Clearing the Game at the End of the World

Chapter 151: [Gaiden] Boiled Life (2)

[DAY-1]

The transport plane had dropped me off near the 14 Special Ops Units camp area.

Uh, sorry about that. They move around without reporting to headquarters, and the higher-ups dont care about them anymore either, so its hard to pinpoint their exact location. But they always snatch away the supply crates before they even hit the ground, so theyll pick you up soon enough if they drop you there.

When I told the supply soldier, holding just a single gas mask with a swollen face, that I was going to the 14 Special Ops Unit, they looked at me with a pitying expression and handed me a small backpack.

And so, with a backpack on the front and a parachute pack on my back, I somehow fell into the jungle.

He spent 30 minutes struggling to get out of the parachute that got stuck in a tree, then another hour barely managing to escape by using the bayonet on his belt and finding the gun that he dropped nearby.

Moving around in the humid jungle in an already exhausted state, it took less than two hours for me to collapse.

Do I just need to wait here?

Thud.

Ziiiip

Sitting down on what looked more like a small clearing without trees than a supply drop area, I opened the backpack that the supply soldier gave me. I found an assortment of useful provisions inside. Blanket and soap. A poncho and a small sleeping bag. And

Crinkle

Oh, chocolate?

Even before he could feel the appreciation for the familiar plastic packaging, he heard a low-pitched mans voice from behind.

Swoop!

Cough, aghk!

A muscular forearm snaked around my throat in a flash, and I was knocked out before I had any chance to fight back.

Thick smoke. An area filled with only the sound of artificial gas leaking and yellow smoke.

Son. Do not give up.

And his fathers last words.

It was that dream again. The nightmare that haunted him every night since his father died.

In the dream, his fathers body was melting down from the toxic gas, but his voice was always crystal clear.

Do not give up. You cannot die.

His melting hand wobbled up to my face, then hugged me tight. I knew he was already dead, but I couldnt stop myself from hugging him back.

Promise me you wont die?

Yes.

And you wont do anything stupid?

Yes.

Thats my boy. Do that, and it will be worth sacrificing myself to save you.

Ahh, Father.

Watching Father melt down into a thick bloody gunk and slip through my fingers, I could feel my vision darken again.

.

.

.

.

.

Gasp!

Oh, rookie. Youre a sturdy one, waking up already.

He recognized the voice. It was the same voice as the one he heard just before he lost consciousness. The owner of the voice was a black man in military pants and a white sleeveless shirt with the body of an underground fighter.

He introduced himself as John and explained that this is the 14 Special Ops Unit.

Then, is this a military base?

I want to ask what that pause meant, but Ill pass since I think I know what it is. First of all, we are part of the military. The 14 Special Ops Unit. Im John Abrams, Squad 3 Leader.

When the man approached him, Gyosu grimaced at the musty smell that blew toward him and shook his hand. Actually, the smell didnt come from just the man but the entire barracks.

The foldable beds were not just covered in mold but basically painted black aside from where the people lay down. Guns were just sprawled carelessly everywhere, and their uniforms were patched up with all sorts of colors like a fashion show collection. No matter how he looked at it, this place looked closer to the remains of a retreating troops base than a normal barrack.

And above everything else

Wahooo! The bulletproofs a new model!

Its a clean blanket!

Underwear! Theres underwear too!

FUXXXXXXXXXX!!!!! SOCKS! FRESH WHITE SOCKSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

His backpack was being ransacked by a bunch of hobos.

When I stared at John with a questionable look through the immense headache I had, he just awkwardly scratched his curly hair as he responded.

Uh Mmm so this is a resupply. Normally, you have to break in new things like that, or theyll mess you up at an important moment. So your superiors will break them in nicely, and we give out the amazing supplies of veteran soldiers to new recruits. Got it, kid? You understand? Its a sort of culture here!

Snnnnf Hahhhhh~ The smell of mass production. This this is the smell of civilization. New underwear. I can finally escape from the gazes of that homo gorilla that keeps on looking at the holes in my underwear.

Hey MJ, sorry, but you gotta hand those over to me. My beds right next to Samuels.

F**k off, Yeti! The rookies Asian! You wear this, and its a thong! Why dont you just go up to Samuel and whisper in his ear that todays D-day instead?

That is?

Well, s**t. Welcome to the 14 Special Ops, kid.

Seeing that his squad members had taken off their underwear to argue about who had the dirtier underwear, John gave up on trying to explain the situation to the new recruit.

From one of the old manhwa, there was a baseball manhwa called the Alien Baseball Team.

The people in 14 Special Ops were a lot like the characters in that manhwa.

Hey, sweetie. Dont be so scared of me. I have standards, you know~ I dont touch minors~

The massive man with a small beard just at his chin, wearing pants that look too tight to look at but are even cut short like dolphin pants.

Samuel Marcheti, called Miss (Mister) Marti, was the one that looked after me the most when I first came in, oblivious of everything. Everyone watched with suspicious and incredibly worried eyes, but he claimed that this was tender care that came from maternal love.

With his hobby of using old, unwearable clothing to patch up other clothes, he was once again sitting next to me today, sewing up the other squad members ripped uniforms.

Dont touch me.

Aww, dont be so cold. It really isnt like that. Although I am odd and am very, veryveryveryveryveryvery starved right now, Im not crossing any lines. Were comrades. Gotta keep that respect if I dont want holes I cant use to be drilled into my body while Im asleep.

Bulls**t. Is that why you stole all of my stuff and handed me the clothes that not even hobos would think of wearing?

