"Did that sound just come from this place?"
The leader eyed the battered, tightly shut door in front of him and asked the four deformed underlings behind him.
Ever since they'd climbed to this floor of the abandoned building, the strange noises had stopped.
Maybe the fighting inside had ended. Or maybe the people in there had noticed their arrival.
"Boss, I'm sure the sound came from here. Could the two sides fighting in that room have killed each other?"
The lanky man offered his opinion from behind. He still had the female slave who'd passed out from the pain of having both legs broken slung over his shoulder.
"There are five of us, and you're one of the best in Drifter Camp, Boss. Even if the people in there are still alive, they won't stand a chance against us. Heh heh."
In an apocalypse where most people couldn't even eat their fill, a rare fat man let out a lewd laugh, seeming eager to rush in and deal with their prey to fill his empty stomach.
"Is that so? Since you're so confident, why don't you go in first and lead the way?"
The leader gave a cold laugh and fixed the fat man with a bloodthirsty, merciless stare.
The truth was, none of them had ever taken the obese man seriously. He was too slow to be of any use on a hunting expedition.
They saw him as nothing more than a reserve "meat ticket," to be used whenever they needed one in hard times.
The stupid fat man had no idea he was just emergency rations. He foolishly thought it was an honor to follow the boss.
"Uh... Boss, you're joking, right? I'm so slow. If I accidentally let the prey escape, all our efforts will be wasted. Why don't we go in together?"
The fat man had been excited just a moment ago, but when he heard he was supposed to go first, he immediately showed his true colors. His face turned grim, and the corners of his mouth twitched as he spoke.
The leader's only response was a cold stare, as if to ask, "Do I look like I'm joking?"
"Fatso, you're the one who does the least work and eats the most. It's about time you made yourself useful."
The other underlings joined in, seeming to hope the man would die sooner rather than later. After all, they hadn't tasted pork belly in quite a while...
With his companions jeering and the boss glaring coldly at him, the fat man swallowed nervously and finally moved his heavy feet.
He pulled out a dagger with his left hand, so rusted it might as well have been poisoned, and approached the door at an agonizingly slow pace, unsure how to open it safely.
"Do I have to kick you in there myself before you'll get moving?"
Only after hearing the boss's irritated urging behind him did the fat man finally push the door open, trembling.
Creak~
The rotted doorframe groaned harshly, as if it hadn't been maintained in years. The fat man broke out in goosebumps. At last, he stopped hesitating and shoved the door all the way open with a bang!
Nothing lunged out at him like the monster he'd imagined.
Nor was there any bloody scene of people slaughtering each other inside.
It was just an ordinary, dilapidated room, coated in dust and showing no signs that anyone had ever lived there.
"Huh? So the sound didn't come from this room?"
The fat man relaxed a little. If there was no danger, now was his chance to prove his courage.
"Wait."
Just as he was about to stride into the room, the boss suddenly called out behind him. The fat man froze, his right foot suspended in midair.
The leader picked up a battered wooden stick from the ground, stepped forward, and prodded a few broken boards at the fat man's feet.
Crack!!!
Suddenly!
With a heavy metallic clash, a bear trap hidden beneath the broken boards sprang open and snapped shut!
Its metal jaws, lined with serrated teeth, clamped down on the stick in the leader's hand and crushed it to splinters. Wood chips sprayed across the fat man's shocked face.
If he'd stepped on it, they might have had pig's trotter soup for dinner tonight...
"Hmph. There really is someone in there. A child's trick like this could only fool a bunch of idiots like you."
The leader had plenty of hunting experience. With the half of the stick still in his hand, he pried out the rust-covered trap and tossed it to the underling behind him to carry. It was a decent find.
"B-Boss, thank you..."
Once the fat man recovered from the shock, the other underlings drew their weapons, eager to charge in together.
Anyone who could set a trap like that had probably survived in the wilderness for a long time. They were bound to have plenty of spoils.
But the fat man could no longer keep his heavy body balanced on one leg. He staggered forward out of habit, bringing down the right foot he'd held aloft for so long.
"Huh?"
The fat man felt his right foot catch on something like a thin cord. Before he could react, a fine white line, thinner than a spider's thread, snapped toward his face with a sharp whish!
Whoosh!
The others sensed something was wrong and instinctively stopped in their tracks.
In the crimson moonlight shining into the room, they could just make out a thin metal wire stretched behind the fat man's neck.
But the fat man stood motionless, like a puppet frozen in place.
"Hey, you..."
The leader finally lost patience and kicked him. These idiots were like donkeys; you had to whip them before they'd take another step.
The fat man did move after being kicked. His obese body started to topple toward the ground—but his enormous head hit the floor first.
Thump~ Thump~ Thump
The round head rolled to the leader's feet. The others stared in horror at the smooth cut across the fat man's neck.
The bastard inside had set two traps?!
Whish!!
Before they could recover from what they'd just seen, another sharp whistle suddenly came from inside the room!
The four remaining men were seasoned hunters. They quickly snapped out of it and, almost on reflex, threw themselves to the ground!
At that very moment, a homemade arrow sailed over the leader's head, taking several strands of his hair, already yellowed from malnutrition, with it. If he'd reacted even a fraction of a second slower, the arrow would have pierced his forehead!
"You bastard in there!! I'll kill you! Shields up!"
No one in this area had ever dared to challenge him like this. Once someone became his prey, they were supposed to accept their death meekly.
Daring to fight back? Then they could look forward to endless agony!
The leader grinned viciously. At his order to "Shields up," the three deformed underlings behind him swiftly pulled several panels from their backs, cobbled together from asbestos, iron sheets, metal wire, and other materials.
They quickly fitted the panels together to form a triangular, makeshift mobile "bunker" about two meters high. It looked crude, but its sturdy materials could even withstand pistol fire!
On top of that, dense spikes had been welded onto the bunker's surface. If they charged into an enemy at full speed, they could inflict massive damage, leaving them riddled with holes.
With the fat man, they could have formed a four-sided bunker, but losing one of them was no big deal.
Their leader gripped a razor-sharp steel sword. From his bulging muscles, it was clear he could easily slice an enemy in half lengthwise.
This formation was their trump card for conquering the interiors of narrow buildings—a guaranteed victory!
"Kid, you're dead. I'll rip your cervical vertebrae out while you're still alive and use them as my belt!"
Grinning viciously inside the formation, the leader led his three remaining underlings slowly into the unknown depths of the room.
Soon, hunter and hunted would switch places in the cramped room.