Clearing the Game at the End of the World

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If we're to pinpoint the simplest criterion distinguishing victory from defeat in battle, I'd unquestionably place order at the top of the list.

As the intensity of the battle escalates and one side begins to gain the upper hand, chaos is bound to ensue within the ranks of the army facing defeat.

A quick glance can easily differentiate the sides: one orderly and the other not, indicating that the side maintaining order is winning.

In that sense, the current battlefield was an odd scene where victory and defeat coexisted.

Boom!

"Plasma charge in 7 seconds!"

"Suppression unit, discharge!"

Zap!

"Aaaargh!"

"Rrrrgh, Aaaagh!"

Electromagnetic nets and plasma ejectors, aimed fire at the incapacitated enemies.

On one side, trained soldiers were mechanically dismantling the mutants, literally grinding them to pieces,

Rumble, crack! Snap!

"Don't get close! It's a variant type!"

"Damn it, who's using a normal shield instead of a bubble? The thing uses absorbed corpses as its outer layer, so I told you not to use high-defense shields several times!"

"Aaargh! Get it off, get it off! Sergeant Manny! Aaaargh!"

"Summers, you idiot, watch where you're stepping…. I told you, you fool!!!!"

Bang!

On the other side, type-3 mutants of the Artist Union were causing havoc in an attempt to break through the frontlines.

Similar to the variant seen months ago in District 45's underground, but this variant swallows everything nearby whole, embedding it into its exterior in real-time.

A variant that causes claustrophobia just by approaching, compelling the removal of gas masks designed for suppression.

And then,

Bang—

"Ugh!"

"Sniper! Keep your heads down! Down!"

"It's not us! The main line of the ejector has been hit! They're targeting our equipment!"

Any slight exposure was met with inevitable sniping.

Professor acknowledged his miscalculation. He thought Dome's defensive capability would be enough to fend off the enemy's offensive, but the enemy's penetration power far exceeded expectations.

‘The situation is… more serious than I thought. At this rate, we'll just be beaten down.'

Even as he was shooting down three mutants breaching the base's defense wall, his eyes continuously scanned the battlefield.

‘Absence of a commander. Were the leaders attacked?'

‘Three type-3s infiltrated: a variant, a suppression suit, and what seems to be an attacker of the command tent.'

‘Recovering from the chaos among our forces is the key to victory. If we can return to operating by the manual, as if there were no type-3s, the true value of our army will shine, and our combat effectiveness will skyrocket.'

‘We must capture the enemy's elite. As quickly as possible, no matter who.'

What needed prioritization was clear.

‘The variant forcing the easily-peeled bubble shields. The suppression suit stripping away gas masks to reduce chemical protection, meaning they intend to expose us to the smoke. Attacking the command tent aims to paralyze our command structure. And the sniper, causing our movements to freeze. Their entire strategy is focused on causing maximum chaos among us. They know just how powerful Dome's army becomes once it starts operating properly!'

The mutants running rampant at the vanguard expose our troops to smoke, a soldier engulfed in madness breaks the formation, and amidst the resulting chaos, the sniper incapacitates key military branches or equipment.

A strategy thoroughly focused on the vicious cycle of confusion. Facing the enemy here only plays into their hands, so we had no choice but to strike at the enemy's weak points as well.

I can't go. If the enemy's long-range team collapses, we need a command unit to reorganize our troops and issue appropriate orders.

Vex can't go either. With him frantically patching up breached defense lines, losing him would severely weaken one side. Somehow, he was always a step ahead, darting through the battlefield's openings, thanks to which several nearly shattered defenses were precariously holding.

"Ian. Ezel. Can you do it?"

"Heh heh heh. When have I ever been able to do it? I did it because I had to."

Whether he had a cigarette inside his skin mask was unclear, but with a snort, smoke billowed out from the mask in dozens of streams.

The BDSM armed truck, heavily modified through all sorts of augmentations to maximize its armor-piercing capability, and Ezel's exosuit loaded inside.

With military firepower tied down, these two were our most potent ace cards.

