Monster Hunter

"Compile enemy distribution data in broad strokes."

Io did not hesitate in unfolding the information gathered by Blue Goblet.

It felt as though he was effortlessly surpassing the individual limits of what could be collected in a short time, but there was no room to dwell on such details. Not for anyone.

"My assumptions may be dismissed as contrivance or delusion. But I am certain this reduces risk.

'Output devices are equipment placed by the human species to restrict enemy movement.'

'Infected individuals become more active upon power cutoff.'

Let us first establish these two points as shared understanding."

Reaper and Vime appeared startled by the enemy distribution data delivered to their terminals.

"Amazing. In such a short time, you managed to reach this."

"There are areas beyond surveillance camera coverage. Do not become overconfident."

"Operation plan?"

This isn't a operation. It's a reconfirmation of movement.

The Reaper pointed at several locations on the map.

Vime, to the control room. You volunteered for this job—don’t screw it up.

Io waits outside the data room. Enters the moment the door opens.

I’ve cut the access point to this sector—just in case. Wouldn’t want to be surrounded by monsters, would you?

Movement is conducted via ducts.

Better not be a mouse in a sack.

If the map data’s accurate, that won’t happen.

All three knew their tasks. Few words exchanged in final confirmation. Immediate action followed.

Three escape routes are assumed, including the contingency plan.

Use the ducts to retrace the path from the control room, skirt the enemy positions Io identified, or push through by force.

Would be nice to return from the control room if possible. The other two are too unpredictable.

Initiate combat operation. Stay alert. Assume full combat from this moment onward.

Vime, understood. I’ll contact you immediately upon returning to the control room.

Linking the three terminals, synchronizing the time. General combat unit, Audar’s elite special forces, and the black ops that never see daylight. An unprecedented amalgamation of units has finally achieved terminal linkage.

Vime lunges toward the maintenance hatch, vanishing into the cramped, rat-like passage.

Reaper maintains a steady grip on Raven, advancing into the corridor ahead.

Io speaks to Goblet.

Ultimately, humans might be worse than the lizard.

‘What is the intent behind that statement?’

‘Humans make mistakes. That’s inherent. The fact that we tried to control it, and then mistook that for actual control—probably that’s the issue.’

Can Sitalskia overcome this? As long as it doesn’t get wiped out by the virus.

'We are here to prevent the extinction of the human species.'

'Even if you’re superior in every way—can you become a doctor who treats those who want to die?'

Io stared at the cluster of flesh cocoons. At the monster with its neck severed.

Rust falling from its body. The words that had flickered through his mind moments ago now resurfaced.

'Well, it all depends on the information we acquire.

I pray the virus doesn’t get any worse. I’ve had enough shocks already.'

It was only ever meant to be a bargaining chip. That’s all it should’ve been.

He’d known that. The virus that strips humans of reason and turns them into violent beasts.

But his understanding had been naive. The presence of Weedran—a powerful competitor in survival—had made the threat seem insignificant.

This thing can erase humanity.

—It was supposed to be just a game. What’s this frustration?

An odd... loneliness, or something like that. Resignation entwined with impatience. Why does it feel this way?

Silence lingered. Blue Goblet swam through Io’s vision, returning to its usual position.

Reaper’s transmission. A strained voice.

—Enemy... damn it, enemy confirmed. Unbelievable numbers.

“I’m free. If you need help, say so.”

—No problem. Focus on your own task.

—Damn it, can’t avoid it. Firing. Expect a spectacle. Prepare for combat.

“Don’t die, Reaper.”

—You too, Io.

A gunshot rang out from afar without pause. The silence shattered, sharp and painful.

Firing came in bursts. Not just Ravens. Pistols too. Reaper must’ve drawn the sidearm.

No time to reload. Situation’s worse than expected.

This is Vime—problem in the duct. Sergeant Io, can you hear me?

This is Io—Reaper’s engaged in combat. Situation’s looking bad here too. Keep it short.

There was a rat. Likely infected.

Any others besides humans and lizards?

I eliminated it. But honestly, the situation’s unfavorable.

Need backup?

Too late now. Transmitting vital data in real time.

If I go down, you retrieve the terminal and take over. Break into the data room.

If I go down, your wife’ll cry.

No need to worry about that. Vime, out.

The operation stumbled from the start. Reaper and Vime entered combat nearly simultaneously.

Io couldn’t stay out of it either.

Moving target approaching. Seems drawn to the gunfire.

We’ll be flanked if we don’t get past this.

Five, six—still increasing.

Nothing special.

They’re not immortal.

Just momentum. The strength of their skull versus lead—clearly decided.

—Contact, forward passage—

Monsters hunting.

Io pulled Raven in.

—

Combat support, initiated.

The moment those words registered, sensation sharpened. Consciousness snapped into focus.

The pressure, the constriction in the dark—misinterpreted.

Darkness now fully belonged to Io.

