Chapter 61
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Outlaw of the Wasteland (2)
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The Outlaw of the Wasteland initially appears as a cowboy, but reveals its true form as a monster after taking a certain amount of damage.
The train, fueled by coal, consists of 6 cars total, and its defining feature is that rails automatically lay down along its path.
Of the 6 train cars, 1 is the engine room, 2 are coal-filled firebox cars, and the rest are passenger cars.
Its left arm, fused with a machine gun, unleashes indiscriminate slaughter, while its grotesquely enlarged right hand handles fuel supply and close-range attacks.
The encyclopedia briefing on the Outlaw of the Wasteland kicked in the moment it revealed its true form, as if it had been waiting for this exact opportunity.
The situation had escalated so fast I hadn't even thought to pull out the encyclopedia myself.
'If it's gonna provide backup like this on its own, that's fine by me.'
I'd hoped to gain an early advantage by severing its arm, but the limb regrew almost instantly once it transformed.
Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!
Before the train could depart.
A warning bell rang out from the engine car, signaling the danger of the iron beast on wheels.
Clack-clack-clack-clack!
Just as the encyclopedia described, rails were rapidly laying themselves down along the Outlaw's path across the wasteland.
"It can't enter the island no matter what."
"Hell! Everyone's bound for hell! You're last! Later! Later!"
I immediately lunged toward the Outlaw of the Wasteland.
No matter its monstrous form, it was still just a variant with a human body structure at its core.
Sever the neck, and it died all the same.
"Urgh! Hell! Hell! So you wanna go first, huh?!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
The machine gun spat flames, unleashing a hail of bullets.
The shots that hit nothing but air kicked up sand along the coast like skipping stones on water.
The sound of the sea breeze fell silent under the onslaught, and the peaceful shoreline filled with the stench of gunpowder and coal.
"Why won't it hit! Why won't it hit! But whatever! Even if you dodge, the others get hit!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat.
The Outlaw zipped along the rails at high speed, evading me while firing its machine gun toward the island.
"Screams! Where are the screams?!"
But the screams of the "others" it craved never came.
"Because there's no one here."
Gotcha.
Slash!
"Kraaaagh!"
Whether merging with the train had boosted its physical abilities or not.
The Outlaw twisted its body the instant my blade touched its neck, minimizing the damage.
On top of that, I even felt a faint resistance from the blade—one that usually sliced through anything.
'Has its body metallized too?'
A conceptual metal unbound by common sense.
In the Old West era, trains were seen as utterly indestructible.
The notion of being "extremely tough" had clearly fused with its body, jacking up its durability to insane levels.
"You! Keep vanishing! It's pissing me off! So! Fucking! Pissed!"
Clack-clack-clack!
The four passenger cars—excluding the first two—lit up brightly, and eyes began appearing one by one.
Eyes in passenger cars that should have held no passengers.
They were obviously there to give the Outlaw extra fields of vision.
"I see you! I see you! But I'm not playing with you!"
The Outlaw, using the eyes crammed into the passenger cars to keep tabs on me, tried to push into the island.
It was a perfect plan—but I wasn't the only one with a hidden card up my sleeve.
'Ferocious Tiger Form 1.'
The power I couldn't unleash against the cadets.
The nine ruthless hunting techniques a hunter developed solely to kill prey.
The first one now made its appearance in the world.
'Noose Stitch.'
Toot! Toot!
"Why! Why! Why! Why no lambs?! It said I could kill the little lambs!"
The train whistle seemed to echo the Outlaw's rage.
The Outlaw couldn't wrap its head around the current situation.
Rumble-rumble-rumble!
"It said there'd be screams and blood spraying everywhere if I fired like this!"
We were still just at the island's edge, and the survival game had barely begun—there should have been cadets here for sure.
Not dozens at once, but at least five should have been riddled with holes by now.
"Find them! Find them, I said! They're really gone?!"
The Outlaw vented at the empty passenger cars, demanding they search properly.
Hundreds of eyes taking this long to spot lifeforms? Something was off.
"This is nothing like what I heard!"
It wasn't thrilled about heading to the coast, but it had been promised a massacre.
Support and comms would handle themselves—just kill freely and come back.
But what the hell was this?
