WPRAF 10

Chapter 10

That evening, we prepared for the second outbreak scheduled for tomorrow.

Jung So-mi checked her weapons, and Hwang Hye-joo sharpened her blade.

And I supervised them both — while munching on some potato chips I found in the cupboard.

After I kept commenting and smacking my lips beside them, acting like I knew everything, Jung So-mi finally snapped.

“Senior, if you’re bored, why don’t you actually help?”

“I am helping.”

“I meant with your hands, not your mouth.”

“That might be difficult. My hands are covered in grease.”

“There are wet wipes next to you.”

“You really must dislike me, huh? You should’ve joined the company earlier than me then.”

Unable to come up with a comeback, Jung So-mi pressed her lips together tightly.

Then, as she scrubbed her poor K5 barrel with needless force, she glared at me with dagger eyes.

“To be honest, you’re not really my senior, are you? You’re more like an old man.”

“So, are you saying you want to redefine our relationship?”

“Only if you’re planning to keep bossing me around.”

“Hmmm…”

I didn’t want to lose a capable junior.

So I decided to use a little leverage.

I gave Jung So-mi a sly grin as she assembled her firearm.

“I did a bit of digging — your team leader is one of our people. A much younger junior than me.”

“…You’re such a cheater.”

“Maybe, but it’s true.”

I shrugged and said to both of them,

“All right, let’s take a break and watch this together. Hye-joo, come sit over here too.”

“What is it?”

The two women sat side by side on the couch. I grabbed the tablet PC that had been charging and opened YouTube.

“Sun Woo-jin just uploaded a new video on his channel.”

The title of the video Sun Woo-jin had posted was ‘Shop Usage Guide.’

A simple ten-minute tutorial explaining how to use the [Shop].

I propped the tablet up on the table, started the video, and said,

“The [Shop] unlocks once you reach level 2. But it’s good to know this beforehand.”

Both Jung So-mi and Hwang Hye-joo nodded as we followed along with Sun Woo-jin’s voice.

“[When you open the shop, you’ll see a list sorted by category.]”

[Shop]

• Category
  └ Weapons
  └ Armor
  └ Staffs
  …
  └ Miscellaneous

“[Each section is well organized. However, the items we can purchase right now are limited — either because of quantity or high prices.]”
“[Still, don’t get discouraged. By using the search function, you can find great items at affordable prices. The search bar appears if you scroll down the Shop.]”

Following his instructions, we located the search bar.

“It’s basically like online shopping,” I muttered.

You could filter by category and sort by price.

I tried setting it to [Weapons – One-Handed Swords – Daggers – Sort by Lowest Price].

At the top appeared a rusty, cracked weapon called [Old Dagger].

The price: 5,500 coins. Quantity: 2.

Cheap, but unsurprisingly, nobody had bought it — it was basically the same as throwing 5,500 coins into the trash.

For reference, the [Black Wolf Dagger] that Mr. Choi had sent me as a “gift” ranked fifth on the list — priced at 18,000 coins, currently out of stock.

Given that Choi was level 7, it probably wasn’t a burden for him.

“[Next are item grades. So far, known tiers go from Common (lowest) to High, Rare, and Heroic. We expect higher tiers to unlock as levels rise.]”

Then, Sun Woo-jin explained the item options — which matched what Hwang Hye-joo had already guessed.

The video shifted to a segment labeled “Sun Woo-jin’s Choice.”

At the same time, Hwang Hye-joo commented,

“Sun Woo-jin gives recommended builds and items every game — he calls it Sun Woo-jin’s Choice.”

“So it’s his personal tip section?”

“Exactly. This part is usually the most helpful.”

So I paid close attention.

A thumbnail-sized glass vial appeared on screen, filled with red liquid. The caption read: [Low-Grade Healing Potion].

“[If you’ve saved up about 1,000 coins, this should be your first purchase.]”

Sun Woo-jin spoke with confidence. He claimed it was the best cost-performance item he’d found.

“[It completely heals light wounds. While it can’t mend major injuries that need stitching, it can stop bleeding. Honestly… it’s just amazing.]”

