Clearing the Game at the End of the World
Chapter 169: Lead and Silver Coins (23)

****

Clunk. Clang!

"Ah, it's hot. Burned my hands. Ezel, are you hurt anywhere? It was a makeshift solution, so I couldn't completely block everything…”

"Uh, uhu?"

"Of course, I opened it so you could breathe. Don't relax yet. There might be others outside the range of the steam explosion who still have their combat capabilities."

"Pffah!"

At first, Ezel wondered what this was all about. But the moment he heard the unique sound of a plasma grenade followed by the simultaneous screams of dozens of people, he instinctively lay flat and covered his mouth.

…Gulp.

When he opened his mouth, the air, still hot, rushed in. The sprinklers were still spraying water from the ceiling, yet the air hadn't cooled down. Guessing how much the atmosphere had heated up in an instant, Ezel shuddered involuntarily.

"Is this, that thing? The one from the textbook?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure if we read the same textbook, but it probably is. The absolute no-go when using plasma weapons."

He had seen it during his study for the agent exam and was taught about it again after passing and joining the Investigation Bureau.

‘When using high-temperature plasma equipment in rainy conditions or environments with water nearby, absolutely! Maintain a safety distance more than ten times the usual hazard range.'

Along with that training content, actual accident cases were shown.

An agent who sprinkled water on an overheated exosuit's laser cannon to cool it down and got burned by steam.

An agent who swung a plasma cutter, accidentally cut a water cooler, and the steam that spewed out blinded him.

An agent who threw a plasma grenade into a puddle and had their skin melt away into a mush from the steam that erupted.

He knew such things existed but had never thought of using them against enemies.

"Did you… trigger the fire alarm for this?"

"No? At that time, I just thought, ‘If we leave the turret as it is, it'll be wrecked.' That thing is a monster, a monster. It fires 7.62mm rounds at nearly 8,000 rounds per minute. If it sweeps over, it doesn't just make a hole; it cuts people in half. How do you plan any operations with that staring you down?"

"So, this is-"

"Improvisation. We’re screwed. What do I have? What's the situation? What's the environment? Just think about these three, and you'll come up with something surprisingly quickly."

With a calm tone as if he was out for a leisure trip, Professor, while keenly placing his ear against the wall, made Ezel realize his actions were meant to lure in any survivors from the enemies by pretending to be off guard.

Dragging his feet to mask his position with the sound of stepping on water, Professor lifted a metal plate used to block the hot wind.

Click, click-click.

[Me, secure, you, fire]

Professor, having quickly assigned roles with a snap signal, peeked through the breached partition as soon as Ezel raised his gun.

Thud! Thud-thud-thud!

"15 meters under the corpse! Sweep them with continuous fire!"

As bullets ricocheted off the metal plate, Ezel rolled behind Professor and began wildly swinging his electromagnetic rifle at the enemies struggling on the ground.

Tatatatatatatata!

Papapapak, pffuk, papapak!

Amid the less noisy firing sounds of the electromagnetic rifle, people trembling and moaning or calling out their families' names one by one fell into silence.

Even though Ezel knew at a glance that the enemy aiming at him was dead, he couldn't let go of the trigger.

The people whose skin melted and lungs cooked, making it difficult to breathe. All he could think of was that these people needed to be killed.

"Hey, hey, stop, stop!"

Tatatatatata- click! Click click!

"Confirming kills, just confirming kills! By the book, as we were taught! It's how you deal with enemies! In case they get up like before and shoot us!"

"You…."

After emptying the magazine, Ezel leaned against the wall, exhausted.

Trying to say something but unable to find the words, he eventually expressed his emotions through tears instead of words.

"…Professor."

"Yeah."

"Were these people… really our enemies?"

Dropping the empty gun, Ezel looked down at his arms, covered in scratches.

The marks left by an Investigation Bureau agent whom he had choked in the auxiliary control room during a desperate struggle. When he felt the agent's vibrant life fading slowly, Ezel couldn't help but look at his name tag.

