Chapter 92
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Lakeside Night (11), Santa Margarita Lake
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“Fire!”
In that instant, the world blazed white. Lightning. In the black-and-white downpour, the soldiers at the end of the tracers died like figures in a silent film. They’d been crawling up the slope on their bellies, and now they simply dropped their heads. Rain pattered in place of death cries, as if they were merely falling asleep. Concise deaths. The belated thunderclap tore through all other sounds.
Winter’s targets were the two at the emplacement. The deputy gunner especially. He sat with his back turned, too busy handling shells to watch this way.
The deputy gunner’s eye exploded from the first shot. The gunner to his left whipped around in shock. The second round punched into his forehead. The impact jerked his head back. He stared at the sky, dead, before slowly toppling backward.
The survivors fired back. Some rounds struck body armor, some wounded but didn’t kill, others missed entirely. Nine in number, they scrambled for cover. Their suppressive fire chewed through hundreds of rounds.
“Cover me!”
Winter charged toward the emplacement. Bullets whistled overhead as he ran low—Elliot squad’s covering fire. The enemy was desperate too. Winter rolled aside. A near-miss tracer grazed past with a sharp whine before vanishing.
Caked in mud, Winter tumbled into the emplacement. The deputy gunner clutched a shell, pin pulled. Far from rigor mortis, the corpse yielded it softly.
The mortar was just the tube. A manual firing mechanism attached. The boy shook the tube upside down. Rainwater poured from the muzzle. Then he loaded the shell. A slick, sliding chill. One hand gripped the middle of the tube, the other the firing lever, muzzle jammed into the ground. Winter aimed at the counterattackers. He pulled the trigger.
Boom!
No 「Heavy Weapons Proficiency」, but it was close range, and he’d seen it done. The shell landed true. But it didn’t explode. Too close.
The edge of the position crumbled. Bullets thudded into the soft earth. Even poking rifles from cover was threatening. Winter fired back. Not at people—the shells were the goal. A flash-bang behind cover. Muzzles protruding over rocks and beside trees went limp.
The real problem came next. The vibration, perhaps. At the shell’s impact site, the ground shifted. The slope slid. Hidden enemies burst out in panic.
The boy was below it.
‘Damn.’
Winter needed to evade too, but he couldn’t turn his back. Malice rained down even now. Six of them. He reacted on instinct. Crack-crack! A soldier took chest hits and fell. Not dead. But the pursuing earth swallowed him.
Elliot squad fought desperately. More enemies toppled one after another.
“Lieutenant! Get out of there!”
Whose shout, he couldn’t tell. No time to check. An enraged boulder rolled fiercely. Winter gritted his teeth. Dodging was too late. Instead, he leaped straight at it. The boulder’s edge—kicking off its corner felt like sinking in, but he re-leaped. Barely. The third leap was like stomping water. Still, he pushed off somehow.
That was the end. A rough current snagged his ankle. In an instant, he was buried to the neck. His chest compressed. Winter’s breath caught. In the flood of sensation, reality and simulation blurred. He reached out. Toward the sky.
The sky vanished. Darkness thicker than night. The texture of earth climbed to his fingertips. His body wouldn’t move. Dirt filled his mouth. His eyes stung. No breath, no sound.
His heart raced madly.
‘I don’t have a heart.’
A pleasant illusion. All sensations were mere outputs of situational computation, always lingering in his mind. Rarely did it fade.
Was this how it ended?
Winter ignored the looming death, gave no thought to what followed, and immersed in the now. Asphyxiation helped clear his mind. He cranked synchronization to the limit. High sync meant intense pain.
「Warning (Control AI): Excessive 「Sensory Synchronization」 in this situation may cause mental illness. This Control AI recommends resetting the 「Pain」 synchronization rate.」
Don’t. Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. The boy repeated inwardly.
「Warning (Control AI): The warning function for the worldview conductor’s mental health cannot be disabled. It is this Control AI’s purpose to enhance the happiness of policyholders after death.」
Fine. So shut up.
