January 17
After dealing with the situation outside, Miranda did not bother scavenging for supplies. The moment things settled, she rushed straight into the place where Brent had taken cover.
The sight of Brent lying there was so full of battlefield atmosphere it hurt to look at. The smell of gunpowder still seemed to linger in the air, and the room reeked of blood, smoke, and burnt residue.
Bright brass shell casings lay scattered at random across a crimson "lake" on the floor. The fake white flowers woven from cloth were half red and half white, a jarring mix of blood and pallor.
And Brent herself lay fallen in the middle of it all.
Her left leg rested across her right. Her head had slumped onto a pile of ragged old fabric. The weapons that had slipped from her hands had fallen across her body. Her sniper rifle was still braced at the window, as if even now it were refusing to abandon its post. Before passing out, Brent had apparently tossed aside her backpack for ease of fighting; it now lay discarded beside the spent, useless rocket launcher.
Ordinarily, because the face is rich in nerves, someone in this much pain would show obvious agony, their features twisted and strained. But Brent, through sheer stubborn will, had held onto a controlled expression right up until unconsciousness took her. Her face, though pale beneath the dust, remained unnaturally calm. Only her half-open eyes, dull and unfocused, betrayed how bad things truly were.
Behind her visor, tears spilled from Miranda's eyes, trickling down despite the freezing cold.
"Kyoko… can she still be saved?"
Her voice trembled as she looked at Brent, who had stayed by her side for so long. Her heart felt as though it had been ripped apart.
"Don't worry. She can be saved. Go outside and gather the ammunition first. We'll need it in a minute. We've already attracted a huge number of infected. Hurry. I can handle this part alone. I'll be done here soon."
In order to steady Miranda, Kyoko gave her absolute assurance before she had even properly confirmed Brent's condition.
"…Okay."
Though terribly worried, Miranda still obeyed and went outside to collect ammunition.
Once the rich young lady was out of the way, Kyoko could finally make full use of the system shop without restraint.
Brent's condition was bad. She had lost too much blood and was unconscious. Kyoko neither had the time, the energy, nor the proper conditions to perform delicate surgery on a gunshot wound. This could not be dragged out. They were planning to hold their ground here, but without enough time to finish their defenses, the infected outside could surround them at any moment and turn the three of them into dinner.
From Kyoko's understanding, the core of emergency gunshot treatment was rapid bleeding control, wound protection, and stabilization of vital signs. Gunshots often came with deep tissue damage, internal bleeding, or risk of infection. It was a messy business.
Normally she would first assess the casualty's consciousness, breathing, pulse, and other vital signs. But there was hardly any need to "check" Brent in a formal sense. Her face was paper-white. This was shock, plain and simple.
"Her heart's still beating. Airway's open, breathing is shallow but unobstructed… her limbs are cold, her pulse is thready and fast, and she's only temporarily unconscious… Damn, this is bad."
There were only minutes left before the infected outside arrived.
She could not just package Brent up and carry her off recklessly. Nor could she abandon her. Kyoko's own conscience and upbringing would never let her do that, and Miranda certainly would not allow it either.
Besides, this was not a hopeless situation. Kyoko still had more than ten thousand points. In an emergency, that meant she could buy life-saving equipment.
No matter what, the existence of the system gave her enormous confidence. Whenever danger closed in, as long as she remembered that the system was still there, she could throw herself into decisions that would look suicidal to anyone else.
After quickly examining Brent's injuries, Kyoko found that the bullet had passed through her lower abdomen at an angle. The round had exited her body cleanly.
That was the lucky part. If the bullet had remained lodged inside, it would have been a much bigger problem. In such cases, one must never try to pull it out casually, since that could worsen bleeding or damage surrounding tissue.
And the wound, while severe, had not struck a truly vital area. The round had come in obliquely, grazing along the outer musculature rather than tearing through the core of her body. The blood loss was serious, but it did not look like major organs had been catastrophically damaged. Even the nearby large intestine had escaped anything truly critical.
Still, it had blown a large hole through the left side of her abdomen. The flesh was turned outward, ragged and open.
It looked like a blood-soaked rose in bloom.
Carefully but quickly, Kyoko peeled away the clothing that had been glued to Brent's body by blood, exposing the wound so she could work.
She immediately pulled the emergency kit from her waist pouch.
As she laid out the necessary drugs and tools, she also produced from thin air one of the items she had just purchased from the system shop: GelSpray Hemostatic Coagulation Spray.
First came hemorrhage control. Gunshots often meant major blood loss, and stopping that was the priority.
Since the injury was not to a limb, a tourniquet would not help much here. She had no choice but to rely on gauze. Lavishly, she poured disinfecting alcohol over Brent's wound. In her haste, she dumped out what would have been a lethal amount if injected or ingested.
Then she gently wiped away the fragmented skin and damaged flesh around the wound.
Do not flush a deep or badly contaminated gunshot wound with random water, especially not untreated water, because that only risks introducing more bacteria into the body.
The torn tissue hanging half-detached from Brent's abdomen made the whole process much harder.
