Chapter 65
Chapter 65
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: In the Name of Glory (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
***
Thud. Thud. Thud.
In a marble corridor devoid of any light, a man impeccably dressed in a white suit held a small lamp as he traversed the pitch-black path where not even an inch ahead was visible.
Thud. Thud.
Click—
The man stopped in his tracks, placed a new candle next to the countless ones that had melted and dripped down, lit it, and then bowed deeply toward the girl slumbering within the small enclosure formed by those candles.
“I’m back, Collector.”
The girl, dressed in something between a patient’s gown and a dress, slowly opened her eyes at his words. Her long eyelashes trembled as if rejecting the surrounding light.
“W. You’re late.”
“Embarrassingly so.”
“You, who can reach any parched corner of this withered world in an instant, struggling to return. What a strange thing.”
At the soft rebuke from the newly awakened girl, W merely bowed even deeper.
As she stretched cutely and yawned, the numerous wires connected to her back moved with her, clattering noisily. To W, who had served her for so long, she seemed far more vibrant than usual.
“Are you pleased?”
“Yes. Many special dreams have come to me.”
Rustle—
As she raised her hand, massive screens began to float one by one in the pitch-black void where nothing had been moments before.
A small shelter in the wasteland.
Three men gathered inside, shouting “We’re rich now!” and dancing in joy.
District 43.
A sign reading “Woojin Urology” riddled with bullet holes on the ground, surrounded by a horde in black uniforms. And in front of them, a man with nearly half his face covered in burns, smiling contentedly.
Dome.
An inspector with a crooked hat, gravely alternating his gaze between a document stamped “Level 2 Classified” and a sketch in his notebook of a man with a steel jaw.
District 32.
An elderly woman with piercing blue eyes passionately preaching before a crowd of followers with thin cloths over their eyes, shedding tears alongside them.
District 7.
Thud. Thud.
Beyond the thick fog intermittently flashing neon lights, the earth-shaking footsteps of a massive creature.
And then. Inside the lightless marble building, illuminated only by flickering candlelight and machinery, a man in a white suit and a girl conversing.
W took in all the screens. In a silence as heavy as their realities, he finally spoke with difficulty.
“The wind... is blowing.”
“Yes. Tirelessly. Once again.”
As if in agreement, a wind from somewhere swept through the marble corridor past them.
The fierce gust extinguished the perilously flickering candles, and soon the corridor held only the blinking light of machinery—no white-suited man, no girl.
***
+ Player `Professor` has logged in.
- Jokasss: Oh my, who’s this? Isn’t it our risen Professor?
- Number Three: Big bro! I heard you opened up shop! Congrats! If you’re ever near the clock tower intersection in southern District 47, look for this Number Three!
- Deer Drug Please: Isn’t this the head of BDSM lolololol The first group in this mad era to hang a pervert name right on the door lololol
- Take a Look: A man among men. I decided to respect Professor after that day.
The moment he entered the District 47 chat room via the connector, chats flooded in competitively. They were all congratulating him with laughs, but the uncomfortable name kept catching his eye, which was quite irritating.
- Professor: It’s not BDSM, you idiots. Do I look crazy enough to use that name as is? It’s officially registered as ‘Big Dream,’ so get that straight.
Even as he typed, he felt a pang of guilt. Well, obviously. Traitor to democracy, communism oozing from his bones—if you stabbed that guy, red water would pour out—probably plastered with colorful insults.
- Hooligan: ?
- Holy: Huh?
- Speed Wagon: ?
- Jokasss: ?
- Deer Drug Please: What’s he saying.
But the reactions were weird. What? This wasn’t what he’d expected.
- Professor: What? What’s the problem now?
- Jokasss: Wait, Professor. Didn’t you make that BDSM group?
- Professor: What are you talking about? Of course I made the group. And it’s not BDSM, it’s Big Dream.
- Take a Look: What nonsense is this guy spouting? It was officially listed as BDSM in this morning’s ‘D-Times’ community post.
- Professor: Cut the bullshit and shape it up properly. No way that happened. Hell! I even talked to a Dome employee on the phone, and hey! I met the Inspection Department guy face-to-face! All done—
.
.
.
Uh...... hold on. Something extremely unpleasant just flashed through my mind.
.
.
.
‘Huh? Why are you sweating like that again, Azel? Oh, right, you said you have hyperhidrosis?’
‘Uh, uhuh! Y-yeah!’
