Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Still Just a Hatchling, Though
* * *
“Other individuals aside, at the very least, that one must be disposed of. Because that is the path for the sake of humanity.”
Again.
Even in Dome No.1, there were not zero individuals with manifested abilities.
Those who were deemed special all passed through the hands of the Emergency Disaster Response Unit. And they never returned again. I did not need to ask what had happened to them; it was obvious.
And yet, there were still virtually no civilians who had grasped the true nature of it.
Thorough information control.
What the Emergency Disaster Response Unit pursued was Big Brother itself. And—
“That’s tyranny.”
“For the head of the Millennium Code to say such a thing, I hardly know where to put myself.”
That Meta-humans were dangerous was something Lin Choui knew all too well. But—
“There’s such a thing as moderation. From the start, wouldn’t using them be more efficient than suppressing them? Just how long does the municipal government think it can hide its own mistakes?”
“The perspective of an outsider. Judging everything solely by the world one has seen.”
“What more is there to know here?”
As if there was nothing more worth hearing, Jin Geon waved his hand to cut off the conversation and widened his eyes.
“Please, Chairwoman, remain ignorant of everything like that. Forever.”
* * *
The advancement of scientific technology had affected many fields. Among them, the one that had changed most drastically was gaming that utilized virtual reality.
With the emergence of artificial intelligence, a massive upheaval had occurred—enough to render all existing frameworks meaningless.
Graphics that felt like reality?
Near-infinite interaction?
Those were merely secondary effects.
The core was perfect balance.
It had solved a challenge long considered impossible in MMORPGs.
There were no gaps in the tens of billions of simulations conducted autonomously by artificial intelligence. That was the result of cross-verification after comparing numerous variables.
Anyone, as long as they had skill, could aim for the top.
Without unreasonable internal or external factors.
The undisputed leader of such virtual reality games was Lost Saga.
It had already been five years since its opening.
Even so, its vast narrative showed no sign of drying up.
Not only did it construct the ecology of each different monster, but it also generated random quests and designated matching item lists as rewards.
Not long ago, a large-scale update had also been carried out, making this the biggest boom of the second half of the year.
At this time, there was only one thing on users’ minds.
Which guild would be the first to clear the new raid boss, the Crimson Flame Dragon, Taimut.
Several days had already passed since its release, so most strategies had been leaked. But no one had finished it yet.
The difficulty began in the second phase, when the Crimson Flame Dragon Taimut transformed from a dragon into a human.
The monster that had been so enormous it barely fit within one’s field of view shrank down to a size where one could meet its gaze directly.
As the fight took on an aspect closer to PVP rather than PVE, it was only natural that all the tactics adhered to in the first phase had to be discarded.
Moreover, the number of people who could stay close was also limited. If there were too many, their routes tangled and discord arose, and if there were too few, they could not withstand the counterattacks.
The key point was properly adjusting the gap between those two extremes.
Fortunately, the Primal Guild had a specialist.
“Shinsin!”
At the guild master’s call, a man dashed forward and stood before Taimut.
Raging flames flickered and densely dyed the surroundings, but he paid them no heed and swung his sword.
In the next instant, a blow accompanied by a storm swept across the battlefield. The ground collapsed and dust clouds surged upward, but Taimut did not lose its balance and slipped out of the attack range.
The place it headed for was the rear line.
As it struggled desperately to break the front, the man, Shinsin, tenaciously clung to its back, interfering at every turn.
An exchange where each blocked the other’s path. As time dragged on with repeated advances and retreats, the guild members poured their skills toward Taimut.
When its health gauge dropped below a certain level, Taimut lifted its head and roared.
So-called, the Curse of Silence.
It was an area-wide skill that nullified the automatic targeting system provided in the game. As a bonus effect, the distinction between friend and foe disappeared as well.
Because of that, skills had to be used based on subjective judgment. And that too, while avoiding allies who were clinging close and restraining Taimut’s ankles.
If friendly fire occurred, the front line would collapse, and if buffs and heals reached Taimut, it would instead be helping it.
It was a gimmick where the result depended solely on the guild members’ proficiency.
That was why, even though the solution had already been found, no one had succeeded in clearing it yet. It was not a problem that could be solved simply by knowing the answer.
Thus, the moment the Curse of Silence began, the guild members executed the tactics they had agreed upon in advance.
They switched mainly to skills with more intuitive effects.
So that those standing in front and blocking Taimut could be clearly distinguished.
As Shinsin identified each incoming attack that entered his view and launched an offensive, Taimut went berserk. The skill that followed the Curse of Silence was Karma of Hellfire.
It was a special move that bestowed unavoidable flames upon the four who had dealt the most damage to it so far.
Considering the characteristics of the Curse of Silence, it was a structure that almost inevitably focused on nearby dealers.
Sure enough, in the blink of an eye, three of them were reduced to mere handfuls of ash.
Shinsin had almost melted down as well, but the guild members waiting in the rear noticed the anomaly and responded a beat late, allowing him to survive.
However, regrettably, the situation was at its worst.
The entire front line that had been restraining Taimut until now had been wiped out. It was only natural that the bastard’s range of movement widened.
