Part 274: Powerful Weapon

Since the lid of the cauldron of hell was opened and the dead began roaming the earth, the handling of "zombies" has always been a subject of constant debate.

Summarizing what is currently known about the habits of these individuals,

There are individual differences in walking speed.

There's no need to sleep or rest.

It will keep moving as long as the brain isn't destroyed.

Their grip strength is incredible.

・Their vision has deteriorated. Can they distinguish only between bright and dark?

・Instead, their hearing and sense of smell have become highly acute.

・Some individuals hide and ambush humans.

・They emit growls to call their companions.

・Their intellect is on par with that of insects.

・They do not attack animals other than humans.

・They do not engage in cannibalism.

That is how it is.

On such a day, one of the refugees came up with an unusual idea.

In short, aren't their distinctions between friend and foe based on their heightened sense of smell?

If so, wouldn't covering our entire bodies in their blood and flesh prevent them from attacking us?

Apparently, this is a common trick seen in zombie movies.

Later, several explorers verified this method, and in the region of Sakaoka, it had already been formalized into a standard emergency procedure for when unexpectedly encountering a horde of "zombies."

Migaki remembered this countermeasure only after repeatedly circling around, fleeing through the underground labyrinth from the "zombies," and finally returning to the wardrobe room near the elevator.

"Uuuu... Worst... the worst possible plan in the world..."

"Shut up and stop complaining."

"Uuuuu... uuu...?"

Right now, the two of them were just finishing off a single "zombie" they'd isolated, smearing its organs onto their dress with wet, squishing sounds.

The pink dress they'd admired dreamily moments ago was now stained with a cursed gradient of red and black.

As if it were an afterthought, she slung her small intestine over her shoulders like a necklace, finally crafting a blood-soaked dress worthy of herself.

With finishing touches, she tore off the unnecessary parts of her clothing to fit her body perfectly.

Slipping into her dream outfit, a sharp ammonia stench hit her nose—like a public restroom that hadn’t been cleaned in a century.

"...Is this really enough?"

"Yeah. But if you stay in this outfit too long, it'll mess with your senses—like, you'll get sick. Hurry up."

As the girls put on their dresses, two filthy princesses were born.

If they appeared in a story, they'd surely be cast as witches.

▼

Afterward, Biyan's steps became light, as if strolling leisurely.

Even when they passed by a few "zombies" along the way,

"Hey... you're really, really okay with this, right?"

"Yeah. Well, if it doesn't work out, I'll just die anyway."

"Aw, come on..."

Not a single flicker of worry showed on her face.

Something had shifted lately—seems the roles between the two of them were beginning to reverse.

It was all because Rui had grown unusually downcast.

She seemed deeply troubled by being treated as disposable by her allies.

"By the way, can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

Reluctantly, Misato spoke, trying to distract her partner.

"Ever since I met you, I've thought you're kind of smart for someone so short."

Incidentally, the two were walking through a hallway packed with a dozen or so zombies, weaving through them like stitching thread.

Rui, visibly uneasy under the gaze of a zombie with a "?" mark floating above its head, replied,

"Yeah... thanks."

"Is that because you read a lot of books?"

"No... in my case, it's because I'm connected to the 'Demon King' in spirit."

"Huh? Maou...?"

"Um... well, I just imitate the way a girl named Mao talks, that's all."

"Hmm."

"Having a good friend can make your mind sharper."

"Then, introduce me to her someday."

"Maybe... if everything goes smoothly today, it might just happen."

After passing through the crowd of "zombies," the two finally reached their destination with almost no obstacles at all.

They had to take a wide detour around the "Infinite Spring" area, but it probably took about thirty minutes to get here.

Checking the time, it was just a bit before 5:30. The sun hadn't set yet.

"Really, we ended up taking way longer than expected. This could've been so much easier if it were a simpler job..."

Yet this round-trip effort was by no means wasted.

It was because Rangetsu Migen had memorized the entire route perfectly.

――Now, she’ll be able to make it alone.

And this knowledge will be a great help to her cute subordinates.

▼

The location marked with the sign “Warehouse No. 44” was a nondescript room tucked away in the farthest corner of the underground floor, hidden in the most remote corner.

In front of the sturdy steel door, Rui quickly inserted the key from her pocket.

"Alright...!"

As the door opened, — the space revealed itself at first glance to be lined with theatrical props and stage accessories, neatly arranged in rows.

Swords with multiple blades, like artifacts from a fantasy world. Bows. Wands. Magical brooms.

An eerie, unsettling doll. A suitcase with a rattling interior, a meat cleaver that looks ordinary, several medicine bottles. A few badges with an old-fashioned superhero design.

Each item is labeled only with a number—no indication of purpose. Their functions are likely managed solely by Reika herself.

"This is exactly as reported...!"

Then Reika darted from shelf to shelf—eventually seizing the documents inside the briefcase.

"…Got it! Found it! The 'Demon's Proof'!"

After hugging it like a lover, she folded a single sheet of paper inside into quarters and shoved it into her pocket.

At the same instant, she collapsed to the floor, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"Ah, thank you, Miharu-chan... If it weren't for you, I... I don't know what I'd do..."

But Miharu completely ignored her.

Her eyes were fixed on something ahead, lost in a daze, standing motionless.

"Miharu-chan...?"

Curious, Rui quietly stepped forward toward her... and then understood what she was staring at.

"Whoa! T-this...!?"

It was a figure lying on its side, dressed in a manner reminiscent of a battle-worn medieval knight.

His height was so great that standing upright would bring his head within touching distance of the ceiling. He was probably about three meters long. Over his back hung a thick, indigo-colored cloak made of heavy fabric.

Next to him stood a war mace of such immense size that no human could possibly handle it—evidently, this was the weapon he wielded.

"What is this... a robot? A humanoid one?"

"Yeah."

"I've seen prototypes of 'zombie-defense robots' before, but... is it something like that?"

"Could be."

"Well, since Shizukawa Reika left this kind of thing lying around here... it's probably just a useless tool, or maybe even just a dummy, really."

"…………"

For some reason, Misato had an unshakable conviction that it wasn't like that.

This had to be something useful.

After all, she'd once heard about something with a similar shape back in Sagakyo.

Silver armor. A cloak on its back.

A story about a certain young man who, despite being human, wields magical power.

"Surely this... is just as strong as any 'player' could ever be..."

The "robot" offered no reply, merely continuing to sleep like a doll.