Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 104: Teacher

There were many factors to consider.

First, these children.

"Move a finger and you die."

I glared at the kids gathered in front of me without blinking. I'd gotten too close. If these kids suddenly pulled out syringes or water guns to attack me, it would be dangerous.

"..."

"..."

The children remained still as statues. They didn't cry or try to run. They only performed with their eyes. Trembling pupils, gazes designed to evoke sympathy.

A psychological attack aimed not just at me but at all the mercenaries. Their acting was excellent.

I trudged around, circling the children until I was behind them. My pistol was now aimed at the backs of their heads.

But my gaze was directed past the children toward the mercenaries. The second factor I needed to consider.

The mercenaries' reactions were quite similar.

"Hmm."

"Uh..."

Those with children or those who once had them, as well as the younger childless mercenaries, showed reluctance in their eyes but didn't dare stop me. They seemed somewhat dubious.

Did they think I was just putting on a show for intimidation or to ensure a safe approach?

'Have they not fully grasped the situation yet? Are they deliberately avoiding the thought that this is the same kind of raid as always?'

If so, I needed to give them time. This was an initiation, a test, an examination. I had to give them space to solve the problem.

I grinned as I returned to the combat cart. Gripping the cart, I aimed the machine gun's barrel at the children.

"Students. Lead us to your base. We're going to burn all your uniforms. I might overlook other things, but school uniforms are something I can't stand."

"...Yes."

The children exchanged glances with each other before slowly nodding.

The mercenaries reacted ambiguously, glancing nervously at the children and swallowing hard.

The sound of the cart rolling, gear rattling, and heavy footsteps were joined by a mercenary's voice.

"Captain. What are you planning to do? This is, well..."

"We'll do what we always do."

Seeing that the mercenaries still seemed uncertain, I gave them a clear hint. We would kill others and take their food to fill our stomachs, just as we always had.

"Is that really necessary? Look at those kids. They're thin from hunger. We won't get much from them anyway."

"There's no need to harm kids who aren't even resisting..."

I closed my mouth and quietly observed the mercenaries.

Their pace was strangely slow. This made the short journey to the children's dwelling seem longer, and one by one, the mercenaries began to grasp the situation.

We had received a report, and this was business with our livelihoods at stake, so we had to kill them.

"...It's just work. If we back out of this, our whole operation will be compromised. Wait, since when were we ever the good guys? We've been killing people to survive. This is no different."

"We're just tools. The real bastard is the one who reported these kids to us."

Mercenaries who looked away, rationalized, and shifted blame to others. Good enough to pass.

The children must have heard every word of the mercenaries' conversation. Their movements became awkward. Their already slow pace slowed further, and their trembling limbs stiffened.

The high school girl tightly gripped the young child's hand.

Seeing that gesture, several mercenaries' expressions darkened. Humans with functioning consciences. Not bad.

'Just a little push is all it takes.'

Once I pushed them over the cliff with me, it would be over. Like snapping a rubber band, these types of people would fall faster and more dangerously.

I coldly engraved the mercenaries' eye movements and gestures in my mind.

The most dangerous type hadn't appeared yet. Someone like me would skillfully hide their true intentions and wouldn't reveal them easily. Perhaps it would take the moment of killing a child for such a nature to be exposed.

The time for their true natures to be laid bare was approaching. Gradually, the base where the teacher and children lived came into view.

I pulled the machine gun's trigger with the safety still on, making a clicking sound.

"Students. Walk faster."

***

The teacher and children's base was in what looked like a traditional market street.

An old market with faded signs, buildings no higher than three stories, streets filled with garbage, scrap metal, and dirt, and narrow alleys as complex as a maze.

Terrain that was both disadvantageous and advantageous for survival.

As I busied myself watching the children and observing the mercenaries, a curious thought crossed my mind.

'What kind of person is this teacher?'

Someone who taught children to camouflage themselves. Someone who seemed to survive on food the children risked their lives to obtain. Perhaps this teacher was actually the enemy I should be most wary of?

"We're here."

The high school student said. As if on cue, the sounds of children laughing and talking drifted down from the second floor of the market building.

I let out a derisive laugh.

"The teacher has a flair for staging."

A shabby market street overrun by zombies during the early days of the outbreak. Children living together in this street. Cheerful voices that could soften the malice of even those who came to raid.

Wasn't this practically on the same level as the pastor's staging?

"What staging..."

I pretended not to hear Do-hyung's quiet grumbling. This wasn't the time to worry about such things.

"Do-hyung, Sa Gi-hyeok, Mr. Park Yang-gun. Stay here to guard the cart and watch for anyone approaching."

I kept my already-vetted companions outside. They didn't need to be tested again. Right now, the mercenaries and children were what mattered.

I aimed my pistol at the backs of the children's heads and grinned.

"You, go upstairs. Mercenaries, follow me."

"..."

Their steps remained sluggish. We moved slowly. Only silence descended on the old, cobwebbed staircase. Inversely, with each step we climbed, the voices of the children and the teacher grew louder.

"That's mine!"

"Yes, but I'm using it right now."

The sound of a young child running around.

"Teacher, do we really have to study? What's the use of this in today's world?"

"I find collecting resources outside more fun. I want to give up studying and just do that. Can't I just do that all the time?"

The voices of students close to adulthood, grumbling.

"Children, don't run too much. And you. We still need to study. You're a student. While you're a student, you should do what students do."

"If things go well, can we join the alliance too?"

"That's right."

The voice of a young woman who seemed to be the teacher.

'This is intense. They're acting even during normal times, knowing raiders could come at any moment.'

We reached the second floor. When I pressed my pistol firmly against the back of a hesitant student's head, the students stumbled forward and entered.

