It was only 10 days after my coming to The Wasted Continent when I thought of resupplying and taking a break in a stronghold.

  I had recovered some of my fatigue, and my mood had improved, meaning I was not going to kill anyone over the slightest annoyance.

  The said place was on the border between the Sought area of the Continent, in the hands of the country of Mexico, and the Middle region, also known as the Nuclear Wasted Regions. It was one of the last human settlements where I could find relative safety.

  Even after 50 or so years after the outbreak, most of the nuclear bombs used to destroy the fallen cities still had some radioactive effect, according to the information given by authorities and some brave souls.

  Most “mercenaries” would try to stay clear out of them unless the pay was very high, as there was a high chance of no return.

  The Middle area also had another name, which was way more notorious – The King’s Territory.

  Currently, the Sought territory was in human hands… mostly.

  There were some zombies here and there, but nothing too serious, given that one had something to defend oneself.

  During my travels on foot, the largest number of hostiles I had encountered was seven of the lowest type.

  I was about to enter this unimportant settlement in the contested territories.

  As it was unknown whether this settlement would survive, people, or precisely the government, skipped the naming procedure.

  Locals might call it something, but for the most part, I would rarely care.

  The place had no high walls, no barbed wires, just a taller-than-normal wooden fence surrounding the settlement. There were a few watchtowers here and there and a couple of patrols could be seen. The tall vegetation nearby, such as trees, was cut, but not uprooted.

  A few people were doing their best to uproot a couple of the numerous trunk stumps. I wished them luck.

  Compared to Manzanillo, this was a recyclable forward outpost, the loss of which was negligible.

  The way to enter was through a checkpoint. Or by jumping the two- to three-metre fence, but it had risks.

  There was no line at the checkpoint. Even the guard in there looked bored.

  Only one person had to be on post to write down who and when they entered.

  When the most impressive defensive structure was the watchtower, it was no wonder that the sole military person on the post was so apathetic.

  What would it be able to do if a horde were to attack? Shut the door and hope the fence would last long enough to allow them to escape through the back exit?

  I did hope this was just a bad first impression.

  When I went to the checkpoint, the guard gave me a half look.

  She was in military uniform. Her firearm was unsheathed. Her rank was engraved on her uniform’s shoulders.

  “English?” she asked.

  “English.”

  “Name, occupation and reason for coming. This would be enough,” she said with no energy.

  Her features were rough, showing she was a fighter.

  I got a paper with “my” information. This was the second time I had to use it since coming to the Continent.

  Why waste time telling her? She would not have been here if it were not for orders.

  That was what I found out from her expression and lack of motivation.

  Still, I decided that a chat might be beneficial.

  “Name’s Raven. I’m a “mercenary”. Is that enough?”

  “Yes. Raven and “mercenary”. Wrote it. You may enter. Don’t make much trouble while inside.”

  “Yes, will make sure to behave.”

  She realised I took her advice as a joke and tried to clarify.

  “Just don’t make more trouble for us. We already have our hands full,” she said while rolling her eyes.

  “Has something bad happened?”

  “Just some unfavourable skirmishes with those creatures. We’ve been on higher alert since then. We’re strained.”

  “If that was the case, why are you the only one keeping watch?”

  “Confidential.”

  Ah, yes, the military way of saying “you ask too much, get lost.”

  Fine by me. There was more I could gain from her, but I decided to move on. If it were something big, then everyone should know it.

  While I was entering, she spoke.

  “A forward base was destroyed. My rank is too low to get the details. Our superior decided to send numerous small squads far and wide to monitor for hostile activities.”

  “Uhum. Thank you for the information.”

  “Don’t think of doing any monkey business. Not all of the guards are taking it as well as me.”

  She took it well? Really?

  “Are the civilians informed?”

  “They are kept in the dark. The last thing we need now is them panicking and forcing us to use the limited resources we have on them.”

  “True. Have a safe shift.”

  “Have a safe stay and stay out of trouble.”

  Whether this place stayed or fell, as long as everything was fine during my stay, I did not care.

  After asking here and there, I learned some of the layout of this place – the location of the guild.

  The basic rule for freelancer “mercenaries” was to first and foremost look at the jobs at the local guild.

  Who knows? There might be something interesting in there.

  Unlike the “mercenaries” belonging to a group, organisation or corporation, I had the free will to choose what to do.

  As in everything, high pay usually meant high risk. On the other hand, low payment was safer, but was often something nobody wanted to do.

