The Age of Adaptation
Omega Suit.
This piece of gear grew alongside its wearer, and for that reason it was called the pinnacle of growth-type equipment.
It filled the gap between humans and infectors—the gap not even innate talent or bodily enhancement could fully close.
Like physical enhancement, the Omega Suit grew stronger with each upgrade.
It could also gain additional abilities.
For now, the suit Yoo Sung-jun possessed was only level 1.
It had no abilities, no signature move—nothing that could be called a trump card.
Still, that didn’t matter.
This already gave me armor and utility functions that make the Force Suit look like a cheap knockoff.
Its power could be used to strengthen strength, speed, senses—one of them, two of them, or all of them.
But that was inefficient.
Without any enhancement, the energy consumption was enormous.
I need to save this for emergency escape.
Level 1 was basically just a tough lifeline, something that protected the body well.
Yoo Sung-jun remembered the Omega Suit from his days as Meteor.
Back then, he’d put in only the bare minimum for abilities and used the rest to strengthen his own power.
As for the signature move, it had been Muah, forged from an assimilation rate of 99.8 percent.
It was an effect completely different in kind from One Point Concentration, the new application of Breathing.
It was enough to split even Kalaqua’s absurdly hard body clean in half.
Utter concentration. A signature that severed the tiniest opening hidden within that extreme focus.
He didn’t think he’d obtain a finishing move like that in real life.
This wasn’t a game.
He didn’t know how he’d develop it from here, but that was a problem for the future.
Yoo Sung-jun stared at the smartwatch-shaped Omega Suit.
At the moment, it was stored in a station that could recharge and maintain it at the same time.
Omega Suit Enhancement Level 2: 500,000 points
Omega Suit Enhancement Level 3: 1,000,000 points
Omega Suit Enhancement Level 4: 3,000,000 points
Omega Suit Enhancement Level 5: 8,000,000 points
...
Omega Suit Enhancement Level 10: 100,000,000 points
One hundred million wasn’t the name of some random house pet.
He had no idea how long it would take to gather the points he’d had in his prime, but he still thought he could manage an upgrade to level 2.
If fifty thousand is all it takes, maybe I can do it in a month of cooperative missions.
He’d hoped for a mission like the raid to steal the unfinished antibody sample, but that was too much to ask.
That mission had truly offered the best efficiency for an E-rank cooperative mission.
It was so good that it would be hard to find its equal again.
So Yoo Sung-jun had turned his attention to a mission that could be attempted repeatedly and would let his companions grow stronger.
“Luckily, I did find one.”
Ten percent meant 10,000 points.
And if he hit 100 percent, that would be 100,000.
Compared to the one-off mission with the Corpse Nest in the Pit, the rewards were far lower.
Even so, this one could be challenged again and again.
Until the map was fully completed, they’d be able to stack points and raid experience.
If it’s Screaming Cave, then that means that thing lives there.
The level 4 infector, Scream Head.
That was what it was called in Korea.
Jangsanbeom. It’s scattered all through that cave.
It probably lured other infectors by mimicking the sounds of its own kind and then built up a number of small and large forces around each individual nest.
Later, the 38th-grade Muaz he’d face in the Gimpo Airport bunker reclamation mission would also rely on mental attacks like that.
They would need to adapt to it.
They had to develop a response in the real world.
“Come here, both of you.”
He slipped the charged Omega Suit onto his wrist and called the two of them over.
They’d been talking about something and had spread a surgical kit on the floor, busily demonstrating something.
Yoo Sung-hwan read Jeyca’s expression and smiled faintly.
At Yoo Sung-jun’s call, the two of them gathered their equipment and came over.
“What were you doing?”
“Huh? Just in case. I was teaching her some basic medical knowledge.”
“She was learning how to stitch wounds closed,” Jeyca said. “You have to use forceps scissors because of the infection risk.”
Like this. Like this. Jeyca explained while flailing her hands around.
She really had been studying hard.
And yet, for a girl who hadn’t even made it into medical school—let alone had any practical training—she was explaining it all with surprising fluency.
So he looked at his younger brother, and Sung-hwan gave an awkward smile.
Something was off.
He was shifting his right leg, just a little, over and over.
“You. Come here.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I need to check something.”
It was the Enter Room. There was nowhere for him to run.
Yoo Sung-jun, still with Sung-hwan lingering and reluctant, lifted the hem around the ankle of his Force Suit.
“Oh my!”
