Harem God- Dimensional Motel System-Chapter 79: Interactions With The Night Part 38

Luck stood by the trench, arms crossed as he watched the survivors scrape at the dirt with shovels and pickaxes.

The trench was deeper than before but it was nowhere near finished.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Forget the trench,"

Luck turned to face the group. "We don’t have time. If the Death Parade or the next zombie wave hits before we finish, we’re done. We switch to barricading. Right now."

The survivors paused mid-dig, exchanging uneasy looks.

Death Parade was something they had all experienced firsthand — a nightmarish event that turned the city into a living slaughterhouse.

Luck’s glare snapped toward him. "You heard me! Drop those shovels! Start pulling all the scrap metal and car frames to the perimeter!

Yuna swallowed but didn’t argue. She barked orders immediately. "Move it! Everyone! We’re going to reinforce the walls first!"

Hours later, the yard looked like a chaotic workshop. Sparks flew as welders stitched car frames together.

Old road signs, steel doors, and bent rebar were stacked and bolted into jagged, uneven barricades.

A group of survivors hammered metal rods into the ground at sharp angles — each rod sharpened to a vicious point.

"These will pierce through their feet when they try to climb or push forward," Luck explained, pacing along the perimeter.

"Zombies don’t care about pain, but losing foot support slows them down."

Some survivors looked sick as they drove the rods deeper.

One young girl gagged when she imagined the metal sliding through rotting ankles.

"Don’t think about it," Yuna snapped, shoving a bundle of rods into her arms. "Focus on survival!"

Luck stepped back to inspect a row of metal stakes.

They were crude, uneven, but deadly against mindless monsters.

Behind them, the welded barricades rose in jagged layers like a steel forest.

He turned to Kana ."I’m going to walk around. If anyone’s been watching us... this is when they’ll strike."

"Alone? Out there? Are you—"

Luck raised a hand to silence her. "That’s exactly why. I want them to see me alone. If they think they can pick me off, they might make their move."

Her jaw tightened, but she finally gave a nod. "Fine... but don’t die out there."

A faint grin crossed his lips as he glanced back at her.

"Even death would have a hard time killing me,"

He paused, tilting his head as if considering something deeply absurd.

"Well... not unless it was the version with the notebook," he added with a short, dry laugh.

She could only raise an eyebrow in confusion.

Sometimes Luck would reference strange things — odd phrases, jokes, or names that seemed to come from nowhere, things only he could understand.

Kana had long since stopped trying to decipher them.

Luck strode casually across the cracked yard, his coat trailing behind him.

He moved past the last row of steel stakes, past the half-finished barricades, until he reached the outermost edge of the perimeter.

There, one pick-up truck was parked — dented, rust-scarred, and stained .

He climbed up onto the hood, ignoring the groan of old metal under his weight. Then he shifted, planting himself right on the roof of the cab.

From this height, he could see the full spread of the barricade.

Luck stretched lazily, arms behind his head, then settled into a half-reclined position as if he were sunbathing.

’Come on... I’m right here,’ he murmured under his breath.

If someone wanted to eliminate him — now was the perfect moment.

.

.

.

Five kilometers from the base, a man lay prone on the fifteenth floor of a half-collapsed office building.

The wind slipped through shattered windows, tugging at his long, tattered cloak.

Through the matte-black scope of his custom sniper rifle, he watched Luck completely exposed.

He adjusted the scope slightly. Crosshairs settled right between the brows.

"Three. I got a clear shot on the target. What should I do?"

Beside him, a woman stood silently, her black jacket snapping in the wind like a flag.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the cracked concrete ledge — a stance that pushed her upper body ahead.

Her dark skin looked almost metallic in the harsh glow of the sun.

"Three... one shot. Just say the word, and I’ll burst his head out,"

She didn’t answer immediately.

Her violet eyes remained fixed on Luck through the binoculars, scanning every subtle detail.

The tension in his neck, the tiny change of his ribs as he breathed, the faint, relaxed curve of his lips.

She clicked her tongue once "He’s baiting you,"

"Bait or not, I can easily kill him," he whispered. "There’s no way he could dodge a high caliber bullet... not unless he’s Number One."

Breathing in, she looked through the binoculars again.