  Examples for the latter include cleaning city parts, taking guard shifts and so on. Basically, the odd jobs.

  Examples of the highest of the high are killing a King or a Queen.

  In the 50 or so years after the infection, the number of known Kings is countable with the fingers on both hands and as for the number of assassinated…

  I could not remember any at the moment.

  Only an acquaintance of mine set such a goal. The poor thing had no idea what she would get herself into. I want to be there when she realises what real despair was.

  Although I did take a tiny liking to her and helped her, I still thought she was nowhere near close to being able to take down a King.

  From what I saw on the streets, most of the people were poor but had a job to make a living. There were no beggars. Even the most ragged human was doing something.

  This is the only thing this place was superior to Manzanillo.

  Here, no one was rich. Everyone did their utmost to survive without lying all day on the street and begging for cash.

  I saw no stray dog or cat. Even the birds were nowhere to be seen.

  A patrol went past me. One of the soldiers yawned.

  They seemed to be bored.

  I went to a stall that was selling food.

  “Greetings,” I was the first to greet in English.

  “Hello. What would you like?”

  Information.

  “I will have… What do you sell?”

  “Tacos and skewered meat. The meat is fresh, got it this morning.”

  “I will have skewered meat.”

  “Here you are. It would be five dollars.”

  I paid and started getting information.

  I looked for cheap places to stay. I was given some and the directions for them.

  The meat I was eating tasted like beef or pork.

  “Is the meat from a cat or a dog?”

  “Dog.”

  “I see.”

  I still ate it. It was already paid.

  After the small break, I continued to the guild.

  From the outside, the guild building was mostly made out of wood. It had some windows. Overall, it was not in perfect condition, but it was not going to fall anytime soon.

  The interior was also simple – mostly made out of wood, tables and chairs were present. Numerous people with guns around the tables were sitting and there were few decorations.

  This settlement seemed to have no running electricity if I were to take the ready-for-use torches on the wall, a few of which were already in use.

  The creacks of the door preceded my entry. The heavy smell of alcohol and smoke hit my nostrils. At the start, I was given a look for a moment, but soon after, no one cared about me.

  I went to the board where short descriptions of missions were. They could be vague at times.

  The floor’s boards were also creaking from time to time, but the lively chatter made it unnoticeable.

  I was not the only one looking at the jobs.

  After waiting for around 10 minutes and looking at the descriptions, I found a decent mission.

  There was a place close by where a nest of low to mid-ranked zombies had been established recently.

  The mission was to go there, scout and eradicate any hostiles – all of them if possible.

  Additional information might be given to the participants.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The mission could be taken by a group of people or by individuals.

  The pay was 1 000 of the Continent’s currency per person.

  It was a mission from the government’s official at this place – Capitan Primero Jeffrey or something like that.

  That was more or less the description of the mission.

  I sat at a table for two and looked at the menu.

  After looking at the prices here and there on the guild’s menu, 1 000 LC should be decent.

  I did not know what most of the foods written were, but the ones I did know were cheap.

  A stew was just one LC and rarely was there anything for more than three LC.

  A pint of beer was one LC and a half.

  Most guilds had the ability to make food as if they were a restaurant, but it was off-limits to civilians.

  It was way cheaper compared to the restaurants that the normal humans had to use.

  A waitress came a few minutes after I sat down.

  “Hello! Are you ready to order?”

  She was cheerful, her voice like a bell and her friendly smile could make one forget about the troubles they had.

  She was in a waitress uniform with a long skirt and black stockings or pantyhose, but had something tall on her back. Her brown hair was short for a girl's. She looked older than 20, but less than 30.

  From what I could see, she had a pretty healthy look. She had some meat on her bones but was not fat. That indicated she was well off.

  I ordered something, but it was more of a formality rather than the desire to eat.

  When she turned around, I gave her backside a look. Her figure was decent.

  Her hair was made into a ponytail and she was carrying a cylindrical object on her back. It was narrow and tall, wrapped in black cloth.

  Was a weapon hidden in there? Could it even be called “hidden” if there was?

  The backpack, as I decided to call it, was around a metre in length. The upper frame passed through her left shoulder and the lower frame passed through the right side of her waist.

  If it were compared to a clock, one handle was on 11:30 and the other – 5:30.

  What might be hidden in there? Hunting rifle? Shotgun? Bat? Sword? Or was it just an accessory? If it was the last one, I had no words.

