Klaf Virus

"The shelter door is fairly sturdy. It won’t break, probably."

Private Neumann descended the stairs leading to the ground level.

His partner, Hex, added—

"Still, the exit’s only here. Can’t move about like that and expect to get out."

He pointed to his personal terminal, synced with the armored vehicle’s external cameras parked outside.

There, the fate of the city’s inhabitants was captured.

People staggering forward with bloodshot eyes, drooling something between saliva and gastric fluid.

They groaned constantly, shuddering and convulsing, shoulders jerking at intervals.

"Looks like we’re trapped—just like in those old monster panic films."

Crewk McGibbon laughed like a stray dog.

There was no flicker of disturbance in her eyes—least of all on the surface. If the commander remained composed, the subordinates might find a sliver of reassurance.

…………provided they weren’t a boy soldier worn thin by a long flight, body and mind broken.

“Squad leader, I—us…”

Pax narrowed her thick eyebrows into a frown. Her voice trembled.

The other boys and girls around her were grimacing. No surprise.

They’d barely escaped the lizard-like monsters brimming with murderous intent, hiding and fleeing for who knew how long, until finally reaching this shelter.

Just a little more, and they’d link up with their allies. Hope solidified—clear and certain—when the moment came.

Crewk sipped from a paper cup filled with lukewarm coffee.

He drained it in one gulp, then crumpled the cup with a dry crunch. No big deal, he said, calm as ever.

“Situation’s bad. But how does it compare to what we’ve had so far?”

“How do you mean…”

They’re our countrymen waiting for us out there. Civilians we were meant to protect. Being attacked by them is nothing short of a nightmare.

…Yet they’re not armed. They don’t pilot walking tanks. They don’t blow us apart with explosives. They don’t skin their prey and hang them from trees.

And we don’t have to fight them. Nothing like fighting the Weedrants.

Guffaw. A single cough. Coffee down in one go.

Excuse me. Poor manners.

What I’m trying to say is, you don’t need to worry about anything in particular.

Eat. Sleep. From here on, it’s a border dispute between friendly forces and the lizards. Rest your body while you can.

I’ll figure out the way out.

That’s all. Crewk waved a hand dismissively.

The young soldiers' unease did not dissipate—but Crook had the track record of leading them this far.

Pax prompted the boys and girls to scatter to their preferred spots within the shelter.

No severe agitation was evident.

Corporal, get to the rear.

We’d appreciate it if the Fletcher TV crew would hold back.

Cruck dropped the casual demeanor the moment he dragged Io into the shelter's warehouse.

…

—Lieutenant

—Major issue!

I know.

The entrance is completely sealed!

Nothing lasts forever. Someday they might just vanish somewhere without warning.

No time to wait. We'll be left behind by Karaf if we don't move now.

Clang— a heavy sound from the adjacent room. A girl’s groan.

The infected from earlier lies bound and rolling.

I can't be as optimistic as a sergeant. What if they just kept loitering at the shelter's entrance?

……We might have to do something drastic.

That many of them. Could be two hundred, three hundred—no, considering the size of the city, thousands.

And what happens to the team's morale if we shoot civilians?

As you yourself said, Lieutenant, we have no choice but to think through the operation.

Easy for you to say.

Crook kicked the water-filled supply crate in frustration. Calm moments before, but as the leader of her unit, she was always under immense stress.

Why does everything have to go wrong? Why us, why always us?!

Lieutenant.

In the corner of Io’s vision, the cyan goddess spoke without expression.

Agent Io, care for Crook McGabbain.

(Already doing it. I know.)

Speech is your specialty, after all.

Crook was gradually heating up.

Biting his lip while raking a hand through his meticulously combed golden hair.

Just a little longer. Just a little more and we’ll meet up with the others.

Lieutenant, stay calm.

I know that! I’m thinking through the next move right now! Let me vent a little!

Loud voices unsettle the troops.

Sergeant, I’m not—!

Io placed a hand on Crook’s shoulder.

In any other situation, it might look like a kiss scene. Io stared into Crook’s eyes and spoke slowly.

Lieutenant, nothing’s wrong. We’ve held this unit together—me, you, and Corporal Carlyle—through everything.

We’ve survived worse. Had a plasma knife nearly shoved into our backs.

But we made it through. Not by luck. Not by chance. By skill.

We’ll do it again. You plan the operation. We’ll execute it.

I’m not scared at all. How about you?”

