WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: Ryuu
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Little Prince of the Ossuary

00006 <-- The Little Prince of the Ossuary -->

------------------------------------------------------------------------=

#Material Procurement (4), San Miguel

The San Miguel Mill was an old wooden structure that appeared to have been built quite some time ago, yet its area was remarkably vast, large enough to accommodate about thirty average-sized houses with room to spare. A railroad passed by on the left, which allowed for an unobstructed view in the north-south direction despite being in the center of town. Because of the need for people to guard the crossing, refugees with duffel bags hurried to volunteer, preferring this to the dangerous task of searching buildings. Among the volunteers, a robust young man who could have been a college student and a middle-aged man with a bit of a belly were selected.

Sergeant Elliot led the others around to the right side of the mill. There were four doors in total, including the entrance to the office and three cargo entrances for vehicle loading. A semi-trailer truck, likely used for cargo transport, was seen abandoned. Gyeoul pulled on the driver's side door. It was locked.

All the entrances to the mill were wide open. Without interior lighting, each door looked like a gaping dark hole. The refugees were not provided with lanterns, a critical oversight in the planning phase. Of course, even if they had lanterns, nobody would have volunteered to go in first, except for the boy Gyeoul.

Like the fire station before, there might have been vehicle keys in the office. Private Guilherme grabbed Gyeoul, who was about to enter without hesitation.

“You're going to take the lead again? Shall we go in together?”

“No, the leader is important. Just lend me the lantern, please.”

“Hoooah.”

Amazed by the boy's bravery, the soldier handed over his flashlight. It was an angular tactical lantern that could be attached to the exterior of a bulletproof vest.

Though refugees were accepted to prevent casualties among the U.S. forces, it was in no one's interest to have casualties among the refugees in the long run. However, since the volunteers were so reluctant, the soldiers were keen to see how far the boy could go.

With his gun still slung over his back and firmly gripping only a machete, Gyeoul approached the office entrance. Upon entering, there was a staircase right away. The width was enough for one adult to pass, and a few steps up, the staircase disappeared into darkness. It was a scene designed to stir unease.

As in the fire station, the boy tapped the wall with the back of his machete, intending to lure out any responsive mutated infections by the sound. After a few taps, indeed, there was the sound of steps from above. Since the sounds didn't overlap, it seemed there was only one. Gyeoul ascended the stairs without turning on the lantern, relying on smell and presence to navigate.

Creak, squeak. The sounds of ascending and descending the stairs created a dissonant harmony. The darkness was so thick nothing could be seen, overlaid with monotonous and eerie noise. Not afraid, but the heart races. One feels the heartbeat. An artificially induced sensation. The system deemed it necessary. The influx of viewer messages skyrocketed.

The infected's breathing was harsh. The stench came from rotting flesh. According to information, the pathogen caused abnormalities in the host's immune system during the takeover, leading to widespread inflammation, rotting, or swelling. The airway narrowed, sharpening the breathing sounds. The unpleasant odor and sound approached. Suddenly, Gyeoul boldly reached out with his unarmed hand.

He grabbed something.

“Keugh-!”

A harsh, grating scream. The boy ducked and pushed up the target's lower body. Spittle mixed with rough breaths flew over his neck. Bang! Viewers who had ‘Sensory Synchronization’ turned on must have been shocked. It was intended. The lantern was turned on. The fallen mutant squinted at the light. Even though it had mutated, its base was human. Its light adaptation ability was no different from humans'. Gyeoul thrust the machete into its gaping mouth. The reflexively closed mouth bit hard on the blade, but that didn't matter. He put his weight on the handle.

Squish, squelch—

The sound of the brain stem being crushed under the forceful twisting of the blade echoed. Under the light, the mutant's limbs convulsed, then stiffened, and finally slumped with a final twitch. Even then, its eyeballs rolled to glare at the boy, but since it had lost motor skills, it was no longer a threat. Its heart would stop soon after, leading to death.

Dragging the limp body of the mutant downstairs, the people waiting outside aimed their guns but sighed in relief upon seeing the boy's outstretched hand, signaling not to shoot. After dumping the mutant's body next to the entrance, Gyeoul went back up the stairs.

This time there were no obstacles. The office lights didn't work, so he relied on the lantern for light. As expected in America, he found an old pistol in a drawer along with two small boxes of 45 ACP FMJ ammunition, 50 rounds each, and a spare magazine.

He also found the keys to the vehicle and the grain silo. There was a cigar box (humidor) as well. Thinking Guilherme or Elliot might like it, he took it with him.

