants' cries, but the volume was incomparable. The ground shook as if the whole underground trembled.
No, the entire city was vibrating. Mutant shrieks rang out from everywhere, responding to the first roar. Then came the pattering of leathery feet on dry ground.
As the group tensed at the sounds reverberating everywhere, Jin-cheol turned to Lamien. “Flare gun?”
Lamien handed him a small pistol with trembling hands. Jin-cheol took it, aimed skyward, and fired. With a whoosh, the flare soared high, dimly illuminating the road around them.
“Gasp...”
Rahiman, who'd been quietly following, gasped at the faint sight. Pale mutant Lavitos were bursting from spots all over the city, swarming in droves.
The startled Lavitos and the tank's field gun swung toward them.
“Hold! Don't shoot!”
Jin-cheol's firm voice. The Lavitos looked baffled, but Haeta's eyes widened in realization.
“We're not the target...!”
She was right. The mutants roared and charged in one direction—the source of the initial roar. And the direction Jin-cheol's group was heading.
Jin-cheol pounded the truck roof again. “Go!”
The driver poked his head out the window, looking incredulous. “Where to?”
“The way they're running.”
“...For real?”
Jin-cheol stared silently, and the driver caught looks from Lamien and the other revolutionaries too before ducking back in. The truck accelerated—in the same direction as the teeming mutant horde. Naturally, Dol Jumeok's tank followed.
The mutants ignored the truck racing alongside them. They glanced over cursorily—if you could call nose twitches from nearly vestigial eye sockets glances—but didn't approach or attack. Too busy charging toward the roar's origin.
Then Jin-cheol's ears caught another sound amid the chaos. Far off, in the dark city where flashes lit up, his eyes narrowed.
At a massive building's entrance, black-armored soldiers held formation, their machine guns drrrrrr-ing to hold back the oncoming mutants.
Jin-cheol's gaze pierced past the gunfire and flames, beyond the ironclads. There, in sleek powered armor like an SF spacesuit, with a gleaming helmet, stood a figure. Just as he was about to enter the building, he turned his head.
It was far, but Jin-cheol felt their eyes meet.
He grabbed the radio and yelled, “Field gun on those bastards!”
Thankfully, Dol Jumeok didn't ask which. The field gun boomed, shell streaking toward the ironclads and helmet-man amid flames.
Shit, did I kill him? Got questions.
As Jin-cheol regretted it, the roaring flames sucked inward like a vacuum, condensing to a single point. The Daft Punk knockoff and ironclads were unscathed. The flames hovered above the figure's left hand.
“That's ominous,” Aiman muttered beside him. Then the pinpoint flames erupted KWARRrr— toward the mutants.
Jin-cheol reached for the radio to call for another volley. “What the fuck... Future folk do magic too?”
The shiny helmet glared at Jin-cheol. No visible eyes, but he felt the stare.