[Kyoko, those torn bits of flesh can be pressed back in place. The internal organs are fine. It's only the thin outer muscle layer that's badly damaged. She'll be left with scars, but that's all. The horde is gathering already.]
"Yeah. I'm hurrying."
Kyoko involuntarily sped up.
Although the park sat a fair distance from the surrounding buildings, and there were some obstacles on the way, the infected would still reach them in only a few minutes.
After cleaning the wound with alcohol, she wiped the surrounding area with sterilizing wipes, then sprayed on the GelSpray coagulant. After that came concentrated platelet solution, intended to compensate for blood loss and support clotting.
The cold medication formed a faint sealing layer over Brent's wound. It needed protection from direct contact, so Kyoko covered it with soft sterile cloth. To reduce the risk of infection, she did not waste time deciding whether each drug was strictly necessary. She used tetanus antitoxin, antibiotics, and sterile gauze to cover and protect the wound.
Kyoko was wealthy enough, in relative terms, not to care about the expense. She had stockpiled these medical supplies precisely for moments like this.
She straightened Brent's posture so she lay flat, avoiding unnecessary elevation or twisting. Then she wrapped her in an emergency thermal blanket from her backpack to preserve body heat and reduce the risk of hypothermic shock.
Unconscious, Brent lay weakly atop a worn cushion Kyoko had dragged over for her. One arm dangled limply toward the floor. Her lower clothing had been cut away, and the lower abdominal wound had been treated as quickly as possible. Layer upon layer of bandages had been wound tightly around her waist and lower belly.
Even so, dark red-black blood still seeped faintly through the clean white dressings.
The effectiveness of the field treatment was not reassuring.
"Done. Time to get outside and prepare for the next wave."
Kyoko roughly tossed the empty medicine bottles and wrappers aside, then quickly bundled up Brent's Remington M24 sniper rifle and her backpack gear.
From killing the infected and raiders to finishing Brent's emergency treatment, Kyoko—racing against the clock—had taken less than ten minutes.
Now it was already late in the afternoon. The sun was slanting low, casting its final pale light across the land. The air stank of blood and rot. A northwesterly wind drove the snow sideways through the sky and down onto the suffering earth below.
The moment Kyoko stepped outside, she realized the snowfall had intensified dramatically.
When they had first arrived, it had only been a light snow—thin enough that visibility was barely affected.
But in the short time since then, by the time she finished treating Brent, it had turned into something far worse.
Huge flakes were pelting the ground in thick, relentless sheets. Corpses and blood that had been exposed moments earlier were now already being buried beneath white.
The cold had arrived almost in an instant.
The weather had become as unpredictable as a theatrical quick-change act. No one could guess what the next day, the next hour, or even the next second would bring.
In this kind of extreme shift, there was no chance of carrying a badly wounded Brent out through the storm. Visibility was too poor.
All Kyoko could see ahead was the endless curtain of snow; all she could hear was the shrieking northwestern wind.
Damn this weather…
She could not help cursing under her breath as she rapidly set up directional mines.
Her hands moved more roughly now, slamming the charges into place with the "front toward enemy" orientation and arming them without further ceremony.
As long as they didn't blow her up, that was good enough.
The snow continued to fall mercilessly.
Even in heavy down jackets, thick armor, helmets, and full winter gear, both Kyoko and Miranda could still feel the biting cold worming its way into their bodies.
At least, for them, it was only unpleasant.
This cruel, theatrical climate was dealing with every living thing on the surface equally.
For the infected, though, it was another story.
Many of them wore tattered clothes, with mangled bodies and little ability to resist low temperatures. Even with the Sumerlo virus in their flesh, common infected were not superheroes.
Under the storm, they looked like soldiers from the Hakkōda disaster march—many already missing body parts, wounds frozen solid around the weapons still jutting from them.
The snow slowed them down badly.
If Kyoko's trio had not caused such an enormous disturbance, most of these infected would probably have followed the cleverer roaming infected south toward Tokyo rather than bother with them at all.
Under the circumstances, holding here really was the optimal choice.
Ten minutes earlier, they could not carry a wounded Brent and still escape quickly enough.
Ten minutes later, the infected had already encircled them.
They were everywhere now.
If they ran and got intercepted on the road, who knew what kind of battlefield they would be forced into?
If they blundered into a massive horde while trying to flee, regretted it too late, and all died on the spot—what would happen to the two girls still waiting back home?
So yes, for now, they would hold.
Kyoko had already learned from her earlier apartment-building defense. Step by step, methodically. Caution first.
Charging out into a blizzard with a wounded person was too risky. It was better to make a stand in this cluster of smaller structures, where at least the terrain still gave them some advantage. With automatic weapons and explosives, and assuming no overly ridiculous infected appeared, they ought to be able to hold for a while.
There was a relatively open little plaza in front of them, with only short decorative plantings that offered little obstruction to the infected. So Kyoko had placed trip mines and suppressant there, hoping to force the infected to shift their approach elsewhere. That would reduce the pressure on the two defenders and let them concentrate their fire on a narrower front.