  I would take notice of her for our next encounter.

  I was still considering the mission. Did it sound suspicious?

  Yes, but was there a better offer?

  No.

  And so, I made one of the many mistakes in my life by asking the receptionist about the mission after the waitress I fancied so much was nowhere to be seen.

  The receptionist was in neat casual clothing, maybe around her thirties, maybe mid-thirties.

  What made me believe she was the receptionist was her standing behind the desk with the nametag “Reception”.

  Her uniform was slightly different from the waitress'. She lacked the backpack, which should not be a part of the uniform, and the apron.

  I was asked for my information.

  After I provided the paper containing my ID information, everything else was left to the worker.

  After what felt like an eternity (five minutes at most), I was given the date and time of the meeting for the mission.

  “Tomorrow around noon, there’ll be a meeting with the contractor himself. If you want to take part in the mission, you’d better be here by then. Half past noon to be exact.”

  Half past noon? 12:30?

  “By the way, what is the name of the waitress?”

  “She’s Sophia,” she replied while doing the administrative work.

  “Interesting name.”

  “Yes, she’s like you – a foreigner. I kinda pity her for coming in here.”

  “This place?”

  “No, the Continent as a whole. She’s so young. I have no idea why she had to come here and waste both her youth and life. I get it if she were in the capital, but here? Even the men in here are worthless.”

  “I hope I am not included.”

  “I have yet to see you. You must be new here.”

  “Yes, I came this morning.”

  “Do you have any questions? I might help you.”

  “Well, if you insist…”

  I asked her about where I could spend the following nights.

  I also requested to get a copy of the mission.

  It might come in handy.

  For my first inquiry, she told me about a shabby place. It was cheap, but that was the only positive thing about it.

  For the second, she said she would need a bit of time to prepare. I should come back after ten to 15 minutes.

  I went to the table where I had ordered.

  My food was served and it even had time to cool off. I ate, got the bill, paid and got up.

  The entire time, I kept an eye on the waitress, but found nothing unusual about her.

  The first time we met, I did not care much about her, but when I did, her bangs happened to cover her eyes.

  Whatever. I got the urge to know her better, but decided that becoming a stalker was too much trouble. If there were something about her, I would notice it eventually.

  I went to the receptionist to get the copy.

  Her sly smile greeted me.

  “Is it ready?”

  “Yes. Here. Do you happen to have a thing for Sophia?”

  I was about to deny, but found a way to get more intel on her.

  “What made you think so?”

  “Your eyes were always on her.”

  “Hmm. Depends on what you have to say.”

  “I don’t know everything, but from our small talk, I managed to understand that she was single.”

  And I cared because?

  “And?”

  “Well, I shouldn’t be spilling the beans on strangers. You might be dangerous.”

  Then why even start?

  “That is smart, you should not. I will have in mind that she is single, thank you very much.”

  Not that I cared. If I wanted to have her in bed, whether she had a boyfriend, husband or girlfriend, I did not care.

  “She has a brother, but that’s all I know about him.”

  “Yes, yes, I appreciate it.”

  I looked for a way to escape.

  “If you want to date her, I’ll root for you. But if you hurt her… You'd better be prepared! The guild became so lively after she came.”

  I waved her goodbye.

  Since there was nothing for me to do, I started to head out of the guild.

  Despite the place being somewhat rundown, people could be seen eating, chatting or drinking. The atmosphere continued to be as lively as when I entered half an hour ago.

  The agile waitress was running up and down, serving more alcoholic beverages.

  I had a bad feeling about her.

  On my way out, while I was still looking around, I was awoken from my daydreaming after I bumped into some other “mercenaries”.

  They were with decent builds, being half a head taller than me and their muscles were nothing to scoff at.

  As for weapons, they did not seem to be carrying any in the open.

  They were probably hiding a gun somewhere and a knife or two.

  Those two seemed like the idiots who would try to fight zombies in close-quarters melee.

  It would usually work… for the weaklings.

  As for the more dangerous types, they might take one or 10 but would ultimately die.

  “Excuse me,” I said while trying to get out of the guild slightly faster than before.

  They said nothing and either let me pass or were too slow to stop me.

  I might have made fun of them in my mind, but they probably were not bad at fighting humans.

  And I might have made them angry.

  Well, only time would tell.

  No more than 10 seconds after I left, the door behind me reopened.

  It might not have been them, so I just kept walking on.

