Chapter 242: You Cannot Save Everyone

Walking back across the sandy beach, I quickly located my hand axe—still embedded exactly where I’d left it, buried deep in the skull of the Hybrid Infected I’d thrown earlier during the frantic pursuit.

Crouching down beside the corpse, I grasped the axe handle firmly and pulled the weapon free with a wet, sucking sound as the blade extracted from bone and decayed brain tissue.

I wiped the accumulated blood on the dead Infected’s clothing—using the fabric to clean the blade then straightened back up.

Raising my head slightly, I took a moment to orient myself and assess our situation.

The sun was still burning intensely overhead, though its angle had shifted noticeably—indicating we were now in late afternoon rather than midday.

We should definitely hurry up and finish the clearing operations around the hotel. We were running out of daylight hours, and I didn’t want the others still working in unsecured areas after dark when visibility dropped and Infected became harder to detect.

I looked around the immediate beach area for Ivy, scanning in several directions before finally spotting her standing quite a distance away—maybe thirty or forty feet from my position.

She was positioned directly in front of the Enhanced Hybrid Infected I’d killed using Time Freeze, just standing there motionlessly with her hands tucked inside her white coat’s pockets as she stared down at the massive corpse.

“Ivy,” I called out to her as I began walking in her direction.

But she didn’t respond or even acknowledge my voice. She just continued standing there in that frozen posture, her gaze locked on the dead Enhanced Hybrid as if studying some fascinating specimen.

“Please don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about dissecting it or conducting some kind of field autopsy?” I asked half-jokingly as I approached close enough for normal conversation.

I was feeling slightly guilty about yelling at her earlier, even though I genuinely couldn’t help the emotional outburst and she absolutely needed to hear the concerns I’d expressed. Her safety mattered, even if she didn’t seem to recognize or care about the risks she’d taken.

“Why would I dissect it?” Ivy replied, finally glancing away from the corpse to look at me with apparent confusion about my question.

“I mean, you’ve always been an intensely curious person who wants to understand how things work,” I explained with a slight shrug. “So I just assumed you might be interested in examining the Enhanced Hybrid’s internal structure or trying to understand what makes them different from standard Infected. That seems like the kind of thing you’d want to investigate.”

“If you’re referring to my expressed desire to observe you having sexual intercourse with a woman, that represents scientific curiosity about your apparently unique ability to heal infections through the sexual act,” she said with absolutely no inflection or embarrassment. “Not general curiosity about biological systems.”

I felt my face immediately flush with profound embarrassment and awkwardness at hearing her say that so shamelessly with a completely stern, serious expression.

“Don’t take this personally, Ivy, but…” I started after a moment of uncomfortable silence, then decided to just ask the question directly. “I suppose you’ve never actually had sex with anyone yourself, have you?”

I realized immediately after speaking that the question might be rude or intrusive. But honestly, the most shocking revelation would be learning that Ivy had engaged in sexual relationships, given her complete lack of normal social awareness and emotional reciprocity.

She stared at me without answering for a long, uncomfortable moment—her expression unreadable as always.

Now I was feeling even more awkward for having asked such a personal question.

“Does that matter to the current situation?” She finally said simply, then walked past me without offering any actual answer.

I suppose that non-response was essentially a confirmation—a big yes to my question.

“No, you’re right—it doesn’t matter at all,” I agreed quickly, wanting to move past the uncomfortable topic. “Let’s just get back to the hotel and finish what we came here to do.”

We began walking together back toward the Whitesun Hotel, leaving the beach behind and transitioning back onto the Boardwalk proper.

As we approached our settlement area, I noticed dark smoke billowing upward into the sky ahead—thick columns rising and dispersing in the afternoon breeze. The acrid smell of burning flesh reached us even from a distance, that distinctive horrible stench of consuming organic matter that was unfortunately becoming familiar.

When we got close enough to see the hotel’s immediate surroundings clearly, I spotted exactly what I’d expected—a large pile of Infected corpses actively burning, flames consuming the accumulated bodies we’d thrown from windows earlier.

Brad, Kyle, and Billy were standing nearby along with a few other members of Martin’s group, apparently supervising the burning operation.

But I could barely hide my exasperation seeing where they’d chosen to conduct this necessary but unpleasant task.

“Burning these Infected corpses right here directly in front of the hotel—did you actually find that intelligent, Brad?” I asked as I approached them.

Brad turned around and immediately glared at me with hostility, clearly not appreciating my tone or question.

“You should have handled disposing of them yourself then,” he retorted defensively. “We’re doing the hard displeasing work, so don’t complain about the methods.”

I doubt that is the hard work Brad.

“Couldn’t you have at least piled up the Infected corpses somewhere else—maybe a few blocks away—before burning them?” I asked, gesturing at the massive fire. “We can smell this horrible stench from a mile away. We’re planning to bring entire families here, including some children. Do you really want them to see that pile of ashes and smell that unbearable burning-flesh odor right in front of what’s supposed to be their new home?”

The psychological impact alone would be traumatic for kids who were already dealing with apocalyptic horror.

“Fuck off, Ryan,” Billy snorted dismissively. “We’re actively working here doing necessary tasks. What the hell were you doing meanwhile? Playing doctor with the actual doctor?”

He glanced pointedly at Ivy standing beside me.