"...Hang on, have I even been moving right? Properly, properly moving?!"
Clack-clack-clack!
How far had it traveled, thinking it was heading into the island?
The map said the island wasn't that big.
But in reality, it hadn't even reached the center—the same scenery kept repeating.
"What? What? What?"
The moment it voiced its confusion, unsure what was happening.
Clang!
Screeeeech—boom!
The train derailed.
"Wh-what?!"
Impossible.
The Outlaw propped up the tipping train with one hand, struggling to regain balance.
In the chaos, unable to support the rear weight properly, it had no choice but to detach one passenger car.
"Clang! I heard a clang! Clang—that's what it was! Someone did this! Someone!"
The Outlaw wasn't stupid.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
It quickly pinpointed the derailment's cause and sprayed bullets indiscriminately around.
Not stopping there, once it recovered its balance, it chomped coal and belched flames.
But no matter how much it fired or flamed, the culprit didn't show.
"Where are you! Where!"
As the Outlaw desperately hunted for the perpetrator.
"Feels like watching a horror flick."
A voice came from behind.
Precisely atop the coal-filled firebox car.
"Like if that kid-friendly train cartoon turned into an adult horror movie. That's you to a T."
There stood the hunter from the coast.
Clunk-clunk.
Clunk-clunk.
Why the hell was he here?
It was so absurd the Outlaw couldn't utter a word.
The only sound was the train wheels clunking on the rails.
"Let's wrap this up quick. I'm still learning this, and it's a bitch to maintain."
The Outlaw wanted to punish the arrogant hunter for his impudence.
'What?! Why won't my body move!'
But it panicked at suddenly being unable to do anything.
Step.
The hunter approached.
'Don't come! Don't come!'
Its flame-spewing maw clamped shut.
Step.
The rage-blaring whistle fell silent.
Step.
The machine gun meant to drag all to hell lay dead still.
Halt.
The hunter stopped.
"I had questions, but you don't seem the talking type."
Slice.
Its neck severed.
'...It was a lie.'
In that final instant, with its optic nerves intact.
The Outlaw rolled its eyes frantically.
It saw its own body, gone cold without the iron rasp of breath.
And its headless torso standing dumbly.
'It said I could do a massacre...'
A hunter had been there.
And so the Outlaw of the Wasteland died.
A hollow end.
Shhh...
Watching coal dust spew from its neck wasn't exactly pleasant.
But I had no choice—only one reason kept me rooted.
'Can't move a damn muscle.'
I was clean out of stamina.
'Who knew it'd drain this much.'
It was just the first form, a basic technique.
But as the foundation and pillar of Ferocious Tiger, getting the hang of it was brutally tough.
'Noose Stitch. That's no joke.'
For a hunter, killing prey mattered, sure.
But preventing escape was just as crucial.
And that's where Ferocious Tiger Form 1 came in.
Basic barrier creation.
Forcibly inject killing intent and terror to cloud the mind, blind them to my presence.
Amplify that leg-weakening dread you feel facing a beast.
Make anyone in this space freeze up like they'd met a tiger.
But packing all that into one technique guzzled energy like crazy.
'Master would say it's my fault for sucking.'
But nah—soloing a conceptual monster proved I wasn't lacking.
No way around it: Ferocious Tiger's nine forms had abysmal fuel efficiency.
"Coming right on cue, huh."
Sure enough, the moment I took down the Outlaw, lights appeared offshore.
Hero Academy rescue ships, obviously. What were they rushing for now that rescue was done?
'Grab this first...'
Thump-thump-thump!
A drop item from conceptual monsters.
Excising the heart from the Outlaw's corpse revealed coal shaped like one.
Pulsing like a real heart, I pocketed it quick before anyone saw.
"...Whew. Now the real show's about to start."
Listening to the Outlaw's ramblings during the fight left a few things nagging at me.
'For one, it came way too openly.'
An obvious yet suspicious point.
A monster knowing top-secret survival game details only the Hero Academy faculty had?
And assuming a massacre was fine, hitting right after the game started?
'It knew too much.'
For something dropping from the sky, it was suspiciously clued in on academy affairs.
A monster with clear intent. But too dumb-looking for intricate plotting.
Combine those, and one conclusion emerged.
'There's a traitor in the academy.'