"…Plasma charge, ready. But I must repeat, firing now will expose us to sniper fire before the cloaking device can be reactivated. If more than three high-power equipments are hit, we can no longer maintain the frontline…"

"Set it to maximum output. We have no other choice. Corporal."

"…It's lieutenant. I'll initiate the countdown, then fire. Be cautious of the backdraft."

He began issuing orders to the equipment operators, zipping up his uniform adorned with a corporal's insignia.

One of the non-commissioned officers and lieutenants making do, trying to reorganize the frontline in the absence of command-level officers.

He must know. The moment the cloaking device flickers off due to the plasma ejector's airflow, he'll become a prime target for snipers. That's why he's wearing a lower-ranked uniform. Not just out of a desire to live, but understanding his crucial role in this dire situation, he desperately conceals himself and continues issuing orders.

In such circumstances, I ordered the use of the equipment, accepting the loss of the cloaking device, and he complied.

He had weighed his life and judged a single plasma discharge to be more valuable than risking being exposed and sniped.

No words were exchanged about it. Just a brief eye contact before returning to our duties.

Grumble, rumble! Thud-thud-thud-thud-

"Countdown 10. 9. 8. 7-"

"Finish it quickly and come back. We've already suffered damages beyond easy repair. Even if we handle the enemy's rear lines, pushing back the mutants won't be easy."

"Those half-dead cripples and nerds who can't even face the enemy are a breeze. I'll be back in no time."

"….Just a few days ago, you were getting thrashed by those nerds."

"Heh heh heh! Isn't that even better? After being hit all this time, it's our turn to hit back. Don't chicken out and run, Ezel."

Their frivolous jokes ease the tension of battle.

"6. 5. 4-"

"…Er, let me ask you one thing, Professor Park."

"What? Don't want to go? It's too late to back out now."

"Not that. That, um… Do you know… and still send us?"

His hesitation is uncharacteristic, stumbling over his words.

Even as he spoke to me, Ian's gaze was fixed on the distant hill, where the enemy was. Not the usual madness in his eyes, but something contemplative, a look that placed something other than death between him and the enemy.

In the battlefield, they call it ‘the dying light.'

"Stop talking nonsense and treat war as just war. I've never seen anyone who got sentimental and came back in one piece."

"….Right, I'll save the sentimentality for after I return."

"And, just one thing from me! If I die, I've arranged to scatter all my possessions in the District 47 chat room…."

That rascal is up to his nonsense again.

"…And try to bring Ezel back alive too."

"Heh, heh, heh. Well? If sentimental types die at a higher rate, then that guy's already a corpse."

"Ah, just one more! To the bats and deer, the shittiest idiots in the world, but still, they were lovable idiots-"

"3. 2. 1. Plasma, eject."

Zzzt- Zzzzzt, Wheeeeee-!

Whoooooosh!!!

Squeeeee-! Grrrrr!

"Wow, damn it! Say we're starting at least!"

"Keep babbling and you'll bite your tongue off! Che-ri! Hold onto something in the cargo bay!"

"Ah, not yet! The road has melted! Let, let the residual heat cool down before starting-"

"It's metal tires! It's nice and warm in the cold weather!"

Continuously heated plasma through particle acceleration sweeps across the battlefield, and a truck armed with automatic turrets and saw blades raced out, scraping the ground that had turned into an empty lot in an instant.

I would have liked to observe them breaking through this siege, but there was no moment to rest. I stayed because I, too, had things to do here.

"Have the soldiers who went towards the command post returned? I was under the impression that most of the vehicle operators headed there with the broadcast."

"Not a single one has returned yet."

Professor lent his ear to the back. The core of the garrison, silent without a single gunshot. If there was a battle, there would be noise. If there wasn't, they would have safely returned.

"…..Understood."

"Good luck."

"You too."

The soldiers desperately trying to create an opening for the truck. After a short salute towards the lieutenant heading towards them, I ran towards the opposite direction of the front line, inside the garrison.

An indescribable chilling sensation. My mutated arms and upper body area were vibrating. As if calling out to me.

