Chapter 17
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: High Risk High Return (4), Paso Robles
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Winter paid close attention to the bulletin board hanging in the hallway. There were bloodstains on the dress code notice. Shorts or skirts had to cover at least half of the thighs; everything below that was illegible. It looked like someone had torn it with bloodied hands. Each time he gathered such clues, Insight updated and informed him of the possible distribution of survivors in the school. He also checked photos of the staff, their names, and the approximate number of students.
"That's a pretty unusual school crest, huh."
It was Jinseok commenting on the school mark. Black concentric circles on a red background. Inside, a roaring beast was depicted. With its spotted pattern, it looked like a leopard.
After hearing Jinseok's impression, Jejung tilted his head.
"Is that unusual? Korea University's crest was a tiger too."
"Well, yeah..."
Jejung was older, so speaking casually to Jinseok came naturally. Once they got a bit close, they started treating each other like brothers and dropped the formalities.
"It'll be tough finding survivors in this building anyway."
There was at least one or two infected variants in every classroom. They didn't seem entirely accurate, but it felt like they'd come in from outside. No traces of students.
"There are so many buildings... Should we split up and search?"
Jinseok's confident suggestion. Winter shook his head. It was the worst possible option. It would drastically cut down search time, sure. But it was dangerous. If there were casualties, he'd incur a penalty as leader due to the promise he'd made. Accepting the suggestion might boost Jinseok's personal favorability, but he wasn't in a position to care about that.
He was also worried about each member's combat fatigue during solo searches. It wasn't just combat situations to watch out for. Danger or fear could spike it anytime. Moving alone would naturally be scary.
Jinseok wasn't exceptionally skilled or an important figure, so there was no reason to accept.
"Too risky. I think we should head to the cafeteria or gym first."
"Why?"
"They're suitable for gathering in large numbers. The cafeteria would be even better since it has stockpiled food."
"Ah."
Yura and Jejung nodded without much question. Jinseok's expression soured a bit. Winter pretended not to notice. He spotted a school map and pointed with his finger.
"The gym's a bit closer than the cafeteria."
Due to the building layout, they had to go outside either way. Out the back of the lecture building, across the courtyard. The school was wide open on all sides. There could be threats at the front they hadn't checked.
"I'll take point. Jinseok, cover the left. Yura, the right. Jejung, watch the rear."
Crash! The glass door to the courtyard shattered noisily. Five variants burst in. Kyaaah! They charged with shrieks at the edge of audible range. Immediately, three automatic firearms roared to life. In the order: Jinseok, Jejung, Yura. Blood and flesh burst with wet thuds. The variants turned into tattered rags. Ammo waste was extreme.
Winter spun the unused jungle knife in his hand. Should he get angry? He thought it over, then judged it wasn't time yet. He turned and calmly admonished them.
"I understand you're nervous. Still, please just watch your assigned directions. We might get ambushed."
The three coughed awkwardly almost in unison. The synchronicity made their faces flush even more. Minor favorability changes occurred—nothing significant. Not getting angry gave a slight upward adjustment. No immutable correction. Well, of course. Something like an 'unchanging heart' didn't form that easily. A downward shift would just be resentment. Probably something like not wanting a lecture from a kid. Pride wasn't rational.
They stepped outside. Sure enough, infected variants were there. They reacted like beasts, charged like monsters. Winter decided to handle them alone. Pistol in one hand, jungle knife in the other. Expert-level top-tier marksmanship blew off several heads, then he stepped forward to draw their attention. Low-intelligence things. They just charged without leveraging their numbers.
Crunch. The sound of a spinning blade slicing a neck. He relaxed his wrist and kept turning. The knife came out easily. He put his full body into slashing the next one, and at the end of the second rotation, he stomped down and swung sideways off the rebound. Another one decapitated.
Before he could recover the upward blade, a new one latched on. It grabbed him. Ugly face at breathing distance. He planted a bullet. A pair of small copper slugs burst both eyeballs, churning the brain beyond. Thud. The variant slid down, leaning against the boy. Thin blood trickled from its eyes and nose.
He'd warned them earlier, but no improvement. They weren't shooting, but this time too, all heads faced front. When eyes met, they hurriedly looked to their sides. A silent moment passed, then Yura whimpered faintly.
"I'm sorry."
Winter didn't get angry this time either. It was time to reassure. The control AI's help, which automatically reacted to conscious and unconscious thoughts, affirmed the boy's judgment.
「AI Help (Insight Rank 8): Initial skill proficiency grows quickly in coercive, violent atmospheres. However, side effects are common, and late-stage skill proficiency differs. For community leaders, this trait can develop into a community characteristic—trading community health for rapid skill acquisition.」
In other words, the help implied a choice: prioritize member growth despite later drawbacks, or accept early setbacks for a healthy community?