  But after a bit more loitering around and the feeling of someone following me, I was more or less certain.

  So annoying.

  How to deal with them?

  I would try to walk a bit more and if they gave up, all would be good. For now.

  If they did not… dark alleys exist.

  By the time I was almost to a place that had the potential to be my accommodation, they were still behind me.

  Oh well… I think that narrow place over there would suffice for a “dark alley” even in the middle of the day – as long as there were no witnesses.

  There were no patrols around. It should work, yes.

  I went there, turned around a corner once, then twice and decided to wait for them.

  The alley was damp, smelly and tiny.

  I was pondering what sort of edgelord-like pose to strike, but I couldn't make a decision, so I simply leaned against the nearest wall, my left arm in my pocket while my right was poised to draw my secondary firearm if the need arose.

  Soon, both of them and I met.

  Now that they were a potential threat, I took a better look at them.

  Both were tall and muscular, wore a tank top and a pair of sports pants and had waist pouches. One of them had a scar on the face. Overall, they looked slightly intimidating.

  Still, I found the claws of women scarier than them.

  It was around spring or early summer, so their choice of wear was not too peculiar in my eyes.

  Let’s deal with this and be off. Without bloodshed, if possible.

  “You have been following me for a while now. Care to explain why?” I said coldly, trying not to look scared at all.

  “Aren’t you cheeky? You bumped into us and are asking why? Do you have a death wish or something?” was the reply of one of them.

  They seemed too angry about something, according to me, minor.

  It was not like I pickpocketed them. They seemed to have nothing of value.

  “I apologised, did I not?”

  “So what? You think that is enough?” the other scarred monkey said.

  Are they twins or something? They do look alike… Both seemed like dunces.

  I honestly did not care about them much, so an apology was already a lot from me.

  After a sigh, I asked, “What would be sufficient?”

  Ideally, I would rather stay low and not cause a ruckus on my first day.

  Or, at the very least, not a big one.

  “Money,” both said in unison without much thinking.

  “How much?”

  “Give us 100 dollars and we’ll let you off.”

  100 LC?

  Is that not a bit much?

  I was going to let bygones be bygones, but this daylight robbery would not do.

  It was as good a time as any to describe the money system.

  LC, or Local Currency, is a currency that can be used anywhere in a certain Continent.

  There are mainly two types of money I use.

  LC and GC (Global Currency).

  The different LCs for the Continents have different values.

  Instead of money, an item, intel or something else could be given as a reward for some missions.

  “Mercenaries” who stay in one place and often frequent the same shops get a discount when doing business.

  Government stores often have discounts for “mercenaries”, but even some civilian enterprises have a policy to sell a bit cheaper to us.

  The GC is the money that the biggest trade company in the world created and is accepted as universal.

  Most people would refer to the money by its name, but I often call it LC or GC.

  Trades consisting of trading item A for item B can happen occasionally, mostly when one has no money.

  Like selling a high-end gun for a few rations.

  Why was there a need to change the currency systems? The countries in The Lost Continent, including Mexico, had their currency, but they either had to submit or had to survive by what they produced.

  It was to simplify the trade. This happened on all Continents where humanity was keeping the fight.

  Even after the “simplification”, some countries continued to use their traditional currency, but only with the normal population – only for the citizens.

  The question of how the currency should be called remained. After deliberation, it was decided that it would take the name of the currency of the biggest country on this Continent before the infection – the same country that was destroyed in the first years of the infection.

  In short, this Continent’s LC was named “dollars” and had the least value among the various LCs.

  It sounded like too much trouble, but I saw why they made it.

  Still, both sides were right – a nation’s currency was one of its symbols, while using only one type of money made life easier.

  Most believe that from all of the currently “human” Continents, this one had the highest chance of getting overrun.

  Exchange is possible between all types of currencies, but the rate is questionable at times, even more so in this forsaken Continent.

  And those bastards were trying to get so much from me?

  After I made another sigh, this time noisy enough to be heard, I replied.

  “Give me a moment.”

  My right arm went down to my imaginary wallet, then a bit lower to my waist, where my “Problem Solver 9000” was.

  The targets were less than five metres to my left. If everything went well, they would be down in five seconds. In the worst case, the surprise attack would take care of one of them.

  I made the first sudden movement.

  They realised that something was wrong, but were too slow.

  ‘Bang’.

  As I predicted, they had no time to react.

  One of them died instantly from a shot to the head, while the other was barely able to react.

