Clearing the Game at the End of the World
Game 157: [Chapter 10] Lead and Silver Coins (11)

****

Beep-. Beep-.

[Signal confirmed. Signal (40.384.72630) / (40.384.57106) / (40.384.22498) concentrated area within 75 meters.]

Crackle-

[Road conditions good. Large plastic panels on the left, stick to the right.]

Crackle-

"Confirmed. Cease communication until visual confirmation of signal point."

Crackle-

[Confirmed.]

Crackle-

[Confirmed.]

With Ian's subdued voice marking the end, only the eerie sound of the wind and the engine filled our ears.

Ah, and one more thing. The loud pounding of my heartbeat, as if someone was drumming right behind my ear.

Every time the large armed truck's wheels crushed over branches or shards of glass, a chill ran down my spine, and I found myself repeatedly moving my hand to the loaded handgun.

Numerous distress signals were detected at the entrance to Area 40.

The closest signal was located less than 20 meters away, and as we approached the signal point, we drove the vehicle slowly, as quietly as crawling, through that cemetery-like cluster of signals.

Crackle-

[Signal point confirmed. Old generation minivan. Buggy. Shelter. Not the target.]

Crackle-

[Radar overheating. About 5 minutes left until maximum operational time. Using it more could break it.]

Crackle-

Ezel's voice, which had been silent until now, flowed from the communicator. After seeing the calamity at the entrance to Area 40, the sight of endless rows of vehicles flickering with distress signals but without their owners silenced him. Not just him, but Ian, Vex, and myself too. Though we were people who had seen countless horrors, none of us could stop the cold sweat in the face of that bizarre spectacle.

‘If there had been bodies, it would have been somewhat better.'

No one in our group was unfamiliar with scenes of death and destruction, but a massacre site without even a single bloodstain or body was something we had neither experienced nor imagined.

Vehicles of all shapes and colors, camping trailers, shopping carts filled with miscellaneous items, and even large backpacks.

The source of the signal was all hastily packed piles of belongings, but the actual owners of these items had disappeared without leaving a single drop of blood.

The reason for suspecting a massacre was simple.

There were no bodies. No blood. However, everything left at the signal point was either torn or smashed to pieces.

Professor quietly whispered into the communicator after checking the condition of the shelter with a telescope.

Crackle-

[Tire tracks only go in, no signs of them coming out. The wall is damaged over 80%, and the half-destroyed turret even shows signs of the barrel melting. It seems that the people here gathered in this shelter during their escape and engaged with an unidentified enemy. The shelter itself seems to be in relatively good condition. If there are any additional opinions, communicate.]

Crackle-

[There are claw marks and footprints near the ceiling identical to the ones we've seen before. It looks like they entered through the skylight.]

[There are no exit marks. That means, something inside could shrink our balls to the size of peanuts. I'm in for going inside.]

[I'm in too. We need to rest for the radar operation and our condition anyway. Better a half-destroyed shelter than an open field.]

[I don't feel any signs of other life forms around. I agree.]

Crackle-

"Unanimous agreement then. Turn off the engines and raise the bubble. We'll secure the shelter first, then move the vehicles inside."

[Click.]

Instead of a reply, a heavy metallic sound resonated, indicating that the others in the different vehicle were also halfway pulling the trigger.

Crrk, click- crrk, crrk crrk-

Looking at the Geiger counter, the radiation level was still at level 5, not decreasing. Although it's significantly lower than the level 7 of a nuclear explosion's epicenter or the Chernobyl and Fukushima nuclear accidents, it was still high enough to kill exposed people.

The bubble shield, while consuming little power and providing perfect protection, lost defensive power and recovery speed, meaning even a slight graze during combat would start radiation exposure.

‘I wish we could drag it into a long-range fight or avoid combat altogether…'

Regrettably, what he held in his right hand was a large-caliber pistol. He had become somewhat accustomed to using his left hand for other tasks, but shooting was a different matter, so he had no choice but to opt for a pistol that could be used with one hand.

Fortunately, this mutated left arm achieved a miraculous absorption rate of 0% in radiation exposure tests, so if combat were to occur and the enemy approached, he would have to be the first to confront them. At least his left arm could block the enemy's bullets without worrying about the bubble shield being stripped away.

Shrrrrk- slap!

[Ugh, I can't seem to get used to this mask no matter how many days I wear it.]

‘I've rationalized that I'm alive because of this thing, so I guess I've gotten somewhat used to it.'

The skin mask, with six tubes extending backward from its gray exterior, felt surprisingly soft and somewhat disgusting inside despite its hardened appearance. When you bite down on the protruding breathing tubes like a mouthpiece, the contact surface sticks to your face, and something squirming inside gives a rather revolting feeling. It was a mask that truly felt like a living biofilter, but it filtered out everything from radiation to dust, so the disgust was a small price to pay.

After ensuring the skin mask was fully adhered to the mouth, he picked up the communicator.