Descending the stairs, Guilherme approached.

“Any bites?”

The voice from behind the gas mask sounded muffled. Gyeoul shook his head and spread his arms to show himself, indicating he should check for himself. The private inspected him, then gave a thumbs-up towards Elliot, who nodded from a distance.

“Guilherme, do you like cigarettes?”

“Of course. Oh my God, Cohiba Robustos?”

“Share them with Elliot.”

The boy handed over the whole box to the delighted soldier. A handmade Cuban cigar cost more than $10 each. It was understandable he'd be pleased to receive a whole bundle. The private seemed eager to light one right away.

“I found the keys. Can I check the vehicle?”

Even for minor tasks, permission was needed. The soldiers exchanged glances. The sergeant nodded.

The boy went to the vehicle to see if the keys matched. The door opened. He sat in the driver's seat, inserted the key, and the engine started smoothly. The trembling of the vehicle body and the sound of the engine made the guards visibly tense.

The fuel level was sufficient. He knew roughly how to drive, so he didn't need to invest experience points in driving skills. Of course, with system assistance, more advanced driving was possible, but it wasn't urgent.

He parked the vehicle at the mill's central loading dock and entered the building. Even without lights, it wasn't complete darkness, thanks to sunlight seeping through gaps in the corrugated iron roof. Nonetheless, it was still quite dark, with shadows lurking in every corner. It wouldn't be surprising if something was hiding there. The people who followed inside froze, unable to move.

The pattern was the same. He knocked on the grain silos to check for any presence. After waiting a while, it remained quiet. Gyeoul moved around, shining the light here and there, ensuring safety. Nothing was found. It was rare but still not safe to let down the guard. There might be infected with rotten ears or torn eardrums.

People slowly started to move.

“Whew. This is really incredible.”

Elliot whistled. Mounds of milled wheat and corn were piled up. Just taking what was here would solve the food problem for a while. A formal hygiene inspection would still be necessary, but it was almost meaningless. The gas masks they were wearing were really just for show. If they were truly worried about pathogens, they would have worn full-body protective suits. The fact that they were ignoring minor risks was evidence that the situation in the western United States was not good.

What caught Gyeoul's attention was in a different direction. The mill also dealt in seed trading, and seeds for various crops were packaged in bags and stacked in one corner. It seemed like they could just take these seeds and grow crops, but there was a significant catch. Seeds in bags with the logo of a certain seed company wouldn't germinate if planted again after harvest.

These are known as Terminator seeds. Seed companies make a profit by selling seeds of superior varieties, but they can't operate if farmers don't buy new seeds every year. So, they genetically modify the seeds so that crops grown from them won't sprout if re-planted.

This had led to a bad ending for Gyeoul once before. There was even a related achievement.

「Achievement: No, My Crops Are Sterile!」

It was a catastrophe for the boy, who had built a relatively stable community. The harvest in the second year was almost zero. The community members condemned Gyeoul, their leader, and the community itself collapsed due to the panic caused by the food shortage. During this turmoil, the boy was killed.

It seemed necessary to explain this to the viewers. Gyeoul reluctantly called up the viewer message log. It always felt like the realism of the world dropped at times like these. It was impossible to delude oneself into immersion.

He paused the worldview and activated the ‘Teletype’ function. Every thought Gyeoul focused on was instantly transformed into sentences.

「Han Gyeoul: For those new to Days after Apocalypse, it's easy to make the mistake of recklessly planting seeds found in places like this. Most seeds are genetically modified. They yield a lot, but if you try to replant them the following year, they won't sprout. It's really difficult to continue the game if you actually fall for this, as it drastically lowers the stability of your community. If you want the achievement 「No, My Crops Are Sterile!」, it might be okay to see a bad ending on purpose once, but the achievement's effect only slightly increases resistance to pests and drought during crop cultivation, so it's not very useful.」

The reaction was immediate.

「LMAO: They really go all out with realism in unnecessary places lol」

「dew_crocodile: Sterile lol My crops are sterile lol That's some strong stuff lol」

「FullTimeJessica: I knew about this too. Fucking multinational seed companies exploiting third-world countries. Especially those fucking bastards at MonXto. They even took away our country's chili pepper and spinach seeds, and the patent on those seeds still lasts for decades. The domestic spinach you're eating is actually all OEM products from the USA. Ah, Your Honor, my cat wrote this post.」

「HalfHome: You're watching the broadcaster right now, right? Man, that was awesome earlier lol When you threw the zombie over your shoulder, the feeling of the touch was fucking insane lol Here, take a star」

[HalfHome gifted 10 stars.]

