Transmigrator Commander of Girls Frontline must not be a Reckless man

Whew!

The unfamiliar sensation sent chills down Renault's spine. Severing the infected's limb felt less like flesh and bone and more like hacking through a tin man stuffed with cables.

"Blast it," he muttered. "Seems the radiation has intensified again. These infected are far tougher than those I encountered earlier."

After severing the infected's arm, he swiftly brought his foot down, tripping the figure and delivering a decisive blow to its head with his axe.

"If all the infected at Griffin's stronghold have reached this level," he mused, "it's time to reconsider my stay. While the evolving threat is concerning, the escalating radiation is the true issue."

Unlike the infected, who cannot be reborn, areas with high radiation are designated red zones and promptly abandoned. Soon, this desolate town would become classified as empty, cutting off Renault's supply chain.

He had anticipated this predicament but not its swift arrival. Initially, he intended to make further preparations before leaving, but relocating became a necessity. A means of transportation was crucial. Fortunately, abandoned vehicles from those who couldn't evacuate remained scattered throughout the town.

Speaking of transportation, the mayor's garage surely held a suitable vehicle. Additionally, its facilities were likely more comprehensive compared to the makeshift shelter in the tavern, alleviating concerns about inventory. Unlike him, the survivors lacked the courage to navigate the dangerous radiation zones and infected hordes.

After retrieving ammunition and the mansion keys from the deceased, likely the former mayor, Renault returned to retrieve the clothes he had brought in. As he was about to close the door, he spotted a figure struggling to climb over the two-meter iron fence, supported by another. It was the Griffin Commander from the tavern.

A hastily bandaged wound on his neck stained crimson, and one exposed arm, with blood and punctures, betrayed the ripped sleeve. A cursory glance told Renault the man's fate was sealed. The blood loss was simply too severe for a human without immediate medical intervention.

The Commander's collapse also immobilized Nagant Revolver, whose eyes held a flicker of hope. Now, she stood frozen, a broken doll allowing the infected to overpower her.

Noticing Renault observing them, the infected shifted their attention to him.

"Tsk," Renault muttered, "blind fools! Why not keep looking the other way?"

Scratching his head, he grabbed the M30 and his axe, effortlessly scaling the fence in a few steps. These infected posed no challenge to breaking through such a flimsy fence, as evidenced by the collapsed houses outside.

However, even with lack of weaponry to cause such destruction. They just simply followed the living and swarmed the buildings, causing some weak structures to crumble under the weight and sheer number.

It was an absurd sight indeed. Yet, this was the reality. Renault had never witnessed houses collapsing simply due to a crowd. While most were wooden and structurally weak, they were no different from the fence in terms of strength. Either way, he has to move otherwise the iron fence will follow the same fate as those structures.

Bang! Bang!

He pressed the M30's muzzle against the foreheads of two nearby infected, firing the last remaining bullets. The empty gun was then tossed towards a Doll huddled in the corner.

"Catch," he called out, "and don't damage it."

The M30 landed in the slender hands of M1911, not Nagant Revolver who had pushed the incapacitated Commander over the fence. With her legs severed, escape was impossible. Thankfully, the infected seemed less interested in Dolls, ignoring them unless provoked. Similar to Nagant Revolver, the infected left her alone after she fell. While seriously injured, it remained uncertain if she could ever stand again.

P38, missing from Renault's sight, likely fell within Griffin's stronghold. However, as long as her neural core remained intact, recovery was possible. Most Griffin Dolls are modified civilians dolls, and their neural cores are not prone to spontaneous meltdowns unless critically damaged. Additionally, infected lack specific attack strategies and don't prioritize targeting Doll cores.

...

One hour later.

"Four hundred ninety-seven,"

Renault announced after driving his crowbar through the final infected's head. Battling the rampaging horde proved effortless. Even with a broken axe, his crowbar provided enough offense.

M1911, still clutching the M30, sat in a daze near the wall, oblivious to the hydraulic fluid leaking from her damaged limbs. Only when Renault returned carrying the unconscious Nagant Revolver and unceremoniously extracted her neural core did M1911 snap back to reality.

"You! What are you doing?!" she cried out, fearing he would dismantle her next and sell her parts on the black market. Despite being recently activated, stories of Doll traffickers and part resellers had reached her ears.

"Huh? Just swapping this kid's body," Renault replied nonchalantly.