WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: Ryuu

◈ The Little Prince of the Ossuary

00015 <-- The Little Prince of the Ossuary -->

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#High Risk, High Return (2), Paso Robles

Gyeoul had invested in the skill of ‘Map Navigation’. He enjoyed the benefits of the Talent Advantage but did not level it up much. One must always leave some spare experience points.

With a higher level of ‘Map Navigation’, there's no need to orient the map properly, the chances of misreading it decrease, it provides information analysis, and furthermore, once a map is viewed, it is automatically memorized. Memorization translates to mini-map updates. Furthermore, it provides conveniences through augmented reality.

For now, map reading had become merely more convenient. For instance, the shortest routes on the map became more prominent, or the terrain and landmarks were highlighted more brightly when contrasted.

The destination, Daniel Lewis Middle School, was not far. The chances of getting lost in the well-organized urban area were low. Nevertheless, he had learned it for safety.

Unread messages. The augmented reality signal was flashing. He had been ignoring it. He couldn't keep doing this. He opened the chat window. The viewers wanted information. He organized his thoughts. His thoughts became sentences.

「’Map Navigation’ isn't essential, but it makes things a lot more convenient. You're likely to face criticism if you take the wrong path when it matters. There's an Achievement related to this called ‘Isn't This the Mountain?’ The reward for completing it is a reduced chance of misreading.」

He closed the window without checking the reactions.

Streaming was still uncomfortable for him. He did it out of necessity. However, virtual reality offered a new life. Even if its foundation was a lie, he wished it to be his own.

‘It can't be helped…’

He had to avoid obstacles. It was too much for the four of them to clear. Given the distance, it took a significant amount of time, and the sense of distance could become distorted if a fight broke out in the middle. That was why he had invested in ‘Map Navigation’.

The leading boy raised his fist. A stop signal. He aimed his gun in the direction warned by ‘Survival Instinct’. He waited a moment. A stopped truck, and then a mutant appeared around the corner. One eye was cloudy, likely blind. Indeed, it only rolled the other eyeball to look this way.

Before it could scream, the boy pulled the trigger. Thud. The suppressed gunshot was muffled. The slide recoiled, ejecting a shell. The mutant fell, its eye bursting open, and viscous brain matter flowed from the back of its head.

The point where they parted from Lieutenant Robert Capston was at the intersection of the national highway and 24th Street in Paso Robles. From there, they had to head south to 13th Street and then east for a while. According to the ‘Map Navigation’, the estimated distance was about 4.3 kilometers. If the roads were clear and there were no other threats, it would take about an hour.

They didn't choose the southward path along the national highway. It was a main road, so there were too many obstacles. Parked cars meant that many people had been infected while evacuating. It could be a worthwhile path for gaining experience points. However, there was a high chance they wouldn't reach their destination before sunset.

So, they took a different path, south along Riverside Avenue. It ran parallel to the national highway inside the city. It had the advantage of fewer obstacles compared to the national highway.

A Baptist church they passed was striking. Its walls were filled with Bible verses and sentences of despairing cries for God, written in red.

"Surely that's not blood, right?"

The voice of a man with half his head shaved quivered thinly. Gyeoul recalled their first encounter. There was an augmented reality hologram that popped up due to intelligence correction. His name was An Je-jung. He was said to be a former Marine, but he was surprisingly fearful. He had volunteered to follow eagerly.

There must be some calculation behind it.

"Let's hope not."

A woman's voice followed, also trembling. Then, everyone except the boy screamed. The cause was a bloody handprint suddenly stamped on the church window. Above it, a face with yellowed whites of the eyes slowly rose. Ah, it saw us. The boy was paying attention to his companions and was late in aiming. He needed to blow its head off before it could call others.

Aaaaaaah—

The stifled howl from beyond the glass, how thunderous it must be inside the building. The suppressed gun fired several dull shots. The mutant took two bullets in its opened mouth. The cracked glass was splattered with dead blood, forming a dark red streak as it flowed down.

The church's main door rattled. Thud-thud. It wouldn't open. The sounds of desperate pounding suggested it was barricaded from the inside. With every creak, dozens of bloodshot eyes peeked through the door gap. Anger and hunger were palpable. Gyeoul quickly scanned his surroundings. An abandoned camper van was visible on the roadside.

"Hide behind there! Hurry!"

The three ran frantically, then stopped dead when they realized Gyeoul wasn't following.

"What about Gyeoul-ssi?!"

Instead of replying, the boy drew his machete from his waist and gestured with his remaining hand.

"You don't need to worry about me!"

The trio hesitated but had no choice as the door increasingly gave way. They hastily took cover.

The door burst open. That was the most fitting description. One side flew off, and the other was grotesquely twisted. Mutants poured out. The first ones were abnormal, perhaps crushed by those pushing from behind, their skin and flesh torn in places. The fact that they were stripped meant their skin and muscles. They couldn't walk and were rolling out.