All the noise subsided as we entered the room where they gathered.

Children who had been playing, children who had been reading books, and a teacher wearing a floral dress—they all froze and looked at us.

I laughed cheerfully and fired my pistol at the ceiling.

"Hands up and kneel down. We're going to tie you up one by one. No exceptions."

***

There was no resistance. Both the teacher with the children and the mercenaries moved according to their roles.

The teacher and children maintained their non-resistance strategy, launching psychological attacks by acting as tests of character, while the mercenaries tied the teacher's and children's wrists with ropes, their hands trembling.

The mercenaries moved somewhat proficiently when restraining high school students or the teacher, but when it came to elementary school children or younger, they fumbled like buffering videos.

I looked back and forth between the interior and the teacher with interest.

'Children's play mats? Did they tear them out of a kindergarten somewhere?'

The interior looked exactly like a kindergarten. Soft, colorful play mats covered the floor. Shelves held study books for the children and small potted plants.

It was a peaceful atmosphere without a hint of killing intent. In other words, this room was a movie set designed according to the teacher's intentions and purposes. Though I was the one writing the scenario.

"Children, it's okay. Everything will be fine."

The teacher calmly soothed the children before looking up at me.

"Why have you come here? As you can see, we have nothing and can't threaten you."

"I came because of the school uniforms. I hate them."

Once they were tied up, the teacher and children were no longer my focus. From now on, I only needed to pay attention to the mercenaries. I stood slightly behind them, observing their movements.

Their gun barrels aimed at the children were unsteady. Some lowered their guns to aim at the floor, while others subtly pointed at the gaps between people.

'Someone like me wouldn't reveal their true nature yet.'

The teacher made some excuse.

"I'm sorry if we made you uncomfortable. It's just that, with schools closed, I wanted the students to experience a bit of school life..."

"You talk too much. Did anyone bring tape?"

The mercenaries glanced at each other and remained silent. I was checking if anyone would actively help me, but no one did. The test would need to proceed to the shooting stage.

"If not, then... Teacher. Students. Close your eyes and bow your heads. Don't say a word."

That's when it happened. The cup noodle mercenary with a young child shut his eyes tightly, lowered his rifle, and stepped forward.

"I can't do this. I really can't. Those kids are the same age as my child. I can't do it."

"Me neither... We're not even out of food yet... Executing them like this..."

Several mercenaries removed their fingers from their triggers.

There could be many reasons. The instinct to protect children, the lack of resistance giving no reason to kill, the absence of immediate starvation dulling the sense of crisis.

But more people remained silent and looked away. Perhaps in the early days of the apocalypse, the majority would have opposed, but it had been six months since the apocalypse began.

Enough time for something like conscience to wear down.

I nodded understandingly at the opposing mercenaries and then let out a heavy sigh.

"I understand. But you must do it."

"I—"

I grabbed the head of the cup noodle mercenary who was vigorously shaking his head, forcing him to look at the teacher and children. Specifically, at the child who resembled his son's age.

"Open your eyes wide and look. That child. The one who resembles your son."

I invented words to push those who opposed over the cliff. Whispering so everyone could hear, I imitated Sa Gi-hyeok's low yet clear voice.

"How do you think that child survived? What did they eat to survive? The food your child could have eaten, the clothes your child could have worn, what belongs to your child."

What's mine is mine. What's yours is mine. Therefore, the resources you use while alive and breathing are stealing from me.

"Your child is starving because of that child. Will starve because of that child. That child has stolen all the resources your child should have enjoyed. Will you sacrifice your child for someone else's?"

I reached out and grabbed the cup noodle mercenary's gun barrel, aiming it at the child. The barrel shook uncontrollably but couldn't escape my grip. It just unsteadily aimed at the child.

The crown of the head of the child who was bowing down. The cup noodle mercenary's eyes reflected that child's head, his pupils shaking as if in an earthquake.

"You're not killing a child. You're killing an enemy who has exploited and stolen the food your child would eat."

"Ugh, uh."

An incomprehensible groan escaped him.

The teacher jerked her head up and glared at me. Her sharp voice became a knife, aiming to stab at our conscience. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

"That's not true! This isn't that kind of situation!"

"No. It is."

I looked around at each mercenary, meeting their eyes.

"Because it's the season of famine. Kill and eat, or die and be eaten. One or the other."

"..."

Mercenaries who had been looking away closed their eyes and shouldered their rifles. Even those who had opposed followed the atmosphere, aiming their guns awkwardly.

"No! Don't do this!"

The teacher's voice was just an impressive sound effect.

"Everyone. Shoulder your rifles, aim, close your eyes, hold your breath, and place your fingers on the triggers."

I moved the cup noodle mercenary's body as if demonstrating. Pressing the stock against his shoulder, aiming the barrel at the heads of those kneeling, closing his eyes, placing his finger on the trigger.

The mercenaries slowly followed my instructions. Eyes visible above masks were squeezed shut. No breathing sounds could be heard, as if they were holding their breath.

"I'll count to three, then gently pull the trigger."

I counted.

"Three, two, one."

A moment of silence. The teacher throwing herself in front of the children with a scream. Then gunfire. Only after hearing the shots did I firmly press the cup noodle mercenary's finger to fire his gun, all while observing each mercenary.

With everyone's eyes closed, they moved solely according to their conscience.

I noticed a young mercenary. His expression was bland, his shooting posture exemplary.

'The first to shoot. You're on my blacklist.'

The gunfire that had erupted spasmodically ceased when the bullets ran out. Harsh breathing burst out from all around. They still couldn't bring themselves to open their eyes.

To finish things off, I tapped several mercenaries who hadn't fired their guns until the end.

"You all handle the confirmation kills."

Dark...

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