When the first rift opened, the world’s nations responded with both strong concern and opportunistic greed. On one hand, they feared the unknown, sothing beyond modern science’s ability to explain. On the other, they sought to exploit the rift for economic and scientific gains.
The hardliners proposed sealing the rift with thick concrete walls, like Chernobyl. But their stance was soon overshadowed by the moderates, who pushed for exploration.
Looking back now, perhaps if we had listened to the hardliners, humanity’s doomsday clock might have ticked a little slower.
Once the moderates prevailed, exploration beca inevitable.
It was carried out in a manner eerily similar to early space exploration—venturing into the known unknown of the universe.
First, they sent in chanical probes. Then, they confird if those probes could return. After that, they sent in primitive life forms, gradually working up to more complex organisms. Finally, they sent in people—reckless individuals who wanted to carve their nas into history.
Unfortunately, no one knows who truly crossed the rift first.
It wasn’t due to a lack of records. Too many people rushed in at once, each claiming to be the first.
Now, years later, we found ourselves mirroring that process—only this ti, instead of a cosmic rift, we were exploring a hidden governnt facility.
Whirrrr—
The first attempt was with a high-speed drone piloted by Hong Da-jeong.
It was an eight-way maneuverable drone, praised for its near-defiance of physics in windless conditions.
But—
Bang! Tatatatata!
A flash of light erupted from the darkness beyond.
Bullets tore through the drone, scattering its remains.
"This is no joke," Da-jeong muttered, tilting her head.
If soone with her drone expertise was reacting like this, it ant things were bad.
"How did M9 get footage then? He used drones too, didn’t he?"
We imdiately launched an inquiry into M9.
As of now, M9 didn’t know we were here.
We had deliberately avoided telling him.
I wasn’t keen on running into Ji Chang-soo and his daughter, and I certainly didn’t want to be climbing rope ladders up an apartnt that could collapse at any mont.
Fortunately, M9 seed to be free and answered our questions without issue.
ssage from mmmmmmmm™:
"...? It just worked for ?"
ssage from mmmmmmmm™:
"Oh, yeah. So shots fired at it after a while."
Of course, his drone was eventually destroyed.
Da-jeong nodded in understanding.
"M9 must’ve triggered the anti-air defenses."
"What? They weren’t active from the start?"
"It’s probably not a passive defense system. My guess? It’s AI-controlled and adaptive."
She pulled up a tablet and sketched a rough diagram.
"I heard sothing back when I was with the Legion faction. When the Chinese deploy large-scale drone operations, they still rely on human pilots—like, one pilot per five drones. But the US and Korea? They opted for centralized control systems. And right before the war, they started integrating machine-learning AI into those systems. Basically, self-learning autonomous control."
Rustle.
Da-jeong grabbed another drone from a pile and licked her lips.
"Not a bad way to warm up."
For the first ti in a long while, her eyes glead with that eerie light I had seen when we first t.
I felt like I could trust her.
But in most cases, human-versus-human warfare is 90% about equipnt.
Especially in technological battles—slightly superior gear often results in absolute victory.
Take air combat, for example. The latest US fighter jets had a record of winning 99 out of 100 dogfights against lower-tier planes.
Bang! Tatatatata!
The AI-controlled dragon guarding the vault crushed every one of Da-jeong’s strategies.
And it was learning.
At first, it wasted dozens of bullets per engagent.
Now?
Bang. Bang. Bang.
It was down to precision burst shots.
In less than a day, Da-jeong had lost five drones.
Most of them were cheap, expendable models, but in this world—where production and resupply were nearly impossible—each loss was painful.
"Hmm."
Da-jeong finally called off the operation.
"I’ll wait until I co up with sothing better."
We weren’t the only ones watching this vault.
Kim Byeong-cheol’s people weren’t closely monitoring our every move, but they were definitely keeping tabs on our progress.
"It’s not going well, is it?"
Kim Byeong-cheol himself showed up that evening.
"If it’s not working out, you could always step aside and let us handle it. No need to waste your resources, right?"
His daughter stood beside him, fiddling with sothing in her hands.
She saw and waved cheerfully.
For so reason, I found her unsettling.
Her brightness felt... out of place in this era.
