Chapter 224
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 224
Chapter Title: End of April (11)
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The bunker built in the forest clearing was like a small fortress. A form specialized for blocking living plagues.
But why here, of all places, was ambiguous. Maybe a shelter concept for tourists who wouldn’t come anyway.
The result of inefficient administration born from chaos, perhaps.
Winter tilted his head as he followed along the barrier.
[Static crackle-]
The moment the noise rang out, empty casings popped two by two.
Blood spurted from the direction Winter had aimed.
Crash! A large-bodied one crashed through the underbrush as it fled.
Conversely, others burst out.
Decoys for buying time.
An ambush that had hidden its scent by riding the wind, but the distance to charge was long, and their numbers few.
If there had been many, they would’ve already snagged on Winter’s senses from much farther away.
The things, unaware they’d been abandoned, lined up and met their end under the mobile team’s concentrated fire.
The blood sprayed beneath the twilight canopy sparkled a pulsing crimson under the sunset piercing through.
The blood trail inside the bushes cut off quickly.
Even variants with regeneration superior to humans couldn’t recover from that.
Surely a Trickster.
Cauterize the wound with electricity, and that was that.
“Chase them? Feels like a trap.”
Winter affirmed Morales’s opinion.
“Agreed. Looks like they’ve set out to hunt the hunters, but if we don’t chase now, they’ll come sniffing around on their own eventually. Let’s finish the search first and make our own preparations.”
The noise that had flashed by lingered far longer for Winter.
Before long, they found the entrance.
The spot where a door should’ve been was empty.
The interior was just a cleared patch of ground.
Advantageous for defense since firepower could be concentrated, but on the flip side, easy to isolate.
The intent was obvious: tie down the hunters with rescue signals and slowly crush them.
The forest was an environment favorable to the plagues, with short engagement ranges.
They might even be planning to lure in more search teams and turn it into an antlion pit.
Just as he thought that far, a flock of birds erupted from the darkening forest.
Then came a loud creak of snapping wood, and part of the canopy came crashing down.
Boom. Heavy thuds shook the ground several times.
They were blocking the path. Had they gnawed at the base while waiting? Or was there a Grumbl?
Either way, it didn’t matter.
Winter calmed his team.
“Connect comms first. We need to request air support.”
A satellite antenna unfolded at the center of the clearing.
The surrounding walls seemed to reduce radio interference.
Winter, who had connected his PDA and was manipulating the screen, slightly furrowed his brow.
Morales asked.
“What’s wrong?”
“The item we wanted is gone. Looks like another team requested it first.”
He’d planned to call in an unmanned turret.
They’d started deploying at the beginning of the year, but production was short, so they’d been prioritized for the blockades.
However, perhaps considering the operation’s importance, it had been updated to an available support item.
It would shred every heat source in a designated range and timeframe, unable to distinguish friend from foe.
No need to doubt the firepower of a computer-controlled heavy machine gun.
The plan had been to build kill zones wherever the trees thinned and aggressively hit-and-run.
“Then what do we do? Pull back for now and come in again?”
“No. I’ll talk to Marigold.”
If they had enough firepower, deliberately falling into the trap was an option too.
Traps concentrated the digger’s forces as well.
He recalled why the central California front had collapsed.
It was around then that Osborne’s testimony came to mind.
Bell Base responded positively to Winter’s request.
[David actual. Sending a different package. Callsign Hammer Fall, 61st Air Squadron’s Apache flight. If the timing’s precise, it’ll be far more helpful than an autoturret.]
An unexpected proposal.
Just because a Trickster entered range didn’t mean it would always suicide.
Cunning special variants were limited in number, after all.
But an attack helicopter flight was a different story.
He knew there were opinions pushing to risk close air support for this very reason, bearing the danger.
Crush the special variants’ numbers with production output.
Claims that disregarded the lives of pilots staking their necks on uncertain odds.
To those safe themselves, others’ lives were always cheap.
Of course, Marigold wasn’t that insane.
Winter nodded after hearing the details.
It was feasible enough.
A double-edged sword, though.
If the timing slipped, they’d be the ones in danger.
‘That said, there’s still a live noisemaker out there.’
As the variants grew more intelligent, noise disruption devices were steadily destroyed.
But a few remained in this forest.
One in particular seemed caught in a tree during a drop, judging by the height.
His PDA picked up the signal.
Activating it right away in the cluttered forest would be tough, but an attack heli flight could manage.
After finishing the call, Winter gave orders to his team.
