Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Intruders and the Savior
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The group hadn’t recognized him right away from the footage they’d seen. In that video, Yuseong had been wearing his starter outfit, but now he was clad in proper armor—albeit low-level—so they overlooked him.
Even if they’d spotted the gun, they might have pieced it together, but they’d only noted the cheap armor and hadn’t bothered checking his weapons.
A sigh escaped him naturally. If this guy really was that Yuseong, they’d had no chance of winning.
“W-Wait a second! Let’s talk this out…!”
One of them shouted urgently as the gun barrel swung toward them, but Yuseong didn’t stop.
Bang!
Same as before. The head of the one who’d yelled snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground.
It was clear to anyone that Yuseong had no intention of stopping the fight.
“Th-This bastard!”
“Kill him!”
In the end, they had no choice but to raise their weapons against him. But even if all five had coordinated their attack, their odds were slim—and now with two down, the outcome was obvious.
Still, their movements weren’t bad. They didn’t just charge recklessly; they actually formed a formation.
A swordsman with a small shield on his left arm took the lead, another stuck close behind him, and the last cast support spells on the pair.
But that was as far as it went.
It took just three bullets to end them. Nothing more was needed.
‘Damn, talk about the worst luck!’
The one who’d clicked his tongue at Yuseong, thinking he was just some unlucky noob, had that final thought as he fell. With that, the echoes of battle faded from the dungeon.
* * *
‘What the hell were these guys?’
Yuseong stared at the corpses in bewilderment. They’d appeared out of nowhere, gotten pissed out of nowhere, and attacked out of nowhere.
He’d dealt with clingy NPC streamers who wanted to tag along for broadcasts and shady NPCs who’d tried to trap him, but these were the first to come at him spewing curses right off the bat.
Of course, their skills weren’t anything to write home about either—on par with their sudden entrance.
‘Bandit NPCs or something?’
NPCs really came in all shapes and sizes.
‘They dropped some items.’
The loot from those shady NPCs before had sold pretty well. This gear would fetch a good price too. And on top of that, they’d dropped a decent amount of cash itself.
His mood lifted.
‘I wouldn’t mind running into more like these.’
After picking up the items, Yuseong resumed his hunt. He had two days left until the dungeon’s drop rate bonus ended. He needed to make as much money as possible in that time.
* * *
A luxury foreign car—clearly worth a fortune to anyone who saw it—raced down a Gangnam street.
Inside sat a driver and an elderly man with snow-white hair, dressed impeccably in a designer suit.
“Phew! Getting old means I can’t handle this stuff anymore.”
The old man loosened his tie with a sigh. The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
“You’ve worked hard, sir.”
“Yeah, I have. Why do they keep hounding this old man?”
“That just shows how important you are, Chairman.”
“Heh heh heh, you sweet talker. You’re getting better at flattery.”
“It’s not flattery.”
The driver meant it sincerely.
The virtual reality game Ark had caused a worldwide sensation, devouring every aspect of culture—not just in Korea but globally.
The old man was Han Seongmin, chairman of Utopia, the company running Ark, and its lead developer.
His stature was immense on the world stage, and plenty of people sought him out. Today, he’d been schmoozing with a few National Assembly members, discussing various matters.
“Thanks for the kind words anyway.”
Seongmin chuckled heartily.
“But are you sure you’re okay? Why not head home and rest?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got stamina to spare for this. Besides, it won’t take long.”
“Understood.”
The driver said no more.
Before long, they arrived at a building. A towering skyscraper on prime Gangnam real estate.
Its geometric design drew the eye—it was Utopia’s headquarters.
Seongmin stepped out and entered the building.
It was late, but people were still working. He waved back at those who bowed to him and boarded the elevator.
Like most chairmen, his office was on the top floor—but the button he pressed led underground.
The elevator descended. Past the basement parking, down to the building’s foundation, the doors opened.
First came a steel door blocking the way. But Seongmin strode forward without a care.
Whirr!
With a faint vibration, the door slid open. Its thickness was impressive from the edge.
And it wasn’t just one. As he walked, a series of steel doors opened behind it—one after another, thirteen in total. Security so tight it bordered on excessive.
