Big Guns, Bigger Guns (1)
But that "proper preparation" didn't mean the usual stuff people thought of, like emergency rations or medicine. It wasn't just from the experience of dropping into the first floor totally unprepared and getting fucked over.
Well, to be precise, that was included too. But the real reason was...
"Can I really take out the mobs swarming from the second floor with just 50 rounds?"
Yeah. Sure, at first glance, each of those bullets symbolized pure equality, piercing through mana shields and all that bullshit without discrimination...
Plus, going from the first floor to the second didn't mean the monster numbers suddenly jumped fivefold or anything ridiculous, so you could argue it was enough.
"Hmm, so... Status Window? Nah, Equipment Window?"
"Yeah, if I just charge in like this, my skull's getting cracked open."
The light machine gun I'd picked up on the first floor could spit out up to 1,200 rounds per minute, just like the Status Window said.
Even if I loaded it with just 50 rounds, it'd go click for a split second and burn through them all. Even if I skipped ahead with the cooldown, after the next 50, I'd have to run for my life for a full minute.
So instead of heading straight to the second floor, I figured I had about two days of spare time left.
"Come to think of it... there were armored vehicles and those special forces dudes left on the first floor, right?"
I didn't remember the exact spot, but I had a rough idea of the direction. I headed toward the investigation team's armored vehicle from the tower's first floor.
Once there, I'd check if there was anything more useful, or at least some sub-weapon I could carry manually outside the equipment slots in the Status Window.
Of course, all this hinged on whether I could even go back to previous floors in the tower.
As a normie, I'd only seen the leaked scraps, never actually gotten into the hunter communities—those subtly useful spots that looked useless at first glance.
The good news? Unlike the easy or normal difficulties normies usually saw, Hardcore Difficulty didn't have any bullshit restrictions like not being able to go down to lower floors.
I stepped out of the house, hit the nearby convenience store for a triangle kimbap and a 500ml bottle of water, stuffed them in my bag, and...
"Lemme see... Magazine use? This it?"
Infinite Magazine used successfully!
• 50 special rounds automatically loaded into currently equipped gear!
• Time until reuse: 58 seconds
"Ah, okay, got it. But seriously, can't you just do this with a button click instead of making me say it out loud?"
Maybe because the Infinite Magazine was bottom-tier B-grade—excluding the trash C-grades nobody wanted or the near-cursed D-grades—with its finicky performance.
Now that I'd used even that function, I was fully prepped. Time to head back to the first floor.
But in the process, I had no clue how to re-enter the tower, so despite being all geared up and looking badass for a hot minute...
I pulled out my phone from my pocket, asked the community, paced the room waiting for replies...
Anyway, once I learned I could just click the Status Window to go in and out, it only took about five minutes to hop in.
Then I realized the real thing I needed to worry about wasn't emergency rations, water, ammo, or gear...
"Fuck, but where the hell am I?"
......The drop location on the first floor was litarally random.
Just remembering the direction was worthless, sadly.
The silver lining? I'd eaten a solid meal before coming, had emergency food in my bag, and my sweet machine gun daddy was tucked in my inventory. Unlike last time, I had some mental breathing room.
I could savor the crunch of sneakers on underbrush and dirt.
Plus, since this was inside the tower, the only living things besides monsters were pure plants—no bugs crawling on me or spiderwebs in my hair. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Every now and then, I'd run into lone goblins wandering around...
"Kieek?!"
"Hello, motherfucker."
Click!
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
"Kipik?!"
...But unlike before, with the machine gun that was basically omnipotent on this first floor, I turned every goblin I met into a bullet-riddled sacrifice.
I'd recharge spent ammo mid-way with the Infinite Magazine.
Before even finding the armored vehicle, I spotted the tenth goblin and pondered what to do...
"...Oh right, I can just keep it alive enough not to die and use it to search!"
Genius idea that'd make Nobel winners weep (or not). I riddled its arms with 7.62mm rounds, leaving just the forearms.
"Alright, you goblin little shit. The second you run, this goes full-auto into your skull and torso. Got it?"
"Kik, hik, kieeek!"
"So no running. Walk quietly in front of me at my pace. Got it?"
"Kek! Kehk!"
Courtesy training applied equally to monsters or humans with any brains. No matter how long it took.
We wandered like we were on a picnic, stumbling around the first floor for about four hours...
Right when my stomach started growling, I filled it back up with the triangle kimbap while it trudged silently ahead.
Crunch crunch... Thud!
"Ow! Fuck... oh? Ah, there it is!"
Barreling through thick bushes and slamming into something hard, nearly faceplanting.
Last time, even at full sprint, I'd reached it in under an hour. This time, over four hours—random spawns were pure bullshit.
But that was the past. What mattered was now.
"Hey, goblin."
"Ki, kiik?"
"I'm giving you an important job. Go pick up all those weapons scattered on the ground and bring 'em here."
"Kiiiiiik!"
"What, can't 'cause no arms? Your mouth just for show, fucker?"
"Kek."
"Your face looks pretty fucked up? I almost met you without this and got my skull cracked, crossing the Jordan."
"Keruk."
"Yeah yeah, behave."
"Keruk..."
It shot me a resistant glare, goblin nature kicking in, so I gave it another barrel nudge and more courtesy training.
While our forearm goblin diligently gathered guns in its mouth and piled them up, I climbed atop the armored vehicle—riddled with a massive hole on the side and rust everywhere.
Time to rip off the huge autocannon mounted on top.
At first glance, it was so huge and solidly bolted on that I thought, "Shit, shoulda grabbed tools from the hardware store."
Part of me wanted to give up...
But when I barely touched it, maybe the turret ring was more rusted than I thought?
Crack! Rumble... Boom!
"Holy fuck."
It just slid right off with a nudge and crashed below the vehicle.
I felt a twinge of melancholy, wondering if I'd just wasted time.