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The test was over. We wandered around the market streets, shaking things up, searching for the food hidden by the teacher and the kids.

The mercenaries—no, now comrades—weren’t in good shape. Their eyes were bloodshot, moving unconsciously like sleepwalkers, not even glancing toward the building where the teacher had been.

One comrade took off his mask and vomited into the sewer. Jeondohyeong patted the vomiting comrade’s shoulder—a heartwarming scene.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“But…”

“Don’t think about it anymore. Just think about the people you saved. Your family won’t starve. It’s okay.”

A true supporter. He’s guiding them to stop thinking, to stop judging for themselves.

As this went on, the scattered comrades started returning one by one, carrying small bits of resources like evidence.

“There’s a building over there being used as a warehouse.”

“I found a warehouse too. It seemed hidden, but I just stumbled upon it while walking.”

As expected, the teacher had set up warehouses around the base, storing things separately. It reminded me of a hamster, but I didn’t say it out loud. That wouldn’t be appropriate.

“Alright, let’s grab what we can and get out of here.”

I mimicked the others’ reactions, my voice weak and bitter.

As I did, I carefully observed the comrades who had passed the test. Now they were comrades, right? It was too bothersome to remember their real names, but giving them nicknames wasn’t hard.

My gaze soon turned to the next target for elimination.

After the Cup Noodles Mercenary, the one I nicknamed the Deceptive Mercenary.

‘He seems a lot like me, honestly.’

He was the first to fire his gun. Without hesitation, eyes closed like he was sleeping, maintaining his shooting stance.

This alone wasn’t enough evidence, but I saw it. The way he swung his gun left and right, as if trying to kill more people in the chaos.

He was dangerous. An internal enemy, a driver with no brakes, a ticking time bomb ready to do anything if given a reason.

‘One of me is enough. How do I take him out?’

But these thoughts didn’t last long. A mercenary moving stuff from the warehouse brought back an unexpected resource.

“We have eggs.”

“Eggs?”

I quickly turned my head to see the small egg in the mercenary’s hand. I snatched it, threw it on the ground, and it cracked open, the yolk and white spilling out.

“It’s a real egg.”

Fresh eggs. Not something you’d find around here. As far as I knew, only the military and the delivery vigilantes could produce eggs.

‘Not the military. They agreed not to come this way. So, the Alliance? Rider Zero?’

Could the teacher and kids have been subcontractors for the Alliance? A real school to produce future manpower?

I frowned, deep in thought, then spoke.

“Did you find any other unusual resources? Police handguns, archer bows? Chickens? Electricity?”

“We didn’t find anything like that.”

This felt like Rider Zero’s doing. Maybe she was raising her own reserve forces. A cunning move typical of the wealthy delivery vigilantes. Sponsorship to make allies.

I tapped the combat cart and suggested the simplest solution.

“Looks like these kids were being sponsored by the delivery vigilantes. Just in case, let’s set up fishing lines around Villa Street.”

“Yes…”

The mercenaries’ voices sounded like their souls had left their bodies.

I suddenly felt like I was falling through the air without a safety net. I’d crossed the line below humanity. It was a freefall, a brake-less sprint.

The end of this fall would surely be a crash. Hitting trees growing on cliffs, colliding with birds, and finally, the ground…

But strangely, a laugh escaped me.

‘Doesn’t matter.’

Isn’t that the life of a pillager? Distrusting and doubting comrades, fighting other survivors to the death, never knowing when or where you’ll die a pitiful death.

That was the life I chose. A more fulfilling life than when the world was intact.

***

By the time we’d gathered all the resources, someone showed up. The person who’d hired us to kill the teacher and kids.

A man who looked like a parent, with hollow eyes and a flame of nowhere to go. As soon as he approached, he asked about the teacher and kids.

“Are they all dead?”

“Yes, we killed them all. A tip’s a tip.”

I glanced up at the second floor of the building. The flame in the informant’s eyes burned brighter for a moment, then suddenly went out. He chuckled softly.

“Haha. Hahaha.”

