January 16
After yesterday's cleanup, there were no infected left downstairs. Kyoko headed for the community gate. The residential compound she lived in was actually an excellent one. All the supporting facilities were fully developed, and on three sides the perimeter was ringed by five-story buildings, like ancient city walls enclosing the whole place. It was incredibly secure.
There were only three entrances and exits in the entire compound. On the eastern side—the only side without an outer ring of buildings—the neighboring detached-house district was still separated by a three-meter wall.
Kyoko was heading for the south gate, the one closest to her old high school. This had once been part of her daily route to school. Walking it again now, she could not help feeling a little wistful.
The evergreen plants in the roadside landscaping had suffered badly after days under heavy snow. Their yellowed leaves and shriveled branches looked lifeless, steeped in decay.
Filthy bloodstains lay everywhere on the road, and corpses in various stages of rot were sprawled in all kinds of places. Fortunately, there was not much of a stench. Thank the fierce winter wind for that.
Cars were scattered all over the place, some still mostly intact, others utterly wrecked. There were even usable bicycles, but they were pointless right now. Who knew how badly the city roads had been ruined by the infected? Riding a bike was far too dangerous. One bad spill, and things could get ugly fast.
A mild fall might mean scrapes, bruising, some bleeding—nothing a bit of disinfectant, cold compresses, and cleaning could not handle. A bad fall, though, could mean fractures, dislocated joints, head trauma, internal injuries. In a world like this, without surgery or a proper doctor, that kind of injury was a nightmare.
Kyoko was no longer the version of herself who had run around with a temporary invincibility cheat. The system had taken that perk back. Even if she was still far beyond normal human limits, one accident now could absolutely injure her and affect her mobility.
There was still patchy snow on the ground, with ice hidden underneath like randomly spawned traps. Before long, her tall boots were filthy. She moved with great care, keeping her balance so she would not slip on ice hidden beneath the snow.
Along the way, a few scattered infected lunged at her from either side. Kyoko did not even bother using a gun. She did not draw her blade either. Opponents this ordinary did not deserve that much.
She used her body as a weapon.
A straight front kick. A whipping right roundhouse. The infected were launched straight into the roadside shrubs, knocking snow loose from the branches.
One infected sprawled face-down on the ground. When it lifted its head again, the last thing it saw was the dark, broad sole of a hard boot coming down, pinning it flat. Then a blade punched coldly through its brain. Foul blood spread across the ground. Its consciousness snapped, and that was the end of it.
She reached the gate without incident—well, mostly. A zombie cat had nearly scared her half to death. While she was dealing with other infected, a deafening howl came from behind her. Thinking some special infected had appeared, she had whipped out her gun and opened fire. In full-auto mode, the G18C emptied a seventeen-round magazine in two seconds.
The poor thing—its name might as well have been Hajime at this point—had done nothing worse than hiss too loudly and startle Kyoko, and for that it had been fed seventeen 9x19mm "peanuts." Its body, already larger than an ordinary cat's, was now nothing but minced flesh. The rounds had shredded it so thoroughly that there were no longer individual bullet wounds to be found. Holes everywhere, tears everywhere, perforations everywhere. Those were now the cat's most common decorative features.
Kyoko found the collapsed heap of gore unpleasant to look at, so she finished the job with a lighter, alcohol, and a rag. That took care of it. The cat that had dared hiss at her was now properly turned into cooked meat by the Kyoko Localization Team.
Everyone, say thank you to Kyoko.
The gunfire drew a few more infected over. This time she calmly put the pistol away and drew her miaodao. Most firearms made a lot of noise even with suppressors attached—just somewhat less than before. Safer to stick to cold steel against low-threat groups. Better that than ringing the dinner bell again.
Miaodao combat emphasized closing in and pressing the advantage, and a weapon longer than the average Japanese man's height was perfect for fighting unarmed infected in open ground. Even several at once posed no problem.
Kyoko advanced with dragging steps, driving off her back foot and sliding her lead foot forward, keeping her movements light yet grounded. A jumping cut flowed into a rushing slash.
The infected in front of her were severed clean through at the waist.
Then she twisted aside from an attacker with grotesquely elongated arms lunging from behind, pivoted, struck up with the back of the blade, and cut low in the same motion. Extra-long arms were useless against a 1.6-meter weapon. Its legs came away, and it crashed to the ground.
Another infected sprang into the air, trying to ambush her. Kyoko tucked her chest, aligned her back, tightened her abdomen and hips, and drove the force from her waist straight into the blade. She sank down, stored power in her legs, then erupted upward with a thrust. Holding her position, she let stillness control motion and skewered it in midair. With a flick, she wrenched the blade free and flung the corpse aside.
The last infected received the full honor of her technique. Miaodao required the waist to drive the blade—weight forward in the cut, weight coiled behind the thrust. The body and blade had to align as one for maximum penetration.
Kyoko executed it perfectly.
One stroke, from head to toe. The infected split into two wet halves, its diseased organs exposed to the winter sunlight and to fresh air for the first time in a very long while.
She wiped the blade clean and kept moving.
Outside the gate, Sugita Bakery stood with shattered windows and doors. Kyoko peered through broken panes into the hollow interior. It was empty. The smell of bread that had once drifted out from there had long since vanished.
The ramen shop next door stood open as well, though there were no infected roaming inside. Tables and chairs lay overturned. Some liquid—blood, maybe water—glinted on the floor and flashed across the face shield of her helmet.
She moved on. In a narrow alley, several infected in disheveled clothes stumbled out—men and women, all dressed far too lightly for winter, skulking in the alley. Kyoko had a pretty good idea what they had been doing before the world ended.