[Investigation Bureau – Larry Fosh]

He, too, was an agent of the same Investigation Bureau. He must have had his own sense of justice. Maybe he thought that aggressively making money was the real way to save Dome of Area 38, so someone had to do it.

"Are we really… doing the right thing by killing all these people just to use the communication once?"

“….”

Ezel looked as if he was about to collapse. Indeed, since arriving in Area 38, he often seemed off compared to his usual self. His quirky smile vanished, and he fluctuated between being silent and unusually talkative. It wasn't that he hadn't killed before, but each time the sensation of killing tormented him, he soothed himself with the justification that it was for ‘justice'. However, seeing the three factions of Area 38, each with their different ideologies, had shaken the foundation of his belief in justice.

He wasn't weak, so he wouldn't break down here. It was just his confused heart longing to hear the words ‘it's okay'.

"…Could it ever be right? We boiled people alive and shot them dead."

But Professor, instead of giving the answer Ezel sought, decided to make him shoulder all the burdens he had placed on Dome's collective shoulders.

"Where's the justice in killing? If you kill justly, does that mean the one above doesn't count it? That's nonsensical. If you killed someone, that makes you a murderer. It's not about right or wrong; it's simply that you've killed."

Ezel's expression turned incredulous upon hearing this.

Such a response was typical of the well-fed people of Dome. Living in the past, aspiring to past values, and having the luxury to question the morality of their actions.

People living in the wastelands had long since shed such concerns. Why? Because they had already seen themselves cheering while holding the remains of someone they had killed. Those who couldn't bear it were long dead.

"So, why did those people… die?"

"They shot at me. Those guys did."

I try to live righteously, but this was clear: regardless of good or evil, those who try to kill me deserve death.

"Ah, this is why it's exhausting to work with people from Dome."

Muttering something like ‘shouldn't have brought him along', he leaned next to Ezel. After all, managing a party member's mental state is also a leader's job.

Standing beside Ezel, he tapped his arm and pointed towards the corridor littered with bodies. The blood flowing from the bodies mixed with the water pooled in the corridor, staining everything red.

"How about it? Looks like hell, doesn't it?"

"…."

Nod

"This wasn't because of someone else's hand or someone else's push. I burnt them, and you finished it. We have to accept that. Right now, we would be notorious killers or mass shooters in the old days, making headlines even in international news. But! You're forgetting something important."

"I've forgotten… what?"

"When I first entered here, all I did was ‘run through the corridors like a madman'. How did these people react to that?"

Reflecting on what happened just a few minutes ago felt like dredging up a distant memory. Professor breaking the vent and telling him to run blindly. Him following without a second thought. And then…

‘There's an intruder! Kill them!'

‘Don't show any mercy! Only one needs to survive!'

The people of the Investigation Bureau here didn't hesitate for a moment to pull the trigger, even though they were as trained in hand-to-hand combat as he was and could have subdued them.

The important thing was that he didn't think they were wrong for doing so. If, in the Investigation Bureau of Area 47, two intruders burst in and started heading for the director's office?

Ezel himself realized he would have drawn his gun first too.

"How about it? Not as hard as you thought, right?"

"….Right. They shot, so I shot back."

"The way people deal with each other is based on social contracts. In the past, if there was an unauthorized entry, the protocol was to apprehend and hand them over to the police. Nowadays, it's to cut the throat of anyone daring to invade my living space and threaten my life, and hang their head above the gate. I heard someone in the community say, [At least among our generation, those who could go to heaven are already there. The rest of us are just waiting in line for our ticket to hell.] Everyone has killed someone to survive, so tickets to heaven are already sold out for our generation."

"That's a… profound statement. Who said that?"

"You know him well. ‘takealook'."

Pfft!

A surprised breath escaped Ezel's lips, who had been dazed all along.

"‘takealook'? That ‘takealook'? The one I know?"

"Yes, that person. He might seem carefree, but the fact that people who have survived have all gone through similar dilemmas at least once."

