Chapter 23
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: High Risk, High Return, Paso Robles (10)
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Shattered houses flew about like they'd been struck by a storm. And in the midst of it all, torn-apart people too. The Grumble in close-combat pattern unleashed overwhelming combat power. Three punches reduced a third of the single-story house to rubble.
The soldiers who had ducked into empty houses seeking cover came crawling out the opposite windows in blind panic. Some got stuck halfway. There must've been variants inside. They got dragged in. Screams. Blood splattered against the window. Getting bitten meant infection. Even so, they'd survive, but it was pointless. As the Grumble smashed through the wall, the entire building collapsed. The house crumbled completely, burying any clinging lives beneath a roar of debris. Crushed to death.
Shooting was useless. Immune to physical impact, its only weak point was the mouth. A direct hit from a tank cannon or anti-tank missile might pulverize it, but those weren't options for the soldiers right now.
The Grumble that burst from the building shifted into search pattern. Its next action would be one of two: if it found a heavy object to grab, it'd be "throw" pattern; otherwise, "charge" pattern. Either way, it started with its jaws gaping wide in a roar.
Conveniently, a van was nearby. The monster's grip crumpled the vehicle's frame with a sickening crunch. Whoosh—
Sergeant Cohen, witnessing the van's ballistic arc, trembled in terror.
"There's really a way to beat that thing, right?"
Where the vehicle crashed down, blood and guts exploded in a messy spray. The monster that had so easily killed a person now turned toward the screech of brakes from a trailer. The massive predator slowly pivoted. Its gleaming eyes fixed on them.
"Tell me there is. Please..."
"Reverse."
With that, Winter hopped out of the vehicle himself. Too far for accurate pistol shots. He could see the thing transition from search to charge pattern after its sweep. Winter swung the rifle off his shoulder and took aim.
This strategy was useless if your marksmanship was below par. Slow aiming speed and low accuracy. That's why early-game grabs gave experience bonuses, when skills were lacking. There were even achievements tied to it.
[KRAAAAA—]
[Thud! Clatter! Clatter!]
[-Grah! Gack!]
The cheerful ping of spent casings hitting the ground. Five out of seven shots from two bursts hit home. The monster snapped its mouth shut around the bullets and staggered back. Winter advanced steadily, rifle shouldered and aimed, firing each time it opened its maw. Astonishing accuracy for shooting on the move.
Surviving soldiers in their right minds unleashed their firepower. The monster didn't even glance their way. Physical resistance meant no damage anyway. Eliminate the biggest threat first. Winter had inflicted the most harm.
Winter marched on, step by step. He fired twice more en route. Trying to cover the regular variants too had burned through his magazine. He gauged the distance visually and halted about five meters out. Pulled the pin clip from a grenade, yanked the pin with his teeth.
The target’s massive face twisted grotesquely.
[KRAAAAAAA!]
The straight throw sent the grenade sliding down its black throat. The instant the oblivious beast swallowed it whole, spread its arms in a roar, and charged—
[BOOM!]
The monster’s body flashed. Light burst through its flesh. The bulk swelled momentarily. The convulsing beast. It vomited blood and organ chunks. Red tears streamed from ruptured eyes. But its sense of smell was intact—best not to get close. Winter fed it another grenade as it roared in groggy agony.
Another explosion. That sturdy body shattered outward. Blood poured from the gaping hole in its esophagus like a small waterfall. A heavy thud as it dropped to its knees. The giant went still, like a powered-down machine.
Winter was pleased with the experience gained. Time to push one of his key skills into genius territory. No rush to decide now, though.
Easier than expected for a first encounter.
Five deranged soldiers emptied their clips into the corpse. Blind to the infected variants creeping up behind. Drawn by the Grumble’s roars, they came bounding like starved dogs. Two dangerous ones. Winter threw both hands up in an X.
"It's dead! Behind you! Watch your backs!"
Stinking things emerging between trees, around building corners. Too many in number.
Then, the roar of a rough engine. Cohen's trailer, pulling away as Winter had ordered, now swerving back while dodging obstacles. It lurched wildly, nearly tipping, but somehow righted itself. Cohen leaned out from the driver's seat.
"What're you doing, you worthless privates! Get on board, now!"
The soldiers scrambled over. Seeing the trailer already rolling made them panic. Discarding rifles, clutching heads—pathetic sights. They threw themselves aboard. The trailer bed was spacious enough. Even with five panting soldiers sprawled out, room remained.
Seeing Winter climb into the passenger seat, Cohen bellowed.