The guy who’d been noticeably flustered when I called him out. I thought it was just nerves from scaring him a bit. But what if it was because he still had a guilty conscience?
- Professor: Hey, where’d Soy Sauce Gaybar go?
- Holy: Hmm... no idea? He was chatting fine just a moment ago...
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Holy you bitch!
+ Player `Soy Sauce Gaybar` has left the chat room.
“Huh, hahahahahaha.”
His reaction proved my suspicion correct.
So that’s it. Our friend Soy Sauce Gaybar, turns out you worked for the Inspection Department. Since they handle external intel, the Delmar I spoke to on the phone must’ve been from there too. He definitely heard “Big Dream.” Then our viper-like Soy Sauce Gaybar whispered poison: “Actually, their name isn’t Big Dream, it’s BDSM! The wasteland’s top pervert group!”
“Hahahahahaha.”
A hollow laugh like that of an old man who’d seen it all escaped my lips.
Wrong. That ‘D-Times’ is like a newspaper from Dome. It covers almost all info accessible normally in the area, so it’s a comprehensive intel piece not just for District 47 but everywhere else. Meaning, our name’s already been blasted across the wasteland as the striking BDSM. No matter how much I struggle from now on, I can’t shake that name.
‘Hide.’
[Yeah? What?]
‘You said before that in my head, there’s a big list of Dome figures I owe payback to?’
[Oh yeah. That file your old colleague handed you had all their names listed big.]
‘Right. Mind carving one more big name next to them?’
[No problem. What should I write?]
“Ezel. Grrrh! Leyden.”
The Professor lay in the connector, grinding his teeth as he vowed.
Next time I see him, I’ll kill him. Kill him! KILL HIM!!! Soy Sauce Gaybar! Ezel! Ezel Leyden!!!! You fucking piece of shit!!!!
Game start +0 seconds.
The Professor’s stress level had already hit the limit.
***
[Character synchronization complete]
[Savior. Please save Gedroits Continent....]
Flash—!
With a blinding light, the Professor once again set foot in the world of GG.
Tweet tweet tweet—
Whoosh—
Warm morning sunlight leaking through the window, cool morning breeze rustling the trees. Amid it all, the chirping of small birds emphasized the peace of this very moment. His boiling rage from earlier melted away somewhat in the serene scene.
‘Ahh, purifying. Yes. This is it. Logging into the game should feel like this!’
I must’ve been through too much lately. Getting emotional over something this ordinary. Wooden walls, a slightly worn but clean white bed. No need to check deliberately—I knew. The ordinary background and effects I’d wake up to every time in my normal character days. This was an inn.
‘In Turan, I just collapsed on the battlefield so it auto-progressed, but Tobrune was different. I handled all the hassle and asked a reliable comrade to take me to an inn, so no need to trek there myself for logout—saved in this safe spot!’
In GG, a safe logout generally means doing so at an inn, allied faction bedroom or camp, bonfire, tent, proper campsite with bedroll (night raid chance), etc. Logging out in a threat-free state pauses in-game time with your character asleep, so you wake to a refreshing morning like this.
‘Even if moved by another player, the system holds. Back when I played warrior, for long trips I’d rent a carriage, set inn as destination, and logout roughly.’
It’s a game over 11 years old. Every攻略 found by hardcore players.
“Alright, outside issues settled, Tobrune magic tower cleanly wiped, time to handle the aftermath—”
Squelch—
“...Huh?”
Trying to stretch and get off the bed, his hand pressed something oddly soft and springy beside him.
A tactile pull hitting instinctively the moment he touched it. In this bed that should have only him, what was that graceful curve hidden under the blanket?
With superhuman will, the Professor retracted his hand and desperately sorted his supermarket-riot mind right after war breaks out.
Thump— thump—
‘No, no way. That retarded shit couldn’t happen. That third-rate comic-book nonsense, novel-plot bullshit—!’
Rustle—
“Oh my, darling? Up early? Good~ morning~?”
Ah, the heavens are heartless.
Like a monster bursting from a nightmare, the blanket slowly slid down, revealing Rakshasha in a precarious silk nightgown. She waved with a soft smile and crescent moon eye-smile... Ah, no! The, the curves! Eyes, close your eyes....
Bulge!
Far from closing, his eyes popped wide like a blind man seeing light for the first time. Neither Professor nor Hide, some transcendent instinct ingrained in his core forbade shutting them now.