Not a hunch or inference, but a clear sensation. A sensation outside the realm of human sensory organs, unlike anything I've felt before.

Something physically changed, not just a feeling.

‘Arm. Chest and back. Next is… my head, huh. You virus bastard. I was hoping it would go down instead.'

I didn't realize it while running in sync with the group, but now crossing the garrison, my speed had long surpassed my usual full sprint.

Change. Desperately needed, yet too rapid and independent of my will.

‘It's starting to feel more and more like I'm on the path of dehumanization.'

[It's because you accepted it inwardly. From the transfer of control over your body to the rapid progression of mutation, these are ostensibly moving according to my will, but the fundamental changes are proceeding according to changes within you. Just as you had handed over control of your body out of a sense of indebtedness for having your life saved, what are you thinking? Our primary goal was ‘survival,' wasn't it? The essence of life. To survive, by any means necessary.]

Hyde's worried complaint. With a familiar sensation, I powered through my legs and jumped over two barracks. The inside is better than the outside. These legs won't break just by applying force. Although outwardly unchanged, it seems much has indeed transformed within. This might mean less time left than I thought. Not expecting a year now.

‘People change after all. It's been a busy year, perhaps I've changed a bit too.'

The faint sound of the wind and the full noise of the battlefield filled my ears. Fire and smoke. Torn and crushed combat vehicles. What a tremendous battle this has been.

Swoosh!

As I landed in front of the barracks, that ringing sensation intensified. A presence felt inside the half-collapsed barracks.

[He knows you're here.]

‘Because I came making such a noise.'

[He's not someone you can handle alone. Don't you see the signs of battle around? All fell by his hand.]

‘So, why did he fall this way? If he had pressed the front with the others, they would've been wiped out by now.'

[Don't you understand the meaning of his immobility? He's waiting for us to come.]

‘I know, bastard. It's a threat. If we don't move, he'll strike the barely holding front from behind.'

Throughout history and across cultures, the command center of a garrison is always the safest place, boasting formidable defenses.

The command center shield, boasting an output comparable to that of a decent tank shield.

Located at the heart of the assembly point for the current District 47 Support Forces' main combat equipment, combat vehicles.

And guarded round-the-clock by veteran soldiers.

That such a command center, at the heart of the garrison, was silenced by a single entity.

It was a clear testament to the level of combat power the entity possessed.

‘I was worried about not seeing the constantly vigilant one around, but here you were.'

The claw marks that smoothly sliced through combat vehicles made of solid alloy frames and still had enough force left to carve deep scars into the ground.

The dozens of distress signals detected since entering the radioactive zone in District 41, and the deep, sharp traces always left behind there.

The absence of blood indicated not a lack of battle, but that the remnants were the traces of pain left by people transformed into mutants by Orpheus, and the claw marks of the entity that effortlessly disabled the shelter's shields and defense systems with a single strike.

"He's waiting inside. That's it…."

Like issuing a challenge, incessantly irritating and recklessly revealing its position, the unknown enemy.

Looking around, I found a combat vehicle with its front intact among the torn ones.

The machine gun was perfectly prepared, and the ammo box was filled to the brim, neatly packed without a single bullet fired, as if killed before getting a chance to shoot.

"If he's expecting a splendid one-on-one duel, I really don't want to give him that satisfaction."

As always, the direction that spoils the enemy is the direction I must go.

Clang-Kerk!

Professor, turning the machine gun's barrel towards the command center, pulled the trigger towards the place where he felt a presence.

Thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk!

The firing sound, fundamentally different from that of a rifle, is destructive. The firing speed was so immense, it seemed as though it wasn't bullets but lasers being shot.

The barrack, ripped and scorched here and there, started to tear apart under the wave of violence, and everything remaining inside began to be pulverized without a trace.

"….To be late to the invitation is one thing, but to start sampling without even a greeting. Is it because he's young? Or is it a lack of manners?"

Just one. Excluding the place where I felt a presence from the start.

An old soldier. More precisely, a veteran, sitting atop a pile of torn and chopped bodies.