"Yeeeaah! You crushed it! Hahaha!"
The vehicle veered off the road, barreling between houses. So much open land in America. Plenty of space between buildings for a vehicle. Fences in yards were mere decorations—didn't block much. Cutting diagonally through the neighborhood, it screeched to a halt in front of the clinic. Curses erupted from the cargo bed as soldiers tumbled. Cohen laughed at that too. Fair enough—he'd been isolated, staring death in the face just hours ago. Reuniting with some comrades was cause for joy.
No need for help from others. Sergeant Ashford could walk on his own, and the drugs should've worn off by now. Winter went in alone and dragged him out. Ashford, who'd been groaning and clinging to his arm on the way out, lit up at the sight of his comrades—pain forgotten.
With Winter aboard, the vehicle rolled out again.
"Leaving that horde behind feels wrong."
They couldn't keep pace with the speeding truck, lagging far behind, but the pack chasing in formation was ominous. A massive swarm teeming in the distant rearview. No longer human, they didn't tire easily. Sergeant Cohen asked,
"What’s the plan?"
"There’s a gas station over there. Douse 'em and roast."
"Damn, you Asians got brains! Alright, let's do it cool!"
They stopped well beyond the fire's spread range. Even careful pouring risked igniting the station itself.
Winter volunteered to set the decoy. The radio he'd grabbed earlier. It picked up the disaster broadcast frequency from beyond the blockade—no static issues. Cranked to max volume. Tossed into the Humvee wreckage. Two able-bodied soldiers insisted on covering him. The rest hunkered behind cover a bit away, rifles poked out.
Pour the fuel. Clear gasoline soaked the road and ran downhill. Walnut Drive sloped upward north from Creston Road. The station at the intersection sat just slightly higher than the ignition point. Lower would've been trouble. Winter deemed it drenched enough, replaced the nozzle, and turned to the soldiers.
"Anyone got a light?"
"No smokes needed?"
One soldier quipped back at Winter's request, tossing over a Zippo lighter. Winter waited for the variants to charge onto the wet road. Timing it, he flicked the lighter and hurled it. The gasoline ignited.
Whoosh! Crimson flames and smoke billowed up. A fire carpet unfurled. Unlike heavy fuel or diesel that might snuff out, gasoline exploded on a spark to its vapors. The heat blast nearly bowled people over. So bright it stung the eyes—had to shield with an arm.
Black shadows danced on the blazing road. Screams mixed with crackling fire in a dissonant cacophony. Soldiers winced. Through the light and smoke, infected variants burst forth. Ignoring their burning bodies, desperate to spread.
"Don't shoot. Waste of ammo."
By rank, they didn't have to obey Winter. But they followed the much younger boy's words.
Indeed, no need. Burning muscles contracted wildly. That's why self-immolators always pitched forward, and fire victims curled fetal.
The variants were the same. Black bodies bubbling, reeking of cooking meat. They tumbled forward with momentum, rolling on pavement. Flesh sloughed off.
Infected variants weren't bound by pain. If they crossed the flames, they'd be threats. But with eyes seared, they lost direction. Wandered blindly. New arrivals fared no better.
A horrific sight for onlookers. Black silhouettes writhing in flickering light. Hell painted in fire. Warped as they were, originally human flesh. Screams eerily human. Pops of exploding ammo from the Humvee mingled in. Sometimes, bodies burst like overinflated balloons from thermal expansion.
The hunkered soldiers had edged closer by now. Witnessing the massive pyre. One dazed soldier crossed himself, kissed his crucifix necklace.
Winter said,
"Let's head back. To the people waiting."
They nodded silently. Faces mixed with survivors' joy, bone-deep fatigue craving rest, relief, faint sorrow. Shadows stretched long against the firelight. Should've grabbed some food, but too risky now.
With more people, they cleared obstacles and drove to the end. The gym felt like days away, though less than a day had passed. Approached the back door and knocked.
Lee Yura, who'd been waiting anxiously, opened it. Her eyes widened at Winter removing his gas mask. Frozen, then she threw her arms around him.
"I was worried. That you wouldn't come back..."
Sergeant Cohen whistled cheekily. But as she started sobbing, he looked awkward, scratching his head.
Seven U.S. soldiers poured in through the open door. Sheltered civilians flinched. Some even raised weapons, but the exhausted troops couldn't be bothered. A few slumped before the barricade, just breathing. Cohen and Ashford bumped fists and bantered; the rest lit cigarettes, puffing till chests swelled.