Either way, accumulated weighted actions from daily behavior influenced it. That's why he paid attention to every little word.
After sharing this with viewers, Winter formed a gentle smile. Faking emotions was tricky for a boy raised coldly. Practice paid off.
"Don't be sorry. I know you're all trying."
Minor favorability adjustment notice. How much had built up? Winter led the group.
The gym was a stone building. Not fully, just stone-faced. Still, it looked sturdy. From the perspective of fleeing people, it seemed reliable.
A heavy fecal stench wafted from somewhere. Human traces, indeed.
The main entrance was a normal glass door, but barricaded solidly with piled desks and equipment.
"If there are survivors, they're probably here."
The group agreed.
"No way one or two people made obstacles like this."
It was Jejung, the eldest, speaking.
"Should we clear it?"
"No. Too noisy. It'll take strength, waste time. And rebuilding after we enter would be a hassle. Better to find another way in. An emergency exit or something..."
There was one. Following the noise, they found it easily. Infected variants clustered, banging away. The first one made noise, drawing more. Unlike the main door, it was steel—no scratches. Just loud. Stained red with blood from their hands. They'd pounded so much, shattered bones were visible.
"A lot, huh."
The boy spoke without lowering his voice. The group freaked. Jejung whisper-screamed.
"Hey! Voice! Voice!"
So urgent it was casual. Winter reassured him.
"It's fine. With that racket, will they hear me?"
"Uh..."
True enough. Haaaah. The three sighed in unison—almost comical. After a soft smile, Winter drew his pistol. Beretta M92. The U.S. military's standard sidearm, plentiful enough to distribute to refugees without issue. That was the setup. With suppressor attached, it didn't fit the holster, so usually tucked in the belt.
Would've been nice if they gave a dedicated holster.
"Same as before. Each aim precisely for the head. I'll handle any that don't drop. Target the temple or behind the ear if possible. No rush—treat it as live-fire training. Jinseok, cover the rear."
Winter raised his pistol-holding right hand to shoulder height. Left hand cupped under the grip. Palm supporting from below—palm supported grip.
This stance took recoil mostly on one hand. Full-auto accuracy suffered. But straight-arm single shots were precise.
He chose it to cover their misses. Switching if needed was instant.
The three, glancing at each other, pulled triggers almost together.
Low, dull gunshots.
Heads of once-humans burst satisfyingly. A precise temple hit could pop an eyeball or eject it whole. One survived clumsily. Eyeball dangling by nerves. Yura crouched, dry-heaving. Winter shot. Bullet slipped into the empty socket. Thunk. Head snapped. Body followed. Thud. Just two or three left. Jejung's shots finished them.
Yura, spitting saliva without vomiting, looked up. Dark expression. Not just from the gruesome variant—more self-loathing? Hating herself for repeated disappointments.
The boy, raised watching cues since childhood, guessed easily. Confident in his judgment, he asked as kindly as possible.
"You okay?"
"Sorry. Always disappointing... Shouldn't have come..."
"Everyone's inexperienced at first. Key is not wasting skill once proficient. Come on, up."
As she took his offered hand and stood, Winter added.
"Yura, you're great just for the courage. Volunteering for danger like this. Have confidence."
"...Embarrassing."
She never said what. Not bad. Probably embarrassed from repeated comfort, facing him.
But Jinseok looked displeased. Seemed he thought Yura a burden in many ways. If she saw that look, the encouragement would be wasted. Jinseok met Winter's eyes. Stared stubbornly long. Defiance clear. But he turned first.
She might be a burden now. Her potential might not suit combat. Even if she ended up non-combat later, battle-hardened mentality would help. Considering psychological exchanges among members, this effort wasn't worthless.
Winter recalled a story.
In eras when beasts roamed human lands, goats were mixed with sheep herds during grazing. Predators attack: sheep scatter. Goats don't. Goats in the flock make sheep cluster around them. Herds are harder to pick off. Smart wolves knew, striking goats first. True tale of "Robo," the "King of Currumpaw" from New Mexico.
Yura could be the goat in the flock. Best if a fighter, but fine if not.
Pause. Viewer messages flooded with Yura complaints. Stuff like "Eat her and dump!" aplenty. Winter explained his intent. Viewers frustrated but understood. He resumed.
Winter pressed on without pause. Roughly cleared bodies, then knocked on the blood-dripping door: short-short-short, long-long-long, short-short-short. Obvious human rhythm to any outsider, clear SOS to the knowledgeable. Morse code.
Not begging rescue. Just signaling humans here. Could use other signals with Telegraph or Code Knowledge, but unnecessary. Wasted XP.
Repeated, got the hoped response.
"Wh-who's out there?"
"We came after hearing a radio message about teachers and students trapped..."
"Oh, God. Thank you!"
Thrilled voice, and the door opened.