He sounded a bit too excited — but if it was true, I couldn’t blame him.

When the video ended, I looked at Jung So-mi and said,

“That’s something we definitely need to buy.”

“Yeah, I really want it… but I’m broke.”

“You shouldn’t be. Remember the 3,000 coins I lent you the day before yesterday?”

My deadpan remark made her jump up.

With an incredulous expression, she shouted,

“That was— you forced me to borrow that!”

“‘Forced’? Did you forget? It was a legitimate contract. I saved your life, and in return, you’d grant me a wish. My wish was for you to borrow money from me.”

“T-That’s true, but still…”

As she stammered, I extended my hand.

“Give it to me.”

“…What?”

“You can’t access the shop yet, right? I’ll buy it on your behalf.”

Night fell.

Crickets chirped in the yard like a lullaby, but I couldn’t sleep.

The news I’d just watched ten minutes earlier kept my mind spinning.

According to the breaking report, reserve forces and civil defense were being mobilized, and the entire military was assembling near the gates.

The army had set up main defensive lines around each gate and secondary barriers at three- and five-kilometer radii to completely prevent any monster breakout.

The Disaster Response Headquarters urged citizens to take shelter in local bunkers and warned that looting or other crimes would be met with severe punishment.

But that promise would likely be broken — police forces were thinning as more officers deserted.

Only three days had passed since the foreign god Pidomena appeared.

People feared what new nightmare tomorrow’s dawn would bring.

Maybe that’s why the news tried hard to sound hopeful.

Experts claimed that, since Korea ranked fifth globally in military power, with full preparation, the second outbreak’s damage would be less than the first.

Both the President and Martial Law Commander vowed to protect the lives and property of the citizens — and promised full support from the players.

But the online community remained skeptical. So was I.

“As everyone knows, the goblins from the first outbreak were labeled as ‘soldiers.’ That likely means the goblin race has a command structure.”

I strongly agreed with that comment.

The next outbreak would probably unleash goblins ranked higher than soldiers.

“Equivalent to NCOs or officers, maybe,” I thought.

And I doubted whether our weapons would still work on them.

Still, amidst the pessimism, there was one personal bit of good news.

“[Debtor Kim Dae-ho has transferred 300 coins.]”

My debtor was diligently paying interest.

If it were me, I’d have repaid the full amount and reclaimed my collateral by now — but apparently, he’d blown through the 3,000 coins I gave him.

Anyway, with 13 hours and 23 minutes left until the second outbreak, there was only one thing I could do: get a good night’s sleep.

December 27, 2024, 8:00 a.m.

Jung So-mi, Hwang Hye-joo, and I got into the car.

Both women’s faces were stiff. They looked exhausted — dark circles under their eyes.

Or maybe it was just because they weren’t wearing makeup.

I started the engine and turned to So-mi beside me.

“You two look tired. Maybe you should rest instead?”

“I’m fine.”

“Me too.”

They both gave me questioning looks.

“Going into battle in poor condition is the same as dragging me down. This time won’t be like the first — it’s on a whole different scale.”

I paused and turned on the news through the dashboard monitor.

“[I’m reporting live from the Gwanghwamun Gate. As you can see, the atmosphere here is tense and heavy with the signs of war…]”

Helicopters and drones broadcasted the scene live.

Tanks and troops were assembled at the Gwanghwamun Plaza, while fighter jets patrolled above.

“[The military plans to concentrate firepower on the gate, aiming to annihilate not only the monsters but the gate itself…]”

Hopefully that plan would succeed.

If it didn’t, we’d be waiting nearby, ready to move.

“This isn’t some skirmish like the one at your dojo,” I said. “This is war — one second of distraction could cost your life. And we’re mercenaries here.”

“…Meaning no support will come,” Hye-joo murmured.

“Exactly. No fire support, no medics. We’ll have to survive on our own.”

The two women fell silent, thinking deeply — wondering if they could truly contribute, or if they should even be there.

So-mi spoke first.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hold you back.”

“Me neither,” Hye-joo added firmly. “I promised I wouldn’t be a burden, and I’ll keep that promise.”

