Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 105: Teacher

The test was over. We wandered unsteadily throughout the market street, searching for the food hidden by the teacher and children.

The mercenaries—no, my companions now—weren't in good shape. Blood vessels popped in their eyes, they moved like sleepwalkers, and not one of them glanced back toward the building where the teacher had been.

Some companions removed their masks to vomit into the sewers. Do-hyung patted the shoulders of those who were throwing up, creating a heartwarming scene.

"It's okay. It's okay. You're not the bad one here."

"But..."

"Don't think about it anymore. Just think about the people you've saved. Your families won't starve now. It's okay."

A true supporter. He was guiding them to stop thinking, wasn't he? Preventing them from thinking and judging for themselves.

Meanwhile, the companions who had scattered were returning one by one, carrying small amounts of resources as evidence.

"There's a building used as a warehouse over there."

"I found a warehouse too. It seemed hidden, but I just, I just, walked and ended up there."

As I suspected, the teacher had created warehouses around the base to store resources separately. It reminded me of a hamster, though I kept that thought to myself. It wouldn't have been appropriate.

"Yes. Let's gather everything quickly and leave."

I mimicked people's reactions adequately. A weak voice tinged with bitterness.

All the while I carefully observed the companions who had passed the test. I suppose they were truly companions now. Though I couldn't be bothered to formally introduce myself and remember their names, it wasn't difficult to assign them nicknames.

My gaze soon turned to a target for elimination.

The man I'd nicknamed after the cup noodle mercenary. The psycho mercenary.

'He really does seem similar to me.'

He'd been the first to shoot. Without hesitation, eyes closed like someone sleeping, maintaining his shooting posture.

This alone wasn't enough evidence, but I had seen him. The way he swung his gun barrel side to side, as if trying to kill more people in the process.

He was dangerous. An enemy within, a driver with broken brakes, a risk factor who would do anything with just enough reason of his own.

'One person like me is enough. How should I get rid of him?'

But these thoughts didn't last long. A mercenary moving items from the warehouse returned with an unexpected resource.

"We found eggs."

"Eggs?"

I quickly turned my head to look at the small egg in the mercenary's hand. I snatched it and threw it hard on the ground. The egg cracked, spilling white and yolk.

"It's a real egg."

A fresh egg. Not a resource you could find around here. As far as I knew, only the military and the Delivery Vigilantes could produce eggs.

'It can't be the military. They agreed not to come to this area. So the alliance? RiderZero?'

Could the teacher and children have been a subcontractor for the alliance? Was this a real school of sorts to produce needed future workforce?

Frowning in thought, I asked:

"Are there any other unusual resources besides eggs? Police handguns or archer bows? Or maybe chickens, or electricity?"

"We haven't found anything like that."

This suggested RiderZero's involvement. Were they reserve personnel that RiderZero was raising separately? A cunning method befitting the wealthy Delivery Vigilantes. Creating allies through sponsorship.

I tapped the combat cart repeatedly, then stated the simplest countermeasure.

"These kids were probably being sponsored by the Delivery Vigilantes. Just to be safe, we should place fishing lines around the villa district."

"Yes..."

The voice of mercenaries who seemed to have lost their souls.

I suddenly felt like I was falling through the air without a safety device. Falling below the line of humanity. In free-fall, a rush without brakes.

Surely this fall would end in collision. Crashing into trees growing on the cliff, colliding with birds in flight, and finally hitting the ground...

Yet strangely, laughter escaped me.

'It doesn't matter.'

Isn't that what a raider's life is about? Distrusting and suspecting companions, fighting desperately with other survivors, never knowing when or where you'll die miserably.

That was the life I'd chosen. A more fulfilling life than when the world was normal.

***

Around the time we'd gathered all the resources, someone arrived. The person who had requested us to kill the teacher and children.

He was a middle-aged man who looked like he could be a parent, with seemingly empty eyes harboring directionless flames. As soon as he approached us, he asked about the fate of the teacher and children.

"Are they all dead?"

"Yes, we killed them all. A report is a report."

I glanced up at the second floor of the building. The flames in the informant's eyes blazed more fiercely for a moment, then went out. The informant chuckled.

"Haha. Hahaha."

There seemed to be a story there, but it wasn't my business. Managing my companions was more important.

I walked over and gripped the informant's shoulder firmly.