  He went for his own weaponry, but by the time he managed to get to his gun, I fired and his throat was hit.

  ‘Bang’.

  His fall was the noisiest thing in the alley if I excluded the two gunshots.

  When he kissed the ground, I went closer, my guard still up for any last attempt at a counterattack.

  He was struggling even to breathe.

  “10 I would have given you instantly, 50 maybe, but 100? You both would sell for less, you know?” were the last words I spoke before I went on my way.

  Whether he heard them or not, it was not my business.

  I went to look for accommodation as planned.

  I entered in an even worse building than the guild.

  The floor creaked with every one of my steps.

  It was somewhat annoying.

  After requesting a room, I was assigned one and had to pay 15 LC per day.

  Although the owner appeared to be the money-hungry type, he knew his place.

  “Every floor has a shared toilet at the end of the corridor. The rooms have a bed and a few furniture and one small room where you could take a bath or wash your clothes. There’s a washtub in there. We can also warm up the water for a small price. You look like a “mercenary”, so with the discount, it would be 18 dollars per day. If you book a room for five or more days, you get an additional discount – 15 dollars per day. We don’t offer any food.”

  “I will take one. I am not sure how long I will stay. Do you give back money?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I will book for five days. If I need to stay longer, I will inform you in advance.”

  “Give me a moment, sir.”

  After a while, he continued speaking after giving me a key.

  “Would you need help to find your room?”

  “No need, just point me at the stairs.”

  “Over there,” he pointed.

  I went in the direction he pointed at.

  My room was on the second floor. Room 211.

  It was… not a five-star hotel for sure. The air inside was heavy and the dust was everywhere.

  On the bedside furniture, I had a piece of a broken mirror, a candle holder with candles and a box of matches. The room also included a wooden chair, a bed, a small round table and a tiny room with a bathtub filled with water. There was also a window that I opened immediately.

  Even the room’s floor was creaking from time to time.

  Until the next day, I had free time, so I might as well make myself cosy in here.

  I dusted the room, checked my equipment and did some maintenance on it.

  I saw my face in the partial mirror. My beard had grown again. I should shave.

  My equipment looked normal, but it was a grade or two above the average “mercenary”.

  I wore camouflage pants with a knob instead of a zip and a camouflage jacket with numerous pockets. Unlike genuine military clothes, I had no rank. That and the lack of an armor vest and helmet were the only differences. My outerwear has two layers: the inner one was mostly made of silk, while the outer layer resembled genuine military uniforms.

  I also had a pair of fingerless gloves. I preferred the sense of touch my bare fingers had.

  Excluding the inferior protection, I dare say that my wear was better than the average grunt’s.

  Underneath, I had additional armor on both of my forearms. It was uncomfortable, but it had its uses. It was especially annoying when I had to put it on while using only one arm. Therefore, I rarely took them off.

  My other clothes were nothing special. They could be found in the everyday shops for clothes.

  My weaponry included a modified Glock 19, a modified AK-47 and a high-end combat black knife.

  The most expensive weapon I possessed was the knife. Someone gave it to me as a gift. It was also experimental weaponry. It was the sharpest thing I ever used. I kept it on the left side of my waist.

  The Glock had a laser sight attached to it and I had a silencer for it in my backpack. I wore it around the right side of my waist.

  My favourite from the three was the AK. I particularly enjoyed the parts that looked like they were made out of wood. It was pleasant to my eyes. Due to the weapon being too big, I kept it disassembled in my backpack.

  The modifications included a red dot attachment for close-range and its muzzle was slightly improved. I also had a belt for it – it might come in handy.

  I also had cleaning kits in my backpack for both of my firearms.

  My aim was mediocre at best. I needed the attachments to help me with my precision. Still, I preferred engaging at close range.

  My next belonging was a medium military backpack. It was nothing fancy, but it was doing what I needed it to do.

  If I hadn’t lost my momento trinket that long ago, I might have worn it on my backpack…

  The last thing I would describe was the waist pouches I wore.

  It had one bigger pouch where my emergency medical supplies were and four smaller ones around it. It even had a space for a water canteen.

  After shaving with my combat knife, I had something to eat and was off to bed.

  The white bed linen was decent and comfy. Sleeping in a bed was more pleasant than sleeping in a tree.

  Walking or jogging for 10 days was tiring.

  Still, I was feeling better than being a guard on that ship. Freaking sea monsters and constant swinging.