Her solemn tone made me chuckle inwardly.

Good — my little shock tactic had worked.

08:59.

One minute before detonation.

We waited inside a middle school, about ten minutes from Ilsan Lake Park, watching the live drone feed.

Despite the gate being in the middle of the city, the military had deployed artillery and armored units.

Nearby shops and the park would inevitably be destroyed — a sign that the military had no intention of pulling punches this time.

09:00.

Right on schedule, blue particles began to gather at the gate’s center.

The particles spun clockwise, forming a vortex — and then calmed.

That was when the monsters emerged.

“Fire!”

The commander’s shout triggered a barrage.

Tanks and APCs surrounding the gate unleashed hellfire.

BOOOOM—!

Explosions thundered in the distance, smoke billowing high into the sky.

“Please… please let it be over…”

So-mi and Hye-joo clasped their hands in prayer.

If only it could end here — without more bloodshed.

But the nation’s desperate wish went unanswered.

“Ah…”

As the smoke cleared, a dome-shaped blue barrier shimmered into view.

The gate stood untouched.

The gate was not only a portal — it was also a fortress.

I reached a grim conclusion.

‘Direct attacks on the gate are impossible.’

The monsters’ safe zone must span roughly 300 meters.

“[The monsters… have completed their emergence, and we… failed to stop them.]”

As the somber voice of the announcer played, gates across the country poured forth confident monsters.

Not just goblin soldiers and ogres — but higher-ranking goblins, evidently officers.

And behind them came their commander — a goblin wielding a snake-headed staff, wearing crimson robes, a golden sash, and a heavy necklace.

He looked like a priest from the Neolithic age.

“The one that came out last… that’s their leader,” said Hye-joo.

“Judging by the bodyguards, yeah,” I agreed.

The goblin army formed ranks by the lake, while the priest shouted something at them — probably a ritual chant.

Meanwhile, the military repositioned for another strike, ready to bombard as soon as the monsters stepped outside the barrier.

But then, all the priests across the country suddenly turned their gazes toward the soldiers — then lifted their heads, spotting the hovering news drones and helicopters.

Whoosh—.

Like swatting a fly, one priest flicked his staff.

And then —

The helicopters and drones lost balance and plummeted to the ground.

Whoosh—.

He waved again.

This time, soldiers’ rifles, machine guns, and even tank barrels twisted and bent like soft noodles.

‘He neutralized the army with just a few gestures. Is that… even possible?’

The soldiers — and even the players among them — froze in horror.

“[This is… utterly hopeless.]”

The live feed spread that despair across the entire nation.

The priest’s sneering face filled the screen, staring straight into the camera.

Watching it, I muttered honestly,

“…This is beyond imagination.”

The priest was a kind of enemy I couldn’t have even pictured.

I had expected magic-using foes, yes — but not this level of power.

“Senior… what do we do now?”

So-mi’s trembling voice broke the silence.

“Hah… they say the world outside the blanket is dangerous. Should’ve just stayed in bed.”

A joke slipped out before I realized — a sign I was nervous too.

Of course, neither So-mi nor Hye-joo caught that nuance. They just looked defeated.

I patted both their shoulders.

“Relax. I was joking.”

“…Even if you weren’t, I’d understand,” Hye-joo said softly. “It really does seem impossible. Maybe we should go back and regroup…”

But she trailed off — realizing that regrouping would change nothing.

So-mi’s face had the same resigned look.

I couldn’t blame them — that goblin priest was overwhelming.

But surrendering without trying would only lead to regret.

“The priest’s appearance made us feel like we’ve dropped to the bottom of the food chain, huh?” I said.

Then I stepped out of the car.

The two followed, watching as I pulled a rifle from the trunk.

“Did you know? If you turn a crisis into an opportunity… that opportunity becomes your next leap forward.”

I thought it sounded pretty cool — but judging from their blank faces, it didn’t land.

‘Well, can’t win them all,’ I thought, shrugging.

I looked up at the sky.

Clear and cloudless — it made me want to survive this day.

So I set a goal.

“Objective One: Survive.”