「Warning (Control AI): 」
The voice echoing in his head cut off. But too late. Winter lost the illusion’s thread.
Thunk, thunk. Digging sounds.
Something cold and sharp stabbed his hand’s back. Muffled screams from beyond the cold earth—small, distant. But closer than it felt. From the stabbed hand outward, the ground’s weight eased. Soon, rain and wind touched from fingers to elbow. Briefly. Someone seized the boy officer’s hand and arm, yanking hard.
His upper body emerged at once. Winter wiped his face with one hand. Breath resumed raggedly. Lingering dirt entered his airways, triggering harsh coughs.
“Good heavens! Are you all right, Lieutenant?”
Winter nodded first. The figure—still blurry—sighed in vast relief. Offering thanks to God. Someone tried to support the boy officer. He declined, rinsing himself in the rain. The downpour made it quick.
“Give me your hand a moment. I’ll bandage it.”
Elliot spoke. Only then did Winter check the wound. Blood flowed from his left hand’s back. Bone-deep. He flexed his fingers. No issue. Winter silently offered his hand. Elliot pulled gauze and bandage from his first-aid kit at his waist. Hurry made him drop more than he used.
“Sorry. I tried to be careful, but rushing made me mess up.”
A soldier apologized to Winter. The one who’d stabbed with the entrenching tool, likely. He still watched the combat direction, glancing back. Winter reassured him.
“No need to…… apologize. Thank you…… for saving me.”
Words came choppy. From ragged breaths.
After first aid, Winter checked gear.
Night-vision goggles worked, axis slightly bent. Holstered pistol intact. Only the rifle damaged. Laser sight accessory gone. Dirt in barrel and chamber. He knelt, disassembling fast. Gripped silencer-free barrel, swung hard to shake dirt by inertia. Poured canteen water. It’d rust later, but it’d rained anyway—the now mattered.
Reassembly was instant. Reunited magazine, racked twice to check ejection.
“Let’s go. Not much left.”
“Lieutenant, you look exhausted. Take the rear?”
“No worries. I’m really fine.”
“But your face…….”
“Not what you think. Different reason. Very personal…….”
Elliot fretted, but Winter commanded.
The enemy, thinned repeatedly, no longer outnumbered a platoon numerically. Jeffrey platoon’s line and Winter’s Elliot squad crossfired.
The foe was caught in the booby-trap zone. Blindly pushed forward. Assuming dam breach impossible, engineers carried ample explosives—all now traps.
Even in this advantage, casualties mounted.
Two from Elliot squad dropped in succession.
“Argh! Fuck! I’m hit! I got hit!”
One scream. Winter sought the enemy he’d just shot. Direction of last muzzle flash, now dark. Silent. Reloading? Winter waited calmly. Rain too thick. NVG heat signatures too far.
Rat-tat-tat! Gunfire erupted—Winter adjusted aim. Eight full-auto rounds. Couldn’t confirm hits.
‘Dead, probably.’
「Combat Sense」 affirmed.
“Upston! Upston! Damn it!”
Elliot clutched the corpse, howling. Elsewhere, wounded treated. Squad firepower plummeted. Winter suppressed with fire, checked the dead. Round pulped the nose, upward. Exit stopped by helmet, ricocheting. Crushed brain oozed from shattered skull. Winter closed the fallen soldier’s eyes.
Ground shook. Powerful blast behind, bit distant. Dirt geyser rose higher than the ridgeline.
Muffled by the boom, a delayed screech reached his ears.
[Kiiiiiiiiiiii-]
Nails on steel. Winter lowered radio volume.
‘They bit the bait.’
Jamming broadcast, or Trickster’s death cry, filled the radio. Dissonant pitch shifts lasted ten-odd seconds, then cut. Comms went quiet.