Crackle-

[Count to five and then enter. Ezel, just in case, stay in the suit and wait. Triangular formation. I'll take the lead, the other two provide cover from the rear.]

Crackle-

[….Confirmed.]

Ssssshh- Phooo.

He took a deep breath to maintain a proper level of tension, then grabbed the car door handle with his left hand.

[5. 4. 3. 2. 1-]

Bang!

Bang Bang!

As the countdown ended, he saw Ian and Vex kicking open the door of the Hummer in front of them.

Tatatatat!

The three quickly formed a line and, with short hand signals to confirm each other's entry direction, plunged into the ruined shelter.

The tension of a real combat scenario zipped down the spine and flowed to the fingertips.

****

That night.

The group huddled under a waterproof tarp inside the shelter, like students playing card games under a blanket during a school trip, relying on the small flashlight for light as they compiled the information they had gathered. The sound of warm stew being slurped echoed among them. Despite being far from home in Area 40, the stew made by the shelter's automatic cooker tasted like home, momentarily giving a feeling of returning home.

Yes, the automatic cooker. Contrary to what they thought, there were no enemies inside the shelter, and despite the rough destruction outside, the interior facilities were mostly intact. After ripping open the control panel and fiddling around…

"Damn. It feels weird to say this, but it's too peaceful here; feels like we're seeing things."

Electricity, shield, camouflage – everything was functioning properly without missing a beat. Had there been no external enemies, they would have turned on the lights and rested comfortably.

"If you suspect hallucinations, you should slap your own cheek, why mine!"

"Sorry. I sent an ‘all clear' signal, but you kicked in the door so pathetically, I couldn't help it."

Ezel, rubbing his reddened cheek, pointed at Ian, the very person who had caused it, and scolded him.

"Put yourself in my shoes! After witnessing bizarre scenes one after another, to hear that an armed group entered without a single gunshot, only sending back ‘all clear'! Would you really think that's ‘all clear,' or that they were ambushed by those unidentified things! Look at it now! There are clear signs of entry, definite signs of combat inside, but not a single sign of exit!"

"There… Ezel? Can we stop talking about that… please? It's scary."

Ian's irritability, Ezel's shouting, and Vex, who seemed fine just a few days ago, now falling silent again.

Perhaps it was due to being on edge against imaginary enemies for days, but most of the group was in a sharp, sensitive state.

Of course, I was included. The silence, broken only by the sound of the wind, left behind only traces of others, and the noises I made were irritatingly nerve-wracking. I felt uncomfortable even breathing, and there were more than a couple of times I wanted to blast a Craxion in this maddening silence.

[Get a hold of yourself. Everyone's in a bad state, and if you lose your rationality too, a real accident could happen.]

‘I know. We'll figure something out.'

The only reason I was in a better state than the rest of the group was because of the presence of Hyde, who allowed me to converse freely without worrying about noise. Hyde, who had been less present on the surface of my consciousness lately, either claiming to have things to do or being sleepy, did not stop making silly jokes in my head upon realizing the seriousness of the situation, and thanks to him, I wasn't in too bad of a shape.

‘Well, they're all veterans, so it's not like they're panicking over this…'

"There are no ghosts in this world, you idiot. Do you think I would have survived this long if there were? If even one-tenth of the people I've killed turned into ghosts, they would swarm like the army of the dead from Lord of the Rings."

"Then how do you explain the current situation? There are traces of monsters, bullet and explosion marks everywhere. There were countless skid marks from vehicles making a hasty escape. But not a single body or bloodstain! Could there be some sort of ghostly mutant roaming around?"

Given such absurd talk, it's clear they weren't in their usual state. First, we needed to organize somehow. Presenting what's clearly visible should at least calm the current confusion.

"Mutants are the result of virus-induced mutations. They're at least physically explainable, unlike ghosts."

Shrrrk.

Professor pulled out a dust-covered map and shone a lantern on it, then grabbed a piece of charcoal.

"Let's start with what we've confirmed ourselves. Starting with the distress signals. How many did we confirm, Ezel?"

"Just a moment. I took notes… ah, here it is. 65 buggies, 12 shelters, 55 standard vehicles, shopping carts, wagons, backpacks, and other miscellaneous points, totaling 188 locations. We've been operating the radar for 47 hours, so that's about 4 locations per hour. Considering the average group size of wasteland survivors is about three, we're estimating casualties to be around 564."

"The source of the signals?"

"These. Portable access devices sold in the Dome of Area 38. GG doesn't work on them, and the time scale is the same as reality, unlike standard access devices. They're mainly used for watching recorded videos or using the exchange because following live chats is hard. In survival-centric Areas like the 40s, there are quite a few access devices left, but those wandering around find these much more convenient."

"Ah, those. I've used one a few times when going out for trades. They're expensive, and the durability is terrible, so I didn't use them much. It also takes about 2 hours for the transmission to get posted to the community, making it awkward for real-time communication, right?" S~ᴇaʀᴄh the n0vᴇl(ꜰ)ire.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

The device Ezel mentioned was one I had seen a few times at the exchange. Despite failing to produce a device that could run GG due to technological limits, a minor version was created that could connect to public communities. The compactness wasn't intentional; it was simply because all the functions from custom fitting to temperature maintenance and life preservation, which are unnecessary since it can't play the game, were stripped away, resulting in its small size.