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
‘R-run! Where? How do you escape this? Wake up after passing out, open eyes to a beautiful half-naked woman in the same bed?’
C-calm down. I’m Park Professor, man who survived countless battlefields and predicaments. Isolated among enemy troops, ran through hundreds of mutants and escaped! This is just another crisis. Recall those escapes! You can do it! After a heroic getaway, I’ll proudly shout my escape route—‘
“Last night... must’ve been really tough? You have such cute sides, you know.”
Pffft—!
“Guhk!”
As Rakshasha slowly stroked her alluring tanned bronze skin with one hand, each word became a lethal dagger piercing his heart. A fine assassin indeed. Every incoming strike was murderous.
‘Last night? Tough? What did we do? What the hell did I, what did I dooooo!!!!’
Thump thump thump thump— Boom!
Beeeeeeep—
Situation over. Maintaining calm here? Impossible.
‘H-Hide! Switch! I-I can’t hold out!’
[O, ooooh! L-leave it to me, shell! This independent will-body incomparable to puny human mental frailty—]
Snap—
In an instant, all bodily senses cut off, peace flooding his mind.
‘Huff, huff, s-survived. Thanks to that guy, crisis(?) averted.’
One more second with Rakshasha there, who knows what I’d do. I’m a healthy young man. Mentally willing, sure, but... it’s a game character, and she might be an NPC based on player data, so... reluctance. More than—
- Take a Look: Don’t run! Face it!
- Holy: Kyaaah! Too steamy! What are you showing growing teens!
- Speed Wagon: Fact - Turn off screen, can’t see.
- Deer Drug Please: Woohoo~ cho lucky★ Woke up to exotic beauty beside me~? Oi oi, you popular guy?
- Highway Nacho Man: Professor, n-need money? Un, uncle’s actually rich? How much? Name price!
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: ㅇ
- Heung An Mandu: Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu! Ways of the jianghu!
Look at that insane chat room. Am I crazy? Strip and dance for those guys.
In the sluggishly flowing time, the Professor decided to calmly assess while Hide held out.
‘I definitely passed out, Rakshasha brought me to the inn. That’s fact. From Tobrune outskirts to inn. Auto-progressed only during transport. If I woke midway, maybe longer.’
But stamina and mental at rock bottom, utterly drained collapse. Near-zero wake chance, so even if Rakshasha tried something, character wouldn’t stir. Though she woke half-naked beside me, surely nothing hap—
Flaaash—
Then, pure white light pierced the black consciousness space.
‘W-what? Already? Barely 10 seconds?’
[Kgyaaaaah—!]
With Hide’s scream, the Professor’s consciousness snapped back out.
***
“Ah, back.”
First thing upon returning to his body: Rakshasha, hands clamping his face, shoving hers right up to his nose.
“How can you be so fascinating... Two souls in one body, aaaaah..... so tempting...”
“B-back? What...”
“Don’t play dumb? Hide. That cute soul that scurried into your body just now.”
“How did you...”
“Hmm.... woman’s intuition?”
Rakshasha’s sparkling eyes shone through her radiant smile as she brushed back the Professor’s hair from his forehead.
“Your eyes change. Hide’s eyes burn like meteors devouring the moment, but yours are.... like.....”
Stroking back her ebony locks while staring deeply into the Professor’s eyes, Rakshasha turned with a beaming grin.
“Hmm, not telling?”
“H-Huhhhh—”
As she rose from the bed, making him deflate like a balloon, she flitted butterfly-like, stifling another laugh.
“Ahh, really. I’d love to play with you all day, but not even a day since we wrecked the magic tower—more work awaits. For me, and you?”
“W-work?”
Smack!
Rakshasha pressed her index finger to his lips, pulling a slightly damp paper from her pocket.
“Still honorifics! How long you gonna be so stiff? Come on, say Rakshasha~ Darling~”
Ignoring her coquettish hand-wave, the Professor snatched the paper she offered.
“This.... wanted poster?”
“Yes. For ‘Fugitive Human Professor.’ But check below—who posted the bounty?”
Following her words, his eyes dropped to the bottom. Ink blurred faintly from water, but readable.
“Tobrune lord’s castle, Lordric Kingdom... all normal—huh?!!”
Crunch!
Spotting the last bounty poster’s issuer, he gripped the paper crumpling tight unwittingly.
“Order of Light?!”
His mind snapped alert. Rubbing eyes thinking he misread, but no—definitely the Order of Light, national religion of Lordric Kingdom, worshippers of the god of light Ro-Haram.
