Chapter 2
The new cadets hurried after Chloe, who strode forward without the slightest sign of fatigue, afraid they’d lose sight of her.
She’d assumed these pampered noble brats would run out of stamina in no time, but they were holding up surprisingly well.
Well, physical endurance was one of the basic qualifications any proper scoundrel had to possess.
When status and bloodline were no longer enough to throw their weight around, the only things left for them to fall back on were their fists and sheer shamelessness.
To call a lifestyle of all-night drinking parties, dawn-breaking brawls and free-for-alls, and wrecking havoc even on their own families “everyday life,” you needed stamina to back it up.
Ah, except for exactly one person.
“I can’t go any farther… If I don’t sit down and rest right now, I swear I’m going to die right here…”
The sole weakling who had barely managed to keep up finally declared surrender and collapsed spread-eagled on the ground.
“Bye-bye. Hey, ditch that alcoholic trash already. I was getting real sick of hearing him whine about booze behind us. Good riddance. You think you’re the only one missing liquor?”
The redhead, clearly annoyed by the constant drunken muttering, seized the chance to sneer.
As the weakling flopped to the ground, his supply backpack burst open, spilling its contents.
A folding shovel and a waterproof tarp.
Both were survival essentials that could prove extremely useful when abandoned in a wasteland like this. Chloe’s lavender eyes flashed.
She had been drilled in camaraderie during the military elite course, but right now these people were less comrades-in-arms and more temporary traveling companions.
If anyone became dead weight or an obstacle to reaching Northport, she would abandon them without a second thought.
Besides, there was still a full hour left before the rest break she had privately scheduled.
They had a long way to go; she had no time to coddle every sob story.
“If you’re gonna die here anyway, mind if we take your backpack? Better that the living make use of it. We’ll even pray for your soul while using your stuff.”
Speaking in the gentlest tone she could muster, Chloe picked up the weakling’s backpack.
The weakling, now facing outright robbery while still conscious, opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish and managed only a feeble twitch of his fingers in final desperation.
“My heart truly aches. No matter what, I simply cannot abandon such a frail lady alone in this harsh wasteland.”
The sole gentleman of the group, pretending to wipe away tears, approached the collapsed weakling.
Golden-blond hair that refused to lose its luster even under the wasteland dust, bluish-gray eyes, and the refined, glossy beauty of a prized rose cultivar.
This young man (whose looks would easily rank in Chloe’s personal top five of the most handsome men she’d ever seen) had insisted from the very start that he would carry everyone’s supply backpacks.
“How could I possibly allow ladies to walk while carrying such heavy loads?”
It was a mix of chivalry and bravado, all because everyone else in the party was female.
‘Carry five backpacks with those arms?’
‘Does he seriously think these are heavy? Is he for real? Kid, are you looking down on us right now?’
‘Hmm, I’m not sure what makes him think we should trust him with our bags. He’s not planning to run off with them after all this posturing, is he?’
‘…He looks like beer.’
Of course, since none of them were ordinary “ladies,” nobody handed over their backpack. The redhead had even tried to grab the guy by the collar, convinced she was being mocked.
Having been ignored once, the gentleman refused to back down and now dramatically hoisted the weakling onto his back in a fresh display of ostentatious knighthood.
“Don’t worry, my lady. I shall personally escort you all the way to Northport in perfect comfort—urgh!”
He barely managed two steps before the weight proved too much; he toppled forward without finishing his sentence.
Chloe crouched in front of the gentleman, now pinned beneath the weakling, and asked,
“Can you get up?”
Seizing the opportunity, the gentleman lifted his dust-smeared face and gracefully extended a hand.
“It’s difficult alone, but if the lady would lend just the slightest helping hand—”
“Oh, a lighter. Nice find.”
Before he could finish, Chloe stood up without a shred of lingering attachment and began rummaging through her own issued backpack.
“Lady…? Lady? Lady! Wait a second! Why are you going through my backpack…?”
“Hey, grab the jerky too. And the canteen.”
The redhead egged on the looting beside Chloe, who was efficiently pocketing the lighter. The short-haired girl watched the whole farce from a slight distance, looking utterly fed up.
“Wait… don’t you hear something…?”
That was when the weakling, still sprawled on top of the gentleman, muttered in a small voice.
“Hear what? Satan whispering that it’s drinking time again?”
The redhead sneered, parroting the hundreds of alcohol-related mutterings the weakling had already let slip.
But the weakling’s expression stayed deadly serious despite the jab, so even Chloe quietly pricked up her ears.
Thud-thud-thud-thud—
From far off, the sound of multiple feet running straight toward them.
‘He noticed it before I did?’
Chloe raised an eyebrow and looked down at the weakling still lying across the gentleman’s back. Now there was a reason to drag the weakling himself (not just his supplies) along by the scruff of his neck if necessary.
Helping both of them to their feet in turn, Chloe gave the order.
“Everyone, take out anything from your packs you can use as a weapon.”
At her unusually grave expression, the others frantically rummaged through their bags.
The cloud of dust rising in the distance was now close enough to see with the naked eye.
Five over here, five over there. Same numbers.
The only difference was size (and a very large one at that). Unlike Chloe’s group, the other side consisted mostly of big, rough-looking men.
Five people, yet the supply backpacks they carried clearly exceeded five by a wide margin.
Meaning: that group had already been robbing other cadets.
It was best to avoid tangling with people who started looting from the very beginning, but they were already face-to-face—what choice was there?
The resolute gentleman stepped boldly to the front, clutching an empty can like a shield to protect the ladies. Of course, he posed zero threat.
The redhead behind him, knuckles cracking and scowling ferociously, looked far more dangerous.
The breathless standoff between the two groups stretched on until the apparent leader of the raiders stepped forward with light, almost dancing steps.
“All that effort following your tracks paid off. You were our target from the start.”
Chloe responded with clear distaste to his annoyingly smooth voice.
“Our target isn’t reaching Northport, it’s you people? Why?”
“Why else? If we don’t overtake you, we can’t set the record for first arrival this batch. I really hate not being number one—it wounds my pride.”
The man’s fox-like eyes narrowed into slits.
So aggressively obsessed with records. That guy’s a competitive scoundrel!
Still, Chloe had her pride as an active-duty elite soldier—she had no intention of handing first place to some wet-behind-the-ears punk.
“Just hand over those backpacks you’re holding and… hmm, I still don’t really feel like letting you go. What to do?”
Malice glinted brightly in the raider leader’s eyes as he spoke as if he held the power over Chloe’s group’s fate.
While Chloe was wondering how best to respond in a properly scoundrel-like manner, the raider leader spread his arms wide as if to embrace them and smiled sweetly.
“Fine, here’s the deal. If just one of you five steps up as representative and lets us break one ankle, the rest can go free—hrk!”
A powerful kick to the back sent the raider leader tumbling face-first into the dirt before he could finish. The redhead hadn’t even finished raising her middle finger.
In the silence that crashed down, the owner of the kick slowly scanned the raiders with golden eyes that gleamed like a predator’s.
The man casually stepped on the fallen leader’s back with his military boot, looked down at him, and spoke in a relaxed tone.
“Hi. I’m here to collect a debt.”
A perfectly intact supply backpack dangled from the man’s arm.
—Time remaining until timeout
43:28:39
