Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 107: Warning

On my way down from the second floor of the gas station to the first.

I walked slowly, lost in thought. RiderZero had talked about my downfall.

'A person who cuts connections, huh.'

My crimes were well-hidden, so RiderZero probably hadn't detected all of them. She likely made that judgment just from seeing Immortal's business—a mix of multi-level marketing and murder-for-hire.

It was certainly a vicious operation. Dividing the stream area survivors into hunting dogs and prey, making them fight each other.

But would I be the only one to fall?

Step by step, I descended the stairs. That downward slope. An incline where you'd tumble down if you tripped.

'If I'm someone who cuts connections, then our chairman is someone who tilted the world into a slope.'

I couldn't help but grin. Everyone in this world was tumbling down the slope created by the chairman. The only difference was whether downfall came quickly or slowly.

How many years could the alliance last anyway?

'The lifespan of solar panels, deteriorating mechanical devices, extreme seasons, forest fires and floods, scarce resources, mutating viruses. And.'

People. Weren't people always the biggest problem? People's greatest weapons were malice and venom, and there were probably many survivors who, knowingly or unknowingly, harbored resentment toward the alliance. The police and archers alone were plenty vicious.

"This is interesting. Who will fall first?"

I quickened my pace, excitedly hurrying down the stairs. Was I the only one facing downfall? No. And wasn't I also somewhat involved in pushing people off cliffs?

Whether RiderZero would come for my fallen body, or I would go for hers once she fell—that remained to be seen.

***

When I went outside, my companions and the riders were facing off. They were glaring at each other, saying something. But it seemed our side was losing in terms of presence, as the mercenaries holding guns stood with listless postures.

"That, that incident..."

"Anyway, we can't trade with you anymore. Everyone's decided on that, so keep it in mind."

I approached silently from behind the riders, straining to hear.

It seemed the Delivery Vigilantes had cut off trade with us because of the market street incident. I couldn't just stand by. For the sake of my companions' self-justification, and for my own authority.

Without hesitation, I drew my pistol and aimed it at the back of the head of the rider who was talking about cutting ties.

"Why are you showing me your back? Makes me want to shoot."

"What the—"

The gathered riders frantically scattered, grabbing iron pipes. Keeping just the right distance to swing effectively. The rider with the gun aimed at the back of his head jumped and turned to face me.

"You, you!"

"Haha. I'm just joking. Since you were joking too. Oh, was that not a joke? Were you really trying to cut ties?"

I slowly lowered my gun. The pistol grazed the rider's cheek as it descended, finally resting against his Adam's apple.

"It better be a joke. Otherwise, I might get serious too."

Gulp. The rider swallowed. His Adam's apple tried to push away the gun barrel, but I pressed down firmly, pinning it.

"You, no, you. After killing those kids, you have the nerve to—"

"Haha. You're being so negative. The world's hard enough as it is, try to think positively. I saved my companions instead of those kids. We saved you from unnecessary expenses."

I taunted him playfully.

RiderZero had predicted that my downfall would begin the moment my bullets ran out. Conversely, this meant she couldn't stop me while I still had plenty of ammunition.

Like any raider, having sufficient firepower was a reassuring background.

The riders' faces turned bright red. Iron pipes and baseball bats were raised all around, casting long cactus-like shadows.

I smirked and pressed the gun barrel hard against the rider's neck. Hard enough that the pressed skin turned white. I slightly bowed my head and whispered in a low voice:

"No need to thank me. And don't show your hostility either. You should smile unless you're going to kill me right now. Even your leader had a pleasant conversation with me."

Subtly planting seeds of discord.

What power doubt has. When someone isn't that type of person, but the moment a small seed of thought is planted, colored glasses are put on, and a person's intentions become twisted in our perception.

I pressed the gun barrel against the rider's cheek, forcing a smile, then abruptly lowered it and walked away with heavy steps.

"I've negotiated with your leader not to fight, so don't create unnecessary conflict."

"..."

I heard the sound of teeth grinding and pipes being gripped tightly, but their shadows didn't move an inch.

I had won the battle of wills. These riders had originally attacked people's consciences with psychological warfare, but facing me—immune to such tactics—they had no choice but to consider the difference in firepower.

Holding the combat cart, I walked briskly and casually addressed my companions.

"Don't think too deeply about it, and don't feel guilty either. We were just doing the job we were reported to do. Why? To survive. Rather than dying for others, isn't killing others to survive what defines us?"

The companions sighed heavily and began nodding one by one.