Her gut twisted.

First of all, someone who would gamble their life so openly was either utterly stupid... or absolutely confident in their own skill.

She studied his posture again: the lazy stretch, the slackened shoulders, the tilted head as if he were just enjoying his life.

But under that relaxed mask, she saw it — the subtle tightening at the base of the neck, the fine micro-shifts in his hips and ankles, ready to move in a moment’s notice.

"He’s not just baiting us. He’s communicating. He’s telling us he can react.. And worse — that he’s willing to bet his life on it."

It was a bold statement.

"You’re overthinking it," Number Five snorted.

His tone carried that lazy arrogance. In his mind, only Number One has the right to be that reckless.

Her jaw tightened.

"Enough. Pack up," she ordered coldly. "We confirm positions today, nothing more."

Number Five did not listen.

His breath slowed as he adjusted the sight, his finger curling onto the trigger.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

"All that talk about patience," he muttered under his breath, "but a clean shot is a clean shot..."

He exhaled halfway. His finger began to squeeze.

Then, suddenly, he froze.

A cold, razor-thin line pressed against the side of his neck — so sharp that a single twitch would slice flesh clean through.

Number Five’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t even heard her move.

Number Three leaned forward slightly. Her violet ponytail brushed against his shoulder like a ghost’s touch. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

"Didn’t you hear my order, Five?" she whispered, her tone carrying a hint of impatience — far more terrifying than any scream.

The blade pressed a fraction deeper, just enough to draw a thin line of blood that trickled slowly down his neck.

"Pack up," she repeated "Or I’ll only bring your head back if needed."

"Three... are you really going to kill me because of this?" he protested,

"I’ve trusted my gut feeling since I can remember. And it has never failed me."

Her violet eyes lifted slightly, focusing past him — down toward the truck where Luck sat like a king on his throne of rusted metal.

"When I looked at that man," she continued, "I felt like I was looking directly at death. He’s not an opponent we should mess with if not needed."

Hearing such a declaration, Number Five finally gave up.

Wordlessly, he lowered the rifle, and began to disassemble it piece by piece.

"Let’s go. We still need to prepare for tomorrow. The zombies become more sensitive to the living during that time," she added.

"I’ll let you guys handle it," Number Five shrugged, resting the gun case on his shoulder. "My skills are more about killing people than killing zombies."

She shook her head.

"We all are. And you still need to be ready. The number of variant zombies is increasing. One even faced a creature that could easily kill someone ranked six and above."

He paused, recalling the story their leader.

"Is he really serious? It’s hard to imagine that such a monster actually exists."

Number Three didn’t respond, knowing it was useless to talk to him.

.

.

.

’No attack, huh,’ Luck thought.

He already caught the reflection of the sniper but pretended not to notice.

Unlike them, he was bound to the motel, so his greatest weakness was long-distance fights.

’Well, at least it confirms they’re not here just to kill me.’

His mission was to survive, so if he could avoid fighting bloodthirsty assassins, he would rather pick that option.

Of course, if they insisted on taking Kana, that was a whole different story.

He would gladly show them the difference between the number one assassin and a guy stuck in a motel with a goddamn system for a roommate.

Ten minutes later, he decided to head back to the motel to train some more.

During the night, the number of zombies was smaller for some reason.

Kana explained that this was normal, like the calm before the storm.

"I’ll handle this alone," He jumped over the wall and began his killing spree, feeding his weapon as he went. It vibrated, excited to get more food again.

When he was done, he went back to the motel to isolate and train.

It made Kana sad because she wanted to spend more time with him before the death parade, but she knew he was focused on something important.

"One.."

"Two,"

"Three"

He began doing push-ups, adding more weight to tear his muscles further.

Just as he expected, the gains were much slower than before, but he didn’t let it demotivated him.

What he needed right now was to stabilize his new power so he would be ready for any unexpected event tomorrow.

Time went by, and around 10:00 pm., he decided to finally sleep to let his body and mind recover naturally.

[Congratulations! You have survived Night 7]

[Survivors 31/31]

[Party Stat Points: 62]

[Daily Rewards]

[310 EC - Survivor Allowance]

"Finally!" he exclaimed. Now he could increase the power of his members before noon.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