A horde of starving death spilled forth. No better than a panic-stricken crowd of humans. Rather, it was worse. Those that fell were trampled to death. Due to reduced intelligence, they didn't avoid obstacles. They kept falling. And falling meant death. Still, there were more that remained intact. They spread their limbs and charged in frenzy.

The boy lured the horde. He banged on the parked cars with the back of his machete. Boldly, his pace was just a brisk walk. Even mutants have some intelligence, so the boy didn't look towards his companions. They would do the same. So, he raised his voice so only his group could hear him. To shout loud enough through the gas mask's voice diaphragm, he had to strain painfully.

"Shoot them when they turn their backs! No rapid fire! Use aimed three-round bursts! Aim for vital points! Head! Heart! Wait, it's too soon! Don't shoot yet!"

Leaving an injured one alive would make it turn around and discover the group, then scream in their unique way. Communication was possible at an animalistic level among mutants.

Thanks to repeated experiences, his commands didn't falter even in the urgent situation. How was it at first? Even knowing it was virtual reality, the sight overwhelmed him. His mind went blank. Now, his heart rate was within normal range.

Mutants varied physically among themselves. Their hosts were human after all. The ones in better condition led the charge.

The boy sidestepped in a single move, drawing his machete across. The inertia of the charge and the slashing force intertwined. The top half of a head flew off in an instant. If he had lacked either ‘Melee Weapon Mastery’ or ‘Close Combat’ skills, he might have been swept away by the weight or, at the very least, lost his balance.

Three mutants closed in rapidly. He dodged them effortlessly. Infected humans gain strength but lose agility. Unless it's a higher mutant, sophisticated movements are impossible. Even for humans, it's hard to change direction during a full sprint. Mutants are even worse.

A few meters away, ‘Combat Sense’ indicated the timing and direction to dodge. Truthfully, the boy's own senses were enough. The upper body of the mutant twisted towards the boy, who had moved to the right, but its lower body still charged forward. The sudden shift in its center of gravity. He plunged his blade into the neck of the one that stumbled by itself. Starting from the left shoulder, an outward full swing sliced through the spinal cord. The blade emerged, and the mutant, overcome by inertia, tumbled. Its twitches were merely death throes.

The last one was too far for the blade. The mutant reached out with a snarl. Just before it could touch him, the boy ducked sharply. The impact against his shoulder. The mutant somersaulted through the air, still trying to grasp the boy. It landed headfirst, neck snapping with a gruesome crunch.

It took merely six breaths to deal with four infected. To the onlookers, it happened in the blink of an eye. The companions, leaning against the camper van and holding their breath, were astonished at the unharmed boy's prowess. Their own inability to shoot in time contrasted starkly.

"It's not over yet! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

He fixed his gaze on the approaching threat, repeatedly shouting while raising his hand to stop any gunfire. Repeating commands was necessary in a critical situation. Extreme tension and fear could paralyze rational thought. Often, people couldn't comprehend even when they heard the orders.

Gyeoul quickly directed them.

"One of the three... no, Yura-ssi, keep an eye on other directions! We might have a new horde coming because of the noise!" After slaying another approaching mutant, the boy continued in a steady voice. "Park Jin-seok-ssi, search the camper van while there's time! If it gets dangerous, hide inside and lock the door!"

After dealing with the stronger ones, the main horde was now within smelling distance.

Gyeoul drew more attention to himself. He was the bait. The direction of bait's movement is as crucial as its speed. As he moved side to side, the front line of the pursuing horde responded accordingly, but those behind, lacking a clear view, simply pushed forward. Hence, they frequently stumbled. Circumventing obstacles on either side made this even more effective.

This way, their density decreased. The environment was set for one to take on many. The boy's attacks were mostly horizontal. Vertical chops were powerful but could get the blade stuck in skulls, making retrieval difficult. It was better to slice shallowly, cutting the windpipe. As long as mutants utilized human physiology, they couldn't move without breathing.

"Now! Fire! Shoot!"

Three heads burst simultaneously. Three? He had expected the commands to be imperfectly followed. Gyeoul raised his voice.

"Yura-ssi, watch the rear! I told you to guard the back!"

"Sorry...!"

Ah. She must've reacted reflexively in her panic. Her voice, much louder than the muffled gunshots, was a clear mistake. As expected, stressed individuals are prone to errors.

She covered her mouth too late. Part of the horde slowed and turned back. Gyeoul kicked off a nearby vehicle to climb onto its roof, retracting his machete and gripping his rifle. Click, click. He switched the firing mode to rapid-fire and pressed the stock tightly against his shoulder. The combination of ‘Firearms Mastery’, ‘Combat Sense’, and his own experience resulted in swift aiming.

Prddddd- Prdd- Prddt!

The sounds from the suppressor-less rifle were blunt and bizarre. Shell casings flew wildly. In less than 4 seconds, the 30-round magazine was empty. Still, a few mutants managed to scream. About half of the lured horde reacted, mainly those lagging behind. Roughly twenty in number.

Almost instinctively, he changed the magazine and spun off the suppressor. The detached suppressor rolled away whimsically. There was no time to pick it up. Shoulder the weapon, aim, fire within half a breath.

