Chapter 157 – Survivors in the Park

Once we left Wall Street, we no longer saw any moving roots. Fortunately, it seemed that not all of the sacred tree’s roots moved at the same time. After all, there was no need for the entire body to go into a frenzy just because a small insect bit its leg. Or maybe it would? In any case, thanks to only the roots in Wall Street moving, we were able to head north on the island without much difficulty.

As we walked through the streets lined with buildings entangled in roots, the boy spoke up.

“If the roots aren’t moving around wildly like that, maybe there are still people alive out there? If we use ‘Tracking’ to find survivors, we might be able to locate them.”

At Western’s (the name the boy had given us, though it was clearly a pseudonym) cautious suggestion, both Tom and I just shrugged. Even if a small number of people were still alive, rescuing them would be difficult. That wasn’t why we were here.

What caught my attention more was something else Western had said. Using ‘Tracking’ to find survivors? That definitely wasn’t an ability that Awakened were supposed to have.

Yelena seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she asked Western, “Did you figure that out yourself?”

“Ah… yes. There’s an energy that allows me to use psychic powers. If I manipulate it differently, I can use it in more varied ways…”

At Western’s answer, not only Yelena but also Zahina and I stared at him in surprise. To manipulate mana on his own and create a spell—this boy was undoubtedly a genius.

Yelena’s eyes sparkled even more as she looked at Western, but I had something to ask her.

“Was that spell you used earlier something that was always possible?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“The shield you cast on someone far away. I’ve never seen that before.”

It wasn’t just that I hadn’t seen it before—I hadn’t even heard of such a spell existing. Before we left the building, when I was about to move separately, Yelena had offered to cast a protective spell on me. I thought she had some other spell besides the shield, but it turned out to be a shield spell that could be cast on others.

If we hadn’t been in the middle of a battle, I would have rushed over to Yelena right then.

“Ah, that’s something I created. I combined shield magic with spatial magic… I thought it might help my master, but it was too late.”

“Actually, my master probably couldn’t use it because she didn’t have enough mana. The other mages in the tower also said it was a waste of mana.”

No, this spell was truly remarkable. Originally, shields only protected the mage in a spherical form around them. If you moved away from the mage, you lost that protection. But now, with this spell, you could designate a person and cast the shield on them. This was a revolution in combat magic.

“Since it combines spatial magic and shield magic, it’s still difficult for other mages to use. It’s especially hard for combat mages with low mana reserves. It’s still a half-finished spell.”

Yelena spoke self-deprecatingly, but I was more than satisfied. Thanks to Yelena’s new shield spell, I now had what felt like an extra layer of thick armor.

As a mage, it would be better to popularize the spell, but personally, I hoped the research to make it widely usable would happen after I retired.

In any case, to me, Yelena seemed like an even more impressive mage than Western. A traditional mage with the mana and knowledge to create new combat magic, and a disciple of a combat mage—I might be witnessing the birth of the first grand combat mage.

I quickened my pace as I watched the future grand mage chatting amiably with the young genius.

To get from Wall Street in southern Manhattan to the crater in the north, we had to cross the island. We passed through the fashionably famous SoHo district, past the Empire State Building and Times Square, and through the famous Central Park.

We passed by these famous landmarks one by one. The once-fashionable SoHo district was now eerily desolate, and the Empire State Building and Times Square, which I had seen in movies many times, were now grotesquely entangled with massive roots.

Fortunately, by the time we reached Central Park, the sacred tree’s roots had not moved.

“Must be because of Yerim, right?”

“Yes. If it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t be this quiet. It’s thanks to the priestess’s holy power.”

After walking for a while, it became clear why the roots were so quiet. It had to be because of Yerim and her holy power. Even though the roots were in a dormant state, if they were undead, they wouldn’t just let living humans pass by like this. If that were the case, many more people would have survived.

So, it had to be because of Yerim. Her holy power, which repelled other undead, must have been preventing the sacred tree’s roots from detecting us. Of course, if the roots started moving, the “undead repellent” would be useless, but for now, it was more than enough.

I gave Yerim a thumbs-up. She looked at me in confusion at first, but quickly understood when I called her the “zombie repellent,” and pouted with a satisfied expression. She was happy with the praise, but it seemed she still didn’t like the nickname “repellent.”

We arrived at Central Park much more safely than expected, and that’s when Western spoke up.

“There are people over there. Living people.”

Western pointed to the yellowed, dead forest of Central Park that blocked our path. It seemed he had activated his modified ‘Tracking’ ability.