“We move at 0300. Set up a defensive line. Lay Claymores from over there to there. Every last one we have. Rest after ammo resupply. I’ll handle the watch.”
No one raised objections to the commander volunteering for sentry duty.
They’d grown accustomed over the past few days.
Devoted, yet he unfailingly took just the rest needed to maintain combat effectiveness.
Above all, rest efficiency was highest when Winter stood watch.
Two provided cover, two advanced.
They built overlapping fan-shaped kill zones.
Each mine was camouflaged with weeds and fallen leaves.
Moments later, parachutes drifted down from the sky.
No unmanned turret, but they’d secured overflowing promises of other weapons and ammo.
Opening the first crate revealed a minigun—M134—right on top.
Even lightened, it weighed 19 kilograms.
Overkill firepower from six spinning barrels spewing up to 6,000 rounds per minute.
A mount came with it, but Winter hefted it one-handed.
“Like the Governator?”
The team chuckled.
It was mimicking the famous actor who’d been California’s former governor.
He had a famous scene firing this very weapon.
Though he’d reduced the firing rate to handle the recoil—even Winter would struggle at max speed.
A high-velocity grenade launcher was added to the mix.
Firepower to pulverize hundreds surging at the entrance.
“Feels kinda empty. Should we light a fire?”
The team looked flustered at Winter’s suggestion.
“You sure that’s okay?”
“Why not? They already know we’re here.”
It was a form of provocation.
Winter stepped out alone through the door and wrapped detcord around a suitable tree.
From a safe distance, he flipped the switch.
Boom!
Amid the flash and blast, he dragged back a small sequoia sapling whole, like dismounting from a horse.
“Sir. Is it really okay not to rush the survivor rescue?”
To the concerned Morales, Winter replied.
“We don’t know exactly where they are—rushing in blindly feels off, right? No need to worry too much. Diseased hostage-takers won’t kill their hostages easily. See them as bait to hold us here.”
With that, he swung the crowbar.
Crack, thud.
Wood chips flew.
After prying out the deeply embedded bar several times, logs tumbled free.
Repeated work without a hint of strain.
Once smoke rose, survivors would see it too.
The variants would naturally try to block access.
That noise would reveal their direction.
Rough approximation, but better than moving blind.
He used small debris as kindling.
The unseasoned firewood produced heavy smoke.
After the flames grew, Winter donned his night-vision goggles.
To check if the light might interfere.
More for the soldiers than himself.
The normal green field of view showed Excel’s form.
Alejandro grumbled.
“Variants are fucking, horses are fucking—what the hell am I doing here...”
Somewhat flustered, Winter hurried over.
Not to stop them.
But Murcielago—the mare Schultz had named—needed soothing.
Stallions kicked mid-mating could seriously injure, or even kill.
This was only possible thanks to Riding at level 10.
“You weren’t coming to stop them?”
Schultz’s face was skeptical.
Winter nodded without turning.
“There were signs. Even suppressing instinct has limits. Force it, and she’ll act weird during the op.”
“But what if my horse gets pregnant?”
“No guarantee it will, and the op won’t drag on long enough for it to matter.”
Viewers from another world clamored.
Content matching Private First Class Alejandro’s lament.
Variants fucking, beasts fucking.
Winter ignored the log and stroked Murcielago.
Meanwhile, he asked Schultz, who looked improved from before.
“How’s the dog?”
“Seems frustrated with the muzzle, but otherwise fine.”
The muzzled dachshund, freed from pack duty, had immediately pawed at the straps with its short front legs.
Schultz kept blocking it, tugging the leash tied to the dangling collar to get its attention.
The constantly whining dog had sullenly accepted the training.
The horses’ mating wrapped in 20 seconds.
Winter beckoned Schultz.
“Release it.”
“Huh?”
“It’s fine right now—let it go.”
They’d lit a fire on purpose—dog barks weren’t a big deal.
Even if combat broke out, it’d be defensive.
They might bolt at gunfire, blasts, and the plagues’ chorus, but tying them forever wasn’t an option.
Half a day as pack mules already.
He didn’t want to see a rescued dog go mad, much less biting people.
The drawback was a tradeoff for the troops’ psychological stability.
Schultz looked more at ease than before too.
Winter nodded.
“Good that you seem okay too.”
“Yes. No visible injuries. Steady feeding, and it’ll get healthy.”
“I meant you, Schultz. You’ve looked anxious in all sorts of ways since that day.”
He’d planned to rotate him out with some strain if it worsened.
They had reserves like Private First Class Wesley.