Harmless to the player, but Winter kept his distance anyway. Even in his original life—well, his body's time—he'd hated his father's cigarette smoke indoors.
The soldiers laughed at that. So brutal in a fight, but still just a kid.
Applause rang out from somewhere. A lone cheer from a young student. Irregular meals and indoor life had paled his skin ghostly white; teary-eyed, he clapped fervently. His gaze locked precisely on Winter.
The applause spread. Cheers and praise mixed in. Even the U.S. soldiers stood and joined. Muted to avoid noise, the praise felt louder.
Amid it, Jinseok alone soured. No matter the good outcome, he couldn't accept the means. He'd thought going out was wrong from the start. Defeat against Winter stung—a minor versus a minor.
A rival's success always bit deep for the ambitious.
Yura still clung to one arm, sniffling. As Winter comforted her, top survivor Sergeant Ashford approached. Expecting trouble, Winter got a crisp salute instead.
"I salute your courage. Truly indebted."
"Salutes can wait till you're back safe."
Life-saving favor yielded high-quality affinity. Mostly permanent bonuses, offset only by equal permanents. Unless he slaughtered her family before her eyes, this gain would endure.
After Ashford returned to his men, Winter wiped Yura's tears with his shirttail. Dirt-streaked face whitened along the trails.
Beauty was a woman's weapon and weakness. Many camp women neglected grooming for safety. Even with hygiene facilities, stability let charms bloom. Yura's hair was a mess, skin grimy—no clue to her original look. Wiping her like this, though—she might clean up nice.
A chime sounded.
「Viewer quest granted by SALHAE.」
Anyone watching the public stream could bet virtual currency "Stars" on quests for the streamer. Called viewer quests. Winter skimmed the message while soothing Yura. The content was absurd.
「SALHAE says: Sex it up and blue! Sex it up and blue! Seeeeeex!」
Condition simple: sex with Lee Yura. No time limit, no details. Just do her for 1,000 Stars.
The boy recalled the flower awaiting a star.
He'd started streaming for this, but repulsion lingered.
‘A bit more time...’
He rejected the quest.
Already late afternoon on return, sunset came quick. Crowd fear was low. Exaggerated tales via soldiers elevated the boy in students' eyes, influencing adults too. Minor penalty meaningless now.
「AI Help (Insight Lv.10/Discernment Lv.10): People now believe you'll handle everything. You're the spiritual pillar of this temporary community; your presence alone reduces crowd fear. Your insight detects current crowd fear at 19%, margin of error ±2.8%.」
Winter pondered new experience allocation.
Core leadership skills like "Insight" or "Discernment" warranted investment for high use. Also raised "Movement" to Lv.5 for obstacle-heavy terrain. Good synergy with others.
New combat acquisitions: "Throwing" and "Marksmanship Proficiency," both Lv.5. "Throwing" for frequent grenades ahead; useful for knives too.
"Marksmanship Proficiency" broadly boosted most ranged combat like "Personal Firearms Proficiency," "Heavy Weapons Proficiency," "Archery Proficiency." But high XP cost, modest gains.
Bumped "Personal Firearms Proficiency" to Lv.11, genius threshold. Unrivaled even late-game.
Adjusted to leave XP spare, then accelerated time. Back at camp, resident rescue reward would come. Reallocate then.
Dawn: the ground rumbled grandly. Time accel auto-canceled.
Shuddering earth from helicopter rotors. Survival radio calls too. Ashford, exchanging glances with Winter, grabbed the radio.
Apparently, special variant reports dispatched attack choppers. U.S. airpower tied up in blockades, fire support, airdrops. Four Apaches was unusual. Pilot's mission: secure special variant samples. CDC and federal health service troops with big transport chopper in tow.
They'd downed two here, unsure of more. Voice shifted, surprised. On position request, Winter used "Map Reading." Reported rough bearing and distance from gym.
Apache squadron scoured the city, mopping variants, deemed no more specials. Bravo Company arrived from camp, ending rescue ops.
Convoy rolled north on highway, covered by choppers. Distant horde charged the column madly. Two Apaches hovered, swung guns blazing.
[Rat-tat-tat-tat!]
The voracious birds guzzled 70+ gallons per hour, boasting proportional firepower. High-explosive rounds at 10 per second. Each outpacing a grenade.
Boom-boom-boom—BOOM!
Explosions and smoke streaking straight. Spectacular.
Column entering camp sightlines, helos scattered. Shredding every visible horde en route afar. Safety dispersal—lingering near camp with that noise would draw variants.
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