Falsely Accused, I Started Plundering Monster Traits

"Marcus. Weapons free."

"Got it, Boss."

Lin Yan pulled the trigger.

The AA-12 bucked against his shoulder and filled the narrow street with thunder.

He had loaded it with heavy 00 buckshot, not the cheap stuff meant for birds. At this range, each shell threw a fistful of lead into the packed front rank. The first rotter took most of it across the chest and folded backward; the rest punched into the bodies crowded behind it. The next shot caught another across the hip and tore one leg out from under it, leaving three more to trip over the corpse before they could reach Lin Yan.

The thirty-two-round drum emptied in a matter of seconds.

By the time the bolt locked back, the horde looked like a cucumber someone had taken a hammer to from one end.

The older knight—the man who had been preparing to lead the charge and cut them a path out—stood frozen with his sword still in hand.

One of the younger knights finally found his voice.

"My lord... is that a fire-tube?"

The older knight didn’t answer.

In Valeria, knights were trained from childhood. It could take decades before a man was trusted with the title, and training alone was never enough. Talent, discipline, strength, luck, connections, battlefield experience—miss any one of them, and there was a good chance you never made it that far. No one wearing a knight’s armor was there for show. Every one of them had earned it the hard way.

Which was exactly why they understood what they had just seen.

Lin Yan hadn’t charged or even taken a step forward. He had simply stood there and held down the trigger.

In Valeria, it would have taken a formation of armored cavalry hitting at full charge to tear through a packed line like that.

Lin Yan had done it alone.

In seconds.

And judging by the grin on his face, he hadn’t even found it difficult.

The empty drum hit the stones.

By the time the knights came back to themselves, Lin Yan already had another oversized thirty-two-round drum in his hands. It locked into place with a heavy click.

The worry he’d carried into the trap was gone.

Lin Yan pulled the trigger again.

The AA-12 roared, and he kept it roaring. One oversized drum after another emptied into the street, while the horde that had seemed to stretch endlessly into the fog went down in front of him.

Even the armored ones couldn’t withstand that kind of punishment. Mail, plate and shields might stop the first blast, maybe the second, but thirty-two shells were another matter. By the time the drum ran dry, armor had been battered apart, mail torn open and shields smashed to pieces along with the corpses wearing them.

The unarmored dead fared even worse.

Most of these bodies had been rotting for who knew how long. Dried out, half-decayed, already falling apart before the shooting started, they came apart under the repeated blasts with brutal ease. Limbs were torn loose and buried under the pile. Torsos split open. Some were blown into chunks before the dead behind them had even finished climbing over what was left.

Somewhere in the middle of it, Lin Yan burst out laughing.

No wonder people got addicted to zombie games.

It was probably the same reason people saw a perfect sheet of ice over a puddle and immediately wanted to stomp through it.

"This is fucking awesome!"

The AA-12 kept roaring.

By the time the last of the 128 shells was gone, the street in front of him looked less like a battlefield than the floor of a slaughterhouse dropped into hell. Blood ran between the stones beneath heaps of rotten flesh, broken armor and severed limbs, and the horde that had once filled the street was almost entirely on the ground.

Plenty of them were still moving, but almost none of them were still standing.

Lin Yan let the empty shotgun drop and brought up the rifle, putting short bursts into anything that still had enough of a body left to crawl. Trait notifications kept sounding in his ear as he worked through the survivors, one after another, until even he stopped trying to keep track of them.

Another crawler folded under a burst.

Lin Yan laughed. "Hey, red robe!"

His voice carried through the ward.

"That all you’ve got?"

Marcus couldn’t understand the words, but apparently the tone carried.

"Boss..."

"What?"

Marcus thought better of it. "Nothing."

Lin Yan put another burst into the pile.

"Come on! You went through all this trouble. Give me something good!"

The last few Trait notifications were still chiming in Lin Yan’s ear when a voice carried down through the fog.

"You’ll regret those words."

Red flashed along the edge of a rooftop.

"There you are."

Lin Yan fired almost at the same time Marcus did. The figure vanished behind the parapet, bullets snapping into stone where he had been a heartbeat earlier.

Then the dead began to move.

Bodies were sliding toward the middle of the street from both directions, dragging broken weapons and pieces of armor with them as the piles slowly folded inward.

"Corpse Binding." The older knight’s voice cut through the scraping of metal and flesh. "The caster has to stay close. Kill him before the binding is complete, or every corpse here becomes part of his body."

The knights immediately started forward.

"Stay back."

The older knight stopped. "We have to kill him."

"Then stay out of my line of fire."

Lin Yan kept his rifle trained on the rooftop. Marcus didn’t understand the exchange, but he understood Lin Yan’s tone well enough and brought his own rifle up beside him.

The heretic rose into view again.

Lin Yan and Marcus opened fire.

The first rounds had barely reached the rooftop when the dead surged upward. Hundreds of corpses crushed together in the middle of the street, flesh, armor and broken weapons rising into a wall between the gunfire and the red-robed figure above.

The mass kept climbing, enormous limbs taking shape as it forced itself into something vaguely human. Then the chest opened.

The heretic dropped straight inside, and several feet of dead flesh closed over the red robe.

Holy shit.

A corpse Gundam.

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