Infinite Disasters: I Hoarded My Way to Godhood novel Chapter 210

Chapter 210: Chapter 210: Flamboyant Biker Gang! Guitar Sound Wave Six Forms

Seraphina Sullivan ran into a problem.

Trying to cross the complex terrain, surrounded by mountains of trash, solely on her own two feet would be appallingly inefficient.

She used her [Bounce] Skill to leap across the more stable trash heaps, but she had to test each step carefully to avoid sinking into soft refuse or triggering an unnecessary landslide.

’Is there really no faster way to get there? When will this ever end?’

Seraphina grumbled inwardly as she ran and jumped.

A distance of over one hundred kilometers would have been nothing to her on a flat highway. She could have just found some form of transportation.

But here, surrounded by nothing but trash, it was utter torture.

The seven-day survival window seemed ample, but if most of that time was spent on the road, how could she even think about completing her mission or exploring the instance?

And just as Seraphina was fretting over her travel efficiency, wondering if there was a faster method of transportation...

VRROOOM—VRMM VRMMMM—!!

The chaotic, wild roar of engines grew louder, approaching from the distance.

Seraphina immediately stopped and looked toward the source of the sound.

In the distance, a cloud of dust billowed into the air.

Then, a motorcycle convoy entered her line of sight.

Several motorcycles, their frames clearly modified to look wild and menacing, appeared in her field of vision!

They let out a roaring clamor, bouncing and speeding over the rugged, uneven surface of the trash as they rapidly approached her.

Seraphina’s guard went up.

In a place like this, anyone who could operate a vehicle was no ordinary survivor.

She immediately recalled what Graham Gallo had said about the [Scavenger Thugs].

Judging by their arrival and the brazen racket they were making, this group in front of her perfectly fit the description of "thugs."

However, when the convoy drew near enough for her to make out the riders’ attire, even Seraphina, who was well-traveled and had experienced multiple apocalyptic instances, couldn’t help but be dumbfounded by what she saw.

’This... What in the world is this aesthetic?’

The riders’ hairstyles were a veritable explosion of competing colors and styles.

Some were dyed fluorescent green.

Some sported sky-high mohawks in a shade of ’death-by-Barbie’ pink.

Some had waist-length hair that cascaded down like a rainbow waterfall.

There were even mohawks with shaved sides, the middle strip sculpted with gel into an array of sharp spikes.

Others had unidentifiable metal parts woven directly into their hair.

If you didn’t know any better, you might think a family of glam-rock fanatics was out on a group shopping trip.

Their outfits were even more visually shocking.

Tattered black leather jackets were covered in gleaming studs and sharp metal chains.

Some were even adorned with small, dangling skulls.

They wore heavily worn jeans or leather pants, their legs similarly covered in metal ornaments.

On their faces, they wore special masks smeared with bizarre patterns of greasepaint.

The motorcycles they rode were just as ridiculously modified.

Exhaust pipes were as thick as cannons, and the frames were welded with all sorts of useless metal spikes and plates, all covered in wild, chaotic graffiti.

The corner of Seraphina’s mouth couldn’t help but twitch.

’Holy hell... This is some kind of goth, heavy metal, alternative, wild-wastelander mashup!’

Rather than ferocious, the group’s getup was more... absurd.

They didn’t look like they were trying to survive the apocalypse; they looked like they were on their way to a concert.

Seraphina had this thought because she noticed some of them carrying unique, modified guitars that doubled as weapons.

Soon, the modified motorcycles executed a clean fishtail stop in front of Seraphina.

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