00011 - The Little Prince in the Ossuary
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# High Risk, High Return (2), Paso Robles
Gyeo-ul invested in 「Cartography(讀圖法)」.
Although he benefited from the Talent Advantage, he didn't raise it much. He always held some experience points in reserve.
With a high level in 「Cartography」, there was no need to reorient maps properly, the possibility of misreading decreased, information analysis was provided, and once seen maps were automatically memorized.
Memorization meant updating the mini-map. Additionally, it provided convenience through augmented reality.
Currently, it only made reading maps easier. For instance, the shortest path was highlighted on the map, or landmarks were brightly emphasized for comparison.
The destination, Daniel Lewis Middle School, wasn't too far. The chances of getting lost in the well-organized city streets were low. Still, he learned it for safety.
Unread messages. An augmented reality notification flickered. He was ignoring it. He couldn't continue to do so.
He opened the chat window. The viewers wanted information. He organized his thoughts. The thoughts formed into sentences.
「Although 「Cartography」 isn't a necessity, it is quite convenient. Missing the right path at a crucial moment invites criticism. There is a related challenge called 「Is This Not the Mountain?」 Achieving this reduces the chance of misreading.」
Without looking at the responses, he closed the window.
Broadcasting still felt uncomfortable. Due to circumstances, he did it. However, virtual reality was a newly granted life.
Even if fundamentally false, he wished it could be just his.
'It can't be helped...'
He had to avoid obstacles. There were four of them, and clearing them was tough.
It took much time relative to distance, and if fighting occurred midway, distance sense could easily be distorted.
This was why he invested in 「Cartography」.
The leading boy raised his fist. A stop signal. He pointed his gun in the direction 「Survival Sense」 warned.
He waited a moment.
A stopped cargo truck, and from around the corner, an infected mutant appeared. Its one eye had a murky pupil, possibly blind.
Indeed, it only rolled its other eye to look this way.
Before it could scream, the boy pulled the trigger.
Pew.
The silencer muffled the gunshot, limiting the sound.
The slide slid back, ejecting the shell. The mutant fell, its eyeball burst.
From the back of its head, which the bullet exited, viscous brain matter spilled.
The place where they parted ways with Lieutenant Capston was where the highway intersected with Paso Robles 24th Street.
From there, they had to head south to 13th Street, then continue eastward, a distance assessed as approximately 4.3 kilometers according to 「Cartography」.
If the road was clear and without threats, it was an hour's journey.
They did not choose the highway as the southbound route. Being a main road, there were too many obstacles.
Stopped vehicles were abundant, implying many infected during evacuation. It was worth exploring for experience but risked not reaching the destination by sunset.
Thus, they chose the Riverside Avenue route running south alongside the highway within the city. It had fewer obstacles compared to the highway.
An imposing Baptist church caught their eye on the roadside. Its walls were covered with biblical verses and desperate cries seeking God, all scrawled in bold red.
"That's not blood, is it?"
The voice of the half-bald man trembled faintly. Gyeo-ul recalled their introduction. There was an augmented reality hologram revealing his name as Ahn Je-jung.
He claimed a Marine background, though he seemed surprisingly cowardly to have volunteered to join.
There was likely some calculation on his part.
"Let's hope not."
A woman's voice followed. It was trembling too. Then, everyone but the boy screamed. In the church window, smack, a blood-stained handprint appeared.
Above it, a jaundiced eye slowly rose.
Damn it. It saw them. Preoccupied with directing the group, Gyeo-ul's aim was delayed. Before the others could scream, he had to blow its head off.
Screeeee-
The muffled wailing beyond the glass echoed less than it reverberated inside the building.
A few muted gunshots sounded from the silencer, striking the wretch in its open mouth.
Cracks in the glass oozed dead blood, forming a dark crimson streak as it dripped down.
The church door rattled vigorously, shaking with multiple clunks. It didn't open, likely barred from the inside.
Beady, bloodshot eyes peeked through every crack, betraying rage and starvation. Gyeo-ul quickly surveyed the area. An abandoned camper van was visible on the roadside.
"Hide behind there! Quickly!"
The trio ran hurriedly but abruptly halted, realizing Gyeo-ul hadn't moved to follow.
"What about Gyeo-ul?!"
The boy drew a machete from his belt, gesturing with his free hand.
"Don't worry about me!"
They hesitated, but seeing the door give way further, could endure no longer. They hurriedly ducked behind cover.
The door burst open. That described it best. One half shattered, the remaining one contorted grotesquely.
Infected mutants poured out. The first to emerge were far from intact. Crushed by those behind, flesh and skin peeled away were exposed, grotesquely blending.
Rolling forward, unable to walk on their own.
Ravenous death poured out. That chaos was no better than a panic-stricken human crowd. Worse, in fact.
Those trampled and crushed suffocated. Declining intelligence nullified obstacle avoidance. They stumbled repeatedly.
