I Became the Tyrant of a Defense Game

Chapter 739

「Mikhail, are you there...?」

Hearing the voice of one of the queens, Mikhail urgently picked up the receiver and responded as gently as he could.

"Yes, I'm here."

「I'm sorry, we went out on the deck earlier and... encountered a zombie monster. We managed to knock it off the airship, but during the struggle, the sisters got bitten.」

"..."

「The infection spread quickly. And a little while ago, I got bitten too...」

Despite his pale complexion, Mikhail spoke with a steady voice.

"Don't worry. It'll be alright."

「But Mikhail...!」

Mikhail spoke with conviction.

"Trust me. I will save you."

The queen's voice wavered on the other end of the line.

「I love you, Mikhail...」

"I love you too. So don't worry and wait for me."

Click-

The call ended.

"..."

Putting down the receiver, Mikhail steadied his breathing and turned to me.

"Prince Ash."

"..."

"Can you tell me? Tell me there's a way."

There was a desperate plea in Mikhail's eyes.

"Tell me I don't have to lose my comrades, my family, and my wives here. Tell me."

I nodded immediately.

"Don't worry. I have a way."

I then shouted to McMillan.

"Sir McMillan! When can we establish communication with Crossroad?"

"We entered the communication range a short while ago. We can connect anytime."

"Connect us now."

The connection to Crossroad was made, and I called for High Priestess Rosetta.

It didn't take long before Rosetta, already on alert due to the wartime situation, answered the call.

「This is Rosetta, Prince Ash.」

"High Priestess Rosetta."

I asked directly.

"Can you tell me about the ‘cure’ for the zombie plague?"

Our enemy this time was zombie monsters.

Naturally, we had considered countermeasures against zombie infection in case our troops got injured.

This world has a magical civilization built firmly on the system of magic. National-level measures exist for all sorts of problems that plague humanity—monsters, epidemics, natural disasters.

The zombie plague is no exception.

「There is a formulation for a zombie plague cure that the Order has established. However, as I mentioned before.」

Rosetta repeated what I had heard previously in a businesslike tone.

「Since the symptoms and pathology of the zombie plague vary each time it breaks out, the antidote needs to be adjusted based on the extent of the mutation.」

"You mean you need to see the patient directly?"

「That's correct. And up until now...」

We had not been able to bring any ‘patients’ for study.

Because they were all fully zombified monsters.

Although we brought a few corpse samples to the temple, it was impossible to derive meaningful research data from completely dead specimens.

We needed a living, moving sample, whether it was an infected person or a zombie that had been revived from an infected person.

"Well, it's perfect timing. We’re currently bringing back a bunch of patients."

「You have infected survivors? If you bring them to the temple, we will immediately assess the symptoms and prepare the antidote.」

"The number of patients is over a hundred."

Including La Mancha's crew and the Sky Knights.

In total, over a hundred people were infected.

Rosetta fell silent for a moment. I pressed with emphasis.

"Can you treat them?"

「...There is always only one thing we, priests, can say, Your Highness.」

Rosetta spoke in a cold and functional tone.

「We will do our best. Please transport the patients here as soon as possible.」

"We're on our way."

Click.

I ended the call and looked at Mikhail standing beside me.

"Once we get to Crossroad, there will be a way. Just hold on a little longer."

Not only is High Priestess Rosetta there, but also healers gathered from all over the world are on standby.

Crossroad is likely far better equipped for this kind of treatment than even the capital of the Empire.

"...Alright, Prince Ash."

Taking a deep breath, Mikhail nodded.

"I'm a king now. I must act with dignity. I will steady my heart and wait."

After the call with Rosetta, the atmosphere on the bridge began to lighten somewhat.

"Having a method is fortunate, but..."

McMillan, drenched in sweat, wiped his face with a handkerchief and spoke up.

"Shouldn't we be concerned about whether we can safely return to Crossroad?"

"What?"

I asked back at the unexpected statement, and simultaneously,

Thud!

Crash-!

The door to the bridge shook violently.

Everyone turned around in shock to see the infected outside the bridge pounding on the door, screaming.

Bang!

Crack...!

The metal door began to dent under repeated impacts. Those standing near the door retreated in fear.

At this rate, the door wouldn't hold for long.

"The bridge door is a secondary issue."

McMillan said while manipulating the magic panel to check the situation inside the airship. Grinding my teeth, I asked.

"Stop beating around the bush and get to the point, Sir McMillan. What's the real problem?"

"...The engine room is compromised."

McMillan displayed the engine room of La Mancha on the magic panel.

The infected crew members, having completed their mutual infection, were sitting in a dazed state.

"The resident alchemist in charge of the magic reactor has also been infected. And..."

"And what? Speak quickly."

"The output of the main magic reactor is dropping."

A chilling silence filled the bridge.

McMillan continued.

"It seems the switch was flipped down during the struggle with the infected in the engine room. The output continues to decrease. We are currently relying on the auxiliary reactor, but at this rate, we won't be able to maintain flight."