"….Damn. To think I'm falling behind him. …Feels like I'm being treated like a kid."

Once Ezel started talking, he gradually returned to his usual self. It seemed that he had a realization amidst this hellish scene, inadvertently bursting into laughter.

Professor felt a pang of guilt seeing Ezel's improving demeanor.

By dismissing his torment over the morality of killing with a cheap rationalization of ‘that's just how the world is', he wondered if he had corrupted one of the few truly pure and good-hearted young men of this era.

‘But what can you do? At this level, he's practically an angel in this era, and angels go straight to heaven.'

Whether resolved by oneself or by someone else's hand, those who tried to remain pure have all left, and I have no intention of letting go of one of the few friends I have so easily.

"Just don't go killing too recklessly. Among those who couldn't bear the guilt and tried to overcome the pressure, there was someone who became a murderer. It's…. hard to explain, but at moments when you really think you shouldn't, at least ponder a bit."

"Alright, enough already. Someone might think you're my mom."

"Hehehe. Not a mom, but I am your older brother, right? I'm twenty-four, after all. Try calling me ‘Professor Bro~'"

"Ugh, damn it! Stop talking nonsense and get up! Who knows what might have happened to the others downstairs while we're up here relaxing!"

"Hmm. From my extensive experience, I'd guess that thanks to us drawing most of them up here and dealing with them, the two left downstairs are probably taking a nap by now."

Seemingly convinced, Ezel got up, tore off the name tag attached to his military uniform, and threw it away, then strode forward, splashing through the blood. Although the significance of his action was unclear, it was evident that the dreadful self-rationalization of a wasteland survivor had taken root in his good heart.

‘…Dear Father in heaven. Sorry, but since there are plenty of them with you, could we borrow just one person? If you're going to just sit back, we might as well rebuild the world ourselves, but we need someone like him for that, don't we?'

Having finished his modest prayer internally, Professor likewise briskly stepped over the bodies to follow Ezel.

"You little rascal. You're pretty cute today. Try saying ‘Bro~'"

"I swear, I'll shoot you! I'll kill you without any guilt!"

Professor teased with a giggle, while Ezel expressed his objection in an outburst.

"….Bro."

"Huh? What was that? Haha, really now. Maybe it's because I've lived 365 days longer than Mr. Ezel Raiden that my hearing's gotten poor?"

"@#*(#(*@^!!!"

Thank you, bro, he wanted to say….

It was an odd sentiment to feel in the midst of enemy territory, but Professor felt a sense of pride, thinking he had done well.

Yes, what's so hard about it? Doing things that make you feel ‘well done' and avoiding things that make you think ‘this shouldn't be happening' is the way to go. It seems his conscience is still quite sharp.

Although it ended up being something like counseling a new recruit, Professor himself felt lighter.

[….So, this is how it's supposed to be.]

And Hyde, quietly observing from the inside, merely grinned and carefully hung this memory in a dark corner of his space, thinking that this was how relationships were formed.

****

Having achieved their goal and patched up Ezel's shattered mentality with what could be dubbed ‘Wasteland Life' duct tape, it was time to move again.

"Hey hey. Late, aren't we? How did it go, everything sorted? It was quite noisy up there."

Descending to the lower floor, they found Ian and Vex, who had piled up a similar number of bodies to what Ezel and Professor had dealt with above, hiding under a wooden table from the sprinklers.

Ezel, looking pensively at the neatly severed necks and exploded heads.

"Why. Still bothers you?"

"….A bit? Wondering if my worries were meaningless."

"Hm? Hey Professor, what's that about?"

"Ah, nothing much. Just that our Ezel here got a bit too sad after shooting some people up there."

.

.

.

.

.

Vex and Ian, as if hearing such a thing for the first time, and Ian, with an indescribably bizarre and grotesque expression.

The two, who had been crouching under the table, made strange faces and then approached Ezel's side…

"Pfft!"