"So, the victims are likely mostly wanderers… right?"

"Exactly. Standard access devices are provided cheaply by Dome as part of player encouragement policies, whereas these portable ones that can't play games are sold at a high price. People who settle down do not need to carry around an expensive portable."

At Ezel's words, Professor briefly noted [Most victims are wanderers], then started marking the confirmed signal locations on the map.

"Good, what about the information we have on the enemy?"

"Where victims were individuals, there were several bullet marks scattered opposite the supposed position of the enemy, indicating ricochets from the enemy's body. There were also many explosion marks where the scorching abruptly stopped in mid-air. Shields don't deflect bullets that way, so the enemy is either a creature with armor or something like a bipedal tank."

"Uh… My thoughts are a bit different. Hepburn, the marks on the vehicles that were torn apart suggest either a creature with claws or the use of a large bladed cold weapon. If not human, I think it resembles a feline animal. There were footprints with claw marks dug in, and some without, which means it's possible to retract the claws."

"Whatever it is, it's clear that the enemy played with its victims. All confirmed victims sent distress signals, except for those without the device to do so. This isn't a surprise attack; it means the victims sensed danger and had time to send signals! Missing one or two could be overlooked, but the fact that all victims had time to send signals means the enemy had no intention of ambushing. It leisurely approached the victims, scoffing at their desperate attempts, and took everything, leaving not a bone or drop of blood behind! Eeeee, if that's not a ghost, then what is it?"

"This is absurd. So, are you saying the enemy is a feline ghost wrapped in solid armor? That's too innovative even for a ghost, isn't it?"

"….It could be a new Type 3 mutant. Like the [Green World Snake] of Area 27 or [Walking Kane] of Area 44, which makes an entire region its territory."

At the mention of a Type 3 mutant, all members of the group nodded in agreement.

"Could something like that just appear out of nowhere?"

"It hasn't happened before. But we have no other explanation for such an anomaly, do we?"

"…."

There was one more possibility, but Professor swallowed the words that might further confuse the group.

What he had observed while following various distress signals.

It was the sharp indentations found everywhere, and the amount of sand trapped within them.

In this endlessly wind-blown wasteland, the amount of fine sand trapped in the newly formed marks of destruction could also give some indication of when the combat took place.

Based on the location of the marks and the direction of the wind, the results were astonishing.

‘Without precise measuring equipment, I can't be certain… but it all happened about four days ago. Not over 24 hours on that day, but all at the same time.'

It took our group 47 hours to get here. We moved at a slow speed of 10-15km/h, checking 188 signal locations without stopping except for brief pauses.

Following the principle of not spending more than seven minutes per location, the distance we covered following the signals was roughly 330km.

330km is a distance further than that between Seoul and Busan.

Even accounting for some margin of error, the victims spread over that vast distance were attacked within an hour or two of each other. Moreover, the amount of sand didn't sequentially increase with movement; it was inconsistently more or less in some places, and as Ezel said, the victims had time to send distress signals, so it wasn't that the enemy moved at an incredible speed attacking wanderers in Area 40.

An entity existing in multiple places at once, or having the ability to move nearly so.

At the time, I dismissed it as irrelevant and forgot about it, but I had encountered such an entity.

[A man in a white suit. With a white suit and… huh? The white suit and the flashlight… ]

‘You don't remember either, right? That guy. Sure, we met, talked, even traded, but aside from his suit and voice, I can't remember what he looked like.'

[It's an honor to meet you, ‘professor'. I am ‘W' from the Artists' Alliance.]

A man who, a few months ago, bought paintings and a clock from me in Area 45, known for the strange rumor that no matter where or when an appointment is set, he is always there first, waiting for the trader.

"….If you're done eating, we sleep for exactly three hours and then move on."

"We’re left with roughly a day's distance to the influence of the Area 38 Dome. Should we continue to move while checking for rescue signals?"

"….No. We’ll stop by just one more place before moving directly to Dome."

"One more place?"

"Yes, here."

Professor marked one of the coordinates on the map that Ezel had indicated for the rescue signal.

"In such a situation where nothing is known, there’s a contact who could help the most."

If it were a new variant unknown to anyone, perhaps not, but there definitely would be someone who had information about groups like the Artist Alliance, which had been active in the wasteland for a long time.

[40.227.90381]

Professor, seeing a dot at the same location as the coordinates written in his notebook, folded the map with a troubled expression.

‘I hadn't wanted to meet in this way…. Since I know he's not an ordinary guy, I hope he hasn't been taken down in vain.’

In the notebook Professor had unfolded, there were the coordinates [40.227.90381] along with ‘Speed Wagon' / ‘Contact area? Business? To meet in any case' written.

****

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