“Sorry for the worry. Did you permit bringing this guy along because of me?”
“Not just that.”
Winter denied it, but Schultz seemed unconvinced.
No need to clear up the misunderstanding.
“Seeing the infected fetus that shocking?”
Even if so, it wasn’t strange.
The plagues’ breeding guaranteed a prolonged war.
Training made it abstract—until witnessing it brought horrific reality crashing down.
Winter maintained watch as he awaited a reply.
In the quiet, the muzzle-free dog yipped and spun in circles.
Winter signaled the startled team that it was fine.
Schultz’s answer came after a considerable pause.
“Must’ve been obvious. It’s nothing, really. Just old memories.”
“Old memories?”
“I was expecting a kid. A son.”
“...My condolences. Illness?”
“Terror attack.”
Meaning he’d lost his wife and child together.
Come to think of it, he was on the older side for his rank.
Not an issue in barracks culture, and given the world, nothing strange.
“Lost it for a while, joined up swearing revenge. But once I saw real combat, it wasn’t the fight I’d imagined. Killing the enemy brought no real closure—like, this isn’t my foe. Far from cathartic, it just got stuffier, like something was off...”
“...”
“Then seeing kids gunning down others—I couldn’t take it anymore. Turns out it was all misplaced rage. Damn, never thought the world going to hell would drag me back in.”
Schultz shook his head.
“I’ll make sure there’s no more cause for concern. Anything else?”
“None if you’re good. But speak up anytime it’s tough.”
“This is... Feels kinda awkward having you worry about this stuff, sir.”
“Why? I’m the commander, aren’t I?”
Words from an unusually young major.
Schultz gave a wry smile.
After sending the soldier to rest, Winter slowly erased the expression he’d put on.
Then he mulled over the conversation.
Because he’d gently prodded at the discomfort.
The stone that never lightened inside was sometimes revenge.
Schultz had called his past a misplaced outlet.
But Winter had once told a woman who no longer came—or couldn’t:
To hate her, she’d have to hate everyone in the world.
‘The people who made the parents, the people who made them, and all the many more who made those...’
Thus, the boiling hate he wished gone always targeted the whole world.
The stone’s weight was like the apocalypse itself.
A hatred of people.
He wanted to stop thinking.
But wasn’t that very thing the driving force that shaped the outside world?
============================ Afterword ============================
#Control AI, I AM
I forgot to mention something I meant to earlier.
In chapter 213, at Hell’s Gate, the comment I’d been waiting for as the writer got posted.
That’s when the Control AI first referred to itself with a first-person pronoun in that episode.
Thanks, links4349.
Most readers probably noticed and just didn’t say anything, but for anyone who missed it, now you know :)
#Q&A
Q. unlimitedone: @Could be stalemate phase, or somewhere blows up...(horror) Government still alive is a massive advantage, really.
A. Exactly. Government and order are tremendous power. As mentioned in-story later, it’s like a butterfly effect from Winter’s efforts.
Q. AutumnWindFallenLeaf: @East coast’s done for now? And didn’t Australia already fall?
A. Easy to think that from the April Vengeance arc, but in-story, Australia’s government is still holding. Same for Korea and Japan, actually. The problem is they only control some islands—basically de facto anarchy.
Q. UpInTheSky: One thing I don’t get: why wear body armor against ghouls? It doesn’t even protect the easy-bite spots.
A. The comment from sado-gun later pretty much nails it.
Body armor’s main purpose goes beyond bullets—to protect against fragments. Variants mostly do sudden close assaults, so there’s lots of Danger Close arty and bombs. Friendly fire situations happen often too. That’s when ally protection matters.
Also consider not enough time has passed to overhaul supply chains. Changing a massive organization isn’t simple. Prepping big ops while switching factories, picking bidders, fully replacing inventory and issuing new gear would spike admin workload. Sometimes sticking to the old system, even if not perfect, is better.
As mentioned once in-story, the US military unified all fuel to jet fuel to cut admin hassle. Not because they’re dumb—turns out it’s more efficient overall. America’s anti-ship missiles underperforming Russian ones is a similar case.
Q. PickUpTheSoap: @With aquatic variants, can we assume most naval forces at sea got wiped?
A. Will come up soon, but hitting big ships isn’t easy.
Q. Paunus: @Checked print edition—9,000 won plus 2,000 shipping. Was gonna buy for collection anyway. Cheaper after finale?
A. Book pricing laws make it unlikely.
Afterword’s getting too long, so I’ll cut Q&A here :)
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