They died when they stumbled. Yet many more functional ones remained, spreading limbs and frenziedly charging.
Gyeo-ul drew the horde, tapping car hoods with the back of the machete. Boldly, he only walked slightly faster than briskly.
Even mutants retained some intelligence, so Gyeo-ul didn't glance at his team. The mutants mimicked similar glances.
Thus, his voice rose for his team to hear alone. To raise a loud voice through the gas mask's full-faceplate, he had to strain until it ached.
"When their backs are to you, shoot! No rapid fire! Use controlled bursts, aim for vital points! Head, heart! Wait, too soon! Don't shoot yet!"
Injured individuals left unchecked would turn back, spot the team, and unleash their peculiar cries.
While varying by mutant type, instinctive animal-like communication was feasible.
Thanks to repeated experiences, the urgency didn't impede his commands.
How had it been initially?
Even knowing it was virtual reality, he had been overwhelmed by the sights. His mind had gone blank.
Now, his heart rate stayed within normal bounds.
There were differences in physical capability among the mutants. The host body was human, after all. Those in better shape led the horde, lunging first.
Gyeo-ul made a single sideways step while slashing. Charging inertia combined with cutting force.
The upper half of a head flew off instantly. If either 「Melee Weapon Proficiency」 or 「Close Combat」 had been lacking, he would have stumbled backwards, at the very least lost balance.
Three more closed in. Dodging wasn't difficult. Infected humans have increased strength, but agility decreases. Unless it's a higher-rank mutant, precise movements are impossible. Even humans struggle to change direction while sprinting. Mutants had it worse.
A few meters out, 「Combat Sense」 dictated evasion timing and path. Truthfully, Gyeo-ul's instincts sufficed.
The slanting mutant's torso lunged at Gyeo-ul who was sidestepping right. Yet its legs kept running. Center of gravity shifted sharply.
The mutant's neck caught the knife. A full swing outwards from over the left shoulder.
The knife stabbed through the spinal cord, extracting, as the mutant, its momentum unmanageable, tumbled. Its convulsions were merely death throes.
The machete was too far to slice the last one. The mutant clawed out, barely touching Gyeo-ul.
He ducked rapidly, feeling a bump on his shoulder. The mutant somersaulted, flailing to grab Gyeo-ul mid-air. It landed head-first, snapping its neck.
Crunch.
It took only six breaths to deal with four infected. From a watching standpoint, it happened in a flash.
The team, holding their breaths behind the camper, was astounded at Gyeo-ul's intact form. Stark contrast to their hesitation and inability to shoot.
"Not yet!"
"Don't shoot! Do not shoot!"
His gaze locked on the encroaching threat, he raised his hand to stop firing, repeating himself.
In urgent scenarios, instructions once were insufficient. Extreme fear and tension paralyzed cognition. Oftentimes, people heard but didn't comprehend.
Gyeo-ul quickly issued orders.
"Of the three... no, ms. Lee, watch the other direction! A new horde might come from the noise!"
While eliminating another mutant advancing nearby, he continued calmly, "Mr. Park, search the camper before it's too late! If danger comes, hide inside and close the door!"
With the agile ones taken care of, the main horde had closed within smelling distance.
Gyeo-ul sought more attention. He was the lure. Changing direction was as crucial as speed in baiting.
Reacting to each lateral movement, the advancing row adjusted. But the obscured rear blindly pushed forward, resulting in frequent pile-ups. Navigating around obstacles amplified the effect.
Through such means, the density decreased. Creating an environment suitable for facing many with few.
Gyeo-ul's attacks were mostly lateral. Vertical stabs delivered more power but risked embedding his weapon in a skull, delaying retrieval.
Avoid bones with shallow slashes. Sever the throat. As long as the mutant utilized human anatomy, breathing was essential for movement.
"Now! Fire! Shoot!"
Three heads burst at once. Three? Anticipating poor adherence to instructions, Gyeo-ul raised his voice.
"Ms. Lee, you're supposed to keep watch behind us!"
"Sorry......!"
Damn it. She must have reflexively shouted in response, louder than the silenced gunshots. Anxious people often made mistakes.
She covered her mouth. Too late. Some slowed, turning back. Gyeo-ul leapt onto a nearby car's hood, hopping up to its roof.
Putting away the machete, he grabbed the rifle.
Chick, chick.
Setting it to burst fire, he pulled the butt close to his shoulder. Fast aiming fortified by 「Firearms Proficiency」 and 「Combat Sense」.
Thud, thud, thud— Thud, thud— Thud!
The silenced weapon sounded muffled and strange. Ejected shells bounced wildly. Within four seconds, the 30-round magazine emptied.
Even so, he couldn't silence all of them. Almost two dozen reacted among those he had lured.
Reloading almost unconsciously, Gyeo-ul twisted the silencer with a harsh snap. The liberated silencer spun wildly, falling off inadvertently.
