Ch.72Chapter 10. My Savior Who Came to Ruin You (1)

# Chapter 10. The Savior Who Came to Ruin You

Leticia continued to shout.

The louder and clearer she yelled, the faster she felt herself sobering up. Her headache had subsided considerably, and her bloated stomach had settled down.

Above all, she couldn’t relay instructions without shouting at the top of her lungs.

The interior of the District 13 shopping center was covered in marble, making sounds echo sharply. The noise of crows pecking at windows, soldiers’ commands, rifle fire—all these sounds mixed together, draining the souls from people.

And that wasn’t all.

The top floor of the shopping center doubled as an observation deck, offering a clear view of Hampton city.

But now, thousands of beaks and just as many pairs of eyes were peering in at the humans on the top floor.

Beaks were visible everywhere, and eyes could be seen from all directions. The large, round, protruding eyes characteristic of birds. So large and clear that they reflected people’s images like mirrors.

They pecked at the windows and frames in unison.

Since this area was originally designed as an observation deck, the glass ceiling was sturdier than elsewhere.

The crows seemed to know this. So, in a synchronized rhythm and tempo, they concentrated their pecking on the areas that vibrated the most.

“Lights on! Three, two, one!”

Each time, soldiers and brave civilian volunteers shone LED lights at the glass ceiling.

The crow flock, momentarily blinded by the sudden light, retreated. In that interval, soldiers wearing gas masks and gloves attached duct tape and metal plates to the windows.

“We need to build barricades by the windows! Take out all the furniture from the offices and stack them! That way, even if they break through, we can retreat into the offices! Hurry!”

Simple and clear instructions. Soldiers and civilians followed enthusiastically as one. After confirming everything was running smoothly, Leticia rushed downstairs.

“First squad, commence firing!”

“Second squad, reload!”

Downstairs, soldiers who had established defensive positions were firing.

The soldiers responded relatively calmly. The zombie crows were large and numerous. And because they were flying up through narrow stairwells, they were densely packed.

Taking turns firing in controlled bursts was far more effective than shooting randomly out of fear.

“First squad reload! Throw grenades!”

Even in the brief moment when the first squad pulled back and the second squad took their place, they threw grenades and flash bangs indiscriminately.

Click, prime it, and throw it down the stairwell two seconds later. Mangled crows dropped down with thuds.

But they couldn’t keep this up forever. Ammunition was running low, while the storm of birds showed no signs of abating. To make matters worse, headquarters was still out of contact.

“Is the radio signal completely dead?”

The communications soldier wiped sweat from his forehead and replied to Leticia’s question.

“No, ma’am. The signal is fine, but they’re not responding! It seems the system hasn’t been restored yet.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a signal came through from the other side. The communications soldier quickly adjusted the frequency. After exchanging brief, urgent code words, he made a bewildered expression and pulled out his mobile phone.

“What are you doing?!”

The communications soldier showed her his phone screen. It was a group chat for the 14th Military Police. It seemed they had invited everyone regardless of rank, department, or unit.

– Situation update.

– The 14th MP command vehicle and communications unit are under attack by unidentified groups. Zombies have now converged on the area, making command system recovery difficult.

– Due to command and communications system failure, effective anti-air fire has not been possible. To make matters worse, power outages are hampering transmissions. Zombie infections are increasing outside the safe zone.

– All forces should prioritize defending the Hampton Safe Zone, Districts 1-9. All forces inside and outside the safe zone should switch to entrance defense. Move immediately to secure the access points.

It seemed reasonable at first glance, but in reality, it wasn’t.

The 14th MP forces were scattered throughout Hampton, and like Leticia’s defense team, they would be holding their positions.

But to secure access points while zombies were increasing in real-time? It didn’t make sense to Leticia.

“Sergeant, don’t we have a backup communications protocol?”

“We do, but there’s no response.”

“Let me see your phone.”

The communications soldier stared blankly as Leticia suddenly took a selfie. She took a couple more shots, seemingly unsatisfied with the angle.

Finally, she got the photo she wanted—zoomed out to show her name, rank, and unit. Leticia posted her photo to the group chat.

– This is Leticia Tipton from the 8th MP Special Task Force. Though off-duty, I’ve taken over defense command of the District 13 shopping center due to the urgent situation. Could I know the affiliation of the person who just issued orders? A photo would be appreciated.

The messenger chat scroll stopped abruptly. A moment later, a photo appeared. It showed a man with a bushy beard and wide eyes. The expression was somewhat unsettling, as if the photo had been taken haphazardly.

– I am Captain Oberon from the 14th MP Public Security Bureau. Why is an 8th MP Special Task Force officer commanding 14th MP forces?

Leticia thought for a moment.

Public Security Bureau. Within the National Military Police, which handles both police and military duties, the Public Security Bureau leans more toward the “police” side. It’s also a department capable of effective command in chaotic situations.

Which made the current situation even more confusing. Leticia sent another message.

– Why create a group chat when functioning communication networks exist? Is this the security standard of the 14th MP?

After a brief pause, Leticia quickly added:

– Moreover, our communications are working normally, but you’re not responding. Do you really not have a single working radio among your entire communications unit and headquarters?

The reply was curt.

– I appreciate your concern, but isn’t this overstepping your authority, even for the Special Task Force? Why is the 8th STF commanding the 14th MP? Who authorized this?

The 14th MP and 8th MP were practically rivals. Their proximity to each other led to frequent disputes over trivial matters.

While Leticia’s questions were reasonable, they were emotionally difficult to accept.