After gathering ammunition and weapons dropped by the dead raiders, Miranda stood at the second-floor doorway near Brent's position, a pile of gear at her side. Looking up toward Kyoko, who was firing from the rooftop at the infected below, she shouted:
"Kyoko! How far away are the infected now? Which way are we escaping?!"
"The suppressant worked a little. I can see some of them shifting to either side. We'll break through the ones in front and go out through the gap—but before that, we need to clear the infected from the rear!"
That was what Kyoko said aloud.
But she was not stupid enough to rely on only one plan.
Having a backup was basic common sense. More options meant more chances to survive.
Because she had been to this park before, Kyoko knew its layout. Behind the building, in the road, there was a manhole cover connecting to the city sewer system. That route led all the way back toward her own residential district.
That was her last-resort backup option.
If things went bad, they would run through the sewers.
So while laying mines earlier, she had also placed a small anti-personnel charge on the manhole cover, with the pull wire leading back toward her current position.
If the front-line defense failed, they would have to escape underground—whatever unknown horrors the sewers might contain.
"Miranda, fire at the rear! Don't stop! I didn't lay mines there!"
Kyoko stood on high ground firing continuously, the hundred-round drum magazine in her rifle already so hot it was starting to make her little darling uncomfortably temperamental.
Behind her, towering fire surged from Miranda's flamethrower, swallowing the advancing tide. Snowflakes were melting into steam before they even reached the burning gel.
Though the storm obscured their vision, the infected were so numerous that from a distance they looked like a black wave rolling across a white sea.
They came over the uneven ground without stopping, overwhelming in number, bearing down on them with unstoppable force.
At this point, did aiming even matter?
She only had to point in the general direction and hold the trigger down.
Bloody flowers bloomed in the horde as infected were hit and dropped—but against a wave this large, those deaths barely mattered.
"Damn it, overheating!"
Her little darling was becoming unstable in her hands.
Fortunately, they had recovered several Type 89 rifles from the Apostle raiders earlier. Kyoko switched to one of them and resumed spraying on full-auto.
Orange muzzle flashes spat endlessly. Eyes red, mind fully locked in, Kyoko's near-superhuman body absorbed the recoil of automatic fire as she harvested one undead life after another without pause.
The infected pressed forward through the storm of bullets like Allied troops storming Omaha Beach, fearless as they charged the fire-fortress that Kyoko and Miranda had built.
"Damn it—there are fliers too!"
An infected bird dove at Kyoko's position through the storm. She reacted just in time, raising the gun and shooting it down. But more infected birds were already sweeping in through the snow.
"Miranda, use the flamethrower on the birds!"
"Okay! But the fuel tank's almost dry!"
"Use it until it's empty! When the explosion starts, throw it away and grab Brent—then follow me!"
"But—"
Miranda did not finish. Kyoko cut her off with a roar.
"Who cares about the gear?! Your life matters more!"
"…Got it!"
Still snarling, Kyoko hurled grenades behind them.
Realizing more trouble was coming, she was already shifting to the next phase of her plan.
At that exact moment, the infected at ground level reached the directional mines she had laid.
Front toward enemy.
The moment they triggered the trip lines, the mines blasted out deadly fragments. A chain of explosions tore through the vanguard, shredding the first ranks of the horde.
Kyoko caught the flamethrower Miranda had thrown aside and, with one mighty heave, hurled it into the sea of fire ahead. The remaining fuel gave one final fierce bloom, letting the infected experience the warmth of becoming "well-done."
"Move! Move! Strap her on! Once the blast goes off, we jump into the sewer!"
She yanked the firing line.
With a violent explosion and a plume of smoke, the manhole was blown open into an entrance large enough for a person to pass through.
Throwing aside the emptied Type 89, Kyoko grabbed her own cooled little darling and slammed in a fresh magazine.
Then, in the brief moment bought by the explosions, she sprinted back to Miranda, who had already gathered Brent up in her arms.
No time remained to worry about careful handling of the wounded.
Wrapping the unconscious Brent in a blanket, the two girls lifted her together and rushed for the sewer opening below.
"Help me—move! Move! I'm throwing another grenade!"
Miranda climbed down first into the blasted sewer shaft and received Brent from above.
A moment later, another explosion shook the surface—and Kyoko jumped down after them.
Aboveground, the infected thrown off their feet by the blasts staggered up again, their faces blackened and plastered with the flesh of their own kind. For a moment they were stunned.
But the infected behind them, untouched by the explosions, continued to surge forward, trampling over those ahead who had fallen but not yet died.
The screams of those crushed beneath the tide meant nothing.
Their prey had run underground like rats.
So the infected kept coming.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 132)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter140)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter95)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter165)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 145
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 135
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 95
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 155
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 125
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 105
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 62
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 80
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 66
Uma Musume: From Beginner 80
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 62
Uma Musume: I Want All 65
I Can Copy Unique Skills 53
Summoning an Evil God, but the 41
Supernatural Multiverse 45
My Harem Is Indescribable 35
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 46
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 26
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 36
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