WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: Ryuu

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Little Prince in the Ossuary

00021 <-- The Little Prince of the Ossuary -->

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It wasn't challenging to find the final advance point of Abel Company. The road was cleared only up to that point. Climbing atop an abandoned SUV provided a sufficient vantage point.

Creston Road branches off to the right from Highway 101 that bisects the city from north to south. Walnut Drive led into a residential area. At the intersection of these two roads lay the wreckage of demolished military vehicles. The asphalt was stained crimson with blood, and fragments of mutants were scattered around, an added detail.

Bullet holes, bloodstains, and skid marks littered the area, evidences of a battle. ‘Insight’ and ‘Combat Sense’ automatically analyzed these traces, reconstructing a rough sequence of the past battle in augmented reality. Despite the hologram being grainy due to the limits of technology grade, it was sufficient to deduce what had transpired.

At this intersection, the view to the south was obstructed by fences, houses, and street trees acting as barriers. Abel Company was likely ambushed from the sides. This was evident from the Humvee with its door dented as if struck by a massive hammer. Another Humvee and a transport truck were destroyed right there. Gyeoul approached and estimated the size of the fist imprint on the metal plate.

The diameter was roughly half a forearm's length.

Fortunately, it didn't seem to be the worst-case scenario of a special mutant also being an enhanced mutant. Moreover, Gyeoul knew how to hunt this type.

'Mutation Code "Grumble".' Judging by the size and depth of the imprint, its enhancement grade is likely Alpha. Probably two of them.'

Special mutants discovered in the game were named (mutation codes) based on their form and characteristics.

Grumble, meaning the sound of thunder, was so named due to its habit of roaring before an attack.

Gyeoul rummaged through the vehicle wreckage and the bodies of soldiers, collecting ammunition, grenades, spare pistols, and silencers. A couple of packs of combat rations were a good find too.

Looking around for other clues or useful items, his gaze stopped at an auto parts store across the north side of the intersection. It seemed more like a retail shop dealing with car satellite TVs and audio equipment rather than a full-fledged repair shop.

Upon closer inspection, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The front glass was shattered, allowing entry without making noise. Inside, several items caught Gyeoul's interest, but he couldn't take everything. He picked a compact TV and a rechargeable radio. The TV was for the camp, and the radio was intended as a noise-making decoy.

Opposite was a restaurant and gas station. Gyeoul merely confirmed that the pumps still dispensed fuel and left them be.

Not far to the north, he found the first landmark.

"Is that the health center...?"

One of the clues provided by Sergeant Cohen was the health center. Without the reading ability, it would have been difficult to find. A single-story building indistinguishable from a regular house, the only hint to its identity was a small sign that read ‘San Luis Obispo County Health Department.’

There was still plenty of time. Gyeoul decided to explore inside. If any survivors were left, they might have entered seeking medication for injuries. Even if not, considering Sergeant Cohen's injuries, it would be beneficial to find antibiotics, painkillers, splints, and pressure bandages.

The health center's design didn't promise much defense. The large glass doors and almost equally sized windows lined up alongside. However, they were not ordinary glass but reflective ones. It was impossible to peep inside from the outside. Even though some were clear glass, blinds were drawn, meaning it wasn't a bad place to hide.

Two mutants loitered near a side entrance. Gyeoul approached silently from behind with his knife and stabbed one. The skull caved in, resulting in instant death. The other, alerted by the noise, turned just to be kicked squarely. The kick, aimed upward, struck its chin, jolting the brain. Unable to even scream, it staggered, falling into a daze. Gyeoul pushed the groggy mutant away with his foot and drove the knife straight through its forehead.

The gush of blood marked the end. The limbs of the dead mutant twitched, but movement didn't signify life. Even if tougher than humans, without an intact brain, they couldn't survive.

After clearing the bodies, Gyeoul tried the door. It was locked. He looked around but found no easy way in. Approaching a side window, he pressed the knife against the glass and gently tapped the handle with his free hand.

Tap, tap, tap, crack, crunch. Once a small crack formed, he increased the pace.

Breaking it all at once would cause a loud crash, attracting every mutant within hearing distance. If not for the time constraint, gathering and eliminating them wouldn't be a bad idea, but that's for another time if he had surplus minutes on the return trip.