「richdog: Jessica, you must be happy to show off what you know, huh?」

「FullTimeJessica: Why are you picking a fight, you crazy fuck?」

「SnowyFox: Everyone, please don't fight.」

[SnowyFox gifted 10 stars.]

「RedBeanPaste: Why are you stopping them, Fox? It's fun. Keep it up, do well.」

The flood of messages was too overwhelming to pay attention to each one. Gyeoul counted the virtual currency ‘Stars’ he had received. The amount, when converted to Korean won, amounted to several tens of thousands. For some reason, this made him feel even more uncomfortable.

He closed the log and resumed the paused world. Time started flowing again.

Elliot, seeing the abundant food, brightened up and was communicating with the main force over the radio. He was telling them to bring trucks since the road had been cleared. Guilherme ordered the refugees to load the food onto the semi-trailer parked at the dock.

As Gyeoul was about to join in, Guilherme caught him with a wink.

“Take a break, brave friend. You've done enough on your own until now, haven't you?”

“...Yes.”

Gyeoul nodded, his discomfort still apparent.

The sound of vehicles approaching could be heard outside. Unlike civilian vehicles, these were military transport trucks with four protruding fronts. The senior passenger was a black sergeant who had been filtering volunteers at the camp the day before. His name was said to be Pierce. He was overjoyed to see the flour and other items that filled the trucks and then some.

“We can put the cooks to work even more now.”

However, the good mood didn't last long. Strange noises came from the far north, gradually getting closer. An ominous atmosphere filled the air.

“What's that sound? Check it out.”

Following the sergeant's order, Sergeant Elliot radioed the volunteers guarding the crossing, asking if they saw anything from the north. The north exit, opened for loading train freight cars, was obstructed by grain silos, a rusted water tower, cranes, and such, making it difficult to see.

But the harbinger of the approaching disaster became clear first through sound rather than sight. The clanking noise was unmistakably the sound of a train trampling on rails. The soldiers, who believed train operations had ceased long ago, were bewildered. Even more perplexing were the numerous vehicles abandoned in the middle of the railroad leading into the village. The train was rushing forward without slowing down. When the sergeant learned of this through the radio, his face turned pale.

“Damn it.”

He turned and ran, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Everyone out! This place is dangerous!”

The inside of the mill was instantly filled with screams.

Everyone could feel the train approaching. Bang! Crash! It must have been the sound of the train hitting the abandoned vehicles. If the vehicles got caught under the wheels, the train would derail.

Before everyone could escape, a twisted locomotive smashed through the north wall and entered. The flaming mass of steel smashed pillars and pushed silos as it rolled in. The ceiling collapsed. The locomotive came to a stop buried in a pile of wood, but the building showed signs of collapsing due to the aftermath. Gyeoul barely managed to escape outside. However, many people were trapped under the debris.

“Lift the debris! We need to rescue the people trapped!”

Pierce, who had safely escaped, raised his voice in a figure covered in dust and debris. Since the building was made of wood and single-storied, there was a good chance that those trapped under the debris were still alive.

“Sir! Look over there!”

A soldier called out urgently. In the direction he pointed, overturned passenger cars zigzagged. Things that looked like people crawled out from the doors and windows. Those who had been thrown out of the cars when they rolled were also struggling to stand up. Almost simultaneously, they turned this way.

“Grrrgh!”

“Fuck! It's the mutants!”

There weren't just one or two. The train was filled with them, and they crawled out like maggots from a corpse. Those that weren't broken were already running this way. The fastest one was already at the rear of a truck.

“Kill them all!”

Pierce shouted. However, most of the refugee volunteers screamed and ran away. Very few stood their ground out of fear.

Ratatat—

The silenced guns fired oppressively. There was no concept of conserving bullets. Everyone fired continuously, crazily. The body of a mutant trying to climb onto a vehicle exploded in several places. Its head burst open, eyes shattered, and blood spurted from its chest. Unallocated firepower was a clear waste.

Gyeoul, too, was rushed by several hungry mutants. Unfazed by bullets in their bodies, he aimed at their knees and pulled the trigger, moving from left to right, pausing between shots. He emptied a magazine in 5 seconds. It was good enough if a thigh was hit, and even better if a knee or shinbone shattered.

“Krrgh!”

The fallen ones writhed. They crawled. As he reloaded and advanced, he crushed the back of their necks with his military boots. Holding the gun firmly with both hands, he swung diagonally at the chin of an approaching mutant. With skill correction applied, the mutant's jaw was completely shattered. Its head flipped over, and its body followed. Another one close by tripped. Gyeoul kicked it down and continued shooting.

