Chereads / Consumption of Worlds / Chapter 25 - To Protect the Wall

Chapter 25 - To Protect the Wall

"Those of you who've remained and decided to not throw your lives away, you'll be deployed amongst the other prisoners. They'll give you the knowledge required to run with this operation. Then you'll be expected to match their efficiency, if not exceed it, considering your health and abilities." A captain explained while a certain amount of distaste could be heard when he said 'abilities'.

The guards starting trying to escorting them individually but the contestants wouldn't budge unless they were with their group.

"What's the problem?" The same captain asked the guards upon noticing the contestants' unmoving bodies.

That's when a contestant spoke up nonchalantly.

"You've got us in our groups already. We aren't leavin' 'em. So figure it out." He waved the guards trying to round them up away.

The detonators didn't work anymore so the bomb collars were more for show. The contestants obviously knew this since they were the cause of them being broken. This meant the city's soldiers and guards had lost a major bargaining chip against the contestants.

"We're moving you based off of what job's would best suit you. The strong looking people become loaders, the clever looking ones become mechanics, et cetera, et cetera."

"Well, I reckon we'd do better based off of our skills, rather than what you think we're good at. Look; I bet I speak for everyone here. You won't break up the groups, there's a reason we're in them. In fact-!" The contestant pointed towards a teammate of theirs, "I hate that fucker with a passion, but I'm still working with them."

"Why won't you be split up?" The captain probed for information to give his superiors.

"For reasons that'll go unsaid."

The contestant lifted a certain finger causing the captain's face to distort under his mask. Despite not knowing it's meaning, he could definitely infer it.

The captain leaned over and gave a new command to not split them into groups. He didn't have much power anymore since they needed more strong fighters, and sorcerers were definitely strong as much as he hated to admit it.

There were some here willing to work for them, so he'd obviously be punished if anything bad happened to them or if they revolted. He kept the groups together and set a few of them along the line in opposite directions.

Auclair, Norman with Connie hanging from his neck, Gwen, and Jackson all made their way over to their designated area, following the guards closely. Connie kept complaining from the gunfire causing Norman to cover her ears. With them were eight others in their own two separate groups.

The group stopped at a cluster of large cannons pointed towards the ground at all the undead. There was a line of prisoners shooting bolt-action rifles towards the undead and swapping out with those behind them when they needed to reload. Some of the prisoners looked towards the three squads assigned to them and a prisoner wobbled over on unsteady footing.

"You four, follow me." He spoke to Auclair's group, "You four, go with him, and you four, go with him." He pointed towards two other prisoners and the large group splintered apart.

"Alright, big guy, you're going to be the loader for the artillery. The shells are there, place them here, and ram the round into it with that rod." He spoke directly to Auclair. He then quickly explained how to fire the weapon. Auclair quickly absorbed the information and nodded.

"Who doesn't mind some heat?" The prisoner then asked.

Gwen raised a finger slightly above her waist.

"Alright, you get the gas job. Here's a flare gun, ammo is there. Keep the skies lit up at all times with illumination rounds. In the meantime, there's the fuel hose there, shoot it all over the undead by walking along the wall. Once you've got a decent coating, shoot a flare into the midst of it. The fuel burns extremely hot and will torch right through the undead bodies, creating room for more. The ash will get cleaned up and pushed back by a cleanup crew when everything is over, so don't worry about it."

"That leaves you tw-three?" The prisoner looked at Connie and swore. "Those bastards are arresting kids now? What did you do, steal a loaf of bread?"

"Not a real kid, just seems like one." Auclair said while looking at the massive rounds with curiosity.

"Not real? What the hell does that even mean?" The prisoner asked.

"She's real enough." Norman retorted to Auclair.

"Yeah, but what would your sister think about that? Don't delude yourself and forget the real reason you're here."

"She's not real?" Jackson suddenly interjected and Gwen also seemed interested.

"Connie, go hide in your brother's shadow for now." Auclair told her, "You don't want to get worked to the bone."

"But I want to help big brother!" She exclaimed while dropping from his neck and covering her ears.

"Connie." Auclair looked at her seriously.

"Yes sir." Connie grumbled and walked behind Norman before disappearing.

"When did you two become so buddy-buddy?" Norman said with squinted eyes.

"Buddy-buddy? It's called scolding; a child doesn't want to be scolded." Auclair explained with a frustrated face beneath his mask. "Look, get rid of her. You're already forgetting your real sister because of her, I can tell. Hell, anyone with any sense of reality can tell. You're getting too attached."

Norman bit his lip and looked past the walls into the dark night.

"Gonna explain?" Jackson asked while waving his arms around.

"She's a Regret, a weird one at that, and if you don't know, I don't care to explain." Auclair said quickly as he lifted up a round with some straining. He put it down after testing the weight and looked at it some more.

"I don't know, actually. But you seem to know- HEY!" Jackson jumped forward and tackled Auclair.

He got up and looked at the explosive with worry clear on his face. There was the smallest dent imaginable where Auclair had smacked it.

"Are you fucking nuts?! Don't hit it like that! Do you want to kill us all or something?!" Jackson exhaled and collapsed to the ground. "Good gods above…"

The prisoner stuck a finger into their ear and dug out some earwax.

"You lot are strange, and I've got a long of questions, but now isn't the time." He looked towards Auclair and spoke, "He's right big guy, don't hit the ammunition like that unless you want to blow yourself and everyone here sky high. Especially if it sets off the rest of the ammunition."