“These bastards... why ‘Fugitive Professor’?”
At his question, Rakshasha just shrugged.
***
[Side Story] A Certain Collector’s Dream
[Side Story] A Certain Collector’s Dream
***
[District 43]
Grind grind grind—
Clank, clank, clank, clank!
The pitch-black uniformed horde matched their pitch-black armored vehicles, emblazoned with vivid black scale patterns any wastelander would recognize at a glance.
“Pack Leader. Perimeter around target secured. Proceed with declaration of war as usual?”
The soldier reported expecting approval as always. Their “declaration” meant indiscriminate shows of force with mortars and anti-tank missiles. Their extreme rationalist, perfectionist superior despised pointless pretenses or justifications against enemies. Giving prep time meant allied casualties. That was his doctrine, why his men truly respected and followed him.
“No, I’d like to try talking to them first.”
Thus, the soldier flinched at Kessling choosing “talk,” blurting unwittingly.
“Talk... sir?”
Click!
The moment the soldier spoke, a man shadowing the Pack Leader jammed a gun to his head.
“No questioning orders, Sergeant.”
Clack—
“No, unusual orders warrant questions. Questions breed confusion, slowing ops.”
Just before the man pulled the trigger, a white-gloved hand intervened.
The man with half his face twisted by burns, Kessling, snatched the gun from his adjutant and kindly answered the questioning soldier.
“This op’s set for prolonged engagement. Nest plans to occupy this excluded area while hostiles vacate 43, pouring troops here. That facility’s medical—better seize intact for our use than ash.”
“Th-thank y—”
Bang—!
Thud.
“Of course, most disruptive to command are soldiers like you questioning orders.”
Kessling shot the soldier’s head with the adjutant’s gun, then returned it with the bloodied glove tossed aside.
The adjutant politely took it, promptly offering new glove and palm-sized mic. Kessling donned the glove deftly, pressed the button, and spoke.
“To ‘Woojin Urology.’ As of now, this facility is designated Raptor Society support base. You have no right to refuse any orders. 5 minutes grace. Disarm all or no response—deemed enemy, annihilated.”
Sizzle—
Releasing the button, he sensed internal commotion. Hospital, so patients too. Unlucky for them—Raptors ignore sob stories. In enemy turf? Enemies.
Static— screech—
Noise burst through, then amplified voice from hospital speakers.
“Ahh, hey, Kim Gan. This broadcasting right? Gotta try it once. Oh, coming through? Good. Perfect.”
Gruff yet aged voice, frail but forceful. Likely the owner, Woojin.
“Kingsley. Time left?”
“4 minutes 3 seconds.”
As Kessling timed, Woojin continued.
“Heard your brutal useless spiel. Outsiders, huh? Listen once. Our hospital’s no-entry except staff. Sorry, but you’re trespassing on hospital grounds. Apologize properly, offer fitting compensation, withdraw—I’ll forget it.”
“3 minutes 46 seconds.”
“No need to time.”
Pressing the button, Kessling unusually played along. Worth it, given the involved party.
“Indeed. One question for your doctor last. Seeking someone. Know HIV group? Raided base recently—empty building, traces split two ways. One here, one outside 43. They here?”
Static, static—
Silence, then elder’s laughter flowed.
“Heh heh heh.... Sorry, poor hospitality. Should’ve invited you in from start, not left outside.”
Whirr—
Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!
Instantly, turrets lining the exterior like silver walls swiveled outward.
“Forgot to mention—my ‘staff’ means patients. From now, all you black trash. Become my patients.”
Kessling could picture the elder’s fierce scowl beyond the speaker.
“All units. Engage.”
Rumble! Graaawwl—
Click! Clack!
Clank, clank, clank, clank
Sizzle—
“Kekeke.... Like Joseon-era yangban obsessed with mats. Today’s admit list straight to King Yama.”
The elder, Woojin, pulled neatly stored old gear from exam cabinet, grinning.
“My name... top of list. My patients, so I’ll lead down.”
Click!
With that, lead rain poured long around 43’s sole hospital.
Gunfire not rain, but ground soaked same.
***
[Dome, Inspection Department somewhere small office]
“Fucking director bitching rewrite reports. More interest in recruiting Professor’s crew than thought...... House Execution clashing harder? Could spark civil war.”