Crouke took a deep breath. Again.

Io released her grip.

…………Sorry, Sergeant. I understand now.

There was no trace of frustration in her voice.

This is a terrible situation, Io thinks.

Even adults would panic under these conditions. She’s a child soldier, carrying the lives of others, pushing herself to the limit.

A kid like this.

Something’s burning inside. Can’t let someone like this get left behind.

……What do you think we should do? Options aren’t plentiful.

I’d be the best decoy.

Crouke clenched her teeth.

…………What’s this, Lieutenant?

She adjusted her helmet deeper over her face, voice thin.

Sergeant, do you have anything you like?

……Games.

Games? I didn’t see that coming.

Even gamers get asked about favorites in-game.

Game is the only word for it.

Anything else? Cigarettes, for instance.

Nothing in particular

The matter of the whiskey remains unsettled. I will deliver it to you—eventually.

Actually, alcohol isn’t much

Was that right—then the woman?

Cruke avoided eye contact.

—If you can be satisfied with such a meager frame, then it’s fine, Sergeant.

I would reward you for your service—yet this is all I can offer.

Lieutenant

A light push—Io.

My type is a sister with a dynamite body.

Thud—Cruick’s merciless right straight.

Io remains calm despite the wound digging into his abdomen.

You should learn respect for rank and how to handle women.

…Maybe.

No, but... slightly easier. Should thank it.

Then I’ll leave it to you. Execute the operation. Prepare accordingly.

Agent Io turned on her heel before Crewk could say anything.

—Agent Io, excellent work. Crewk McGabbans condition has stabilized.

That’s good. I’ll expect a reward when the mission clears.

Return a thumbs-up to the goddess. Roleplay has reached the point of astonishment.

To Crewk, Io’s back looked like quiet encouragement.

Outside the warehouse, Carlyle was servicing his rifle and, upon seeing Io’s face, said:

—Sergeant isn’t a lolicon. That’s a relief.

—…………Corporal.

—Oops, kidding.

—But Sergeant, it’s an honor to work with you. That part wasn’t a joke.

—Overkill.

Overkill? Carlyle began assembling his Raven.

—Isolated, no support, insufficient weapons and ammunition, and over half the unit unable to sustain combat.

Sergeant stays level-headed. Tough guy.

Io said nothing.

It's just a game—nothing more—but even Io couldn't stay composed under these conditions.

Hex and Noiman and I have been together for about six years—we thought we’d experienced the worst parts of war side by side. But this one… ranks among the top.

We're just barely holding on ourselves—pushing through only because we have to protect the kids.

Some in the unit already show PTSD symptoms.

Carlyle shook his head as he spoke.

But Sergeant—well, I respect him regardless.

We’re betting on you. We’ll get those kids back alive, no matter what.

The senior corporal saluted Io.

…………mhm.

A forced grimace.

Just wants to play a cool, handsome lead in the game.

In reality, he’s a virgin with no sense of personal space around women.

—

Io, Crewk, and Carlyle examine the armored vehicle’s onboard camera feed displayed on their terminals.

"Still too many."

"Escape is possible."

"They’re faster than expected."

"We’ll manage."

Carlyle’s grim expression.

Io shows no reaction. Mentally engraving the projected map into his mind.

"Another debt added."

"All of us."

Sergeant, I’m not ungrateful. I’ll come back alive and pay every last cent."

"Answer is YES."

Cruik and Carlyle seemed satisfied with the pretentious reply.

Io had never once failed to meet their expectations. Always exceeded what was required.

This time will be no different. Complete the mission. Clear the stage. Exit the monster city without a single casualty.

If there’s some clearance rank system, triple-A rank is guaranteed.

“Revisiting the intel. Judging from the data gathered by the Fletcher TV crew, those infected with the Karauf virus… are extremely aggressive and troublesome.

Infection has been confirmed through bites, as well as ingestion of blood, bodily fluids, or vomit.”

Cruik spoke while scanning the crumpled memo paper littered with rough sketches.

“Notable point: all infected show increased muscular strength.”

“Just like that civilian earlier.”

Opposite tendency: sensory perception declines. Not much comfort in that under these conditions, but keep it in mind.

Cruik finished speaking and laughed like a stray dog. The usual laugh.

Can't help it. No useful information after all.

The plan?

Honestly, calling this a plan is presumptuous.

Cruik pointed at the map projected in midair.

The unit's current position was marked.

