Chapter 139. Something Not Human.
Chapter 139. Something Not Human.
When the Advisor gestured behind him, several figures stepped forward. The survivors started at the sight of so many people.
"I apologize for not mentioning this sooner. We only ever intended to talk, so I chose not to reveal their presence. I didn't want to alarm you unnecessarily by showing them too soon."
The Advisor bowed politely in apology. Faced with such sincerity, the survivors—still a little unsettled—understood and assured him it was fine.
"If it's not too impolite to ask, may I inquire who it is you're looking for?"
"Our Commander of the Yong Mercenary Corps."
"By Yong Mercenary Corps, do you mean a PMC?"
"PMC...?"
The survivors gave the Advisor a rough explanation of what a PMC was.
"Yes, that is an accurate term."
"What kind of person is this Commander of yours...?"
"Someone who took in those for whom only a bleak existence remained, and gave them a chance to live as proper human beings."
"For someone like that to exist in times like these... that's remarkable..."
Seeing the survivors acknowledge that his Commander was a good person, the Advisor smiled faintly and nodded.
"At any rate, what business do all of you have at the palace?"
The survivors exchanged glances and answered, as if to ask, do you really not know?
"Right now, the government is dropping leaflets from planes to find survivors. We saw those and we're heading there for safe shelter."
'So what my squad members reported seeing a while ago was the government scattering notices to rally survivors?'
"How much farther until you reach the palace?"
The survivors thought hard, then gave a rough estimate.
"We expect to arrive in about three days."
The Advisor calculated roughly how long it would take to return to the Yong Mercenary Corps headquarters.
'Considering the return trip as well... that's plenty of time. The problem is what to offer in exchange for going to Korea, but...'
The Advisor looked around, studying the survivors' expressions, and detected exhaustion and anxiety in their faces.
"Can this government you speak of truly guarantee safety?"
The survivors glanced at one another, slightly agitated. Then one of them spoke.
"To be honest, we aren't sure. We won't know if it's as safe as the government claims until we get there. But it's got to be better than wandering around day after day, scavenging for food like we are now."
Even now, they were struggling to keep their composure and not lose their nerve.
"Since the military is gathered there defending it, even if there's some oppression, it'll still be better than now..."
Hearing that, the Advisor nodded. He judged that he could make full use of this situation.
"In that case, I'd like to propose a deal. We will assist you while we search for our Commander. With our abilities, we can protect you even in dangerous situations. In return, when you reach the palace, we ask that you speak favorably of us to the government. And, naturally, if things work out well, we promise a generous supply of food, as you saw earlier."
The survivors looked at each other with surprise. The deal the Advisor proposed was by no means a bad one. Gaining an ally that would guarantee their safety was an important option. And saying a few good words to the government wasn't a difficult thing at all.
"Just having our safety guaranteed is good enough, but if the results are favorable, you'll even give us food... We have no reason to refuse."
The Advisor smiled and nodded.
"Then, let's do that."
As the conversation concluded, the Advisor issued orders to his squad. A few went ahead to scout the route, while the rest moved out, keeping the survivors protected.
* * * * * * * *
We were on a video call to share our status with other countries.
"Speaking of which, I heard the UK also managed to secure some breathing room."
"Yes, like you and the United States, we are also distributing leaflets and working hard to gather survivors."
In America, since firearms are legal, I'd heard the individual survival rate was quite high. On the flip side, conflicts between survivors, rather than zombies, were a bigger problem.
"You'll be arriving soon, then."
The U.S. President spoke carefully, his face set. I glanced at the date and answered.
"We took the time to refine the devices, keeping the margin of error as small as possible. We're about to depart now."
"Thank you. We've been running regular reconnaissance, and nothing unusual has turned up."
"I'll contact you again once everything is finished."
"May God's blessing be with you."
We ended the video call and discussed internal matters.
"How is the training progressing?"
"I guarantee they've mastered it one hundred percent—they could do it with their eyes closed."
"Good."