"You shameless bastards. Even at the end of the world, you had to be doing that? Don't make me dirty my hands on you."
This time she did not go in barehanded. What if they were carrying not only the Sumeike virus but something like HIV as well? Better not get any of that on herself.
She drew the miaodao from her back and used the alley's trash and clutter to split them up. In the cramped space, she fought from a low guard and dispatched them with a few clean strokes, taking their heads. These loose-living creatures were finally quiet.
At the first major intersection, the broad road ahead was jammed solid with a multi-car pileup. If she had driven here, she would have been stuck for sure. Good thing she had come on foot.
Under the traffic light lay a particularly striking vehicle, overturned on its side—a military armored car. The main structure was still mostly intact, though the front end and tires had taken serious damage.
Kyoko went over for a closer look.
A Type 96. A steel warhorse that had cost 180 million yen per unit—about 10.61 million RMB—had died an embarrassing death in a traffic accident. Its poor mobility under complex urban conditions and inadequate protection had gotten it stranded right here in the middle of the street.
The M2 heavy machine gun mounted on top drooped weakly. Kyoko approached to see if there was anything worth taking from the vehicle. There were no soldier corpses, no firearms inside, nothing. It had already been stripped clean. The ammo belt and ammunition for the mounted gun were gone too. If the M2 had not been bolted to the vehicle itself, even that would have been gone.
She sent the damaged M2 to the system for recycling and moved on.
Thanks to her many hobbies—and especially her interest in military matters—Kyoko had read a bit about urban combat. She still remembered the basics of movement and concealment. Some special infected had ranged attacks. She needed to move carefully through the streets ahead now that she was nearing the denser residential blocks.
Use firearms only if absolutely necessary. Otherwise she would end up just like before, attracting a swarm and exhausting herself for no gain. Even if there was no real threat, it was still annoying.
She kept her profile low, body close to building edges. Her mission was to secure the airdrop, not to clear the city block. Avoid combat whenever possible. She needed to get back quickly. Leaving Huaxiu alone at home for too long made her uneasy.
Whenever she crossed past corners or windows, she sprinted through danger zones after checking first, minimizing exposure and never lingering in an infected's line of sight.
When she had to cross open areas or vault walls, she took the shortest possible route.
At one junction, there was a five-meter stretch of road with no cover at all. Infected lingered on both sides. The only option was to dash straight through and hope they did not notice her before she made it across.
Unfortunately, luck ran out.
Crack.
She stepped on a piece of plastic. The sound echoed sharply, and heads snapped toward her.
"Damn it. Looks like I'm fighting again. These infected are such a pain."
Now that she had been spotted, there was no point pretending to be an Assassin's Creed character any longer. She could not even be bothered drawing her blade.
Time to see what the M4A1 could do.
She planted her feet shoulder-width apart in a T-stance, centered her weight, leaned slightly forward, braced the handguard with her left hand near the weapon's center of mass to reduce sway, and locked her right hand onto the grip with her right elbow flared and vertical. The stock settled into the hollow of her right shoulder, cheek welded to the stock, eye lined cleanly with the sights.
For someone new to automatic rifles, her accuracy in semi-auto was not bad at all.
One. Two. Three…
Shred them all.
When the smoke cleared, a scatter of shell casings littered the ground. Thirty rounds had dropped thirteen infected. One magazine empty. Kyoko did not linger. More infected were already converging on the gunfire, so she pulled out at once.
Breathing hard under all her gear, she made it near a small hospital in central Nihonmatsu. Five more minutes of running and she would be at her high school.
Red smoke from the airdrop was still rising into the sky—and there was more than one column.
What worried her more than infected now was other humans. The infected, most of them idiots, were not much of a threat to a well-armed soldier.
Humans were another matter.
Even a child with a gun could kill her.
She was wearing riot gear, not ballistic armor. The aluminum plates inside her suit offered some protection against small-caliber rounds, but anything larger would punch through too easily. Her helmet was polymer, not even remotely capable of stopping a direct gunshot.
So first, she needed a vantage point to observe the drop site.
There was a four-story private house near the airdrop zone. That would do.
She pried open the locked gate, slipped into the yard, and found the front door unlocked. She went straight inside.
Dust coated the floor and furniture. She gave the place a quick sweep. The homeowner and family were gone. There were no signs of a struggle. They must have fled before the crisis truly broke.
When she reached the rooftop on the fourth floor, she shouldered the rifle and looked toward the airdrop through the three-power optic.
And what she saw next stunned her.
There were survivors in her school.
Not one group—two.
And they were fighting.
One side clearly had the upper hand, but not because they were better armed.
It was because they were mixed in with infected, as if they could actually command them.
"Is this for real? These people can control the infected?!"
What was special about them? Then Kyoko noticed something else: the people moving among the infected were dressed alike. Their clothes all bore the same symbol—a six-pointed star.
"A six-pointed star… what the hell, was this cooked up by some damn Jewish cult?"
Even as she cursed under her breath, her instincts screamed.
Danger.
She snatched the rifle close and dropped behind the far side of the wall.
How had they noticed her from that far away?!
She glanced back at where she had been crouching moments before. The spot was now coated in green corrosive fluid, steaming as it ate pits into the rooftop surface.
A cold chill ran down her spine. If that had splashed onto flesh, the result would have been catastrophic.
"So they've spotted me already. Fine. Then I'm done sneaking around. Come on, then."
She switched the M4A1 to full-auto.
Then, finding another piece of cover with a good firing angle, Kyoko burst from hiding and sprinted for it.
Round chambered.
The hunt began.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter116)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter82)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter144)
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Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 118
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 111
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 80
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 112
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 95
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 89
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 53
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 61
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 65
Uma Musume: From Beginner 61
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 37
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