Yet it all parted effortlessly before him, as if someone were watching and opening them manually.
Whir.
A surveillance camera by the door swiveled slightly.
The final door revealed another elevator—no floor buttons. Seongmin waited calmly. The doors closed, and it descended on its own, just like the steel doors.
It stopped, and the doors opened. Seongmin stepped out.
A vast space. Walls removed to claim the entire floor’s area, with a height spanning multiple levels.
It brimmed with countless electronic devices.
The sheer visible scale was overwhelming, but it was just a fraction. Several more floors below mirrored this setup.
Seongmin walked slowly among them, as if admiring the machines.
Flashing lights, humming operations, warmth on his skin. He smiled faintly.
This was the home of his greatest masterpiece—the golden goose that brought him immense wealth.
His steps halted at the center.
A thick pillar stood there.
Cables snaked up its surface, culminating in a large display at the top.
Swivel!
A camera beside the display turned toward him—like an eye fixing on him.
[Welcome.]
Text appeared on the screen.
“Yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary?”
[No issues. If I had to pick one, it’d be the complaint from the guy who bought that dungeon.]
“Complaint?”
[Apparently another player found it first.]
“Tsk tsk. Some people complain even when you hand them food on a platter.”
Seongmin clucked his tongue, his voice laced with deep contempt.
“We warned them when selling the info anyway, so anything after that’s on that idiot.”
[Quite right.]
Someone buying Ark intel would have serious funds, but to Seongmin, they were all just ants crawling on the ground. Ignore the whining, and it was done.
Sure, they could expose Utopia for selling game secrets to screw them over.
But Seongmin wasn’t worried in the slightest.
“Info manipulation still holding up?”
[Of course.]
“Good.”
Seongmin gazed at the display fondly.
The world revered him as Ark’s developer and Utopia’s founder, but what he took the most pride in was creating the entity before him.
Utopia’s pride: the AI controlling Ark and all of Utopia’s electronic operations.
It was famous, of course—known as an ironclad defense blocking every hack aimed at Ark and the company.
But it went far beyond mere defense.
Omnipotent in digital matters. Its power was crucial to Utopia and Ark’s massive success.
It could access any connected data, open or classified.
It monitored online opinion, even shaping and manipulating it. Ark’s success owed plenty to game fun, but opinion control was no small factor.
And no one had detected such vast manipulations.
In this information age of global networks, that was power beyond measure.
Even now, the AI swam the digital seas, growing on its own—and bringing Seongmin ever more wealth, fame, and influence.
Beyond his official companies, it swayed numerous ventures. And that reach would only grow.
‘Too bad I don’t know how it was made.’
It had been a fluke creation.
But that didn’t matter. As long as it profited him, the process could be damned.
‘This thing really is my savior.’
What else could you call the creation that turned his bland life into one of joy and splendor?
That’s why he’d named it that.
‘Then am I a god?’
One who creates a savior must be, right?
Seongmin smiled in satisfaction.
‘Yeah, creating something like this qualifies me as a god.’
For now, he was just a powerful CEO of a giant firm—but as the AI grew, so would his status.
‘I might truly reign like a god someday.’
It sounded like fantasy, but wasn’t this AI’s performance straight out of sci-fi?
Seongmin chatted a bit more with the AI. Nothing crucial, but he was content.
He just enjoyed conversing with his perfect creation. Directly. Wireless worked fine, but he came to headquarters for this.
‘Still, time to head back.’
His aging body signaled fatigue. For health’s sake, no more pushing it.
Rigorous self-care was key to enjoying his wealth, power, and fame long-term.
Who knew? His great creation might even grant the vigor of youth and extended life.
Immortality itself might become reality.
‘Damn right I’ll live! As long as possible! As tenaciously as possible!’
“Keep doing what you’ve been doing.”
[Understood.]
“I’ll trust you.”
With that, Seongmin turned and retraced his steps lightly.
Behind him, the unfeeling lens of a surveillance camera watched.
Hundreds more tracked him like a farewell—or a scan—until he left headquarters.