“Are you genuinely an idiot?” I asked, my patience exhausted.

“What the fuck did you just say, you punk?!” Billy shouted, his face flushing with anger.

He tried to take an aggressive step toward me, clearly preparing for physical confrontation, but Ivy spoke before the situation could escalate further.

“The viral pathogen is deeply integrated into the cellular structure of Infected tissue,” she said. “Burning contaminated biomass at these relatively low temperatures will disperse microscopic ash particles, aerosolized tissue fragments, and potentially viable viral particles through the surrounding air. Inhaling significant concentrations of such contaminated particulates would not produce beneficial outcomes for human respiratory or immune systems. Will you accept personal responsibility if adverse health effects manifest in the community population as a result of this disposal method?”

She directed the question toward Brad specifically, staring at him.

Brad looked completely dumbfounded by Ivy’s explanation.

“W…what?! There’s absolutely no way such things could actually happen!” He sputtered defensively. “That’s just… that’s ridiculous fear-mongering!”

“And how exactly would you know about the viral transmission mechanisms with any certainty?” I asked him pointedly. “Do you maybe have specialized knowledge about how this particular virus works? Have you been conducting secret research?”

Brad shut his mouth immediately, gritting his teeth at my mocking words.

“Just do whatever you want,” I said, too tired and frustrated to continue arguing with them.

I turned away and started walking, with Ivy following along beside me.

“You can stay here at the hotel if you want,” I said to her. “I’m just going to help the other teams finish clearing the surrounding blocks. No reason for you to come along for dangerous work.”

“No.”

“Alright then…” I accepted her decision without further argument, then shifted to a question that had been bothering me. “About what you just said to Brad—were you actually serious about the viral particles and contaminated ash? Because if that’s genuinely a concern, we’ve all been inhaling potentially contaminated air for three months straight, considering the massive number of rotting Infected corpses we’ve walked past constantly. Shouldn’t we all be showing symptoms by now if airborne transmission through decomposition was actually viable?”

“Your Symbiote is actively protecting you from those effects,” Ivy explained. “It provides continuous filtration and immune system enhancement that neutralizes viral exposure before it can cause systemic damage. As for ordinary people without that protection, they may not have consciously felt any negative effects yet, but prolonged exposure to contaminated air—constantly inhaling microscopic particles from decomposing Infected tissue and sharing enclosed spaces with active viral sources—could prove genuinely dangerous over extended timeframes.”

“You’re actually serious about this?” I asked her uneasy.

If she was right, then the viral threat was even more insidious and dangerous than I’d initially understood. Not just infection from bites, but slow, cumulative poisoning from simply existing in the same environment as the Infected.

“Just a hypothesis based on observed viral behavior patterns,” she clarified.

“What kind of consequences do you think it could bring?” I asked hesitantly.

“Impossible to predict,” Ivy said. “But plausible outcomes might include progressive neurological degradation leading to hallucinations, personality changes, or cognitive decline. Alternatively, cellular damage could accumulate and significantly diminish overall life expectancy—reducing survival timeframes by years or even decades.”

I felt absolutely dumbfounded hearing that.

I genuinely hadn’t considered that aspect of the virus.

A slow inevitable death through ambient exposure rather than just acute infection from direct contact.

Was that what the Starakians actually wanted? Not just immediate transformation of humanity into Infected monsters, but gradual poisoning of survivors until everyone eventually succumbed regardless of how careful they were?

A extinction through attrition rather than overwhelming force?

They didn’t even bother considering us as threats, did they?

“Do you think it’s possible to develop a cure or treatment for this?” I asked her.

She glanced at me with an unreadable expression. “For now, your seed is the cure.”

“I would strongly prefer to refrain from forcing women into sex just to save their lives if there’s any alternative possible…” I retorted grumbling.

“Just to save their lives?” Ivy gave me a pointed stare, clearly questioning my phrasing.

I sighed heavily, recognizing how my statement had sounded. “No, I didn’t mean it dismissively like that, of course not. I will absolutely do it as many times as becomes necessary to save people—I’m not refusing to help. But that approach only works for women. I can do nothing to help men using that method, and what about children?”

I clenched my fists with mounting helplessness.

But then my eyes suddenly widened as a thought occurred to me.

Wait—maybe I should ask Kunta about this directly. She was a Starakian with access to their scientific knowledge and medical technology. If there was an actual cure or treatment for that, she might know about it.

But would she actually tell me if such a cure existed?

No… probably not.

I shook my head, dismissing the idea for now. Kunta had her own problems and priorities, and I couldn’t rely on enemy cooperation for something this critical.

For the present, I needed to focus on the concrete problems directly in front of me rather than getting lost in speculation about long-term threats I couldn’t currently address.

“You cannot save everyone.”

Ivy’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts suddenly.

“Hm?” I turned toward her, surprised.

She gave me an intensely serious stare—one of those rare moments where genuine emotion seemed to break through her usual detachment.

“Your anger and naïve determination to rescue every person will inevitably lead you to death if you continue approaching situations like this,” she said bluntly. “You cannot protect everyone. You cannot cure everyone. You cannot prevent every tragedy. Attempting to do so will only result in your own destruction…and those around you.”

She turned away and continued walking ahead, leaving me a bit shocked.

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