"You know, member, you gave us a really disgusting report. Children, seriously? I've done all sorts of things until now, but I've never felt as filthy as I do today."

The mood among the companions shifted. As if their souls were returning, they raised their heads one by one, gripping their guns tightly. They had found a target to vent the stress that was hard to bear even though they had crossed the line together.

Isn't blaming others the easiest way to avoid responsibility? This was the perfect situation to blame this informant.

The informant, receiving the bloodshot gazes of my companions, appeared somewhat transcendent. As if he'd given up on life, accepted his end, and was satisfied.

"I did a terrible thing. It was an accident though."

The informant muttered to himself.

"These kids. They were my child's friends. Good kids. Last spring, when they were attacked by zombies, they tried to save my child but ran away out of fear, then came to bow their heads and apologize for not being able to save him."

His eyes, like burnt-out ashes, emptied.

"It's not really their fault. But as time passed, I found myself blaming them more and more. Asking if they really couldn't have saved him. If they had left him to die."

He meant that his resentment and anger surged, but he couldn't bring himself to kill them with his own hands, so he reported to us.

"It's my fault, it's my fault. But still..."

"You did us wrong too." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

I quietly looked at the informant, then sought out Sa Gi-hyeok.

"Mr. Sa Gi-hyeok. Does Immortal have a rule about not killing members?"

"We do. But we also have a rule about forced membership termination. This seems to meet the conditions."

"That's right. Member, I'm sorry, but your membership is revoked. To think you'd make this kind of report, not even for survival, but just for revenge."

The informant closed his eyes silently. He looked like someone who had lost his purpose in life and would rather die.

Several companions began to draw their weapons one by one. Close-combat weapons to use instead of guns. Eerie mutterings flowed out.

"You shouldn't make reports like this. If it weren't for you, this wouldn't have happened."

"Die."

It seemed like they were experiencing cognitive dissonance or self-justification. Not bad. Something in their minds had broken. Like a car that had gone off the road, careening wildly.

'Killing children to survive. Killing people without gain just to relieve stress. To my eyes, the latter seems like the worse behavior.'

This was killing without even the pretext of survival. They were falling smoothly beyond the line.

I turned my head. Well, at least we wouldn't have to give him an incentive.

The informant didn't even scream. He accepted death lightly, with a faint smile. Instead, it was the companions who shouted as if they might cry. The old market street was engulfed in even more commotion than before.

I suddenly looked around the market street.

'Are they really all dead?'

Wouldn't there be students wandering outside, scavenging? Wouldn't there be some who were lucky enough to avoid us? Wouldn't they come looking for revenge later?

"...It doesn't matter."

My karmic debt was innumerable. I had lured and killed police for their guns, killed the pastor of Hope Church, cleared out the villa district, and raided people in apartment complexes.

There are even zombies who put plastic trash in people's mouths. Then there were the electricity nomads, the hiking club, the stream area people, and other nameless survivors and robbers.

What difference would a few more students make to that list?

***

We returned to the villa district with resources aplenty. The transport cart rolled heavily, and the bags our companions carried on their backs were swollen to bursting.

A bountiful harvest inappropriate for the season of famine. Families waiting for our return welcomed us with bright smiles but then stopped abruptly.

"Did something bad happen? Why do you look like that?"

"Well, some difficult things happened..."

A grandmother worriedly looked at her son and caressed his cheek. A couple stood side by side whispering, and the cup noodle mercenary father squatted to face his child, then hugged him tightly.

"Candy, I brought candy."

"Candy? Daddy eat it. Daddy looks sad."

"No, daddy's not sad. Daddy brought food for his son. Right? Eat it quickly."

Meanwhile, the companions who were single stood awkwardly to one side. I naturally approached them.

"Everyone, let's do a little work with me."

"What kind of work?"

"We need to install fishing lines or banner cords. There might be a conflict with the Delivery Vigilantes."

If someone came running and got caught in the line, it would be an accident. Even crashing into a banner cord while riding a bicycle could cause someone to fall and get hurt.

Of course, given the sturdiness of a rider's equipment, the lethality would be low, but at least it could block entry initially. A barricade specifically for riders.

The companions nodded one by one. I casually observed the psycho mercenary.

'I need to get rid of this guy.'

If I killed him outright, the entire organization might be shaken. And if he was the same type as me, he wouldn't easily reveal his weaknesses.