"She seems autistic," Cheon Yeong-jae remarked bluntly.
I watched him for a mont before he shrugged.
"She just gives off that vibe."
"Even if that’s true, you don’t just say that to soone’s face."
"Back after the war, I worked at an orphanage for a while. Had to do so community service."
"What, you commit a cri or sothing?"
"DUI."
"Wow. Real proud of yourself, huh?"
As we talked, Da-jeong approached us.
She knew Yeong-jae, but aside from Defender and , she didn’t talk to many people.
She must’ve had sothing important to say.
"There were rumors."
I sighed.
She was definitely frustrated.
When things weren’t going her way, she tended to do things she normally wouldn’t.
"Yeah, the kid’s weirdly happy. I don’t know if she’s autistic, but her intelligence seems... off."
"What’s the term?" I asked.
"Borderline intelligence?"
Yeong-jae sure knew a lot of words I didn’t.
"Yeah, that. I heard people say her mom ran away because of her."
Listening to these two gossip made feel drained.
I had spent the entire day on high alert, wary that Kim Byeong-cheol might betray us.
As ti passed, that suspicion seed less likely, but I figured it was better to stay cautious.
The sun was setting.
We had no imdiate solution, and after the long journey to Seoul, we needed rest.
The next morning.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Da-jeong abandoned the VR monitor entirely.
She stood right in front of the vault entrance, manually operating her controller as she observed the interior.
Another drone got shot down.
"Hmm."
She let out a short sigh.
Then she pulled out her favorite tool.
The damn robot vacuum.
I had no idea how that was supposed to help.
But I didn’t question it.
Da-jeong carefully checked over the vacuum before sending it into the gap.
Brrrrrrr—
It rolled forward, making a weird noise—one of its wheels must have been faulty.
Monts later—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots rang out.
The difference this ti?
Brrrrrrr—
The vacuum ca back.
The key to its survival was a tal plate mounted on top.
Three deep bullet dents marked its surface.
Da-jeong nodded in satisfaction and walked over to .
She looked far too confident.
"Did you figure sothing out?"
"3.5 seconds."
"3.5 seconds?"
"The warehouse defense system takes 3.5 seconds to detect, process, and attack a target. I've sent in seven different drones, and while the reaction ti kept decreasing at first, it never went below 3.5 seconds."
Hong Da-jeong set down the robot vacuum and straightened her shoulders.
"That’s the absolute minimum processing ti."
"Hmm. Yeah?"
Was that important?
Maybe. Maybe not.
3.5 seconds.
It was more than enough ti to kill a person, but far too short for a human to react.
"For now, let’s stop here."
"You an—?"
"Yeah. We’re calling it off."
Da-jeong glanced at the soldiers watching us from afar with smug expressions.
"Let’s see what they do."
For soone who usually avoided people, Da-jeong could get quite competitive when the mood struck her.
I had assud she was reclusive, but thinking back, she had worked as a café waitress before the war.
And she had lured people into traps before.
Maybe she didn’t avoid people out of anxiety—maybe she just found them annoying.
Since Da-jeong had put the mission on hold, there was no reason to continue.
Any more attempts would just waste drones.
"What? Giving up already?"
Kim Byeong-cheol burst into laughter.
He seed to be in a very good mood.
"I knew it!"
He pulled out a radio and spoke cheerfully to his n.
"Is it ready? Yeah? Good. Let’s get started! Our guests just vacated the room!"
It seed Kim Byeong-cheol had a trump card.
Monts later, that trump card ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) appeared before us with a thunderous roar.
A tank.
K1A1.
A South Korean main battle tank rolled in, shaking the entire underground parking lot.
Da-jeong, who had been leaning against the truck with her arms crossed, uncurled her arms and stared at the tank.
"Ah, of course."
She smirked.
"I figured they'd try sothing like this."
"Oh yeah?"
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
"Yeah. The defenses have tight firing angles and well-ford kill zones. But you noticed, right? Even after all the drone runs, we never saw any heavy weapons inside."
"The biggest caliber we saw was around 7.62mm."
"Then the solution is obvious."
"You an that?"
"Yep. If small arms can’t penetrate, just bring sothing too big for them to stop."
She smirked again, arms crossed once more.