"Bwahahahaha! Ack, ahaha! Cough! Hahahahahaha!!! Oh, my god! Hey, Ezel. Is that true? Ezel Raiden from the Investigation Bureau, the one whose main job is to ride the era's most lethal killing machines, really?"

They began to heartily slap Ezel's shoulder, laughing uproariously.

Embarrassed by the tower-crashing laughter, Ezel tried to say something, but Ian paid him no heed and just chuckled, looking back and forth between Professor and Ezel.

"Ah, the world. Right. Someone in the team has to take on the role of the cherry boy. Now that Professor has found a fine partner, from now on, we'll call you Cherry- instead of Homo-zel. Cherry-zel sounds better, doesn't it? Congratulations on the promotion! Cherry- Pff- zel!"

Unable to hold it in, Ian let out another burst of laughter, with Vex joining in on the fun by patting his arm.

"At least we didn't come out of there empty-handed, right? So, Professor, aside from evolving Homo-zel into Cherry-zel, what other achievements do we have?"

"Plenty. Quite a bit," Professor said, recalling his brief conversation with the President. Reinforcements. That was a natural response given the seriousness of the situation.

As always, when talking to President Young, the real substance lay not in the conversation itself but in the implications behind it.

‘The situation has completely twisted. From the moment we made contact from the radio tower amidst the noise of battle, it was apparent there were issues with the transport of the box. Yet, he remained silent until I said things went awry when the box, now completed, ended up in the hands of Happy Blind. What went against his intentions? The completion of the box or it falling into Happy Blind's hands?'

Another suspicious point. His first question as soon as contact was made:

[Where are you now?]

He asked twice during the short conversation. Given the wide-area jamming still active, the only place from Area 38 that could reach Area 47 was the radio tower, yet he insisted on asking again.

‘…Meaning, there's another way to communicate with the President aside from the radio tower. Who else has he tied strings with?'

Keep spinning, brain. It feels like I'm almost there. What's missing? Where did I overlook?

Considering what benefits President Young, assuming his plan was for the Orpheus Project box to be completed since handing it over to the fanatics serves no benefit to him. It's assumed he somehow knew from Area 47 that it would be completed. Let's say he was waiting for that.

Happy Blind is excluded from being the President's lackeys for now. Their ultimate goal is the destruction of old human civilization, positioning them directly against Dome.

Then, the final group that had the box. The Administrative Bureau pulled out the incomplete box, which was then seized by the Investigation Bureau, and the eastern sector where that Bureau was located got completely destroyed…

‘Enforcement?'

What if these guys were originally supposed to cooperate with BDSM locally? And if they found out that I, not their predetermined collaborator, had gone rogue and contacted him from the radio tower?

[Damn it. Completely twisted.]

‘Here. Here's where President Young's grand scheme shattered. Originally, the completed box should have ended up in the hands of the Enforcement, and we were supposed to receive that finished product and return to Area 47 as part of his plan. But everything crumbled from the root, and with the Artists' Union getting involved, it turned into a complete mess!'

Hearing the situation, the President didn't hesitate to send all available forces.

The original plan derailed, so he aimed to forcibly retrieve the box.

"….Let's leave Area 38 quickly. It won't be as easy once the Investigation Bureau's main force returns from the farms."

"Where to?"

"Area 36. We'll join forces with the troops from Area 47 and hit Happy Blind."

"….The time for playing tricks is over, then. I like it."

Ian, smirking and about to light a cigarette, tossed away the completely soaked smoke with a curse.

The end of the chaotic situation in Area 38 seemed in sight, yet the feeling of being dragged along by someone else's will couldn't be shaken off.

President Young's plan had utterly collapsed. But if the incident was still unfolding, who had taken the wheel of this derailed vehicle?

And had the Enforcement, so fixated on justice, suddenly moved on its own, abandoning the hand of the Area 47 President, who was closest to that justice?

‘….I guess we'll know when we find the box.' sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ N0vᴇlFirᴇ.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

It was baseless speculation, but Professor felt somehow it was likely to be the case.

****

Sᴇarch the ɴøᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.