Chapter 229
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 229
Chapter Title: Stay of Execution (1)
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“Major. Those white nobles are coming over there.”
A voice thick with fatigue. Morales was peering at the eastern sky through binoculars.
Winter, who had been mulling over the changes in the Starlight Child, reverted to being Major Han Gyeowol and looked in the same direction. Beyond the clouds pierced by sequoia branches, a small black dot was approaching. No sound yet. It was a peculiar aircraft (V-22) with massive propellers, one on each side of its stubby wings. The duralumin fuselage gleamed silver in the morning sun. A single armed helicopter trailed as escort.
White nobles—that was the mocking term for the Health Service Unit officers. Nominally soldiers, but far from danger, always nagging busy infantrymen with tedious tasks.
[David, David. This is Hospital Nine. Requesting confirmation of landing zone.]
Schultz popped a smoke grenade. Winter keyed the radio.
“Hospital Nine, this is David Actual. Do you have eyes on the green smoke?”
[Affirmative.]
“Landing zone is clear. You’re good to come down.”
As it drew closer, the transport tilted its horizontal propellers to vertical. A hybrid of fixed-wing plane and helicopter advantages: long range, no runway needed.
The fierce downdraft scattered the smoke. Two coyotes, who had been slinking through the brush waiting for a chance at corpses, bolted in terror at the roar. The survivors rescued overnight staggered to their feet, assuming awkward guard postures. Lubricating oil still dripped from their rifles, freshly unpacked.
The transport settled, shoving aside the damp air, and lowered its rear ramp. The cargo hold, lit with white lights, resembled a miniature lab: freezer for preserving samples, ever-level shelves, mysterious experimental gear. Everything crammed into the limited space.
‘It’s come a long way since before.’
A positive change. The Health Service chopper he’d seen in Atascadero had been nothing special. Trickster corpse samples just bagged transparently and strapped to the floor.
Personnel in biochemical hazmat suits disembarked through the open door. They evoked medical teams in plague zones. The assault team snickered at the extravagance. The dachshund wagged its tail at the strangers. Schultz grumbled about the disloyal mutt.
The lead figure scanned around, then spotted Winter and hurried over, extending a gloved hand.
“An honor to meet you, Major Han. Lieutenant Colonel Elijah Campbell. Call me Dr. Campbell.”
Military rank, but civilian demeanor. Affiliation varied, but this one was a researcher in uniform. The others Campbell introduced were the same.
“You’ve probably been briefed, but we’re here for acid variant research samples. The combat footage showed slight differences from the ones confirmed along the Pacific West Coast.”
Winter eyed the crates being unloaded from the hold.
“First, mind showing me what you’ve brought?”
He’d thought they’d scrape soil from blast sites, but their glances suggested they wanted the variants themselves. Baby monsters that burst on death—they wouldn’t come unprepared.
Campbell nodded.
“We could use your input. We brought capture gear, but only someone who’s fought them can say what’ll work.”
He opened a weapons crate. First out: a grenade launcher. Fire-control computer measured target distance, fed it to the munition. Airburst for max lethality. Bigger caliber than Winter knew—prototype, likely.
But the ammo was even more special. Dr. Campbell held up a grenade.
“This is an airburst round charged with quinuclidinyl benzilate. Simple terms: sleep gas aerosol. Built-in mini-parachute. For humans, LD50... well, way past lethal dose for half. But on ghouls, just knocks ’em out briefly.”
“Not bad to start with.”
“The one with three blue bands is liquid nitrogen aerosol, also airburst. Warehouse reject, really, but with small targets this time, it might work. Drops body temp, forces metabolic shutdown. Won’t wake till it warms up.”
As explained, one grenade’s worth of LN2 wouldn’t subdue even one variant efficiently. Capture would need lots of shots.
There were Taser shotgun cartridges too. Load into the team’s autoshotguns: thirty-two rounds continuous.
Other gear, but Winter figured sleep gas grenades and Tasers enough.
“But you plan to come along personally? We haven’t cleared the whole forest yet.”
Despite Winter’s warning, Campbell insisted.
“Non-experts might miss something. Briefing said threat level’s way down here. If you say no, fine, but I’d like to tag along. Just me.”
Winter hesitated, then slowly agreed. The team looked unhappy, but saw chances to ask questions en route.
‘Bit sloppy for someone handling classified daily.’
Same rank, but Health Service meant more intel access.
“Alright. It’ll be a long hike. Schultz, give him a ride on back. Share radio freqs too.”
The private’s already sour face soured more. A burdened horse still kicks. Campbell ignored the resentment—clearly used to it.
The assault team moved out; the dog bounded up, barking pitifully, thinking abandoned again. One staying behind to guard gear and transport grabbed its leash—rough from exhaustion. Schultz, watching till the end, turned away with a sigh.
Past the bunker barricade, the stench sharpened abruptly.
[This is... intense. Like Hamburger Hill. How’d you kill them all?]
Winter replied over radio to Campbell.
“Once they lost cohesion, it wasn’t hard. No need to hunt individually. They came to die hearing the fight. Ammo enough for dawn-long barrage. Still some hiding, though.”
Ghouls don’t moth-to-flame. After trap failed and tricksters slaughtered, survivors hid with packs. Smart ones, seeing beyond survival or spread, might’ve fled already.