No time for pickup wasted. Adjust, aim, fire in one breath.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
The unsilenced rifle roared loudly. It's hard to grasp without firing yourself. At least 140 decibels. Momentarily, about a hundred times aircraft noise.
Loud enough. Sufficient to attract most mutant attention. Not all of them, but the majority.
Those still targeting his team faced Gyeo-ul's continuous fire. Heads burst, or even misses penetrated chests. At least movement abilities were neutralized.
This response, though swift, allowed enough time to encircle the vehicle.
Already, two creatures climbed up. Failed attempts to communicate amongst themselves didn't delay much.
What to do? Should he use grenades? It felt wasteful. Special mutants might appear at the school......
Ammunition consumption was more excessive than anticipated.
Ultimately slinging the rifle over his back, Gyeo-ul drew the machete again. His advantageous high ground in close combat was pivotal.
The weapon's short length was its flaw, but combat skills mitigated the drawback. The two teammates' shooting dwindled from the rear, but slowly.
Amidst the numerous faces writhing from below, extending hands and cries erupted. The manifold screams resembled a lament. Gyeo-ul contemplated.
All these figures gathered in the church.
Should the real apocalypse transpire, would people still seek god despite faded glory?
If god exists, how would they view present times? If souls marketed bodies and confined brains to fantasies, what would they think?
As a climber finally reached him, Gyeo-ul seized its neck. Plunging the machete into its gaping mouth, he killed it.
Then, tossing the body to the side where a massive throng still clamored, Gyeo-ul used the airborne corpse as a stepping stone.
Leaping onto it, he rolled into the open space beyond.
Rolling aggravated his back immensely. The strapped rifle dug in. Ignoring this, he ran in the rolling direction.
The screams behind seemed closer than genuine. The front yard was fenced waist-high. Grabbing a sharp end, he vaulted over.
He took five steps further, slowing his pace before glancing back.
Crack!
The spiked fence became a skewer for its unfortunate leap. Entrails seeped from a torn abdomen due to the unyielding press from behind.
Alone, they could have easily traversed it. The fence collapsed, bringing down some of the horde. Gyeo-ul seized such openings.
Combat boots were effective weapons. Solidly built. One firm stomp fractured necks.
Crack, crack.
Splintering sounds of cervical vertebrae. Navigating the clawing hands avoided their reach, gaining time and space by stamping and kicking.
Once space opened among the pack, handling became simpler.
Drawing a pistol in hand, he prioritized shooting the likeliest threats. Pain dullness aside, spasmodic muscles couldn't avoid independent contractions.
A pierced lung impeded swift movement severely. Yet they remained mobile. The infected status wasn't the sole reason.
Even uninfected, enraged individuals proved equally hard to subdue with single shots.
Mutant infection surpassed even drug-influenced humans in difficulty. Killing them with a pistol, short of decapitation, was near impossible. The machete was necessary.
With the guidance of skill augmentation, Gyeo-ul became a butcher. Blood, guts, flesh, and moans.
A hellish scene. Gradually, the moans waned, and with a final slash, a surge of dark blood splattered.
In the aftermath of tumult, corpses lay scattered across the street. Counting approximated roughly seventy-nine.
A few crippled bodies crawled, survivors of stray shots. Dispatching them ushered a profound calm. The prior ruckus seemed almost a falsehood.
Recovering the discarded silencer consumed some time. With it found, he approached the camper. The two men's stares were stupefied.
A system alert showed reverence's affection increased, while general affection decreased. Awe mingled with fear.
That was adequate. Gyeo-ul turned to the still-trembling woman.
Without thought of turning around, she trained her shaking gun behind her, a voice whispering almost like a sobbing plea resonated from her, speaking loudly as if shrieking silently.
"W-What happened over there? Huh? What's going on?! Why did it go so quiet?! Is the little leader safe?!"
Gyeo-ul responded for the speechless men.
"It's over, ms. Yura. You can turn around now."
Gasp.
Gyeo-ul's voice startled her. Slowly, like a statue, keeping her guarded posture, she turned.
He gently breathed out, raising the gun she aimed back at him.
"Don't point your gun at people."
"......"
She stood motionless, not responding. Yet the system notifications constantly updated.
The affection shifted differently compared to the men. Firstly, due to guilt and regret, secondly for not witnessing the battle directly.
Her anxious glance lasted a moment. She suddenly hugged Gyeo-ul, softly weeping.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I did something stupid......"
"It's okay. No one got hurt."
With an arm snug and a patting hand, another notification refreshed.
---------------------------= Author's Note ---------------------------=
Around 11 PM on the 23rd. A bar near Garak Market.
Author: Look, not one bad comment on my new novel.
Cartoonist Friend: Negative comments only come if you're famous. You're not famous.
Programmer Friend: I think people who didn't find it interesting simply dropped off before commenting.
Author: Haaa...
Clacky's Corner:
I included the author's notes since it shows his mindset while writing the story.
Not gonna lie, author seems chill.