The small shattered pieces mostly fell inside. They made soft thuds, barely audible without concentration. Once a suitable hole was made, Gyeoul pried open the blinds and peeked inside. After a brief pause, he reached in to fumble for the lock. Despite the blinds being cumbersome, the lock was in the usual place and soon gave way.

Though called a window, it was large enough for a person to pass through comfortably. The interior of the health center was in disarray, with medical equipment and furniture scattered. Desks facing each other and charts strewn about suggested it was used for consultations.

Thumps were heard, previously inaudible from outside. Following the sound down the hallway revealed a grim scene streaked with blood. The stale air was tinged with a foul odor. In the dimly lit interior, illuminated slightly by light seeping through a window, five mutants were hammering on a door. Gyeoul dragged a movable bed to block the hallway horizontally and pushed forward.

The mutants, drawn by the sound of the bed rolling, twisted their heads in that peculiar manner. Initially, such a sight would send shivers down one's spine. Now, even as they charged screaming, Gyeoul's heartbeat remained steady. Accelerating, he pushed the bed before kicking it towards them. The bed, rolling with a rumble, collided with the mutants, tangling and toppling them.

Gyeoul ran over them, stepping on two throats in passing, crushing them. As the others flailed at his legs, he used the fallen bed as a platform, twisting mid-air for a sweeping cut. The first to rise took the hit, sliced from the temple across, the blade reaching deep into the brain through the eye socket. The mutant, with both eyes burst, clutched its face and toppled, screaming. The brain was only partially intact, so it didn't die immediately. Its outcry tripped up the remaining two. Gyeoul, looking down at the tangled mess of mutants, drew his pistol and fired three times.

Pop, pop, pop. Three heads shattered in succession, blending blood and brain matter into a gory mix. The stench of old death lingered.

Approaching the door the mutants had been pounding on, Gyeoul speculated there must be something inside. He knocked firmly.

"Is anyone there?"

No response. Gyeoul knocked again, calmly. Still no reply, and the door was locked. Fortunately, the door had been slightly pried open by the mutants' relentless battering. A nearby IV stand seemed suitable as a lever. Inserting it into the gap, Gyeoul pushed with all his might. The stand bent under the strain, but eventually, the door gave way with a groan.

Clatter-clatter!

A burst of semi-automatic gunfire followed, the bullets grazing the air where Gyeoul's head had been moments before. If not for the ‘Survival Instinct’ and ‘Combat Sense’ integrated with ‘Insight’, predicting the trajectory, he would have been fatally hit. As the door splintered, echoing through the previously silent hallway was the sound of debris scattering.

The gunfire ceased. Behind the tattered door, a gasping American soldier was found alongside a corpse resembling a mummy, which, despite being long dead, now bore several fresh bullet holes. The situation made it clear what had transpired. The room resembled a storage area, with shelves lined with medications and emergency supplies, many of which had been knocked over.

Gyeoul slowly placed his weapon down and removed his gas mask.

"Calm down. I'm not here to harm you."

He quickly scanned the rank and name tag with his eyes and added,

"...Corporal Ashford."

The soldier's weapon lowered, previously held unsteadily with just one hand. He gasped for breath, wiped his eyes, and looked again. His pupils were constricted, sweat beaded on his forehead.

"You're not a hallucination, are you?"

"Guess that depends. What do you think?"

"Damn it! Don't talk like that! Just moments ago, I thought the dead were calling out to me. Right from there. If they're dead, they should just go away, damn it..."

Muttering, Ashford's demeanor was clearly not of someone in their right mind. But considering the circumstances – witnessing comrades' deaths, being isolated, and surrounded by aggressive mutants, all while trapped in a room with a corpse – it's understandable his mind might be in turmoil.

Especially if he had taken morphine. An empty morphine tube lay nearby.

The reason he had been holding the gun with one hand was that the other was injured, crudely bandaged and soaked with blood.

It seemed necessary to use some experience points. Gyeoul had saved them for situations like this. He accessed his skill list and allocated experience points to ‘First Aid’, filling the progress bar. Level 5 seemed sufficient, a mid-level proficiency.

"Stay still. I'll rewrap that bandage for you."

The bandage was more tangled than properly tied, adhering to the wound with dried blood. Carelessly removing it could worsen the injury. Gyeoul carefully unraveled it, found hydrogen peroxide in a medicine cabinet, and applied it to the wound for disinfection. The wound fizzed white, the antiseptic mixing with blood clots and dripping down, penetrating deep.