A hulking form lunging forward, shoving aside the stretcher. Head violently swaying side to side.

The world slowed. Breath halted. Io became Io.

—One down—

The lead unit fell without ceremony. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing at all.

No living thing could withstand a spike of lead fired at a speed beyond visual recognition. Two clean shots. Skull shattered. Brain scattered.

‘The momentum of assault is a threat.’

‘Stop here!’

‘Coming behind.’

Double tap. Precise aim. Beyond the scope of the visor’s night vision, seeing through the darkness to its core. Io reads the enemy’s presence.

Another unit falls. The creature that had screamed now tumbles forward in mid-stride, its crushed head scraping the ground, dragged along by the stretcher it had been dragging, then blown apart.

‘Enemy down! Goblet, watch the rear!’

‘No motion response. No heat source.’

‘Sleep well, kin.’

Teeth clenched. Inhale deeply. More enemies come.

The corridor isn’t wide. Enemy charging straight through it. Like shooting ducks in a barrel.

But numbers were the issue. While he finished the first, the next closed in. The monster’s abnormally developed body offered some resistance to Raven’s rounds.

Io never panicked. Eyes wide. Tongue flicking.

Distance shrinking. Bodies piling up. Nauseating stench. Filth.

At the reload, he was finally forced into close quarters. Io slammed the rifle butt into the creature’s neck with superhuman force. Cracked it.

A slickness on the rifle grip. Too late. No time for infection now. Not when life hangs by a thread.

Do your best. Whatever comes after, deal with it later.

“How many left?!”

Io roared, spraying bullets at the next enemy.

‘Follow-up, clear the base.’

‘Good news!’

Goblet delivered good news. The wave of enemies surging forward had broken.

The monster raised its massively swollen arm. Head untargetable. Shots into the abdomen—no reaction.

Raven thrust forward to block. Too much force. Unyielding. Pull the arm back to deflect. When the monster staggered, Io drew the handgun.

Close range. Spray wildly. Cover face with left arm, shield mucosa from bodily fluid.

Next. The last one. Charging forward, dragging the corpse just shot.

Io curled into a shell, like a turtle in its carapace, and slammed into the monster’s foot.

The momentum of the charge was immense. The massive form, likely exceeding a hundred kilograms, rolled several meters after losing balance.

Sitting down, he aimed carefully, double-tapped.

The enemy wave was completely suppressed. Io picked up Raven, checked his condition, then wiped off the clinging mucus.

"All clear."

"Clear. Well done."

"Stay alert. Do your best.

...Reaper, encountered a swarm of infected, eliminated all. How about you?"

The shared comms window on the linked terminal flooded with gunfire and static.

"Damn it, Vime, can you hear me?"

"This is Vime. Still alive. Power-down sequence is ready."

"Initiate it. Reaper's showing signs of overload. I'm moving to cover him."

Before that—something to relay. Speculation, at best.

Io began moving quickly, swapping magazines as she went.

Short and to the point.

That output unit. From a quick glance, it appears the power supply is not an official model.

So what?

The startup current when restoring power—

Cut it, Lieutenant.

The output unit may be unusable upon reboot.

If you're facing problems, don’t just buy time—evacuate.

Enough, Lieutenant. I appreciate the warning.

Io broke into a run. Through the previous drink room, slipping between the countless meat cocoons.

No response from Reaper. A chill ran down her spine.

Two turns passed. She’d covered at least two hundred meters. The corpses of infected entities Reaper had dispatched littered the path.

And at last, she confirmed the path blocked by a shutter.

A single passage. Reaper would not miss it.

——Reaper, respond! The shutter’s down!

A repeated call. Finally, she answers.

—Sorry, Io, I’m in the middle of acquisition!

The shutter’s down!

—Can’t help it! Access point封锁 is proceeding as planned!

You’re isolated!

—We’ll chat later!

Again, gunfire. A monster’s roar.

Reaper ignores her.

(Goblet, open.)

—Enemy infiltration expected.

(Deal with them all, no problem.)

—Risk isn’t worth it, I think.

(I want to save him.)

—If you say so, Blue Goblet complies.

At the moment he tried to access the shutter terminal, every red line running along the wall, every indicator light, every warning beacon vanished.

Power cutoff. No way to move the shutter now.

—Jamming electromagnetic waves confirmed as blocked. Vime Amultas appears to have executed the operation plan.

—Damn it. Reaper, enemy reinforcements are expected... survive.

Between the bursts of violent combat music, Reaper’s laughter echoed.

—Leave it to me.

Ioh pivoted. A backflip in front of the data room.

Moving back and forth, like a bear in a zoo, wasting motion.

Ioh snorted. Exactly as anticipated—things had begun.

—Lieutenant, please hurry with the data room’s unlock procedure.

—No need to say it. Something wrong?

The cocoons are moving—dammit.

Thud, thud, thud—like a heartbeat, the flesh cocoons trembled.