Lakefront Night(11), Santa Margarita Lake

"Fire!"

In that moment, the world blazed white. Lightning. In the black-and-white rain, the soldiers at the end of the firing line died like in a silent film. Crawling up the slope, they simply dropped their heads. Instead of death cries, there was only the sound of rain; it was like falling asleep. A succinct death. The thunder that came belatedly tore through all other sounds.

What Gyeo-ul was targeting were the two men at the gun emplacement. Especially the assistant gunner. He was sitting turned away. He hadn't noticed Gyeo-ul because he was handling a shell.

The assistant gunner's eye burst with the first shot. The gunner to his left, who turned in horror, took a follow-up round to the middle of his brow. His head snapped up from the impact. Still staring at the sky in death, he slowly toppled backwards.

The survivors fired back in a torrent. Hit in their body armor, wounded and living, or just missed entirely. There were nine of them, and they found cover. Their frantic bursts added up to hundreds of rounds.

"Lay down suppressing fire!"

Gyeo-ul sprinted toward the emplacement. Keeping a low profile as he ran, bullets whined and zinged overhead. It was suppressing fire from Elliot's squad. The enemy was desperate, too. Gyeo-ul rolled sideways. A near-miss left a streak in the air, then vanished.

Covered in mud, Gyeo-ul rolled into the emplacement. The assistant gunner was still clutching the shell he had just pulled the pin on. Since rigor mortis had not yet set in, the corpse surrendered the shell easily.

The mortar was just the barrel. It had a manual trigger. The boy shook the barrel upside down. Rain that had entered the muzzle gushed out. He loaded the shell into the muzzle. Srrrnng, a chilly, sliding sound. Gripping the middle of the barrel with one hand and the trigger with the other, he braced the base against the ground. Gyeo-ul aimed at the enemy return fire and pulled the trigger.

Boom!

Though he had no "Heavy Weapons Proficiency," he was firing at close enough range to see the target. The shell landed perfectly. But it didn't detonate. It was too close.

A corner of the emplacement crumbled. Bullets struck the soft earth. Even though the enemy was just sticking their guns over cover and firing, it was menacing. Gyeo-ul returned fire. He targeted the shell, not people. A bright explosion behind cover. Gun barrels that had been sticking out above rocks or next to trees went limp.

The problem came next. Maybe it was the vibration. The ground shifted where the shell had exploded. The slope began to slide. Hidden enemies panicked and bolted out.

There, beneath them, was the boy.

'Damn.'

Gyeo-ul also had to evade but couldn't turn his back on the enemy. Even now, hostility rained down. There were six of them. He reacted quickly. Crack-crack! A soldier hit in the chest collapsed. Not dead—then buried by the sliding earth.

Elliot's squad fought desperately, too. Other enemies dropped in succession.

"First lieutenant! Get down!"

He couldn't tell whose cry it was. There was no time. An angry boulder was crashing down at full speed. Gyeo-ul clenched his teeth. Dodging was too late. Instead, he leapt straight at it. The moment he kicked off the corner of the rolling boulder, he felt himself sink, but barely managed to leap again. Just barely. The third jump was like trying to leap off water. Still, he managed to push off just enough.

That was the end. The fierce flow seized his ankles. In an instant, he was buried up to his neck. His chest was crushed. Gyeo-ul's breath was cut off, and as overwhelming sensations flooded in, the boundary between reality and simulation dissolved. He reached out for the sky.

The sky disappeared. Darkness thicker than night. The earth's sensation reached his fingertips. His body wouldn't move. His mouth filled with dirt. His eyes stung. He couldn't breathe or make a sound.

His heart pounded wildly.

'But I have no heart.'

It was a pleasant illusion. The thought that every sensation was just a result of a simulation calculation was always in his mind. It was rare for it to become faint like this.

Was this just how it would end this time?

Gyeo-ul didn't care about impending death, didn't think about what might come after, but focused on the present moment. Even suffocation helped erase unnecessary thoughts. He pushed Sensory Synchronization to the limit. High sync rates meant intense pain.

[Warning (Control AI): Excessively high 「Sensory Synchronization」 in the current situation may cause psychological disorders. This Control AI recommends re-adjusting the synchronization level of 《pain》.]

Don't. Don't say it. I don't want to hear it. The boy repeated to himself.

[Warning (Control AI): The warning function for the mental health of worldview participants cannot be disabled. The purpose of this Control AI is to enhance the happiness of Afterlife Insurance subscribers.]

Yeah. So just, don't.

[Warning (Control AI): ]

The sound that rang directly in his head cut off. But it was already too late. Gyeo-ul lost his grip on the thread of illusion.

Thud, thud. The sound of dirt being dug.