Despite the morphine, Ashford still felt pain, judging by his low moan. The drug's remaining effects spared him from screaming in agony.

Morphine is dubbed ‘the last painkiller’ due to its potent side effects and strong addictive potential. There's a true story about a soldier who couldn't forget the sensation of morphine taken in his youth until his old age.

"How did you get injured?"

"I was in a Humvee turret... the vehicle rolled, and..."

"Lucky you're alive."

Given the time elapsed since the injury, fresh blood oozed from under the peeled skin. Gyeoul's movements seemed autonomous, guided by the skill enhancement, though he fully felt each motion, a strange sensation. It was akin to the experience of viewers with ‘Sensory Synchronisation’ enabled.

Compression bandages, unlike ordinary ones, have an elastic quality, exerting a hemostatic effect when pulled tight.

But wrapping too tightly isn't advisable. There was an incident in Korea where a military medic wrapped a bandage too tightly, cutting off circulation and leading to gangrene in a soldier's toes, necessitating amputation. This is why Gyeoul invested in achieving a mid-level proficiency in ‘First Aid’.

Ashford asked,

"But who are you? There’s no rank insignia, and you seem suspicious..."

"If I say my call sign is Banana, would you understand?"

"Oh, the monkey under the captain's command."

Gyeoul didn't take offense, understanding the context. The bandaging didn't take long.

Now, what to do next? While communication was somewhat possible, expecting Ashford to move long distances on his own seemed impractical. Combat was out of the question. Among the side effects of morphine are visual disturbances and impaired judgment. Giving him a gun might lead to unintended casualties.

"Any other survivors?"

"How would I know?"

Ashford responded irritably. Gyeoul hastily gathered visible medications and emergency supplies into his duffel bag, tying a crutch to its side. Then, he helped Ashford to his feet.

"Stand up for now. Staying in an unlocked room is risky."

"I'm annoyed... I feel nauseous."

Despite complaining, Ashford managed to stand. Gyeoul moved him to a room with an intact door, checking for any other dangers. He then took all the remaining morphine tubes from Ashford's portable med kit.

"Wait here. I'm taking the morphine."

"What? Hey, no. Where are you going?"

Ashford floundered, attempting to grab both the morphine and Gyeoul, to no avail.

"We can't stick together right now. Remember Sergeant Cohen?"

"Cohen? Of course."

"I was on my way to rescue him."

"That guy's still alive?"

Tears welled up in Ashford's eyes, his emotions surfacing despite the pain and drug effects, glad for his comrade's survival. Gyeoul nodded.

"About time to check in with him. Please wait. I'll get you connected."

Gyeoul called out to Sergeant Cohen, who must have been eagerly awaiting a response. The reply came swiftly.

[Hey, kid! Where are you? Nearly there?]

"Keep calm. I'm still at the health center."

[Ah... I see.]

One could imagine the disappointment in his voice. Waiting alone likely made time drag unbearably. Gyeoul shifted the topic.

"However, I have some good news for you."

[Good news?]

"Yes. Corporal Ashford is here, alive and well."

[Oh, my God! Thank you! That damned fool is alive!]

"...He's listening right now."

[Oh.]

Ashford chuckled and reached out his hand, asking for the radio. Once Gyeoul handed it over, Ashford started with a barrage of insults, not out of anger but in a spirit of shared joy. Despite his slurred speech from the drugs, his genuine happiness was evident.

"This weekend warrior idiot insulting a respected corporal like me. Ya wanna die, huh?"

"Weekend warrior" is a nickname for National Guard members who serve only part-time throughout the year. Even within the National Guard, officers and key personnel serve full-time all year, distinguishing them from regular soldiers.

After a brief moment of lively conversation, Gyeoul tapped his watch to signal it was time to wrap up.

"Sorry, but we need to keep this short."

"A time limit, huh? Cinderella boy."

Ashford, now somewhat recovered, threw in a light joke. Gyeoul gave him two 30-round magazines.

"You understand why I took the morphine, right?"

"Enough talk, just go now. I'm already embarrassed enough for being so helpless up till now. Your promise to return is all I need. And..."

Ashford paused, looking away before scratching the inside of his helmet.

"Thanks."

"There's no need to thank me."

Gyeoul nodded at him and left the room. The door locked behind him soon after.

Footnotes:

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