Alejandro cut in.
“Even if it looks similar, not Hamburger Hill. No one died on our side.”
Pride in the accented emphasis.
Hamburger Hill: corpses piled like patties, brutal U.S. losses. Vietnam, America’s nightmare multifaceted.
“Killed near 10,000 here? Medal of Honor territory, right?”
Harper exaggerated kills. Actually around 800 piled.
Still, beyond standard Preventive Scalping awards, extras likely. Forest fights, huge variant group lured to Hammer Fall.
“Any medal’s welcome. Pay bump. Useless otherwise. Damn it.”
Morales’s dry grumble.
“Expect it. Situation improving—might get chances soon.”
Winter humored, then asked Campbell:
“Doctor, blood tests normal so far?”
[Blood tests...? No worries. Morgellons is human-only bioweapon. No interspecies infection or carriers reported. Rescued troops eating pigs from hunger won’t cause issues.]
First, lighter question Winter had.
[FOB Ollama’s already notified, but you didn’t know, Major?]
“Yeah. Been out since early May.”
Troops swelled by now, but per Campbell, no food shortages soon. Cut food shipments, ramp others—quick reset.
“But you’re sure Morgellons is a bioweapon? I thought hypothesis stage. New evidence...?”
[Origin at Chinese ballistic base—what more proof?]
“Not confirmed. Gov says China likely victim too.”
[Cover to save refugees, especially Chinese. Disease like this can’t be natural. Precision is human malice itself.]
Voice rose, trembling with rage.
[Western China missile base—Tibet, right? Massacres, disappearances forever. Probably massive human experiments. Or maybe ethnic cleansing goal. Or armed guerrillas hit the base...]
Baseless speculation, but fervent tone showed conviction.
“Quiet.”
Winter’s gesture hushed the line. Team went alert; Campbell shut up mid-CCP rant. Frantic scans, but nothing visible—more unnerving.
Targets detected: huddled behind fallen tree. Most concealed, but shins visible. Sensory correction estimated numbers. 70 meters. Obstacles galore—hard spot even with coords unless Winter.
Enemies in canopy too. Not there at dawn.
Winter grabbed sleep-gas grenade launcher. Sight crosshair on trunk: distance popped, ready.
Thut-thut-thut-thung!
Multiple targets. Wind-compensated five-shot burst. Mag in stock shifted balance hard, but 「Personal Firearms Proficiency」 and 「Heavy Weapons Proficiency」 kept aim true. Small bangs followed. Hazy fog bloomed overhead.
Immediate effect. One acid baby plummeted, splatting explosively. Rest hung limp, unconscious.
“All masks on. Just in case.”
Amphetamined, but dawn-all-nighters risked dozing off in faint gas.
Ambushers silent. Winter swapped to rifle, targeted exposed legs and hunched knees under sequoia. Crack-crack! Crack! Crack-crack-crack! Controlled bursts shattered bones, ruptured vessels and muscle.
Far side foliage shook. Dozens burst out. Gasps from Health officer. But variants fled furiously, not looking back. Over fifty easy. Howling with clear intent drove them.
“...What the hell are those?”
Morales baffled. Winter silently readjusted aim. One outlier tone: beta ghoul. Low posture, using terrain shield with regulars—no clear shot. Winter abandoned it, picked off rest. Lowering barrel post-dry:
“Terrain says pursuit’s tough. Recover acid variants instead.”
Winter looked up high. How to retrieve those?
============================ Author's Note ============================
#Q&A
Q. From Borei: @Any bases or survivors left in China as starting points?
A. Big China interest. Not major setting, but... land’s vast, so yes at start. Can’t without heavy pay-to-win.
Q. From UnlimitedOne: @Reminds of gap between outside spectators and inside players. Treating virtual personalities sincerely... More, control AI getting “human” via Winter. Heartwarming—devs’ innocence realized :)
A. Novel from innocence, so natural :)
Q. From @LunarKarma: @Trinity and Han Gyeowol... Little Prince not simple meaning. Late Q, but... can protag’s current skills make special effects like old presence block?
A. Presence block is advanced survival tech. Talent Advantage inertia skews Winter’s to combat.
Q. From Gruvaldt: @(Strategy) Recent Little Prince makes me think: if post-life insurance system real, so sad, hateful. Death should be mine alone, forced by others...
A. In-story world, few forced deaths except exceptions like Winter. Induces spending life for afterlife, though.
Q. From Carpis: @Whining Winter... lack of innocence? Can’t imagine. Even Zakka’s innocence not enough??
A. Planned pity-whining Winter to gut-punch readers, but plot revised—no need imagine now.
Q. From Nesstor: @Schrödinger on Han Gyeowol’s box...
A. Box has cat instead of heart...
Q. From Gliese581: @Morales from “moralless”? Thought he’d be morals-free ossuary ham, opposite lol // @That place even zombies thump-thump, world sees posterity, why me...
A. Morales not that meaning. Common Latino name. Names from white/black/Latino surname stats. E.g., Wood: 90.1% white; Washington: 89.9% black. No extra meanings :)
Q. From Habika: @Uh... maybe asked already, no need answer... but early nukes’ radiation trigger special variants? Recycling thoughts... radiation mutates cells~
A. Partially possible. Why partial—maybe explained in-story, maybe not.
Getting long, stop here :)