The prisoner coughed heavily and bent over with a groan. His tired eyes looked at Norman and Jackson.

"That leaves you two. What are ya good at?" He said with a strained voice.

"Technology." Norman answered.

"Jack of all trades." Jackson answered.

The prisoner pointed at Norman.

"You'll be doing maintenance. All this stuff is so worn down its unbelievable. Over there are spare parts organized by what they belong to. Check on the artillery periodically and if someone calls you over, unless you're working on something, go right away. That man there with more than just a foot-in-the-grave can give you some pointers since this is the first time you're seeing this equipment."

He then pointed towards an old man with a partially paralyzed face that was stuck in a contorted position. They were sitting on the ground quickly stripping a gun down and inspecting its innards.

"Lastly, you." The prisoner looked Jackson up and down and said, "You can be a marksmen, I suppose."

"I'm pretty good with a rifle if I say so myself." Jackson replied with a smile. He hadn't held a gun since he entered the Hex Trials. Unless you grabbed a random weapon in a trial, which you couldn't keep, for rewards all you got were swords and bows like some fantasy movie.

It definitely did not make him happy.

Jackson walked towards the other prisoners while rolling up his sleeves. Some prisoners seemed as healthy as him and others already looked dead.

He grabbed a rifle and as many magazines as he could carry. He loaded one in the gun as he wedged himself past all the prisoners and stood at the front peering over the edge. There wasn't even any safety equipment to keep himself from falling over.

"Woah." His mouth automatically spouted in awe at the sight. He quickly shouldered the gun and took aim.

"You ever fire a weapon before?" A fairly healthy prisoner leaned over and asked him, unaware that Jackson was from another world where firearms were commonplace.

"Once or twice." Jackson answered while getting accustomed to the weapon's weight and sights.

"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, but against this?" The man motioned towards the literal sea of undead that had slowly been thinned out while the group was getting trained. "You just fire madly, it'll always hit something."

"That's a fair point."

Jackson knew it, but didn't care. He had gone too long without a gun, especially one he could fire so freely, so he wanted to cherish the moment.

He fired a round exploding the weak head of an undead. He pulled the bolt back on the gun and slammed it forward once the casing flew out and fired again. Another headshot, then another, and another, all in rapid succession.

"Oh, how I've missed this." Despite the covered face, one could tell he was grinning just from his voice alone.

"By our forefathers… Sir, you're the best shot I've-"

"Can it! You're gonna ruin it for me." Jackson cut the man off and kept firing the gun.

Gwen paced back and forward with the flare gun. She had just fired a round into the air and loaded another round. She looked towards Auclair's vulnerable back. She raised the gun and placed her finger against the trigger.

With one little squeeze, she could probably blow the whole place up. She doubted a civilization as primitive as this one had proper storage for the explosives. In other words, she could easily kill Auclair.

She lightly squeezed the trigger, but let go before the round fired with a click of her tongue.

Her brother would've wanted her to live, and she wanted to live just to spite Auclair.

'You're dead and I'm alive.'

That's what she wanted to say to his corpse so desperately.

She sighed and lowered the flare gun. She looked at the ground which had the fuel hose laying without any supervision. She walked over and lifted and made her way over to the edge.

'I shouldn't kill him during the trial unless its at the end. He's definitely strong and I'll need his help to pass. But then at the end, all bets are off and if not this during trial, it'll be the next time I see him.' She determined in her mind as she turned on the hose.

The insane pressure lifted her off her feet before she could even attempt to brace herself. The hose flung her over the edge of the wall but she quickly sent out a fire dagger and dug it into the wall, catching herself before she fell to her death.

"Shit!" She cursed as she lifted herself to the edge. As she pulled herself up she found all the prisoners looking at her with wide eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorcerer or whatever you call us." She yelled with her agitation steadily rising. She suppressed her rising anger issues with a huff and walked over to the hose.

This time she braced herself properly and slowly turned it on, raising the pressure to an appropriate place. After coating the top layer of undead she shot out a flare, lighting them all on fire, intensely burning away any chance they might've had to get past the wall.

The prisoners looked at the fire that was reflecting in the lenses of her gas mask in fear and determined she must've been the spawn of some sort of devil.

Norman sat next to the old prisoner who looked like they'd keel over at any moment.

"Ah, my replacement!"

Despite that, the old prisoner exclaimed with glee when he saw Norman. He rubbed his callused hands together while his partially paralyzed mouth struggled to smile.

"Y-yes." Norman replied with some hesitation.

"You'll let this old man rest his weary bones a bit before he passes on right?"

Presented with the sudden question, Norman opened his mouth to answer with uncertainty.

"…Yes?"

"Good! Get to it! Here's a list of what needs to be done. Better hurry up, the queue is long!" The old man yelled jovially as he handed a list over to Norman on a clipboard.

Norman's eyes widened in shock as he took the clipboard. It seemed like there was an entire book's worth of paper placed in it. He assumed that not all of the paper could've been dedicated to the list, it would've been impossible. But as he flipped further and further, he slowly realized something…

He had assumed very wrong.

Norman looked at the list and made a decision. He gulped down some saliva unsure if the old man would kill him and stood quickly. He ran over to the edge of the wall and threw out all the papers, letting them drift slowly down to the undead.

The old man watched the scene with an unnaturally still body.

"Could I have done that all these years?" The old man muttered under his breath with a dreadful expression, as tears filled his eyes.