“Grenades! Throw all you have!”

A desperate shout came from the direction of the vehicles. Looking over, several grenades had already been thrown. Gyeoul quickly retreated and threw himself to the ground.

Boom! Bam! Bang!

The explosions were much less spectacular than the sound suggested. Just a few flashes of light and a bit of smoke. It wasn't like the movies with massive flames shooting up.

However, Gyeoul knew from experience that the visible flash was nothing compared to the actual lethal range of a grenade. It's a weapon that kills by shredding people with fragments. The round shell contains coils or metal balls, and when exploded, it can kill humans within a 30-meter radius with more than a 50% chance. Even outside, there's still a chance of death.

The mutants were tossed around like twigs in a typhoon. The road turned into a bloodbath in an instant. Those who had ducked in time were safe. When a grenade explodes on the ground, the shockwave hits the ground and reflects, creating a non-lethal low-angle area. Even within the lethal range, lying down significantly reduces the chance of injury, especially since Gyeoul was outside the impact zone.

As grenades exploded one after another, Gyeoul couldn't stand up carelessly. Meanwhile, an infected, torn to shreds, crawled towards him. Lying down, he propped the gun on his belly and pulled the trigger. Due to the unstable position and improper aiming, the first shot missed the head, hitting the shoulder and splattering it with blood. The second shot penetrated an eye. The head drooped. A bland death.

Another mutant appeared, obscured by the one before it, and was quite close. The trigger was pulled, but there was no shot. The magazine couldn't be empty, so it was either a misfire or a jam. Gyeoul rolled to the side and drew his broadsword. Rolling forward, he thrust the sword into the gaping mouth of the approaching mutant. Blood spurted. The mutant convulsed.

After dozens of explosions, Gyeoul stood up. The mutants were still moving. Before being hit by fragments, they looked somewhat human despite their crazed or pained appearances, but now they were clearly monstrous. Some dragged their intestines, some walked on broken legs, and some had muscles exposed where skin had been torn off. They were covered in so much blood they seemed likely to die from blood loss even without intervention. To Gyeoul, it was an opportunity to gain experience points. Those that could stand but were blinded or deafened, or unable to move normally, were everywhere.

He was concerned about his own mental state. When killing these things that resembled humans but were not, he didn't have to feel guilty about the violence, yet the feeling of heaviness in his heart was somehow satisfying. He liked shooting them, but he preferred the up-close and personal approach of stabbing and crushing with a blade or bludgeon.

When he stabbed a head with a sword, and the skull shattered with a crisp sound, it felt as if the sharp stone rolling around in his chest was soothingly rounded off. A sense of liberation as if something was finally resolved, a bitter sense of fulfillment. In the moment of killing something that resembled a human but was not, Gyeoul could immerse himself to the point of forgetting himself. His head felt a bit foggy.

Gyeoul twirled the broadsword with a flick of his wrist and approached the limping mutants. The sound of the military firing and tidying up felt like distant echoes. What I'm about to do has nothing to do with them. With that thought, he swung the blade horizontally. A decapitated infected fell. He calmly stamped on one dragging its guts, silencing it. He became so focused he forgot to breathe. Another one approached. Crack. A diagonal slash tore from the temple to the cheek. The impact dislocated the jaw. He thrust the sword into the exposed throat and pulled it out before it slumped. He kicked it away. It was a simple repetition of tasks.

Before long, Gyeoul stood alone among the corpses of hundreds of mutants. Not a single refugee volunteer had stayed to the end. Only he remained. A trance. He had been too fierce. The soldiers looked appalled. Some had their affinity slightly decreased, while others increased. Reactions varied and were added to the system message log based on their personalities.

Gyeoul sheathed his sword and checked his gun. Tapping it and manipulating the bolt made the jammed bullet pop out and fall to the asphalt with a metallic sound.

“What are you staring at! We need to rescue those buried! Start working! Ramirez, take your guys and go back to guard duty!”

Pierce raised his voice. New vehicles arrived quickly. They were reinforcements that had rushed to help upon hearing of the engagement. Their response was quick, but the grenade-involved combat ended even quicker, rendering their effort somewhat pointless.

Footnotes:

[1] The Cohiba Robusto is a highly regarded cigar that is known for its rich flavour and smooth smoking experience. The cigar was first introduced in the late 1980s, and it has since become one of the country's most popular size formats.

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried