I Became a Swordsman of a Dystopian World

The sky was impossibly high.
It felt like autumn.
But like the leaves clinging to the ends of branches, it would soon fade away.
The scent of winter was already in the air.
“You’ll be busy even through the winter, I suppose.”
The new backpack hanging on my shoulders, replacing the old tattered military one, felt strangely out of place.
Maybe I just wasn’t used to it yet.
Putting that aside, I glanced at the few people who had come to see me off.
“The weather’s cold.”
“Please be careful, Captain.”
“You never get a day off, do you.”
A touch of worry.
A hint of regret.
Still, my shoulders didn’t feel heavy.
Simply the fact that I’d be moving via the skies seemed to ease their worries a little.
Then, suddenly.
“Um, Captain.”
“Hm?”
“Well—”
“Take care, be careful, do well.”
“…Yes, understood.”
That was something they could handle on their own.
By now the drainage pumps back at the antcave should already be running, so there was nothing to worry about.
They’d been comfortable at headquarters in the meantime, hadn’t they?
‘Well, maybe not completely comfortable.’
“Are you sure you won’t go see the restoration site at the cultivation blocks and the antcave before you leave?”
Eli asked, a little hurt.
“I’ll be back soon.”
It would certainly feel rewarding to be at that site.
But that would only be a momentary emotion.
I couldn’t let myself be buried in a brief feeling and postpone what had to be done.
‘No, not yet.’
The obsessive thought that I had to accomplish something at every moment had hardened into something pathological.
‘Let’s endure a little more.’
There was no choice.
Anyone who knew the hundreds or thousands of possible futures of this disaster would would feel the same urgency..
Any further farewells would be nothing more than empty ritual.
I powered up the Black Wing; the deep core hummed as it warmed.
Ziiiiiing— and when I pulled the throttle…
Guuuuuuung.
Leaving them behind, I increased speed.
Kuuuuuuung—!
The engine and the wind deepened my thoughts.
It wouldn’t matter if I was away a little while.
They were colleagues who could manage just fine.
A wind that gnawed at my skin.
Without thinking, I drew my coat tighter against the biting cold of the upper air, so different compared to the chill on the ground below.
Fortunately, the reinforced suit, patched up to some degree, blocked some of the cold, making it bearable.
‘I should get proper cold-weather gear.’
Might as well get something nice.
When there’s no mission, a long padded coat would be fine to wear.
Wouldn’t that be a bit too classic in this world?
A laugh escaped me at the useless thought.
Looking down, I felt the landscape suited the weather.
A ruin—nothing more, nothing less—stirred a peculiar feeling.
A city with no electricity.
Most windows were shattered, and hundreds or thousands of android corpses lay scattered.
If there was any building that looked intact…
A wary gaze inevitably scanned the surroundings from the window.
Those who could still walk around here safely were only the mutants and infected.
‘The movement of entities is starting to slow down.’
Their movement was noticeably slower—maybe due to the cold.
They no longer scour everywhere for food.
It was natural, in a way.
They needed energy too.
The colder it got, the more energy they expended.
So they limited movement to reduce their own energy use.

