Chapter 415

Chapter 415

Ragnar’s brows shot up, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “You’re actually gonna help me, huh?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought you had places to be.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Yes, yes, sure. I was just curious why you agreed, that’s all.”

“I just want to rack up Good Samaritan points.”

“Fair enough. Alright, follow me then.”

Ragnar set off down the street, his footsteps echoing against the cracked pavement, and Jake matched his pace at his side. He didn’t actually need the guy to guide him, as after scanning Ragnar’s mind, he already knew exactly where the anomaly lay. If he wanted, he could shed his human guise, unleash his monstrous form, and cover the distance to the mall in minutes. He didn’t need Ragnar’s help in finding the anomaly or completing its challenge, and walking alongside him was, in practical terms, a waste of time.

So the real reason he allowed Ragnar to lead the way was to converse with him. From Ragnar’s memories, Jake had learned that he was from Base Samantha, and he was well aware that Samantha held a grudge against him. While he knew she was planning to raid his ten‑story lair at some point, he had no concrete details about her plan. Samantha harbored a personal vendetta against him, so Jake hoped that by talking to Ragnar, he might glean some valuable insights, knowledge he could use to better prepare for the confrontation he knew was coming.

He was about to ask the guy a question, but Ragnar beat him to it. Turning his head toward Jake, he asked, “How far away is your stash? Is it at one of the bases, or do you keep it hidden in your personal hideout?”

“My stash?” Jake echoed, unsure of what Ragnar meant.

Ragnar nodded toward Jake’s revolver. “Yeah. You’re lightly armed, and that anomaly is crawling with tough monsters. You’ll need something more powerful than your sidearm. Best grab a better weapon from your stash before we head in.”

“I see,” Jake said.

Ragnar must have misinterpreted Jake’s tone because he added, “If you have your own hideout and don’t want me to know where it is, that’s fine. We can split ways, and after you’ve retrieved a better weapon, we can meet up again somewhere.”

Jake unholstered his revolver and displayed it to the human. “I don’t need another weapon,” he replied evenly. “I’m fine with what I have. This revolver’s got more than enough stopping power to handle most mutants without much trouble. For now, it’s more than enough for me.”

Ragnar retrieved his PDA, its screen flickering to life as he scanned the revolver for a full readout of its stats. “An Epic, huh? Not bad at all,” he mused, arching a brow. “Still, the ammo capacity’s on the low side. You sure you don’t want something with a larger capacity?”

“Nah. Trust me, this gun is all I need for now. My Perception is high, so most of the shots I fire land as critical hits. And with my high Agility, I can reload pretty quickly, too. So ammo capacity won’t slow me down. This gun’s perfect for me.”

“Uh-huh.” Ragnar’s tone was slow and laden with skepticism, his expression making it clear he wasn’t impressed. “Listen, when we get there, you’d better pay close attention to where you’re aiming. As I mentioned, that anomaly is very dangerous and is triggered by direct hits. If you accidentally strike it, it will activate. Another problem is that the anomaly is nearly invisible, so you really need to be careful about where you’re aiming in its vicinity.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jake retorted. “As I mentioned, I place well-aimed shots to deal critical damage. I’m well aware that my gun doesn’t carry many rounds, so I make each one count, pulling the trigger only when I’m certain it’ll strike exactly where I aim. You, on the other hand, are toting an assault rifle.”

“I don’t have it on full auto, if that’s what you’re implying,” Ragnar cut in before Jake could finish his thought. “I don’t just point it in the general direction of the enemy to spray and pray. It’s set to three-round bursts instead.”

Jake wasn’t particularly interested in arguing about it. He wanted to reach the mall as soon as possible, and walking, rather than keeping the brisk jogging pace he usually maintained, was starting to get on his nerves. So, he changed the subject. “Do you have a vehicle? It’d get us to the anomaly much faster.”

“Nah,” Ragnar replied with a shake of his head. “Samantha isn’t the type to hand out vehicles to just anybody. You’ve either got to prove yourself, earning her respect enough for her to let you use one or build your own from scratch. Honestly, I think the second option’s better. When you make it yourself, it’s yours and yours alone. But of course, building a vehicle requires a lot of resources. I’ve been stockpiling them bit by bit. Sooner or later, I’ll have enough to put one together.”

Jake remembered that the System had frequently and conveniently placed vehicles in designated spots, parking lots, street corners, waiting for survivors to take and use as their own. But that changed with the transition to Stage II, the city’s next level of difficulty. The days of stumbling upon a perfectly working car were over. Now, acquiring a vehicle required an effort. If someone wanted one, they had to scavenge the city for a specific list of materials, which the System would then use to assemble the vehicle for them.

“What about you?” Ragnar asked with a curious tilt of his head. “I’m guessing you don’t have a vehicle either, huh?”

“Nah,” Jake replied. “During Stage I, I went through cars like gloves. Crash one, grab another, barely a pause in between. But these days, getting your hands on a ride is a whole lot tougher.” He didn’t give Ragnar a chance to answer before pressing on. “So, you’re from Base Samantha, huh? Heard plenty of stories about you guys.”

“You did? Can’t say I’m surprised,” Ragnar said with a smug grin. “Our group’s story is easily the most interesting. We’re the real badasses. But you’re not one of us, are you? I don’t recall ever seeing you at the base.”

“Nope.”

“So which of the other two bases are you affiliated with, then?” Ragnar asked.

“Actually, none of them,” Jake replied, preparing to share the legend he had devised for his alter ego.

“Seriously?” Ragnar’s eyebrows arched, genuine surprise in his voice. “How come?”

Before Jake could answer, movement stirred in a shadowed alley up ahead. A pack of mutants spilled into the street, their eyes locking onto the two survivors. Snarling and hissing, they broke into a full charge, claws and fangs bared.

“Well, Mark, this is your chance to prove you really are the crack shot you’ve claimed to be!” Ragnar called out, his voice brimming with excitement, as he brought his assault rifle to bear on the group of approaching mutants.