The Culling
Bang! The door to the data center lounge was roughly thrown open. Or, more accurately, torn off its hinges.
"Wh-what the hell!?"
"The military!?"
Over a hundred people had gathered in the lounge. The remaining two hundred were reportedly on the lower floors. Regardless, the survivors clustered here were visibly shaken by the sudden appearance of the Ark's armed forces.
"Hands above your heads!"
"Failure to comply may result in severe consequences!"
The soldiers had no intention of letting the shock wear off. Once people regained their bearings, they might attempt something foolish. Controller Lim Hyuk-soo held no fondness for rebels, and he saw no reason to treat those who had already resorted to violence against the manager with any kindness.
"Where are the others?"
"W-well..."
"Answer!"
"Th-they're downstairs!"
The lounge survivors were utterly overwhelmed by the rescue team in powered exoskeletons and armed with rifles. At this level of firepower, anything short of total submission would have marked them as monsters themselves. The soldiers searched each person with hands raised, until—
"Kyaa! What are you—where are you touching—"
Bang!
"Shut your mouth!"
When a female survivor protested the rough search, a soldier shot her without hesitation. The rest of the group fell into terrified silence, making control far simpler.
"Sergeant Nguyen. Escort these people to the helicopter. Once transport is complete, return and rejoin us below."
"Understood. Third Squad, prepare for extraction!"
"""Yes, sir!"""
Killing humans had become easier than yawning after seven months of fighting monsters. The Ark's soldiers were steadily growing numb to slaughter.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Military boots echoed down the stairwell as the rescue team reached the lobby floor where the remaining survivors were gathered. Over two hundred people filled the space, their voices far louder than those upstairs. Among them stood a man radiating the unmistakable air of a self-appointed leader.
Yet the soldiers did not immediately seize control. They simply formed a firing line and stared at the crowd.
"Hey! You people fired shots earlier, didn't you? Why? What happened to the ones upstairs?"
A cocky man stepped forward and began interrogating the soldiers. Several troopers flinched, but held position.
"Headquarters, permission to begin the sifting?"
—This is command. Proceed with the sifting.—
"Confirmed. Initiating sifting."
The commander finished the exchange and gave a hand signal. The crowd would soon understand its meaning.
"Hey! Are you deaf!? Where the hell did you come from!?"
Rat-tat-tat!
The commander fired three rounds into the ceiling. Concrete dust rained down, demonstrating the rifles' power.
"Kyaaaaah!"
"Ev-everyone, get back!"
People accustomed to the idea of soldiers as protectors recoiled in horror. There was nowhere to run.
Click!
Dozens of rifles leveled at the crowd. The commander spoke in a cold, grim voice.
"Cedric Archer. Where is Cedric Archer?"
"Y-yes?"
"You staged an illegal uprising against this facility's manager. His Excellency Controller Lim Hyuk-soo of Ark No. 17 will not tolerate rebels within the Ark. Cedric Archer and his instigators will be executed here and now."
"Furthermore, any survivor who fails to comply will be denied entry to the Ark, regardless of guilt."
The sifting. In plain terms, it meant eliminating the rebel leaders and their sycophants in advance. It was an inhumane measure, yet neither the soldiers nor Ark officials questioned the order. Humanity had fallen; desperate times required desperate solutions. In a sealed society like the Ark, even a small ripple could become a tsunami.
"Ex-execution!? That can't be! You're soldiers!"
"Ark? Controller!? What are you talking about—did the government order this?"
The threat of lawful execution shattered the crowd's composure. The fear of death they had suppressed during their rebellion returned with paralyzing force. Reason fractured, and panic quickly turned inward.
"Th-this man is Cedric Archer!"
"Those two! I saw them grab the manager by the collar!"
If they sacrificed others, they might survive. It couldn't be helped—the rebels had started it. They had wanted to stop it but had no choice. The inciters were to blame. Self-justifications erupted like a storm.
In the end, Cedric Archer and his followers were seized by the very people they had once ruled and hurled before the soldiers.
"You fucking traitors!"
"Daisy, you bitch! You wagged your tail for extra food and now you're selling me out to save your own skin!?"
What followed was a brutal session of mutual recrimination. The crowd split into Cedric's faction and the survival faction, hurling accusations while the soldiers watched in silence. The spectacle alone provided a certain visceral satisfaction.
Minutes later, throats raw and accusations exhausted, both sides fell quiet.
"...Finished?"
At the commander's icy question, Cedric, still glaring murderously at the survivors, turned around.
Tap. Tap.
The commander idly flicked the trigger guard, as though eager to fire. Cedric stared at the powered exoskeleton, the heavy combat gear, and the gas mask that hid the man's face. The only certainty left to him was that his survival was vanishingly unlikely.
"D-don't do this... Let's be rational. You don't enjoy killing people either, do you?"
He had decided that groveling was his best chance. He appealed to the natural revulsion against murder, calculating that even in this ruined world, people would not kill for pleasure.
"Wrong."
When the commander answered flatly, Cedric seized on the reply as hope.
"Then... then just leave me and my men here! Take the others and go. We'll starve or get eaten by monsters—whatever happens, we'll handle it ourselves!"
"That's right! Just spare us! You can take all the food!"
"We're begging you. Please, just let us live!"
Objectively, Cedric's proposal made sense. Ammunition was not cheap, and leaving such petty criminals to their fate was far more practical than wasting bullets. There was also the ethical comfort of not having to kill.
"I don't feel like it."
"..What?"
These times demanded more than cold logic—they demanded ruthlessness. If one death could discipline a hundred, then it was the correct choice. At least in this world. The commander chambered a round with a decisive click.
"No no no! Please! Please just let me live! Ah—Isaac! No, Manager Isaac—I'll apologize! I'll even become a slave, just spare my life!!!!"
"You knowingly refused lawful authority for personal gain during an extreme crisis and committed multiple illegal acts. Under United Nations Article 10532, Section 44, facility managers hold judicial authority in emergencies. Your crimes include obstruction of official duties, defiance of control, illegal demonstration and riot, violation of private property rights, and aggravated assault."
"Eek... eek... eek...!"
"Martial law is in effect and local government has collapsed. Pursuant to United Nations Directive Article 91, the Controller may impose capital punishment at his discretion."
The voice filtering through the gas mask was utterly devoid of emotion. The terrified faces staring back made the moment bitterly ironic.
"Therefore, defendant Cedric Archer and eleven others are sentenced to death by firing squad."
"No! I can't die like this! Please! Mercy!!!!!!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Thud!
Splash!
The ugly final words were followed by an equally ugly collapse. Leaving the twelve corpses behind, the surviving civilians were "rescued" and transported to the Ark. Hours later, when Isaac Wilson learned what had occurred, he could not conceal his bitterness.
And the soldiers of Ark No. 17 learned a valuable lesson: fear guarantees loyalty.