Something cold and sharp stabbed the back of his hand. From beyond the cold soil, someone's scream rang out. It felt small, suffocating, and distant. But in reality, it was closer than it seemed. Starting from near his stabbed hand, the pressure of the earth lessened. Soon, from between his fingers to his elbow, he felt the rain and wind. Just for a moment. Then, someone grabbed Gyeo-ul's hand and arm and pulled hard.

He was pulled up to his chest in one go. Gyeo-ul wiped his face with one hand. Breathing barely resumed. Some remaining dirt entered his airway, and he coughed harshly.

"My God! Are you all right, first lieutenant?"

Gyeo-ul nodded, for now. His rescuer, still blurry in the rain, looked profoundly relieved. Someone murmured a prayer of thanks. Somebody tried to help the boy officer to his feet. After turning down the offer, he washed off the mud with the rain. The downpour made it brief.

"Let me see your hand for a moment. I'll bandage it."

Elliot said. Only then did Gyeo-ul check the wound. Blood flowed from the back of his left hand—a cut deep enough to see bone. He moved his fingers. There was no issue. Silently, Gyeo-ul held out his hand. Elliot pulled gauze and a bandage from his emergency kit, dropping more than he managed to hold in his haste.

"Sorry, sir. I tried to be careful, but I ended up making a mistake because I rushed."

A soldier apologized to Gyeo-ul; apparently the one who had stabbed his hand with a spade. He kept glancing back toward the ongoing fight but also watched Gyeo-ul anxiously. Gyeo-ul reassured him.

"No need...to apologize. You saved me. Thank you."

His words came out in choppy bursts—because of his breathing.

After first aid, Gyeo-ul checked his equipment.

His night vision was slightly off-kilter but functional. The holstered pistol was fine, but the rifle was not. The laser sight he'd attached was gone. The barrel and chamber were clogged with dirt. Kneeling, he quickly broke it down. He separated the silencer, swung the barrel hard to fling out dirt by inertia, and poured water from his canteen. It would rust later, but the gun was already rain-soaked, and the now mattered most.

He reassembled it in no time. He replaced the magazine and pulled the charging handle twice to be sure it ejected properly.

"Let's go. There's not much left now."

"First lieutenant, you look exhausted. Would you like to bring up the rear?"

"No need to worry. I'm really fine."

"But your expression..."

"It's not what you think, Elliot. It's for another reason. Something very personal..."

Elliot was worried, but Gyeo-ul was the one in command.

The enemy, having lost soldiers again, could no longer even outnumber a platoon. Jeffrey's platoon's defensive line, together with the Elliot squad led by Gyeo-ul, rained down crossfire.

The enemy was caught in a field of booby traps—a push driven by blind orders. The engineers, expecting the possibility of having to blow the dam if the floodgates couldn't be opened, carried a lot of explosives. All of it had been laid as traps.

Even in this advantageous situation, casualties occurred.

Two members of Elliot's squad fell in quick succession.

"Argh! Fuck! I'm hit! I'm hit!"

Only one screamed. Gyeo-ul searched for the enemy he'd just shot. After the last muzzle flash, the darkness deepened. Quiet. Were they reloading? Gyeo-ul waited calmly. The rain poured so hard that the night vision couldn't pick up heat signatures at that distance.

Rat-tat-tat! As soon as the gunfire sounded, Gyeo-ul corrected his aim and emptied eight rounds on full auto. He couldn't confirm the hit.

'They're probably dead.'

「Combat Sense」 was positive.

"Upston! Upston! Fuck!"

Elliot howled, clinging to the corpse. On the other side, the wounded were being treated. The squad's firepower dropped sharply. Gyeo-ul kept the enemy's head down and checked the fallen. A round had smashed the bridge of Upston's nose, probably bouncing inside the helmet. Brains oozed from his splintered skull. Gyeo-ul closed the dead soldier's eyes.

The ground trembled. A powerful explosion erupted some distance to the rear. A fountain of earth and sand shot even higher than the ridgeline.

Drowned out by the blast, something finally registered in Gyeo-ul's ears.

[ScreeeeeeEEEEE—]

A screech, like metal scraping metal. Gyeo-ul turned down the radio's volume.

'Took the bait, did you?'

Jamming, or perhaps a Trickster's dying scream filled the radio. The dissonance undulated in pitch for ten or so seconds before it cut off. The radio fell silent.

And yet, the fact it hadn't died instantly was strange. The trap was stuffed with two full sticks of plastic explosives. At that range, anything nearby should have been blown to pieces without even time for a scream.

'No. That cunning thing may have been suspicious.'

Maybe it had sent another mutant in its place rather than triggering it itself.

I should be careful using the same bait again. The interference broadcast as it died probably included information about the trap that killed it. Hopefully, there weren't any more Tricksters within range. But it was best not to assume.

"Bastards! I'll kill every last one of you!"