But paradoxically, that state was the most dangerous.
If you made even the smallest sound in front of an animal that had restricted its movement to save energy—
You’d see them rush more violently and ferociously than before.
Even so, not much time was left.
If the cold became severe, they would enter hibernation.
When winter came, most of them would go into hibernation.
And then—
‘Opportunity.’
A single chance to exterminate millions at once.
A time to take the offensive.
After this winter, it would be impossible.
The evolution of the mutants would reach a tipping point.
‘So when winter comes, the whole city must move in a coordinated way.’
Even in hibernation, if they smelled food or heard movement, they’d wake.
So it’s impossible to slaughter hibernating mutants endlessly.
However—
It’s a matter of timing.
Much will hinge on how we use that time.
‘The war… hasn’t even started yet.’
When winter ends, hibernating creatures will wake and begin eating their own kind.
Countless evolutions will repeat.
Even third-stage mutants, given the current circumstances, would be living disasters.
When creatures whose regeneration outpaces their injuries emerge, humanity will face despair once more.
There are essentially two ways to deal with such third-stage entities.
Either pulverize them instantly with optical weapons.
Or make them unable to regenerate with plasma weapons.
‘I must finish the plasma blade before winter ends.’
A towering stack of tasks awaited, all to prepare for a future that had not yet come.
“Hoo.”
Maybe because I’d been thinking too much, a faint headache pulled my brow.
“Tired.”
A weariness of the mind, unlike the physical fatigue that the mechanical heart could mask.
For a moment, I unconsciously eased my speed, tempted by the thought of rest, only to scold myself sharply.
With so many thoughts trailing after one another until now, how could I rest?
Occasional rest is enough.
I had long since grown accustomed to suppressing emotion and steadying myself with that very notion
Perhaps the chill of the high air cleared my head quickly.
And in that moment—
Kaaaak— Kaaaak— as if cheering my journey on, a bird spread its wings and glided widely.
‘Interesting.’
Usually this didn’t happen.
The small peace I felt watching the bird was enough to lift my sagging mood.
But then—
Flap.
“Hm?”
Something unexpected happened.
Kraak— caw—?
“What is it?”
Why had the bird landed on the saddle?
The black bird that had been gliding in the sky briefly alighted on the Black Wing’s saddle and folded its wings.
Some forms of life cannot become mutants or infected.
No—more accurately, only certain types of life are capable of mutation or infection.
To put it simply…
Life forms that can become mutated or infected are limited to ‘mammals.’
In other words, creatures that give live birth and nurse with milk can all be infected.
It’s the same principle as how HIV is deadly to humans but has no effect on some animals.
That doesn’t mean the cause of mutation is necessarily a virus, but that’s an apt analogy.
‘If birds got infected too, a whole flock of migratory birds would be a catastrophe.’
So the creature in front of ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) me was a safe animal.
“Is it a crow?”
Its body was too large and sleek to be an ordinary crow.
But its cry was unmistakably a crow’s.
Kaaak— kaaak—
“That crow has a loud voice.”
Had it landed to rest?
I vaguely remembered hearing such cases: an eagle landing on a paraglider’s saddle, that sort of thing.
‘I thought that happened only with birds raised by humans.’
Maybe this one had been raised by people too.
Given its size and abnormal appearance, it seemed unlikely it had been naturally born.
And the small tag on its leg supported that.
“Oho.”
I couldn’t read it, but it probably had the owner’s phone number or something.
‘A giant crow raised by humans. That’s rare.’
Kaaak—! Kraaak—!
But what had been bothering me since earlier was the bird’s reaction.
For a creature that had perched to rest, it kept calling loudly.
Soon it grabbed the control stick with its beak and shook its head.
We couldn’t converse, but its urgent emotion came through.
“Are you asking for help?”
Kaaak!
It bobbed its head as if it understood.
This was an awkward situation.
‘I can’t waste time.’
I had brushed off several people who were disappointed to see me leave, so I didn’t feel like helping.
“Go. This isn’t something I can help with.”
Had it understood that too?
Its cry sounded even more mournful.
Kaaaak— kaaaak—…
Then it tried to snatch Zero away.
“…!?”

It happened in an instant.
But I wasn’t going to give in quietly.
“Get—!”
I tightened my grip, and the bird, sensing the insurmountable difference, feigned ignorance and tilted its head.
‘This is something.’
Rather than feeling annoyed, curiosity and fascination grew.
Not only was it clever enough to understand human words, but cunning enough to steal things to lure people.
‘No wonder crows are said to be the smartest of birds.’
But perhaps it hadn’t finished surprising me.
The bird even mimicked human speech.
“Hel—p… kaaak—”
Come to think of it, like parrots, crows can mimic human language.
My curiosity deepened.
But that curiosity didn’t last long.
Something I’d forgotten came back to mind.
Ding!
【Encounter Occurred】
“Why is this—happening here?”
An [Encounter] isn’t simply being given choices in a specific situation.
If that were true, I would have met countless encounters already.
When I was offered the suggestion to gather remaining forces,
or when I chose to block the subway line,
no encounter appeared then either.
The reason was clear.
An encounter is, after all, more like a question the world asks.
How will you act?
When you go against the flow, the frequency of encounters increases again.
That’s why, once I began to act with a certain consistency, encounters became rare.
Because my choices were always the same.
Do the most necessary thing.
Do it with utmost efficiency.
Rebuild this world.
I’d acted within that three-beat rhythm, so I thought encounters would be hard to come by.
Still, they sometimes occurred unexpectedly like this.
When I didn’t want them to.
If the world deems this situation a crucial turning point, it asks a question.
Through this encounter device.
I couldn’t help but feel bewildered.
What on earth could it be?
‘Do I have to go?’
I could ignore it.
But you shouldn’t take a randomly occurring encounter lightly.
You might regret it later.
“Does it understand human language?”
Kaaak— kaaak—!
It answered as if it were obvious.
I patted its head once and said,
“Alright. Lead the way.”
—Unidentified encounter.
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