Her confidence made curious.
"Think it’ll work?"
She shrugged.
"Probably not."
Then, as if reconsidering, she scratched her shoulder and added:
"Actually... definitely not."
The tank advanced.
CRASH!
Its massive fra tore through the steel door.
And then—
"Cover your ears!"
The tank commander shouted his warning—
BOOM!!!
The main cannon roared.
THOOM!!!
A shockwave blasted through the parking lot, sending dust and debris flying.
From beyond the warehouse door, a violent explosion echoed.
"Is... is that okay?" Cheon Yeong-jae muttered.
He had a point.
The objective wasn’t just the drones—it was the supplies inside.
What the hell was their plan?
It seed more like a performance than an actual attack.
After firing the cannon, the tank charged straight through the hole it had made.
Da-jeong, still standing with her arms crossed, started counting on her fingers.
"Three, two, one... and a half."
She didn’t even reach zero before—
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG—!
Gunfire erupted from the other side of the door.
Dozens—maybe hundreds—of shots.
No person or drone could survive that kind of barrage.
But a tank?
That was a different story.
It was designed to shrug off bullets.
"Good! Keep pushing! Keep pushing! Crush those toy soldiers!"
Kim Byeong-cheol had arrived at the scene, bringing his ever-cheerful daughter with him.
"South Korea’s future is in our hands!" he bellowed.
I tilted my head.
"..."
Was this man still clinging to the idea of Korea?
I wasn’t here to judge patriots.
"Reviving Korea depends on us! The rebirth of our nation starts here in Seoul! Go! Push forward! Plant the flag on the high ground!"
But his words sounded less like a mission and more like a prayer.
Like he was grasping for sothing long dead.
An empty faith.
A prayer to a god that no longer answered.
"Skelton."
I snapped out of my thoughts as Da-jeong called my na.
"Watch."
She silently mouthed an explosion sound effect.
BOOM!
From the large radio beside Kim Byeong-cheol, a pained voice rang out.
"Ahhh!"
The tank crew’s cry, mixed with static.
The next mont—
KABOOM!!!
A deafening blast rocked the warehouse, sending a second shockwave roaring through the tunnel.
The tank was destroyed.
"They say the Korean governnt was incompetent," Da-jeong whispered near my ear.
"But when it ca to protecting their own interests..."
She smirked.
"They were better than anyone."
Of course they had prepared for armored vehicle threats.
With the tank gone, we were back to square one.
Kim Byeong-cheol’s forces weren’t getting through.
And neither were we.
The dragon guarding the vault was far stronger—and far more ruthless—than we had imagined.
Da-jeong sighed and shook her head.
"Sorry, Skelton. But this ti... I don’t think we can do it."
I suspected she had given up when she lost the fifth drone.
Letting Kim Byeong-cheol take his shot had been a calculated move—she knew he would fail.
She had set it up as evidence.
Evidence to convince to back off.
"The defenses in there," she said, "are designed to counter every type of human weapon."
"That ans even soone like him—a third-rate warlord—doesn't stand a chance."
She had a point.
She wasn’t saying this out of frustration.
She was worried about .
She had gone so far as to set up concrete proof—even if it ant letting tank soldiers die.
That was very in line with the kind of person "Defender" had always been.
Even Defender himself—who had spent the entire fight hiding in the truck—spoke up.
"Skelton. This... isn’t our fight."
He was right.
We weren’t omnipotent.
We were hunters—designed to fight monsters, not human-engineered kill zones.
No matter how skilled we were, the reality was simple.
But if there’s one thing humanity has—above all else—it’s intelligence.
And intelligence ant adaptability.
"Hold on. I need to check sothing."
"Check what?"
"The internet."
I ran back to the truck.
Inside, Defender sat with his arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever.
Beside him, Valentine sat stiffly, clearly uneasy under his presence.
"Move over."
I pushed past Defender and settled in front of my laptop.
Click-clack.
SKELTON: (Skelton ergency) Captain M9! Respond!
mmmmmmmmm™: Captain M9 speaking!
Just a few lines of text.
And yet, they made smile.
The bond of the forum.
With renewed determination, I typed furiously.
SKELTON: You got any capsules nearby?
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