Elliot, enraged, sprayed the forest where the enemy hid.

The prisoners trembled with fear. Those already half-delirious soiled themselves. Their pants were bulging.

"Stop! Hold your fire! The enemy's pulling back!"

Gyeo-ul restrained the soldiers. The wounded one ground his teeth.

"Then we should chase and finish them!"

"No, more than that, we need to evacuate first. Everyone, look over there."

Gyeo-ul pointed to the darkness at the edge of the battlefield. The soldiers looked in the direction indicated by the boy officer, and a moment later shuddered. Difficult to discern in the dark, but if you focused, you could see countless figures moving. It was a horde of mutants that had scattered after the Trickster's death.

"Anyone got a flare?"

"You mean a signaling grenade? I have three, sir."

The grenadier stepped forward.

"Let me borrow it for a bit."

Gyeo-ul took his rifle. He loaded a red flare into the single-shot grenade launcher attached under the barrel, raised the grenade sight, and aimed at the spot where Captain Harris's men were withdrawing. Thwump! The grenade traced a vivid arc.

Worried about enemy fire, Gyeo-ul waited for the first flare to go out before changing position and firing the remaining two. There was no need for precise aim. Returning the rifle, he said,

"Thanks. Good work."

"..."

The soldiers' faces, for a moment, seemed to have forgotten their anger.

"First lieutenant... this, I mean..."

Elliot hesitated, stumbling over his words. Gyeo-ul had no intention of blaming him. As much as he might hate them, no one deserves to die like that.

"I think this is what they deserve. It's not like we didn't offer them a chance to surrender."

"... That's true."

The private first class let out a deep sigh, as if letting go.

The enemy didn't seem to realize Gyeo-ul's intention yet. Did they even know about the approaching mutant horde? Gyeo-ul, not wanting Captain Harris to collapse too soon, looked for a suitable target. Excluding the ghouls, he aimed at one of the ordinary mutants and fired a single shot.

KYAAAAA!

He had aimed to miss. The wounded mutant howled long.

"Let's head back."

Gyeo-ul led the squad. When he tried to lift the fallen, another soldier, startled, took over.

"You're wounded, first lieutenant!"

"Injured? Oh, this little thing?"

Blood still seeped from Gyeo-ul's hand, stabbed by the spade. The bandage was soaked red, diluted blood dripping in the rain. But it hardly hindered him from carrying a body. Seeing the expression on the soldier's face, Gyeo-ul gave up arguing.

Gyeo-ul now tried to contact Jeffrey.

"David One, david One. This is David Actual. Do you copy?"

[...]

There was no static, but no reply either. A moment later, Gyeo-ul realized his mistake. It was past midnight. He switched frequencies and tried again. This time, Jeffrey's voice came through.

[This is David One! David Actual! Wait — first lieutenant! Are you all right?]

"I'm fine, but we had one KIA and one wounded."

[... I see...]

"Jeffrey. How are you holding up?"

[No one dead yet since you left, but I think someone will be soon. Took a shell, and someone's lost a leg...]

After a pause, Jeffrey spoke again.

[Anyway, I survived thanks to your support coming sooner than expected. I saw you going in for the attack.]

"Let's talk later. There's a large mutant horde approaching. I recommend pulling everyone back to the office."

[Evacuate? Not hold the line?]

"Can you hold it? How's your ammo supply? There are a lot of mutants."

[Well, not exactly ample...]

"Then do as I say. No need to rush. Captain Harris's men are fighting for us now. I'll head down west and move up the road. I'll radio in again from one hundred meters out, so be careful about friendly fire."

[Understood. Get here quick.]

Gyeo-ul ended the transmission.

Gunfire was growing more intense behind him.

---------------------------= Author's Note ---------------------------=

#Publishing Contract

This novel has been signed for publication with Image Frame Co., ltd. That's the company formerly known as Pathfinder Publishing. It's been a while since the contract, but I didn't mention it since the serialization schedule for other platforms wasn't confirmed and I didn't want to make anyone's hopes up.

There will be no title change for publication. The CEO read it and thought the title was appropriate, apparently. Though I still think the first impression isn't great. Anyway, that's how it is.

The cross-platform serialization will start on a site beginning with 'N.' They say it will begin in about three to four weeks.

I'll need some time to revise the manuscript for this. I'll try to keep it from affecting serialization, but I'm not confident.

Editing already written work is harder than I thought. Haha.

It's coming out in print, too.

#Regarding Author's Notes

Even if people say I should spend the time writing the story instead of these notes, a useless author like me often can't write a single line of the story while writing these notes. This short time doesn't really matter, anyway...

In any case, I'll shorten the Q&A from now on. Maybe pick just two or three things per chapter. I'll skip it today since this note has already grown long.

Time to sleep now...

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