Sergeant Io will lure the infected group before the shelter away, isolate them. We'll escape during the opening.

Hex leaned against the wall, listening to the briefing.

One man alone... that's still reckless, isn't it?

Have we ever had a battle so far that wasn't reckless?

Cruik answered casually. His usual tone had returned.

A sharp electronic beep. A specific location was highlighted.

An old, castle-like structure located on Main Street.

"Point A is here—outside the hotel on the main thoroughfare. Don't expect to escape unscathed."

"What if something happens?"

"Move to Point B. A middle school two blocks east.

The route runs through a maze of urban streets. A sergeant should be able to lose pursuers.

…Still, to reduce the squad’s risk, we’ll need you to cause some distraction—enough to draw attention."

"What if that fails too?"

Cruik adjusted his cap lower over his eyes.

"Plan B. Exit via the sewer system.

But the tunnels are likely tangled. No map available.

…In that case, we’ll wait at the gas station twelve kilometers east of the city…."

"Understood. If worst comes to worst, leave me behind. I’ll handle it."

A silence settled over the group. No one spoke.

……There’s still a chance of survival, right?

I’ve got the goddess of luck on my side.

Blue Goblet remained expressionless at the edge of Io’s vision.

『Maximum tactical support provided.』

(That’s reassuring.)

Crook zoomed in on the map and concluded.

Let’s begin.

—

Exiting the shelter and ascending the stairs, Io greeted coolly.

Good afternoon?

Bloodshot eyes. Filthy bodies. Shaking shoulders, heaving breaths.

Indeed, this is a proper zombie movie. No matter how much time passes, the classics of horror never fade.

Io struck the pot and its iron lid together like cymbals.

Hey hey hey!

There were toys like this. A monkey puppet that clanged cymbals nonstop.

Io was exactly that now. The deafening noise echoed, and “they” responded immediately.

How’s it going, gentlemen and ladies! Let me entertain you all!

Io kicks up rubble, scattering it into the air. Infected creatures surge after, like beasts on the hunt.

The grotesque game begins.

—Sergeant, they’ve all gone after him! Begin boarding and loading!

—No need to rush. I’ll enjoy this for a while.

Leap over debris, scale walls, tumble down stairs, vault over cars.

Parkour unleashed through the ruins of Monster Town.

Feels surprisingly exhilarating.

Io turns only his head, grinning at the endless swarm of infected spewing blood and saliva as they chase.

—

Like a stormcloud… perhaps that’s an exaggeration. Io thinks while scaling the wall.

A few meters below, deranged humans scramble and leap, biting at Io’s feet.

Endless. Like ants swarming over prey, they emerged from every direction.

— Agent Io, condition is deteriorating.

— After sprinting endlessly and then rock climbing, of course.

— Please pause briefly. Nanomachines require readjustment.

After wandering around to lure the infected. Exhaustion sets in.

Blue Goddess, complying with Blue Goblet’s request, Io sits on a large protrusion along the wall.

The hotel Io is now scaling, a classic design modeled after a fortress, lies directly ahead.

The original rendezvous point…

— This won’t work.

With so many infected gathered here, rendezvous is impossible. The unit would be exposed to undue risk.

It’s not impossible to separate them once, but it’s risky. Still, that kind of play is entertaining, I suppose.

『Nanomachine calibration in body complete』

‘Is it really ready?’

‘Not perfect, but no further performance gains are possible under current conditions.’

Io’s nanomachines had sustained damage prior to cryo-sleep and remained in an incomplete state, apparently.

The pre-play flavor text mentioned as much—auxiliary brain functions, or something similar.

Blue Goblet had repaired them as thoroughly as possible, but data lost during storage could not be recovered.

That’s why Io had consistently recommended active combat experience.

『Further version upgrades will be implemented in the future』

‘Good. Now then, let’s ascend.’

Io begins scaling the hotel wall again. Inside, infected overflow, and entry points are sealed to contain them.

Standing on the hotel's rooftop, surveying the ruined cityscape, a transmission comes in from Crewk McGavran.

—Sergeant, sorry—schedule’s been severely delayed—

The rendezvous time had passed.

—We ran into trouble avoiding the infected—

—Operational contingencies are expected—

—Are you already at the rendezvous point?—

—Yeah, but—

Io looks down. The numbers have increased further since earlier.

Even a brief glance fails to dislodge the sensation—something like a presence, or perhaps just instinct.