We didn't know what variables might arise, but once we were on-site, the situation could shift, and physically feeling the radiation could impair their judgment.
Those participating in this operation had already gone ahead to the front of the helicopter. Checking their expressions, unlike the confident boasts they'd made, their faces were clearly tense. The Special Forces Commander was personally inspecting each of their items one by one.
"Well then, we'll be back."
With our party seeing us off, we headed back to the Hanford Site. From Gimpo we flew through the United States to Washington State. Aboard the military helicopter the U.S. provided, the Special Forces Commander explained the operation.
"As the helicopter passes the drop points, each of you will fast-rope down in turn and plant the device."
The area was too vast to cover on foot, so we'd crammed as much fast-rope training as possible into one week.
"Everyone, sync your watches. Current time is 2:35. After landing, we activate the devices at exactly three o'clock."
The members began setting their watches, their expressions resolute.
"If... by 3:30 you have not made it to the rendezvous point..."
He couldn't bring himself to say the words, we will consider you dead. The silence was broken by a broadcast from inside the helicopter, and everyone got ready to fast-rope down. The door opened, the wire whirred, and one by one, they dropped.
Once I confirmed all personnel had descended safely, I prepared to go down myself, but I could see the high radiation dose was already affecting them—their movements were sluggish.
With radio communication impossible, I could only pray everyone installed their device safely. I quickly planted mine and waited. The minute and second hands ticked down, one minute left until three.
— Whooooom...!
The moment the clock struck three, the device's trigger activated, and a pulse of mana swept across the area, rapidly driving down the radiation levels. Checking the radiation meter, the Becquerel (Bq) reading plummeted.
Thankfully, all the devices were operating stably. Now, we just had to get everyone assembled without any stragglers. I couldn't sense any movement from zombies or mana-possessing lifeforms in the vicinity.
Except I was faintly sensing the aura of ordinary, non-mana organisms...
"Wait a second. Living organisms in a place fucking saturated with radiation?"
I had already confirmed long ago whether any mana-possessing lifeforms were present. But I'd made the careless assumption that non-mana lifeforms were nothing to worry about.
Right now, with the energy field active, we had no idea what moving at high speed could set off. Galrand and Edwin had strictly warned us to use as little mana as possible, because no one knew what might happen from clashing mana.
"Ah, fuck..."
The energy field dispersed into the air, and a mana-condensed core popped out from inside the device, signaling the end of the operation.
I checked my watch; we had fifteen minutes until the rendezvous time. Travel time had been factored in, so it was a distance everyone could reach well within the arrival deadline.
I rushed to the rendezvous point first and waited for people. One by one, they began to arrive, but as the thirty-minute mark drew closer, everyone's faces grew increasingly anxious.
The personnel who failed to reach us were three special mission agents and four villagers.
"..."
"..."
When the second hand passed the twelve on the watch and 3:30 arrived, someone bit their lip hard, while another grimaced and turned away.
The helicopter landed to pick us up. Once it landed, the pilot checked our personnel count from the cockpit; even though the numbers didn't match, he paused for a moment of silence, then took hold of the controls again.
"Let's return to the village..."
The helicopter made a stop at the airport, and on the way from the airport to Gimpo and the village, no one could bring themselves to speak. These were the first casualties the village had suffered during an operation. Since radiation levels had already dropped back to everyday exposure, the bodies of the fallen could be retrieved at any time.
The helicopter landed at the village, where our party was waiting. We disembarked one by one and were told we'd done well, but we couldn't feel happy about it.
The party who had waited in the village also noticed the difference between the number of people who had originally departed and the current number, and found themselves unable to speak. They closed their eyes for a moment, bowed their heads, and offered a silent tribute.
I told the thirteen people who survived to follow me to an empty clearing for a moment, and the rest of the party, their curiosity piqued, followed as well.
The total number of people who completed the operation and returned alive was thirteen.
No. To be precise, the total number of 'people' was eight. Because five of them were something not human.