After Saeko Busujima was shot, although rage burned uncontrollably in his heart, Roy did not act immediately. At Level 1, his strength was still insufficient to confront modern firearms head-on.
Roy carried Saeko Busujima and hid in a nearby patch of grass. As time passed, the anger in his heart not only failed to subside—it burned even more fiercely.
When they left Fujimi Academy, it had already been dusk. By the time they arrived here, night had fallen, and a bright, full moon hung high in the sky.
Half an hour later.
Roy slowly opened his eyes. A bloodthirsty, icy glint flashed deep within them, like a beast awakening.
The surroundings were terrifyingly quiet. The soldiers inside the base also knew that noise would attract zombies. From the fact that they had used suppressed gunfire earlier, it was clear they hadn't made many preparations—there weren't even any searchlights.
Roy lay flat on the ground and slowly crawled toward the heavy truck. The entire process took only one minute.
He successfully reached the underside of the truck.
Finding the right spot, Roy raised the Muramasa sword and thrust forward. The sharp tip pierced the fuel tank, and gasoline with a pungent odor poured out in a rush.
Very soon, the ground was covered in fuel.
Roy returned to the driver's seat, started the engine, turned the ignition, and slammed down on the accelerator. The truck shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Boom!
The heavy truck smashed through the barricades at the base entrance and charged straight inside, coming to a stop in an open area.
The truck's owner had clearly been a heavy smoker. Roy had pocketed a windproof lighter earlier. He lit the gasoline on the ground, and flames spread instantly.
After finishing all this, Roy moved as swiftly as a rabbit. With a push of his legs, he slipped into the shadows.
The burning truck crackled violently, thick black smoke billowing upward and illuminating the surroundings. In the silent night sky, it was impossible to miss.
Zombies nearby raised their heads and began moving toward the flames. With the barricades destroyed, the base was now wide open.
The roar of the truck and the sound of the barricades breaking immediately alerted the soldiers inside the base.
The burly white man, Alton, looked out the window and saw zombies approaching the base. He grabbed the radio and cursed furiously, "Fuck! Waylin, what the hell are you doing?!"
"I don't know!" The blond youth on duty in the tower, who had also been startled awake, looked completely confused. At the same time, he saw the zombies entering the base.
And the truck burning fiercely.
"That brat?!"
The blond youth instantly realized something. His face darkened—so that kid actually dared to retaliate.
Seeing the zombies about to enter the base, Lieutenant Alton couldn't sit still. "Waylin, take down those zombies! Dan, wake everyone up!"
The soldiers who had been resting were roused immediately and quickly geared up, showing the decisiveness of professional soldiers.
They set up an M2HB Browning heavy machine gun on the tower. Its field of fire covered more than half the base. The blond, blue-eyed youth aimed the barrel at the base gate and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Ratatatat! Ratatat!
Intense gunfire tore through the night. Zombies about to enter the base fell in大片, dropping row after row.
But it was a vicious cycle. More and more zombies were drawn in by the gunfire, forming a massive horde at the end of the road, surging forward like rabid dogs.
Inside the base, the other soldiers took their positions and used overlapping fire to mow down the zombies.
In truth, the best solution would have been to block the gate and then clear out any zombies inside the base.
But as the number of zombies kept increasing, the remaining soldiers silently swore that if the lieutenant forced them to go block the gate, they would choose to kill the lieutenant instead.
The American soldiers, fully focused on dealing with the zombies, had not yet realized that their true reaper was about to arrive. The blond, blue-eyed youth, however, sensed something was off—Roy's retaliation was probably not that simple.
While firing at the zombies, Waylin frantically and angrily searched for Roy's whereabouts. That despicable inferior actually dared to resist noble white men.
Roy lay hidden in the grass at the base of the wall, using shadows and weeds as cover like a hunter stalking prey. He was observing the number of personnel and their firepower inside the base.
To defeat the strong while weak, to overcome many with few, the most crucial factor was intelligence. Charging in blindly would be suicide.
With the zombie invasion underway, almost everyone in the base had come out to defend it—sixteen people total, fourteen men and two women. The highest-ranking officer was a lieutenant. In the American military, a lieutenant's insignia was a silver rectangular emblem.
Roy's gaze locked onto that lieutenant. The importance of eliminating the commander went without saying.
Under the burly man's command, the dozen or so soldiers were clearly coordinated, showing no sign of panic. Roy had no doubt that, barring any accidents, this wave of zombie attacks would be easily suppressed.
But he was the accident.
Roy moved slowly along the wall, silently closing in on the white lieutenant.
Seeing that all the soldiers were focused on the zombies at the base gate, completely unguarded against threats from behind, Roy seemed to understand something.
The bastard who had shot Saeko Busujima had not reported Roy's intrusion upward. Whatever his motive, the situation was extremely advantageous for Roy—the enemy was in the open, he was in the dark.
When Roy closed within twenty meters, the professional soldier lieutenant seemed to sense something. Unease crept onto his face as he frowned and shifted his gaze.
But it was already too late.
Riding the Wind!
Roy activated the special effect of the Wind-Chasing Boots. In a single burst, he crossed the distance between them. The Muramasa sword stabbed straight through the burly man's chest from behind, piercing his heart. Blood dripped from the sword tip.
The burly man turned his head slightly, mouth agape.
Roy pulled out the Muramasa sword. The man's body collapsed, blood pooling rapidly beneath him.
"Lieutenant?!"
"Why is there a kid?!"
"Open fire!"
…
The four soldiers closest to him had been dealing with zombies. The sudden incident left them stunned. Enraged, they tried to turn their guns.
But Roy was faster.
He drew the Frostbite Blade. Icy cold erupted from the blade, coalescing into the image of an ice dragon that let out a roar as it lunged toward them.
The four soldiers were frozen solid on the spot, turned into ice sculptures.
Crack!
Fine cracks spread across the Frostbite Blade. Roy glanced down, feeling a bit pained. He knew the magic sword could probably only be used one more time.
Magic swords were simply too useful—no chanting, instant-cast magic. That trait alone was enough to make enemies' scalps tingle. This high-quality magic sword was even more terrifying in power. Roy had asked around before; it was equivalent to a 600,000–700,000 valis magic sword from the Hephaistos Familia.
Roy put away the Frostbite Blade and rushed forward, swinging the Muramasa sword with all his strength. Along with the ice, he cleaved through the American soldiers trapped inside.
By the time the others reacted, Roy had already vanished, slipping back into the depths of the shadows.
As he moved, Roy glanced toward the tower and happened to meet the gaze of the blond, blue-eyed youth. Roy's icy eyes seemed to say:
"You're next."