Either way, the rendezvous remains impossible.

—Private, don’t come here. Too many infected—

—…Understood. Abandon Point A. Moving to Point B—

—Where are you now?

Three kilometers north of the sergeant. Moving. Number of infected is low. Can shake them off.

Good. Task update. Resuming infection lure operation.

? Understood. But sergeant, don’t push yourself.

Io issues orders to Blue Goblet while manipulating the terminal.

(Goblet, do it.)

Ignition.

The gasoline station a kilometer away erupts in a massive explosion.

Roar. Tremor. Thick black smoke blasts skyward.

A trap set mid-chase. Blue Goblet manipulated.

Whoa, sergeant! I just told you not to push yourself!

They’re drawn by sound. The lieutenant’s route should be slightly safer now. End of transmission.

Sergeant.

Transmission ends. Below, the infected swarm that had gathered in front of the hotel is now being drawn toward the gasoline station.

The ruined landscape was already beyond repair, but it wasn’t entirely pointless.

Seemed like things would ease a little. Sergeant Io was reaching the rooftop edge to resume the game of tag when the terminal flared with new transmission.

Not Crewk. Nothing like the code used by 3552.

Feh? New event?

He flicked the terminal open in response. A woman’s voice came through.

—Looks like you made a real mess. You set this up, didn’t you?

—…Who’s this? Anyone still alive in this city? …Don’t know who you are, but did I just cause trouble?

—No, not really. I’ve heard of you, Sergeant Io.

—Oh yeah? I’ve never heard of you.

Static-laced transmission. The woman’s voice sounded strained.

—This is Syndicate Assault Team Number Four. Operation code: Reaper.

Sergeant Io, requesting support.

Sinclair. The ones from before.

Is that a joke? You should know our situation. We're the ones who need the support.

Please, Sergeant, this is a high-priority mission. Just hear me out.

Keep it brief.

Io decided to delay departure. Leaned against the edge, gestured ahead.

This is classified. Do not speak of it outside these walls.

I came here to recover the Kharaf Virus research data stored in this city.

Research data? Here… in a location past the front lines?

The research team believed it was absolutely necessary. They had already achieved results.

But… trouble occurred. The team was wiped out.

Trouble.

The last data transmission confirmed they had completed a prototype of the cure.

It’s necessary. This isn’t just a problem for the Karaf continent. It involves the future of Sitalskia.

Io tilted his shoulders and asked.

Why would you need my help? You’re a special unit. You should have full support.

We were detected by the Weedran. We’ve fought the enemy and the infected. We’re in total collapse.

Survivors?

Just me.

A hollow reply. Loss of comrades, perhaps.

We can’t retreat. The cure is wasted on the scaled ones. It must be retrieved.

You’re asking me specifically. That means no reinforcements.

No. Time is the only thing we lack. Reinforcements are en route, but they won’t arrive in time.

I bought time. But not much longer.

Please. Yes. The Reaper said it.

The Charger said I was usable.

As if it were convenient for you?

A meaningless quip. If this were just a scripted event in the game, there'd be no choice but to accept.

『Agent Io, the treatment for the virus is vital to the survival of the human species.

Mission update. Retrieve the antidote.』

(OK.)

The GO signal came from Blue Goblet. Then there was no reason to hesitate.

Would be nice if there were a clear reward for this.

『Sergeant, I know you're in a bad situation. But』

Enough. I understand. I'll help you. Give me the rendezvous point.

Quick exchange of information. The Reaper’s voice carried a faint return of strength.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Io cut the transmission and reconnected to Crewk.

Lieutenant.

Sergeant, we're in the middle of extraction! Keep it short!

Plan B. Leave me behind.

What? What are you saying?! What happened?!

Trouble.

Crewk raises his voice.

—Report the situation.

—Abandon Point B. Meet outside the city.

—So you're saying you're in a critical situation?

—No. After assessing the city's condition, I've determined Point B is too risky.

If our only goal is evacuating 3552, a armored vehicle charge would be safer.

If Crewk and Carlyle are willing to commit, they could push through, crushing the infected.

—You're not seriously thinking of dying, are you?

—Not at all. Why would you think that?

—Really? If you give me any half-baked excuse, I won't forgive you.

—Private, this route is bad! Give orders!

—Wait a moment! Find a way through! ……Sergeant, you're really coming back, right?

—Answer: YES.

Crewk exhales deeply.