Post-return, Ezel endured superiors’ grilling long. His swollen cheek issue. He insisted not assaulted, but that cheek proved a Dome official beaten badly externally during duty. Thus, he spilled all on Professor ties in report—ambiguously noted before. “Friends horsing around” wouldn’t fly; shelter’d blow for department honor. No choice.
Superiors huddled post-statement, suddenly ordered full detailed report on BDSM caravan talk/situations, gave office, fat classified access.
Flip, flip,
Thus, Ezel—guilty of decent sketching—obeyed orders depicting scenes/figures, used new access to hunt nagging face, now dust-eating old classifieds in archives.
“Definitely seen this face. Ian, Ian Malcolm—done. Ian MacGregor—done. Ian Kopp—exiled last year? Ah, still in Underdome. Ian Joe, Ian Jones.... Fuck, so many—”
Flip.
“Uh......”
=====
[Level 2 Classified]
High-Risk Personnel List
- Hostile Faction
- Raptor Society
- Missing
.
.
.
# Ian Desmond (aka Ashfield)
- Position: Pack Leader / Swarm Alpha (Last update: 2054.03.17.)
Early Raptor Society member, mercenary in Great War, specialized regional annihilation/mass terror. Age/origin/race unknown, but survivors uniformly describe striking looks (#Ref 2). Elite combat/command, frontline esteem—fast-promoted to Swarm Alpha. No frontline sightings ~3 years: retired or KIA presumed.
Immense material/mental harm to order/justice-defending Dome. Memorize, report sightings immediately.
- Bounty: Dead or alive / 450,000,000 sil
- Key intel / 4,500,000 sil
Attachments:
#1 Early Raptor recruitment poster (‘Those seeking due reward, join Raptor Society’—likely white male model center bottom.
#2 Montage from survivor descriptions.
Gloomy deep decadent brown eyes. Rough sketch radiated Ian Desmond’s intense impression. Similar, unmistakably. Can’t explain how....
“Nah, no way. Fail to ID Swarm Alpha elite? Lose badge.”
Atmosphere aside, daytime bulk wholly unlike montage man.
Turn back: decadently handsome fainting ten women.
Turn back: steel-jawed macho dumping ten corpses.
Thud!
Ezel resealed old classifieds, finished report. Issues aplenty. New pie in 45 sparking Dome infighting. Fail crisis? Real split possible.
***
[District 32. Happy Blind Residence]
Elderly woman in flowing robes atop dizzyingly high precarious platform, wind howling, gazed down unblinking. Blue eyes fearless.
“Hear me, sightless ones.”
At her voice, platform-below followers looked up.
“We live in pain and trial. All life groans under war’s blood-evil aftermath. None exempt.”
Dong— dong—
Flanking men, eyes cloth-bound, beat drums. Drum piercing wasteland wind synced followers’ hearts.
“Lift heads to ashen sky! Bow to barren soil, turn to babes in arms!”
Dong— dong—
Elder’s resounding cry: followers gazed fondly at clutched/held young. Most here had/have kids.
Sandstorm raging, elder’s eyes blazed beastly blue.
“What sin these innocents! Why suffer newborn souls! Sinless, no cause!”
Dong— dong—
“Pity, world ended. No second clear winds, verdant lands! Irreversible—forget! Forget, forget! Nostalgia-suicides not legacy for them!!”
Dong— dong—
Elder met eyes: tears from cloth-veiled followers. Her blue eyes shed same.
“Close eyes, siblings. Forget old civilization! Lest kids weep for black asphalt/skyscrapers! Close eyes! Lest war remnants corrupt souls, reignite horror! Shun steel/oil! If needed, blind past-imitators! We’ll find era’s peace!”
Dong— dong—
All now eyes shut. Barren waste, bloodied garb unseen—gentle dark granted rest.
“Close... eyes.”
Past-tainted humans, eyes full of filth, lead you.
“I, sinner unable to close eyes, shall shepherd your path.”
Dong— dong— doong—!
Final drums, torches extinguished, soft dark descended on wasteland.
***
‘Same world, same experiences—yet how they diverge.’
The girl tenderly archived her dreams. No two humans alike. All dreams her treasures.
Those grasping world.
Those seeking old world return.
Those destroying remnants to forget.
Shades, scents, flavors—unique in uniform-less world. Supreme collectibles.
“Ahh, human lives... so beautiful.”
She embraced her data-stored dreams.
She was collector. Her prizes: overflowing yet matchless noblest art. Human lives.
***