I quickly shifted our focus. The alliance's survival zone, a world where society had been somewhat restored.

"Since we're already here, let's do some shopping."

"Did you really negotiate with them?"

The psycho mercenary raised his hand and asked in a puzzled voice. I answered lightly.

"They said they'd come for us when our bullets run out, but when that happens, it's not just the alliance that's in danger. We're fine for the time being."

***

The alliance had managed to restore society, albeit crudely. Within this zone—not small by any means in this world—traces of the once-normal world remained vividly alive.

People walking freely with vigor, music playing from phones or speakers, the light of plant growth lamps visible through windows, water drawn by electric pumps.

Even the commercial district had come back to life.

"A restaurant?"

In what looked like a butcher shop, they were slaughtering some unidentifiable meat, and nearby stores were grilling and selling meat using induction cooktops or charcoal.

Perhaps it was the color of that meat, but our feet were automatically drawn in that direction.

Words were written on a whiteboard. An advertisement for grilled dog, cat, pigeon, and sparrow meat. A note saying it was thoroughly cooked above 100 degrees, so there was no need to worry about the virus.

"Captain, should we buy some? It's been so long since we've had meat."

"Anyone who wants it can buy it. We don't have enough resources with us to feed the entire villa district."

I spoke while glancing at a familiar person inside one of the shops.

It was a store that fried pigeon meat like chicken, and there was someone I'd seen before. The sushi restaurant owner who had given me pufferfish poison. He must have joined the Delivery Vigilantes, as he was now frying pigeons here.

The mercenaries scattered, and I also dragged my combat cart into the pigeon fry shop.

"Welcome! ...It's been a while. I see you're still alive."

The owner, who had been coating meat with batter, recognized me and stopped. Though I hadn't done anything particularly memorable, he seemed to remember me.

I nodded slightly.

"I managed to survive somehow. You seem to be doing well too."

"I've always been confident in my knife skills."

The owner with the fierce facial expression smiled broadly. The fish tattoo on his forearm seemed to wiggle. I wasn't sure if he meant he survived due to his cooking skills or by filleting people with his sushi knife.

I sat down in a chair.

"Are you taking orders? How do you calculate payment?"

"It's barter. Cigarettes, cola, alcohol—these are used almost like money. I also accept fish."

Perhaps because there were no customers, the owner leisurely shared various stories.

He couldn't make his favorite sushi anymore but earned a living through cooking, was satisfied with life as many people were moved by his cooking, the supply of ingredients wasn't bad...

"The supply is good?"

"Pigeons get caught even with simple traps. It's much easier than catching dogs, they say."

"Dogs are, well, scary."

Packs of wild dogs are truly frightening. You might end up being hunted while trying to hunt them.

Suddenly, the owner raised the corners of his mouth.

"Unfortunately, I don't have any poison."

"That's really too bad."

I stood up again. I'd come in hoping that the owner who once fed poison to unwelcome guests might have some toxins.

"Well then, I wish your business prosperity."

"Let's meet again in good health next time."

I wonder. If famine truly arrives, would we be able to see each other like this?

The shopping was over.

The scattered companions returned, and I had also acquired some vitamins and put them in my pocket. We diligently walked back to the villa district.

I sought out companions with young children and distributed some of the vitamins. The cup noodle mercenary held the vitamins in his hand, blinking as if dazed.

"What's this? Medicine?"

"They're vitamins. Give them to your child. In a world where we can't eat well, shouldn't they at least have these to grow properly?"

A gift for managing my companions. I already had plenty of vitamins stockpiled for myself, so I didn't mind sharing a few.

'The psycho mercenary isn't doing anything suspicious, making it hard to find fault with him.'

It would be best to leave him alone for now while creating an environment where he couldn't act. People like us tend to blend in as part of the organization when we don't see any openings to stab.

The cup noodle mercenary awkwardly scratched his head and then bowed.

"Thank you. For looking after my child like this."

"We're companions, aren't we? We need to treat each other like family to survive this harsh world."

I waved my hand dismissively, saying it was nothing, and turned away.

Raiding plans flashed through my mind. The season of famine was approaching step by step. Signs of famine were already visible to us.

Ammunition, more precious than food. We still had quite a bit of ammo for the machine gun, but the rifles my companions used had consumed a lot.

'If we could just raid the police, we could get guns and ammunition.'

Ammunition is a raider's lifeline. Then couldn't we use ammunition to get more ammunition? Just like when we killed the landlord and got his shotgun.