—...Hah... I understand.

Sergeant, charge in—capture him!

Re-route! Plan B!

What? Leave the corporal behind?

His own request!

...Damn it!

Carlyle’s怒声. Io scratches his head.

"Looks busy. Communication ending."

Communication ends. Io finally resumes movement.

—

Ironically, Io plunges into the sewer exactly as pre-planned in Plan B.

The Sinclair team’s Reaper designated a manhole near the rendezvous point.

The research team’s base was likely located underground. Given the state of the city, a logical choice.

Sewers typically conjure images of filthy, stinking, oppressive darkness.

This one was precisely that. Musty stench. Rotten odor. Thick, stagnant air.

Sergeant Io tilts his head, nodding with faint approval as he scans the surroundings. This game really does render even the dimmest corners with precision.

“Sergeant Io, I appreciate the support.”

The Reaper stands poised just below the manhole, waiting.

Same SF-styled armor as the Chargers they encountered before.

A small light mounted on the shoulder illuminates Io. The beam is intense.

“Blinding.”

As Io says it, the Reaper adjusts the angle of the light, shifting it to shine directly at the ground.

“Didn’t expect you’d actually show up.

…Just checking—no recording devices, right?”

The Reaper removes the helmet’s visor.

The face guard folds back and stows, revealing the face.

Sharp eyes. Thin, raised brows. A blonde beauty with a commanding presence.

My operational objective includes preserving humanity. The virus is an obstruction.

That’s… well… something along the lines of a noble mission. Still, good. I’m glad to meet a comrade.

Incidentally, I enjoy zombie films. But I don’t wish to experience one firsthand.

Hmph. I agree.

Goblet interjects.

They are not the kind of zombies defined by conventional standards.

(That much is obvious.)

Reaper stands rigidly before Io, raising a clenched fist to the chest.

A salute, if one could call it that.

Sergeant, this is a critical mission. We must recover the cure—no matter what happens.

No matter what.

Hm.

I’m risking my life. Depending on circumstances, I might even have to kill you. Be ready.

When that time comes, look after 3552 for me.

What did the Reaper feel at Ioh’s indifferent reply.

A small smile. Then, manipulating the helmet, deploying the visor.

Details explained during transit. This way.

The Reaper advanced through the dim sewer tunnel, rifle held steady, eyes never relaxing.

――

Human corpses littered the sewer at irregular intervals—infected soldiers shot dead.

Where did it come in from.

A significant number of residents descended into the sewers to evade the spreading virus and combat with the scaled ones.

They didn’t survive much, did they

The passage splits into numerous forks and features steep inclines and declines. The Reaper moves through it without hesitation.

What was the name of this city again.

Yoldbyk. A bit off the main road of the Karaf Continent, smelled rustic compared to other places—but the residents were all good people.

You know the details here?

This is my hometown. I stayed here until I took the Sinclair Selection Exam.

Io did not offer comfort, nor did he pry.

The Reaper’s AI registered the indifference as favorable.

Moving forward with muffled footsteps. The sound of sewage flowing masks their presence.

At a maintenance door, the Reaper switched off the light.

Night vision available?

Io activated the visor-mounted night vision without a word.

The field of view turned green. Amidst it, the Reaper’s friendly ID signal flickered intermittently.

OK. Hostiles likely ahead. Stay alert.

Is the research facility past here?

Less than a kilometer. Fast pace—there it is.

—Has the enemy already occupied the facility?

The system was locked during the engagement a few hours ago—escaped with it. Shouldn’t be accessible easily.

Io responds flatly, checking the status of his Raven.

This game never lets up. Complacency always comes back to bite—always at the worst possible moment.

He learned that the hard way during a previous playthrough, when a critical Raven component detached in a malfunction.

Check OK. Let’s go.

No noise. Hold fire until absolutely necessary. Suppressors don’t eliminate sound completely.

A new silencer had been mounted on Io’s Raven—supplied by the Reaper during transit.

Not his preferred length, but acceptable.

If it grants an advantage, there’s no choice but to use it.

If I go down, use my terminal to seize control of the facility’s systems.

Your terminal... Little Lady? What the hell, that's an antique relic."

"Unit 3552 is short on supplies."

"...No choice. A squad of underage recruits."

"Regardless, we'll do what we can."

"Understood. That's all I needed to hear."

The Reaper carefully disengaged the maintenance door's lock and slipped inside with silent precision.