Chương 8: Thieving Racer

After Syrin was done cleaning up, Nyx lent her one hundred of his glass panels, with a contract stating that she'd have to pay back exactly 2 gold later. She signed and took the materials to not only repair, but straight up upgrade her windshield and side windows. Her Campervan RV was pretty bulky and sturdy as is, despite its dilapidated status. With the now-reinforced windows, its only weakness was gone.

She'd be able to stay safe inside the vehicle for the whole night, as long as no anomalous zombies came knocking like with that one guy on the global chat.

"I should remain vigilant too." According to the victim on global chat, the thing had broken through the vehicle's defenses with a single slam. That was beyond the destructive potential of anything he'd seen so far. Normal zombies struggled to even scratch the slightly thick iron plates that Syrin's vehicle's body was made out of, and even several tens of zombies together could barely pierce through one. While driving through the plains, Nyx noticed his fuel running low, so he injected another unit of fuel.

He now had two units remaining, more than enough for the night. Dodging through the thick, white mists and zombie hordes, Nyx mulled over his next plans. Right now he had several paths to making money open. First would be to take up more rescue requests, lend them materials to rebuild at a steep price and, if possible, interest, then reap the benefits later on. The plains were a dangerous place; one should naturally put their own survival over everything else.

But while there were benefits to being ruthless and self-centered, there were also benefits to being helpful to others in their times of need. Like how he'd gotten the location for what could likely be a high-grade treasure chest up the Stardew Mountains. If that one even turned up just a single black iron chest, he'd have gotten far more rewards compared to the effort and risk he'd taken to save her.

"And it's also likely that she got the information about the chest through her unique skill." The fact that she'd so easily let go of the treasure chest, which could very well improve her situation greatly in this life-and-death scenario, was not purely out of gratitude. She'd been trying to get the chest during the last hours of the day and couldn't because of nightfall, meaning this whole night she wouldn't be able to pick it up.

And the next morning, she could likely go ahead and search for another chest instead. And by giving away this one's location, she'd secured herself a connection with someone whose situation was better than her own, and was likely to grow only more prosperous. In a game of life and death, relations with the strong and wealthy were paramount to survival. Nyx had also added her in the system interface as a friend, mainly because of her possible usefulness as a treasure chest detector.

If she could really detect treasure chests like he was assuming, it was only a matter of time before her situation improved, and if used well, she could very well become a powerhouse later on. So, considering all that, Nyx thought up a game plan for the night. The plan came in three parts, the first of which involved some much-needed theft. So he sped up his racer, and under the starry night, his bike moved through the plains of the dead like a ray of light, racing toward the misty mountains.

As he entered its foothills, Nyx noticed the far greater density of mist around the base. And the chiming, crackling sounds of gunfire. He slowly crept up from the sides, making sure to keep his racer's headlights off as he climbed the mountain.

Due to the rippling gunfire of tens of death machines below, most zombies around the perimeter were pulled downward, so the way up the mountain was rather peaceful, save for a few zombies that came rushing every once in a while, which he simply shot down with his Glock, earning a few fragments of gold in the process. After finding a good spot, Nyx parked his racer and inspected his surroundings for threats before putting on his goggles.

The spot he'd found wasn't very far from where the group with the Humvee was huddled up. Although barely visible at first, with the help of the zoom his goggles provided, things started to appear rather clear. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. There were five flags around a group of twenty people.

Fifteen men, half of whom appeared to be adults, and the rest teens around his own age, with one guy sprawled over a pickup truck who looked about fifteen. Nyx's theory was finally confirmed: the system didn't care about the age or condition of the people it brought. If you were alive, you'd be brought over. The flags on the ground read their names. Heavenly Fleet? Talk about over the top. Then again, the owner of the Humvee tank did look Chinese up close. So he supposed the name made sense.

The zombie horde they were facing numbered more than a hundred, with more pouring out of the mists every second. Nyx opened the Regional chat while activating his unique skill, Usurper. Regional Chat [Is this a blessing or what? With the vice captain's infinite bullets mod card, and my own supplied infinite durability card, the Gatling gun has turned into a money-printing machine. And the waves are just a mere resource point to be exploited.] [Hmm, I'd still keep a lookout for those unique sprinter zombies. They're dangerous.] [C'mon, as the vice captain of the Heavenly Fleet, be a little more confident. Those sprinters ain't nothing.] [Speaking of sprinters, these namings are all wrong—what do you mean the zombies tagged 'walker' can run at nearly fifty kilometers per hour, and the sprinters reach an acceleration of 150 like it's nothing…] [Fr dude, this system's full of brain rot.] [Hey guys, the halving has begun again. I'm only getting half the gold and bullets from each kill now!] [Wait, what? Again?!] [Fuck this, contact that information archivist immediately and find out why this keeps happening to us specifically.] [For a group tagged Heavenly Fleet, the heavens sure aren't favoring us with this halving mechanic.] [I swear, Captain, stop laughing at this disastrous misfortune!] Nyx stayed put at his position, heart racing with the fear of being discovered—especially now that they were contacting the archivist. Still, he held on as long as he could.

Honestly, although they were currently chalking it up to some strange halving mechanic, Nyx was certain they'd eventually realize it was someone else's ability at work, siphoning their resources. After all, reaching that conclusion wasn't rocket science.

The pattern was clear: the loot they usually collected from zombies suddenly got cut in half, repeatedly, while no outside parties experienced the same phenomenon—and it happened for exactly a minute before stopping. These symptoms pointed to someone slipping in, using an ability to skim a portion of their loot, then vanishing. If that archivist had any real analytical skill, he'd figure it out fast. So Nyx didn't linger in one place too long.

The moment his collected loot reached twenty gold, he fired up his vehicle and left the Heavenly Fleet to their own devices. On his way out, he checked back on the regional chat, and sure enough, they'd already begun expressing relief at the halving's disappearance. Some even speculated it might have been a system glitch. The thing about regional chats was that you could customize them into a private channel.

The widest range let a message travel the length of the four Cardinal Mountains—east, west, south, and north. But you could also shrink that range down to just several meters. The Heavenly Fleet had shrunk their sphere to cover only their immediate surroundings, leaving plenty of space at their backs unguarded, never expecting anyone to be up in the mountains, since few vehicles could make the climb anyway.

That gap let Nyx slip in and listen—though it also meant his ability would've been far harder to use if the system displayed the number of people within a customized information sphere. In the entire game-like interface of the system, there was only one counter that displayed a number of people—and that was for tracking how many survivors remained. Survivor: [70040/100000] The number made Nyx's heart sink a little.

He'd expected a significant number of deaths on the first night, but he hadn't imagined it would be this extreme. Shit, almost thirty thousand gone—this is… Unable to find the right words for the absurdity of it all, he could only shake his head. Gripping the handle of his Armoured Racer a bit tighter, Nyx made a sharp turn, sending the zombies chasing after his engine noise tripping and toppling over one another.

He threw open the side window, poked out the muzzle of his assault rifle, and unloaded a full spray of metal into them, riddling them with holes. That earned him a whole gold piece and some iron plates. He twisted the throttle and shot past the horde trying to encircle him from the front after hearing the gunshots. His next target was the Green Ghost Fleet from the northern stone mountain range.

"It's also referred to as Black Stone Mountain Range." Specifically so, because of the huge amount of iron ore said to exist within it. But that wasn't his goal—his goal was to loot that high-and-mighty heavy battle tank owner dry!