Just then, a photo appeared in the group chat.

* * * * *

What are these guys up to?

I carefully approached through the blind spots between parked cars. All four of them were moving heavy bombs while constantly cursing.

“Don’t you know that the more complicated an operation gets, the more likely it is to fail?”

It wasn’t because of the weight—they seemed to be disagreeing. The man on the opposite side shrugged.

“What’s complicated about it? We just plant the bombs here, detonate them, and it’s done.”

“This isn’t nearly enough!”

“I told you, we’re not blowing up the entire building. We’re just taking out the load-bearing columns. If we topple this shopping center, it can easily crush the safe zone barrier.”

“And the 14th MP bastards are just a bonus. But who’s this woman?”

One of them looks at his phone while moving the C4 explosives.

“What is it?”

“Leticia? 8th Special Task Force? Seems she’s in this building? Perfect, I’d love to blow all those bastards away.”

“Camilla.”

At that word, all four stopped and nodded.

“We must avenge Camilla. Our comrade. Shit, I thought we were getting close…”

These guys seem to be from the Central Liberation Front. But this is ridiculous. Planting C4 explosives under columns to topple the building? They’re planning to blow up my business contact point?

“Krr, kyaaak!”

Several human figures walked down from the parking lot exit.

“Persistent, aren’t they?”

The four quickly took positions and fired their automatic rifles. R-15 rifles. Excellent performance as standard-issue models. But they’re using them rather carelessly. Some people conserve even pistol ammunition, but these guys have ammo to spare?

“Wait.”

Someone raised a hand.

“We’re told to wait? It’ll be more effective if we detonate with the other teams.”

“Ah, you sluggish bastards.”

“We’re supposed to wait until the 14th MP guys gather, then blow it. Let’s take a break. Those idiots, crawling in here to die.”

I’m not sure what they’re talking about, but let me think this through.

First, these guys are sitting here planning to blow up my contact point.

Second, I’m annoyed they’re treating Camilla as dead when she’s perfectly alive.

Third, C4 explosives, especially in that quantity, are extremely difficult to obtain, and military-grade ones fetch a high price.

Fourth, that car is very tempting. A car like that could get me through to the hotel.

There’s no reason not to kill them.

I carefully retrieved the Elza flag I had covered the cart with. Stealthily crawling, I gently opened the minivan’s fuel cap.

I rolled up the flag and pushed it into the fuel cap, waited for it to soak in the gasoline, then lit it with a lighter. Now this flag will burn like a fuse and eventually make the car explode.

Quietly, I drew my pistol and moved. These guys were wearing armor plates and ballistic helmets, and even at close range, they could easily stop pistol rounds.

BOOM! The minivan exploded with a thunderous noise.

“What the—!”

Got them.

I rushed out, firing two shots into the face of the closest one.

I sprayed bullets at the legs of the guy standing a bit further away. After emptying my Beretta 92, I threw it at his face and finished him with the 1911 pistol in my left hand.

The other two fired their R-15 rifles at me, but they had no chance. I was rolling on the ground.

I grabbed the fallen man’s R-15 and, lying prone, aimed for their feet.

“Aaaagh!” “Guhk!”

They screamed and fell to their knees. I shot their knee joints as well. With their ligaments gone, they won’t have to worry about arthritis.

I took a magazine from a fallen man’s body armor, reloaded, and jumped sideways with the empty magazine in hand.

I approached the fallen men. They were still breathing, so I couldn’t just leave.

I threw the empty magazine. Clang, a loud noise. While their attention was drawn to the magazine hitting the ground, I fired in controlled bursts.

“Kuk… kuuuugh…”

One died. One survived. I took his gun and stomped on his shattered foot.

“Aaaaargh!”

He’s still full of energy. Good. I knocked him unconscious with the rifle butt to his forehead. The bleeding below his left ankle was severe. Fortunately, there was a first aid kit among his gear.

Searching inside, I found a tourniquet. Since I needed to keep him alive for now, I applied it to his left ankle. After tying one side, he showed no reaction.

This won’t do. A tourniquet needs to be tight. After confirming the lower part was secured, I tied another tourniquet higher up and tightened it firmly.

“Kyaaaaaaak!”

That’s how a proper “tourniquet” should work—tight enough to wake an unconscious man and make him pass out again.

– Kiiiaaa…

An ominous sound. Zombies seem to be approaching.

No time to waste. First, I loaded the C4 explosives back into the car. Since they were too heavy to carry in the bag without hurting my back, I took them out of the duffel bag and stacked them neatly in the trunk.

Instead, I moved the cart equipment to the back seat since it shouldn’t get contaminated. Meanwhile, the man who had passed out regained consciousness.

“You, who the hell are you?!”

After I saved his life, he’s screaming with tears and snot running down his face. The tourniquet must not have been tight enough. I put on latex gloves from the emergency kit and stuffed bandages into his wound.

“Gyaaaaaaak.”

Now he looks more like a proper “patient.”

Wondering what kind of people would talk about the Military Police and Camilla, I picked up their mobile phones.

I saw a chat room with messages scrolling in real-time. Scrolling up, I saw Leticia’s photo.

Thinking she looked quite pretty even in a casual shot, I took out my phone and photographed the screen. It’s a stupid way to capture an image, but transferring it to my phone would leave a transmission record.

I also saw an ugly guy’s face. A man named Oberon. One of his eyes was staring intently like a crow’s.

But wait.

“Huh?”

There’s something strange about this man’s photo.