At the moment the scales were about to tip to one side, Shinsin dashed out and swung his sword.
Lost Saga was a game obsessed with balance. In other words, if a pattern close to an instant-kill appeared, it meant the fight had reached its final stretch. Even if not, knowing that a similar technique would not appear again allowed him to counterattack without hesitation.
A howling Taimut and a pressing Shinsin.
The overheated stage revolved around the two of them.
They had already been attempting this for several hours. Their concentration had reached its limit, and the stockpiled potions had also hit rock bottom.
Perhaps this might be the last chance.
The difficulty that had steadily risen over the past five years had reached a level that could be understood with the head but not followed by the body. In Lost Saga, being a ranker was not a realm attainable through experience and skill alone.
Corresponding talent was also required.
Fortunately amid the misfortune, Shinsin was a user who could grasp a decisive move even without anyone handing it to him.
Analyzing Taimut’s movements and aiming for its blind spot happened in a split second.
Slash.
Perhaps because he had squeezed his stats to their very limits, the health gauge reached 0—but the same was true for Taimut.
The moment Shinsin vanished with the wind, the calamity collapsed.
It was the first time in the entire server that Taimut had been subjugated.
* * *
After the raid ended, the guild house buzzed with talk of it for quite some time. They had claimed a first-clear achievement after a long while. For any user, it was something they could not help but boast about for years to come.
Moreover, it spread through the community. Needless to say, the Primal Guild’s standing would rise. In name and reality, it was a level that could be counted among the very top across the entire server.
But the one who could be called the main protagonist, Shinsin—
“Why does your level look like that?”
—was being scolded.
[Lv. 210 TheGodofNewWorlds #0001]
Reading the words that reflexively floated above his head, Shinsin—no, Baek Ga-on—let out a bitter smile. Lately, things had been nothing short of chaotic. He simply had not been able to find the time to focus on Lost Saga at all. It was impressive enough that he had even managed to log in and participate in the raid.
But since he could not explain the circumstances, Ga-on answered by merely shrugging his shoulders.
He and the guild master went way back.
Games were one of the few forms of entertainment Ga-on could enjoy without status. Forming connections like this was inevitable.
Although we were online friends who had never met even once offline, we were still the kind of relationship where one word was enough.
“Then what’s with your level?”
[Lv. 220 ParadiseMaker]
It had not even been a full week since the level cap was expanded, and he had already reached the target point. If a developer saw it, they would have burst into tears.
It was at that moment that the guild master, ParadiseMaker, declared proudly.
“That’s because I don’t sleep.”
“That’s not something to brag about.”
“Of course it is. Playtime is something you can’t buy with money. Lively, refreshing, delightful! Fun belongs solely to oneself, right?”
I shook my head.
There was no way I didn’t know ParadiseMaker’s disposition. He was an extreme hedonist. Even his nickname spoke for him.
From what I had heard, he even owned several villas in the Colony.
A wealthy idler like him had no reason to listen to advice.
Someone who couldn’t contain his excess time and dove into Lost Saga—a hardcore user. No, a specter. That was exactly what he was.
“More importantly, haven’t you been logging in less often lately?”
“Compared to you, anyone would seem that way.”
“No, I’m serious. You used to log in at least once every two days. But today you almost showed up late for the raid. What’s going on? Did you forget the vow we made under the peach tree that day?”
“I was just late because there was a complicated issue I had to deal with.”
When life was complicated, it meant living was harsh.
At least, that was how it seemed from ParadiseMaker’s perspective.
“Did real life hit you so hard that you don’t have time? If that’s the case, just say the word. I’ll provide food, clothing, and shelter.”
No matter how close we were, I had no intention of relying on the house of an unidentified tycoon.
“I’ll just take the sentiment.”
“You’re not quitting, are you?”
Pushing away ParadiseMaker, who was sticking unusually close today, I added,
“That’s not it. I’m just moving, so my personal time has been reduced for a bit. Even if it’s complicated, it’s only temporary.”
“Moving?”
“Yeah.”
“Come to think of it, you said your main job was being a fixer.”
It was something I had revealed two months ago. Fortunately, it was right before I changed my identity, so no contradictions arose. Still, since there was no plausible background for the person named Baek Ga-on who would live going forward—
“I’m still just a hatchling, though.”
I had to add a small lie.
But ParadiseMaker seemed to latch onto the word fixer, letting out a low hum before opening his mouth again.
“Since it came up, there’s actually something I want to commission too.”
* * *
The moment my consciousness returned, I felt a light weight pressing against my temples.
It was the virtual reality access device, the ‘Connector’.
A goggle-type terminal that gently covered the face. Small in size, yet packed with cutting-edge technology. It was a dream device that read the subject’s brainwaves and projected scenes close to reality.
Of course, it wasn’t mine.
I had only reserved it and used it.
That was also why I hadn’t been able to have a long, in-depth conversation with ParadiseMaker. My next turn had already been approaching.
In the end, I would hear ParadiseMaker’s circumstances after we met on Mars.
It was then that a message arrived on the device.