Odd it didn’t die instantly. Trap with two plastic explosive rods jammed in. Close, it should’ve shredded on detonation—no time for cries.
‘No. Cunning bastard might’ve suspected.’
Likely sent another mutant ahead.
Careful reusing bait. Jamming included trap intel. Hope no other Tricksters in range, but no assuming.
“You bastards! Kill ’em all!”
Enraged Elliot hosed the enemy woods.
Captives trembled in terror. One, mind broken earlier, shat himself. Pants bulged.
“Stop! Cease fire! Enemy’s retreating!”
Winter halted the soldiers. A wounded one gnashed teeth.
“Then pursue and kill them!”
“No, we evade first. Look there.”
Winter pointed to battlefield shadows. Soldiers peering that way soon shuddered. Hard to distinguish from dark, but myriad movements. Trickster dead, mutant horde scattering wildly.
“Anyone have flares?”
“Signal grenades? I’ve got three.”
Grenadier stepped up.
“Lend them a sec.”
Winter took his rifle. Loaded red signal into underbarrel single-shot launcher. Set grenade sight, aimed where Harris’ force retreated. Pfft! Grenade arced clear.
Fearing enemy fire, Winter waited for first flare’s burnout, shifted, fired last two. No need for precision. Handing back, he said:
“Good use.”
“…….”
Soldiers’ rage forgotten, faces blank.
“Lieutenant…… this, I mean…….”
Elliot stammered. Winter wouldn’t rebuke. Hate enough to kill personally, yet feel they shouldn’t die like that—human.
“That’s their due. We offered surrender.”
“……Yes.”
Sergeant sighed away regrets.
Enemy hadn’t grasped Winter’s intent yet. Would they sense mutant approach? Harris collapsing too fast was bad—Winter scanned for moderate target. No ghouls. A normal mutant—single shot.
Kyaaaaaaa!
Deliberate miss. Wounded mutant howled long.
“Return now.”
Winter led. Trying to lift dead, another soldier snatched away in horror.
“You’re wounded, Lieutenant!”
“Wound? Oh, just this?”
Hand stab still seeped. Bandage blood-soaked, diluted pink dripping. But carrying a man was fine. Seeing the face, Winter gave up persuading.
Now Winter called Jeffrey.
“David One, David One. This is David Actual. Hear me?”
[…….]
No static, no reply. Moment later, Winter realized—past midnight. Switched freq, retried. Jeffrey’s voice.
[David One! David Actual! No, Lieutenant! You safe?]
“I’m fine, one KIA, one WIA.”
[……That’s…….]
“Jeffrey. You?”
[No deaths since you left, but soon. Leg gone to shell…….]
Pause, then:
[Anyway, your support quicker than thought saved us. Saw you assault.]
“Later. Large mutant horde inbound. Pull to office.”
[Pull back? Not hold line?]
“Can you? Ammo slack?”
[Not really.]
“Then do as I say. No rush. Harris fights for us. I’ll descend west, up road. Contact 100m ahead—watch friendly fire.”
[Got it. Hurry.]
Winter signed off.
Intense gunfire erupted behind.
============================ Author's Afterword ============================
#Publishing Contract
This novel has signed a publishing contract with Image Frame Co., Ltd. (formerly known as Gilchatgi Publishing). It’s been a while since the contract, but I held off mentioning it because serialization schedules on other platforms weren’t firm. Didn’t want to raise false hopes.
Title stays same on release. Boss read it, thought it fitting. First impressions still iffy, though. Anyway.
Other-platform serialization starts with N-site, in about 3-4 weeks.
Needs manuscript revisions, time-consuming. I’ll try not to delay serialization, but no promises.
Revising written work harder than thought. Haha.
Paper book too.
#On Afterwords
Even if told to write one more line instead of afterwords, inept authors like me can’t squeeze out a line in that time. This much is negligible...
Anyway, fewer Q&As ahead. Pick 2-3 per chapter. Today’s afterword long—skip.
Bedtime...