Tatatatatatatak!

The rifle, now unsilenced, wailed maniacally. Its volume was something one couldn't fully grasp without firing it oneself— minimum 140 decibels. Brief but about a hundred times louder than aircraft noise.

It was that loud. Enough to capture the mutants' attention. Not all perhaps, but the majority indeed. Those turning towards the group were exposed to the boy's continuous firing. Heads exploded, or if missed, the bullets pierced through the chest. At the very least, their mobility was compromised.

Although the response wasn't lengthy, it was enough time for the vehicles to be surrounded. Two creatures were already climbing. Had they not been hindering each other, they would have climbed up long ago.

What to do? Should he use a grenade? It felt too valuable to use now. Especially since a special mutant might appear at the school... The ammo consumption was also more intense than anticipated.

In the end, he slung the rifle over his back and once again took up the machete. Having the high ground in close combat was a significant advantage. The weapon's short length was a drawback, but combat skills could compensate for it. The gunfire from two members of the group was slowly chipping away at the horde from behind, but it was slow.

Faces swarming below, each stretching out their hands and screaming—a chorus of howls filled the air. The boy pondered:

All these must have been in the church.

If the apocalypse truly came, would people still seek God, even now when His glory had long faded? If there was a God, what would He think of this era? What would He think of the days when only minds lived in illusions, bodies sold?

As the climber finally made it up, Gyeoul grabbed its neck. He thrust into its gaping mouth, killing it. Then, he pushed the corpse in one direction and threw it. The densely packed mutants were in turmoil. The fall of one body didn't collapse them. Using the floating corpse as a stepping stone, the boy leaped over, rolling onto the clear ground beyond.

Rolling hurt his back. The weight of the carried rifle was the cause. Ignoring it, he got up and ran in the direction he had rolled. The screams from behind felt closer than they were. The front yard of a house was fenced off at waist height. Grasping one of the pointed ends, he leaped over in one go. Only after advancing five more steps did he turn to look back.

Crack! The pointed fence became a skewer for human flesh. Intestines oozed from torn bellies. The indiscriminate pushing from the horde behind was to blame. Alone, they could have easily jumped over. The fence collapsed. The horde tumbled over. Gyeoul seized the moment and plunged in.

Combat boots are excellent weapons. They are sturdy. A strong stomp breaks necks. Crunch-crunch. The sounds of cervical vertebrae shattering. He was careful not to get caught by flailing hands, stomping and kicking as if running, making time and space for himself. The more gaps appeared among the horde, the easier they were to deal with.

Holding a pistol in one hand, he prioritized the dangerous ones for his bullets. Even if the sense of touch was numbed, startled muscles contract involuntarily. If the lungs were pierced, rapid movement becomes impossible. Still, they moved. Not just because they were mutated.

Even a healthy human, in a frenzy, is hard to subdue with a single shot.

Mutants are more troublesome than drugged humans. Without decapitation, it's hard to kill them with a pistol. It was time for the blade. Relying on skill correction, Gyeoul became a butcher. Blood, entrails, flesh, groans. A scene from hell. The mutants' groans dwindled until, with the last slash, dark red blood splattered.

After the turmoil, the streets were filled with rolling bodies. Counting them, there were nearly seventy. Occasionally, there were some, with incomplete bodies, crawling. They were the ones hit by stray shots. After finishing them off, true silence fell. The previous commotion seemed like a lie.

It took some time to find the discarded silencer. After retrieving it, he approached the camper van. The two men's gazes were filled with astonishment. According to the system notification, the Esteem Affection had increased, but the Friendly Affection had decreased. They felt a mix of awe and fear.

Well, that was fine. The boy looked at the still trembling woman. Unable to turn around, her gun still aimed backward, shaking. In a voice barely louder than a whisper, close to sobbing, she pleaded in desperation.

"How's it going over there? Huh? What's happening?! Is the little captain safe?!"

Gyeoul responded instead of the still speechless men.

"It's over, Yura. You can turn around now."

Startled by Gyeoul's voice, she slowly turned, still in a defensive stance, as if frozen. Gyeoul sighed and lifted the gun's barrel pointing towards him upwards.

"You shouldn't point a gun at people."

"......"

She remained frozen, unresponsive, but the system notifications kept updating. The changes in Affection were somewhat different from the two men. Firstly, because of guilt and regret, and secondly, because she hadn't witnessed the fight directly.

For a moment, she looked at him with trembling eyes. Then, she suddenly embraced Gyeoul, sobbing quietly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... It's all my stupid fault..."

"It's okay. No one's hurt."

He pulled her in and patted her back. Once again, the notification updated.

--------------------------- Author's Afterword ---------------------------

Around 11 p.m. on the 23rd, at a pub near Garak Market.

Author: See? There's not a single bad comment on the new novel I'm writing.

Artist Friend: You need to be famous to get hate comments. You're not famous.

Programmer Friend: People who didn't find it fun probably just left before bothering to comment.

Author: Tsk…

Footnotes:

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