He ignored Jeyca, who gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Yoo Sung-jun’s eyes narrowed darkly.
Because of the scars covering his brother’s leg.
“You... what the hell is all this?”
“Huh? No, I mean... I had the knowledge, but not the practice, right? There’s only so much you can learn by practicing on pork, and in the Enter Room you can get treated fast, too. So I bought some local anesthetic and practiced on my own body...”
“And you left scars?”
“I can erase them when I treat myself, but then I can’t see what I did wrong...”
Sung-hwan trailed off as he read the twisted look on his brother’s face.
It had been a long time since he’d seen that kind of angry expression.
When had it been? The time he’d secretly taken a part-time job?
He’d thought he’d been chewed out enough back then, that it had ended there.
I really did use my body a little too carelessly.
It made sense for his brother to be worried.
Still, he had plenty of excuses.
He’d kept the points needed for treatment plenty high, so he could proceed without danger.
All the medical tools had been sterilized, and so on.
But Yoo Sung-hwan knew something else too.
At times like this, one word of apology was better than a hundred lines of explanation.
“I’ll tell you next time before I do it. Sorry.”
“Hoo... Yeah. If you sneak around and do something stupid by yourself, then end up groaning in pain, that trouble spills over onto both of us.”
“Yeah, exactly. I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d stop me.”
“Why would I stop you? I just mean that from now on, you should tell me before you go doing this kind of practice. If you need to, use my body too. Just don’t kill me while you’re training.”
He’d expected to get a thorough scolding, so this was a relief.
Sung-hwan’s expression brightened.
At his brother’s joking tone, he nodded.
“Got it.”
“Good. Then torn wounds should be fine now, as long as you’ve got wound spray and your medical skills?”
“I can’t say it’s perfect... but I’ll do my best.”
With his gun resting on his shoulder, he said it plainly.
Yoo Sung-jun smiled at him and accepted the mission.
* * *
Aaaah...!
The center of the mountain range, the Fourth Beltway, was a wreck.
It had gone unmanaged for a long time, and weeds and brush had overrun the area.
The broken concrete rubble and the abandoned, half-crushed vehicles strewn about here and there gave the place a desolate air.
Yoo Sung-jun sat on one of the rust-covered hulks and pointed to one side.
There it was—the unfinished tunnel from which that creepy screaming had been pouring out since earlier.
“Ugh, of all the missions you could pick, why did you have to choose one with a White Head...?”
Jeyca rubbed her arms and shivered.
She was a terminal patient.
And yet she knew the overall setting of Another Earth and the traits of infectors thanks to that notebook, no doubt.
Looks like she really did take careful notes.
He watched Jeyca tuck the notebook into her chest pocket and smiled meaningfully.
“I’m telling you this now, Jeyca, but to earn more points and prepare for what comes after Dark Cover, I’m planning to team up with Egrato and run a raid mission.”
“Egrato...?”
She’d forgotten that too.
Flicking the notebook open again, she immediately widened her eyes.
“BloodRain? The clan leader ranked fifth in the world?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t care as long as I can make a lot of points. What exactly did he see in you to come knocking?”
“Information about the infector they’re planning to take down together. I’m the only one who knows it.”
“Ahh, so that’s it...”
Jeyca stared at Yoo Sung-jun as if trying to see straight through him.
She’d already been suspicious, what with the way he handled a greatsword like a master.
He couldn’t put it off any longer. They hadn’t even entered the mission area yet.
With a determined look, Jeyca asked, “Sung-jun. Are you Meteor, by any chance?”
Maybe it was time to reveal it.
By now, Yoo Sung-jun had gained confidence in her.
She had been honest about her illness, and instead of leaning on him helplessly, she’d done her utmost to fulfill her role.
She was what people called a proper person.
A good companion he could trust with his back.
“Yes, I’m Meteor.”
When he said it outright, her eyes went round as saucers.
She gaped like an idiot for a second, then broke into a bright grin.
“I knew it! Honestly, I had my suspicions. Look at this—I even wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget!”
She thrust out the notebook all at once.
Yoo Sung-jun read the line written there.
It was in English, but Loki translated it without issue. I should’ve studied some more.
Sung-jun is Meteor? Handles a greatsword like a master. Super strong. Wide back. Makes you want to lean on him because he feels so dependable.
The last sentence made him tilt his head.
“Makes you want to lean on me because I feel dependable?”
“Huh? Oh? Ah!”
