WPRAF 27

Chapter 27

“Am I wrong? People like to call them hammer and anvil, but isn’t it the hammers that monopolize everything while the anvils hold the mobs in place?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah. Maybe because he’s from a big corporation. He’s right. You’re Sehyun, right? Answer me — how are you going to split the rewards?”

No sooner had someone raised doubts about fairness than the anvil-side players agreed, and a few began to shout protests.

Why did that man, Hwang Man-ho, suddenly bring this up? Simple.

His team was the anvil.

Team Ilseong, which operates in the Yongsan hunting ground where the head of the Ilseong Group resides, had a reputation for excellence.

Why assign them to an anvil instead of hammers when they’ve got good reviews? Because the team’s composition — with three tank-type classes — fit the anvil role: sturdy and reliable.

Other teams were assigned anvil positions for similar reasons.

But explanations could wait.

That wasn’t the point.

“It doesn’t look like they’ll take anything.”

I glanced back and forth between the unsettled hammer squad and the protesting anvil squad and spoke.

“The rule is simple. The team that kills the priest gets the reward.”

Faces shifted with joy and despair at my words, and, led by Ilseong, dissenters began to appear.

“In that case our team will switch to hammers. I don’t know what Captain Han is thinking, but we answered the call during our busy schedule — don’t we deserve something for that? Please reconsider.”

“Team Redible echoes that!”

“We agree too!”

“Please put our Gwanak team into hammers as well. Otherwise we can’t carry out this operation.”

Some even threatened to leave unless positions were changed.

I didn’t answer. From the stage, I looked down coldly at those throwing tantrums.

My fists tightened on their own; my cheek muscles twitched. It was infuriating to see grown people whining and making unreasonable demands, but I held back.

I wasn’t foolish enough to react emotionally and lose my head like they did.

But—

“You sure about this?”

A battle fought with the hammers and anvils split apart had a predictable outcome.

“What?”

“I asked — are you sure?”

I had to take hold of them. I had to force their roles into their heads. So with a stiff face I stepped down from the stage and shouted until the auditorium echoed.

“Are you confident you can kill the priest?!”

Every player froze at that roar.

A natural response.

Nobody here should not know my name.

The [Achievement] of being number one in Korea’s viewership rankings had been publicly announced nationwide.

The fact that I had the highest view count was proof that I was the strongest.

Those cowed by my presence fell silent.

“What makes you think you can come in as hammers? Are you confident you can kill it? Confident it won’t die? You’ve only faced petty trash mobs until now — where does that confidence come from?”

I scanned the crowd and finally fixed my gaze on Hwang Man-ho.

He moved his lips, but everyone here knew the answer — to say you were confident would be arrogance and greed.

Perhaps not wanting to embarrass himself, he stopped mouthing words.

Then someone standing in the back stepped forward.

“So, Han Sehyun, that sounds like you’re saying you’re confident?”

Was her name Kang Ju-hee? She had a slender face and a somewhat cocky expression. She was also an anvil-side player.

As a [Fire Sorcerer] mage-class, she had powerful skills and handled the anvil’s firepower.

“And… she’s also Do-gyeong Group’s illegitimate child,” I answered silently, recalling the dossier the president had sent that included Kang Ju-hee’s background.

“There’s some confidence, then?” she pressed.

“Not none.” I shrugged.

She blinked, then pressed me to answer properly.

Honestly, I couldn’t say I was confident. I had no idea how to bring down that monster. I couldn’t even conceive of how to beat it.

But once the priest was our objective, there would be no retreat.

That was my way.

“At least I can answer this with confidence: among everyone gathered here, I’m the one suited to take on the priest.”

“What basis do you have for such nonsense?”
“Kang Ju-hee, have you ever killed a captain-level goblin?”

Her pupils narrowed, trembling.

“Of course you haven’t. Have you even tried?” I shot back.

“And you?” she asked.

“You still don’t know. I’ve killed them. All three.”

“Oh… could it be that you—?”

When she was about to ask if I was the one who extended the Gate Clock time, I nodded.

Then I glared at everyone and warned them.

“Listen carefully. From now on, stirring up trouble won’t be tolerated. Anyone who disobeys my orders will be summarily judged under military law.”

“What authority do you have?” Hwang demanded.

Only then did I pull a document from my breast pocket and show it to him.

It stated that “for the combat in Goyang City only, all operational authority is delegated to me,” and it bore the seal of Army Chief of Staff and Martial Law Commander Kim Jin-cheol.

‘He’s been a soldier — he must know what that seal means,’ I thought.

Half of the people here weren’t military, but that explanation wasn’t necessary.

Players who contribute to defeating the enemy can operate independently even if they’re not part of the defense force.

That leniency exists because if reservists were fully mobilized into the army, only female players would remain in society.

Of course women can fight, but physical differences due to sex are real, and everyone has strengths and weaknesses — so a balanced mix was far better.

In any case, the national general mobilization order didn’t distinguish by gender — and since they answered the call, I was their superior.

A high school located on the outskirts of Goyang City’s District C.