He seemed to have a story, but it wasn’t my business. Managing the comrades was more important.

I walked over and gripped the informant’s shoulder tightly.

“But, member. You gave us a pretty disgusting tip. Kids? I’ve done all sorts of things, but today was the worst.”

The atmosphere among the comrades shifted. Their lost souls seemed to return as they lifted their heads and gripped their guns tightly. Even if we’d crossed the line together, the stress was too much to bear.

The easiest way to avoid responsibility is to blame someone else. This informant was the perfect target.

The informant, under the red-eyed gaze of the comrades, seemed detached. Like he’d given up on life, accepted his end, or was satisfied.

“I did something bad. It was an accident.”

The informant muttered to himself.

“These kids… they were my child’s friends. Good kids. Last spring, they were attacked by zombies. They tried to save my child, but I was too scared to help. They came to apologize, bowing their heads.”

His eyes, like burnt-out ashes, went blank.

“They didn’t do anything wrong. But as time passed, I started resenting them. Did they really not save him? Did they just leave him to die?”

Resentment and anger surged, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill them, so he tipped us off.

“I was wrong, I was wrong. But still…”

“You wronged us too.”

I stared at the informant for a moment, then looked for Sajihyeok.

“Sajihyeok. Does Immortal have a rule against killing members?”

“Yes. But there’s a rule for forced member expulsion. This seems to fit.”

“Right. Member, unfortunately, you’re expelled. This wasn’t about survival. You tipped us off out of spite.”

The informant quietly closed his eyes. He looked like someone who’d lost their purpose in life and just wanted to die.

Some comrades started pulling out weapons. Close-range weapons instead of guns. A chilling murmur spread.

“You shouldn’t have made a tip like this. If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Die.”

It was like cognitive dissonance or self-justification. Not bad. Their minds were broken. Like a car veering off the road, crashing left and right.

‘Killing kids to survive. Killing people just to relieve stress. The latter seems worse to me.’

This was murder without even the excuse of survival. We were falling smoothly beyond the line.

I turned my head. At least there’s no need to give out incentives.

The informant didn’t even scream. He accepted death with a faint smile, almost relieved. The comrades, on the other hand, screamed as if crying. The old market street was engulfed in even more chaos.

I suddenly looked around the market street.

‘Are they really all dead?’

Could there be students scavenging outside? Some who luckily avoided us? Would they come back for revenge?

“…Doesn’t matter.”

My karma is beyond counting. I lured and killed cops for guns, killed the pastor of Hope Church, cleaned out Villa Street, and pillaged the apartment complex.

There are zombies who stuff plastic bags into people’s mouths. Electric Nomads, hiking clubs, River Area, and countless unnamed survivors and robbers.

What difference would a few more students make?

***

We returned to Villa Street with a full load of resources. The transport cart was heavy, and the comrades’ bags were bursting.

A bountiful harvest in a season of famine. The families waiting for our return smiled brightly at first, then hesitated.

“Did something bad happen? Why do you look like that?”

“It’s just been a tough day…”

A grandmother worriedly stroked her child’s cheek, a couple whispered to each other, and the Cup Noodles Mercenary, a father, crouched down to hug his child.

“I brought candy, candy.”

“Candy? Dad, you eat it. You look sad.”

“No, I’m not sad. I got food for my son. Right? Eat it.”

Meanwhile, the single comrades stood alone. I naturally approached them.

“Everyone, let’s do a bit of work together.”

“What kind of work?”

“We need to set up fishing lines or banner ropes. Just in case there’s conflict with the delivery vigilantes.”

If they ran into the ropes, it’d be an accident. Even hitting a banner rope while riding a bike would make them fall.

Of course, the riders’ gear is sturdy, so the lethality would be low, but it’d at least slow them down. A rider-specific barricade.

The comrades nodded one by one. I subtly observed the Deceptive Mercenary.

‘I need to take him out.’

Killing him outright would shake the organization. And someone like me wouldn’t easily reveal their weaknesses.

 

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