The reason why Marti was sitting next to me right now was because he saw my abhorring sewing skills and decided to help me out. That day, not only was my bag taken away from me, but they stripped off my entire uniform as well, so I collected the veterans worn supplies that the squad members left and was struggling to turn them into a usable state.

It might look like they took away all of your stuff, but they still were considerate. Cant you tell just from the fact that nobody touched that gas mask youre carrying around everywhere? We might take everything, but not the stuff with stories. You get it, kid?

Considerate, my ass. In which army is it that taking everything you have and making you do all sorts of chores is consideration? You dont need to lie, Marti. I heard them say that they dont need a new guy, so they just want some proper provisions.

The 14 Special Ops Squads had a tradition of gathering in the Squad 1 barracks and eating together for every meal. I heard the other soldiers talking there, and they said that when they heard the transport plane come by on the day I came, everyone ran out of their tents and looked up at the sky like cavemen discovering fire. Then when they saw that what dropped down wasnt a large box but a human, they all sighed in disappointment.

When I responded crankily, Marti just giggled as if I was cute and patted my head (I tried to resist, but a construction crane would have been easier to move), then pointed at the Special Ops members scattered around.

Well~ thats cause everyone needs to get ready when a rookie comes.

Ready?

Mhm. We get sad, too, when our fresh buddies keep on dying, you know? Sometimes, we have to kill them with our own hands too. Its not fun, I tell you.

Do they really die that much?

Well, of course. There have been eight new recruits sent to us in the past three months, and youre the only one thats still alive. Thats why they all swarmed you like hyenas and looted everything. Even our cold-blooded Lieutenant Colonel wouldnt have the heart to push a bare-bodied kid out into the battlefield when hes gotten everything stolen from him.

So they made me unable to fight on purpose?

Is that what it was?

After listening to what Marti said, I started to get the thought that the squad members, who I thought were all just barbarians, might have a warm heart behind their savage looks and speech. Just then, I saw, Luwil, the leader of Squad 1, walk around holding a crumpled-up MRE bag (that was part of my supplies) and ask something to the people, then walk my way with a smirk on his face.

Hey, kid! You want in?

For what?

What do you mean what? A game! Youll go crazy in no time if you do nothing all day in a place like this. Keeping your mind straight with that mental care is part of a soldiers job if you want to stay alive!

If you want to stay alive

I was reminded of my father again at Luwils words. Even in the midst of feeling torturous pain as poison burned down his insides, Father continued to restrain me as I tried to pull off my gas mask to give it to him. I still couldnt understand completely why Father tried so hard to save me. Because at that age, I was still much too young to understand the astronomical concept of a parents love.

But since my life was saved in such a way, I had the idea that I couldnt let it go to waste.

Alright. Ill play too.

If its something that a person that survived long enough to be the Squad Leader in a place where all of the new recruits died has to say, then it should be worth listening to. Lets be friendly with him. Get friendly, and learn how to survive. Manage to survive somehow, and Ill meet Mother again.

Thinking about Mother, I already felt better and could feel the energy getting restored in my body. Mental care. It already felt like I had learned something important.

Great! I like your attitude. Then bet. The games a bet.

A bet? For what?

Grin

Kid. You. How long youre gonna stay alive.

When I looked at the back of the plastic bag that Luwil handed to me, I could see under each squad a list of time spans starting from a couple days to weeks, then the names of the Special Ops members that Im starting to memorize next to them.

So youre betting on when Im going to die?

Heheheheh. Its tradition. Squad 3, the squad youre in right now, are currently the richest guys in 14 Special Ops right now. Since they stole all of your stuff. We obviously cant just sit and watch them enjoy that, so were making a bet. The applying squad calls an all-in to the rookie surviving. And the rest of us we bet realistically.

Whered you bet.

Me? Two weeks. I like that sharp look in your eye. Doesnt look like youre gonna die standing around.

As I was looking at the names written down on the bag, then turned to look at Marti, I saw him staring out to the distance, avoiding eye contact.

Two weeks, you say

I took a look at the betting board again. Compared to the other squads who had a few empty spaces, every single person had written down their bet in Squad 3.

Shepherd : Survive Hehim Chocolate Bar

M.J : Survive One new supply medium tank

Yeti : Survive One new supply underwear

Dorris

Falmur

Liam

.

.

.

.

Chester King : Survive 30g of Blue Mountain coffee beans thats been steeped 12 times

My supplies, that theyve fought over so fiercely to get their hands on, were all listed on the betting items.

And the time span written next to each one were all the same.

[Survive]

We normally treat it as survival when you survive until we finish one operation and move on to the next. This isnt just a small game, you know? The Squad 3 guys bet little things like underwear, but the rest of us are betting things like A dreamy one night with my lover back home or My entire life savings. Personally, I think that this is a steal for the guys in Squad 3. Youre gonna regret it if you dont, kid.

What do I call it? It wasnt touched. The emotion felt oddly tickling, but it wasnt something I could put into words.

Not a bad idea.

Hm? Youre really gonna do it? I was just teasing you.

You said its tradition. As a Natural Born Yugyuo-Man, I cant just ignore traditions like that.¹

Taking the pen from Luwil, who was still grinning at him, Gyosu wrote down his name at the bottom of Squad 3.

Gyosu Park : Survive From head to toe, everything I have.

Ha, hahahahahah! All-in! Kid, I like you! This is gonna be a good game, I can feel it! Hahahahahah!

Luwils tanned face widened into a burst of amused laughter.

Standing across from him, Gyosu also had a smile that looked similar to the crooked writing engraved into the crumpled plastic surface.

1. TL Note : Yugyo, aka. means someone that has strict and conservative views of culture and morals, usually sticking to traditional Asian views on society.