"Hey, kid."
"Aren't you the helper invited by Crimson Desire Shelter?"
"It was so dangerous just now. We at least killed one or two zombies, but why didn't you even lift a finger?"
"Hahaha, don't tease him. This kid was just bragging. A helper?"
"What kind of helper hides at the very back of the team?"
"Does he plan to glare the Purple-Gold Zombies at the front of the team to death?"
"Look, he's not even reacting after we're talking about him like this. He's probably already scared stiff."
"Actually, looking at it this way, we're not too bad in the Wasteland."
"After all, there are quite a few Survivors just like this kid."
"Exactly, exactly! This guy is absolutely right. In the Wasteland, we're at least mid-level in strength. There's no need to bother with this little nobody."
As the mocking laughter echoed around them, Phanty's eyes gradually turned cold.