She snatched the notebook back and read it herself.
Then she looked up and met his eyes.
At once, her face turned bright red.
She fumbled to hide the notebook, and it was honestly pretty cute.
“Th-this is, um...! I mean, it was a note for evaluating the party leader! You know what I mean, right?”
“Haha, I understand.”
At any rate, that was why she’d chosen this place—to build up raid experience while they were at it.
“I see...”
After she’d fully understood, he called over his younger brother, who had been watching the whole exchange with amusement.
He explained the precautions and the strategy for dealing with the Jangsanbeom.
“The Jangsanbeom mimics the voices of humans and infectors.”
“So White Heads are what they call Jangsanbeom?”
“Only in Korea.”
“Ah...”
“More importantly, we just need to avoid speaking. Then they won’t be able to imitate our voices.”
They spread a certain kind of brainwave that robbed people of their vision.
That was the proper way to describe it: it painted everything in darkness.
Then, using voices that mimicked their prey, they lured them in.
If that didn’t work, they would send in infected victims they’d brainwashed, ordering them to drag back a hunk of meat.
“So once we’re inside and end up facing a Jangsanbeom, we’ll have to give up our vision.”
“Hyung. Can you shoot when you can’t see?”
In a normal state, no.
He could pull the trigger, but hitting the target would be hard.
But that was only if he was ordinary.
“The senses of a body that’s finished physical enhancement will let you hit.”
This was where they needed to get used to it.
Even if they gave up sight, they had to be able to strike the enemy through hearing and smell.
“Because the 38th-grade Muaz we’ll face later will use even more brutal mental attacks than the Jangsanbeom.”
“Ugh, what if I hit you by accident, hyung?”
“Tell us apart by footsteps. Don’t make any noise.”
Tap, tap. Clomp, clomp. Yoo Sung-jun walked in place so the two of them could memorize his footsteps.
He pointed, and they followed suit.
Jeyca’s steps were light, while Sung-hwan’s were a little heavier.
Yoo Sung-jun committed the difference to memory.
His senses, strengthened several times over, made those distinctions even finer.
“You remember each other’s footsteps, right?”
“Yes!”
“Yeah.”
At their confident answers, he nodded.
It was time to go in.
Before that, he checked how many users had entered the mission.
There are 9 users.
“Nine?”
The counted number is, for now, nine. It may include users who left the mission area and entered here from elsewhere.
So that’s how it works. If that happens, the mission changes too.
That is correct. Users who decide the mission is impossible may receive a different mission, clear it, and then return to the Enter Room.
He had considered that kind of retreat before.
There simply hadn’t been any urgent situation severe enough to make him try it.
If I were the one in danger, I’d probably take that detour too.
That wasn’t the case this time, though.
By the difficulty rating, the three of them—stronger than before—could clear it easily enough.
For now, he confirmed that there were six more people in this mission area.
Whether they were PK users or users already captured by the Jangsanbeom, he couldn’t tell yet.
They might launch a surprise attack, so he needed to keep that in mind as they moved.
“Formation will be a triangle. Sung-hwan, you take the left side behind me. Jeyca, you take the right.”
“Is that formation because you’re considering user attacks too?”
“Yeah. This makes it easier for me to block the front.”
Walking in the lead, Yoo Sung-jun checked the positions of the two behind him.
Then he entered the tunnel.
Once he wore the Omega Suit, the darkness ahead brightened.
The suit also handled the functions of a sensor goggle and an oxygen purification mask.
He advanced while breathing easily.
It really is unfinished.
There were dried bloodstains everywhere, and construction materials lay scattered in a desolate mess.
Water seeped from exposed rebar overhead and dripped down.
Plink. Plop. The sound of droplets added to the footsteps filling the silence.
They pushed forward in wordless quiet.
The way ahead was probably blocked.
But the mission type was exploration.
Moving deeper into the tunnel wasn’t the main goal.
How long had they gone on like that—tens of minutes?
Eventually, they found the true entrance.
Whoooosh...
Huh-huh-huh...
On the side of the tunnel, a gigantic hole waited for them.
A cold wind blew out of it, carrying faint sobbing with it.
Rocks jutted from the dirt floor here and there, and sticky patches of mucus clung thickly across the surface.
They had to explore that place.
Yoo Sung-jun met the eyes of the two beside him.
After a single exchange of nods, they moved forward.
Absolute darkness swallowed the three of them.
At the same moment, the sobbing stopped with eerie precision.
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