At the mention of living people, I scanned the forest. There were no sacred tree roots entangling the buildings here. Whether it was because there were no people to feed on or no buildings to entangle, the absence of roots made it plausible that people could still be alive here.

The problem was that we now knew about them.

“This is troublesome.”

As Tom said, we were now in a difficult situation. If we hadn’t known, we would have just passed by without a second thought. But now, knowing that survivors were gathered in the park—survivors we hadn’t seen until now—we couldn’t just ignore them.

If there were survivors elsewhere, we might not have thought much of it. But the survivors in the park might be the only ones left on Manhattan Island. Even as an outsider, I felt the difficulty of the situation, and Tom was clearly even more troubled.

“How many are there?”

At Tom’s frown, Western cautiously replied, sensing the tense atmosphere.

“Dozens. Probably less than fifty.”

The number was ambiguous. If there were over a hundred, we could just tell them to fend for themselves and move on. If there were only a few, we could take them with us despite the trouble. But this was right in the middle.

“Since we didn’t split up at the Federal Reserve vault, we can leave some people behind. We don’t need to stop by the vault on the way back, so depending on the situation, we could take them with us.”

Tom was a much more righteous person than I had thought. Given that he was still leading a government organization in this ruined world, he must be a responsible, diligent, and righteous person.

And what he said wasn’t wrong. As a member of the U.S. government, it made sense for him to want to save American citizens. Utilizing the remaining personnel was also a reasonable approach.

But that reasoning only applied to the American agents.

Fortunately, before I could say anything, Tom spoke again.

“We’ll send the personnel we were planning to leave at the Federal Reserve vault to the survivor group, and the rest of us will continue toward the rift. Since we have civilians in the team now, we can send them along as well.”

He was suggesting sending only a portion of the team… It was hard to oppose that.

Yelena looked disappointed at the idea of leaving Western behind, but taking someone who couldn’t fight yet to the rift wasn’t a good idea either.

Moreover, Western’s next words forced us to make a decision immediately.

“Uh, one person just died. There are 46 now.”

The last group of survivors on the island was in crisis… In the end, it became awkward to just send a portion of the team.

Since things had come to this, we decided to help a bit more.

“Since the situation seems urgent, Zahina and I will go ahead and check on the survivors while the rest of you catch up.”

Partly because I saw Yelena worrying about Western, but also because I had gotten more gold than expected, my heart had softened. Still, with no dangerous roots around, a small act of kindness wouldn’t hurt.

And so, Zahina and I set off ahead once again.

With Zahina’s ability to hide herself and the party using various natural elements and move quietly, and my speed and combat readiness, we were a good combination for infiltrating enemy territory, as always.

This time, though, infiltrating enemy territory would be problematic, so I quickly dashed through the forest, leaving the rest of the party behind.

Zahina followed me silently, as usual.

Even though the park was filled with withered forests and dead nature, Zahina’s abilities worked flawlessly here. The wind flowing around us masked our scent and sound, and the soft ground beneath our feet absorbed any vibrations. Of course, it couldn’t hide us from sight, but the withered forest was enough to obscure us from outside view.

We ran silently and soon arrived at the location Western had mentioned, where the survivors were.

We hid behind a small hill and observed the survivor camp.

In the center of the park, where there had once been a lawn, several shabby tents were set up. Next to them was a deep pit dug into the ground, likely for drawing water, with a mound of dirt piled beside it. Buckets of water next to the pit suggested they had succeeded in finding water.

But as I looked at the scene, a thought occurred to me that made me frown.

‘They dug for water?’

I quickly scanned the survivor camp.

People were sitting scattered around the tents. They wore tattered clothes and stared blankly ahead, listless and hopeless. However, none of them looked emaciated. They didn’t seem healthy, but they didn’t appear to be suffering from malnutrition either.

Beyond them, in the middle of the tents, a large bonfire was burning. It was a fairly big fire, likely made from the dead trees in the park.

And on that bonfire was the survivor Western had mentioned—the one whose numbers had decreased.

“Damn it.”

As expected, my bad premonition was correct.

These people had fled to the park to escape the sacred tree’s roots that fed on humans. In a place where even finding water was difficult, there was no way they had food. And they couldn’t go back to the city, which was now controlled by the roots.

In the end, there was only one thing they could eat.

“Let’s go back.”

I turned to Zahina and headed back.

I knew it was inevitable, but it was hard to accept on a physiological level.

Moreover, seeing that the remaining survivors were young men, it was clear that survival and death were determined by strength.

Neither as my past self nor as a knight in this life could I accept them.

And so, I left the survivors behind and returned to the party.