Worn military uniform. A broken and holed helmet. Half-untied boots and burn marks evident on an old-fashioned firearm.

Despite the deep wrinkles, the sun-burned face had a certain tautness to it.

Drip. Drip.

In the old man's hand was a body sliced diagonally. The body of the commanding officer of this place, familiar to me. The high-grade commander's shield, reacting to the projectiles, was deployed, and it seemed the old man had easily blocked the machine gun barrage with it.

"Even if you're senile, you've got a nasty hobby, old man."

"You should've come when called. I got so bored waiting for you, I ended up destroying all my toys. Hmm, as the wanderer said, I didn't want to move so I tried to do it haphazardly."

As the commander's shield ran out of power and turned off, the old man tossed him aside like trash.

"Waiting for me… What for?"

"Well. Let's call it an old man's curiosity? I've seen you. Through our lady's eyes. I've watched your broadcast too. Very…. It stirred me up. Seeing a young man with such remarkable claws, I watched your videos over and over, and over again."

"In this world! A viewer! Damn stalker, huh? I don't do meetups like this. Especially not with obsessive trash that conflates game characters with players. Characters are characters, and I'm the real human, Professor Park, you lunatic."

"Hahahaha! Have you heard of the phrase ‘a gem cannot be polished without friction'? No, of course not. What's hidden cannot always stay hidden. Am I not a monster born from the deepest recesses of the soul? I can see it. A wolf, an alpha wolf. I can't stand it. I want to take every single one of your claws, every last fang!"

The old soldier stood up. Holding a rifle slung over his shoulder in one hand to aim, and in the other hand, he grasped a broken greatsword pulled from his thigh, adopting a unique knife-fighting stance.

"Now that I've had my fill of appetizers to the point of bursting. It's about time for the main course, isn't it?"

"A duel in the 21st century? This goes beyond being old-fashioned; it's starting to stink of decay."

"Masterpieces increase in value as time passes. By that logic, you accepting this old man's invitation for a date is equally old-fashioned, isn't it?"

"If I hadn't accepted, you would have thrown the world into chaos."

Suddenly, everything in front of me blurred. The old man, wielding a sword and a gun. For some reason, instead of a human, I saw the figure of a four-legged beast in front of me. It felt like encountering a starving tiger deep in the mountains.

"Ah, how I miss it. Old memories. Excitement. Fear. Memories of running through mountains and rivers on all fours, and of living as a human soldier on two feet, all form the great material that makes up my existence. Though the old souls and the newly born soul lived in entirely different worlds, the law of the survival of the fittest remains unchanged."

Crack, crunch!

In an instant, my arm split open, and black carapace and hook-like large fingers grew out.

Slish. Slurgh-

Pleased with his transformation, the old man's body began to swell in an eerie manner.

The old man, relishing the air filled with the scent of blood, lowered his stance even further.

"Old Tiger Bulu. I wish to taste life with your claws."

"A talking tiger? Put it in a zoo….it would make a fortune!"

Crack!

Wham!

The moment Professor initiated the charge, the old man's body launched forward like a bolt of lightning.

I knew my entire body had mutated, not just my arms, but I hadn't yet gauged to what extent.

‘I know the sensation of exerting force. Full strength… to the point where it feels like my body will burst, full strength!'

Scream!

Slash!

.

.

.

.

.

Clang!!!!

Professor's descending left arm clashed with the old man's tearing attack.

Crash!

The metallic sound and shock of the impact were unbelievable for a collision between two humans.

Click- Bang!

Before the shock traveling up his arm could dissipate, Professor's second shot was effortlessly blocked by the old man kicking the gun's barrel with his combat boot.

"This… Not even giving me a moment to savor the aftermath? It was a strike I've wanted to taste for a very long time."

"Ptooey! If you die, I'll give you five minutes on your grave."

"Huhuhuhu. How delightful…how lofty!"

As Professor spat out a mouthful of blood, the old man's smile deepened.

Crash!

The claws of the two mutants clashed once again.

‘I'm losing. This monster, it's hard even to withstand!'

Death loomed clearly in Professor's eyes.

****