"Remote control?"

"I've tried, but it's not responding. It needs to be reset manually."

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Despite everything, the infected filled the corridor, irregularly pounding on the bridge door and screaming. Bloodshot eyes blinked through the cracked glass.

Glancing at the chaos outside, McMillan continued.

"The estimated flight time to reach Crossroad was one hour, but at this rate, the main reactor will shut down completely in 30 minutes, and we'll have to make an emergency landing."

"..."

In the silence that followed, McMillan suggested.

"Your Highness. What I'm proposing is that if we have to make an emergency landing anyway, why not do it safely now?"

"What?"

"Flying to the limit and then landing is too dangerous. The reactor might shut down completely before then. Instead, why not land safely now... I mean, immediately?"

"But we wouldn't reach Crossroad, and we'd be much further away."

"Instead, we can ensure the safety of this airship and its occupants. If we confirm the landing site and notify Crossroad, reinforcements will come to us there."

McMillan's suggestion was extremely cautious.

He was essentially saying not to take unnecessary risks. To land safely, call for reinforcements from Crossroad, hold out by guarding the bridge door firmly, and then handle the situation without further losses.

However...

"That would take too long."

An hour's flight for the airship means a significantly longer distance by other means.

It would take time for Crossroad to assemble and dispatch reinforcements, time for those reinforcements to reach the landing site, and more time to manage the situation and return to Crossroad.

That would take too long.

"Right now, it's a race against time. Every second counts."

Firstly, the overarching situation:

A horde of monsters is advancing north from the south.

In less than three days, these monsters will push up. We already have limited time to stop them, and taking too much time to return to Crossroad would be problematic.

Secondly:

‘The longer the infection persists, the worse it is for the patients.’

They are currently infected, but they could become true zombies in a few hours.

If they had been taken directly, they might have been cured, but delays could make treatment impossible.

Both stopping the monsters and treating the patients are a race against time. It needs to be swift and decisive.

"So, what are you going to do? Continue flying with the auxiliary reactor until the limit?"

McMillan asked, and I shook my head before turning toward the bridge door.

"We just need to normalize the engine room, right?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then it's a simple matter."

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Looking at the infected filling the corridor and pounding on the bridge door... I grinned.

"We'll fight our way to the engine room, subduing the infected as we go."

"...!"

Everyone on the bridge was shocked.

They probably never imagined we would voluntarily venture into the crowd of infected.

"We don't need a large team. A small elite force will do."

I assessed the combat-capable personnel on the bridge.

"Me, Dearmudin, and Mikhail. The three of us should suffice."

"Of course."

"Good, let's control our strength as much as possible."

Dearmudin and Mikhail began warming up.

McMillan urgently raised his hand to join us.

"Your Highness, I'll go too."

I blinked in surprise.

"But, Sir McMillan. Won't that hinder the navigation?"

"The pilots handle the airship navigation. They'll manage emergency landing if needed."

McMillan smiled wryly, his mouth twitching.

"More importantly, we need someone who can operate the engine room equipment."

"..."

McMillan wasn't a combatant.

But he was a soldier who knew when to step up and what role he had to play.

"Besides, I'm an officer too. I undergo combat training every year. I won't be a burden."

As he adjusted his gloves, I nodded at him.

"Alright, let's go together."

Bang! Crack! Boom!

The bridge door was half-destroyed under the relentless assault of the infected.

The four of us who would head to the engine room took a deep breath.

If the corridor were filled with monsters, it would be easier to cut through and kill them.

But they were allies infected by the zombie plague. We had to subdue them without killing them.

This would be a much tougher journey.

"Mikhail, you're at the front. Clear a path. I'll follow, assessing the situation and giving orders. McMillan, you guide us to the engine room. Dearmudin, you're at the rear. Use your magic sparingly."

Dearmudin chuckled, stroking his beard.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure not to hurt too many people."

The real concern was not only the infected getting hurt but also...

‘The airship itself might be at risk if the old man uses too much strength...’

I had to swallow those words. The situation was escalating quickly.

Crack-!

Raaaah!

The bridge door was torn off, and the infected flooded in, screaming...

Thwack!

They were immediately thrown back into the corridor.

Mikhail, with his fists clenched, had punched the infected squarely in their solar plexus as they rushed in.

Since they weren't full zombies yet, a strong punch to the solar plexus left them convulsing and foaming at the mouth on the floor.

‘That looks incredibly painful...’

There were about a dozen infected gathered at the bridge door. Mikhail swiftly cleared the corridor and dusted off his hands.

The four of us exited the bridge, and I nodded to the crew inside, then invoked my magic.

I created a magical barrier to replace the shattered bridge door and then turned around.

"Let's go!"

There were less than 30 minutes before the airship would crash.

We had to cut through the infected-filled airship and reach the engine room before then.

--TL Notes--

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