Surrounded by apartment complexes, ten or so broadcast trucks were parked there.

Public and private broadcasters were about to live-broadcast the massive battle that was to unfold.

A veteran PD, nervously smoking, asked a young FD.

“Drone cameras ready?”

“Yes. They’ve been on standby for ten minutes, but is that going to be okay? What if they get smashed like last time…”

“Why are you worried about that? If it gets smashed, we launch another one.”

The PD had almost flicked his cigarette butt away, then stopped.

Oh—this is a school. Wait, school is a nonsmoking area…

He hurriedly stuffed the butt into his pocket and continued.

“What we should be concerned about isn’t the drone or the ratings. It’s conveying the players’ struggle properly. So the public can remember and cheer our fighters.”

“I understand!” the FD replied, feeling filled with a sense of mission.

“All right, launch.”

“Yes!”

As the drones rose and quickly reached District B, the news desk anchor spoke.

“A goblin force has advanced out of the village. AI measurements show the number of monsters is 114, and thankfully our forces hold the advantage. Professor Choi and General Yang, how do you see this battle?”

He kept his emotions in check to deliver facts, turning to the military analyst and the retired general seated at his sides.

Professor Choi, the military expert, spoke first.

“To be honest, the odds are… low. The average level of players deployed here is 8, which is enough to subdue elite goblins, but…”

“You mean the ogre and the goblin priest are the key issues? Especially the goblin priest — he’ll be the biggest threat. General Yang seems to agree.”

“Yes. As you can see on the footage, that thing— oh, excuse me, that thing’s sorcery is weird and nasty, isn’t it? That bastard—”

Fearing the man would swear on live air, the anchor quickly cut him off.

“Point taken. During the second sortie, the priest demonstrated abilities beyond normal. How should we deal with that monstrous enemy?”

“The best tactic is concentrated fire. You can see the players assigned to the hammer group have strong skills. The commander’s deployment was appropriate. If they unleash their skills simultaneously, even the priest will be hard-pressed to stop it all.”

Professor Choi swallowed some water and continued.

“Also, many experts expect the third sortie to proceed similarly to today. Even if we lose, measuring the priest’s combat capability will be meaningful…”

“What kind of miserable talk is that? Lose? He’ll just curse us then!”

General Yang shouted optimistically we’d win; the anchor frantically signaled to switch the screen.

The live feed switched to the battlefield shown by the drone.

A goblin horde marched in formation down the six-lane road.

Thud—thud—thud—thud.

Their footsteps were heavier and more oppressive than expected.

Viewers had difficulty watching the screen.

If they kept going straight, they would leave the restricted zone and head straight into the apartment complexes where civilians lived.

As tension and fear peaked—

Screeeeeech—

Several Rextons and Dodons halted at the end of the road.

A big man, hair neatly combed and with a trimmed beard, got out of a Rexton and barked orders.

“Form ready formation!”

“Form ready formation!”

—Chief Choi: Anvil team, ready.

I got the signal from Choi Gyu-seong, assistant team leader in charge of the anvil, while standing about 300 meters away near an apartment complex.

Ten minutes earlier we’d received word the goblin column had already passed this complex on the left side of the six-lane road.

And now, war was about to break out.

Yes. This was war.

Two large bodies of madness and violence were meeting; death and destruction would continue until one collapsed.

Those who had been through smaller-scale wars already knew what to expect and were filled with fear.

“Are you scared?”

I spoke to encourage them.

“Why be fearful? Why be afraid?”

I asked harshly, as if deliberately angry. Kindness and gentleness didn’t work on them. I needed to trigger feelings that would overcome the defeatist and fearful emotions that dominated them.

“Well—”

Someone in the crowd raised a hand. Since my question wasn’t asked to solicit reasons, I ignored him and continued.

“Shouldn’t you be angry? Shouldn’t you be enraged instead of scared?”

I forced them to face the situation.

I invaded the space in their minds and drew out the revenge that lay dormant inside.

“They expect us to pay back debts we didn’t owe, to kill our neighbors for ridiculous reasons, seize our land, and pillage our property.”

I paused and looked around. Reactions were stirring. Some faces flushed red, some clenched fists, and threats of curses began to break out in small groups.

I looked up at the sunset sky and continued.

“At this hour when you’d be at dinner with family, drinking with friends, or out on a date with your lover, you’re here like this.”

“…….”

“Don’t you feel even a speck of anger?”

At that, a balding man at the front cried out in pain.

“I am angry. I want to kill those bastards! I lost my family to those sons of bitches. But the opponent….”

It’s not easy to control emotions with just a few words. I felt bad for digging into his grief, but I couldn’t give up.

Just as I was trying to rally myself to persuade them further—

“Who they are, does that matter?”

Others who had felt moved by what I said began to step forward.

“I had to send my family away because of those bastards too. My daughter and wife, who I loved more than anything. Sir, let’s take revenge together.”

“I lost the house I bought with over ten years of loan payments. I worked my ass off for it… those sons of bitches!”

As these enraged voices rose, the atmosphere heated up.

Satisfied, I told them.

“Let’s go. Show them what we can do.”