Lv.8 Gunslinger Lee Bok-dong [3]

The commander started toward the bodies. Jijonmussang, planted in front of the corpses, bellowed at him.

"Don't you dare touch those! No touch! No touch! We killed all of these. This loot is ours!"

He was clearly on guard against the commander getting anywhere near them, terrified of having the spoils snatched away.

The commander, for his part, had no mind to spare for that kind of reaction.

"The three of you killed all of them?"

He muttered it blankly, then looked to the other personnel. The soldier who caught that stare testified.

"Ah, yes. That's right. They really did wipe them all with just three people..."

"How the hell did they even do that?"

"I don't really know either. That guy charged in first, and then they all just... died..."

After that, testimonies erupted from every direction like a magazine dumping. He bounced bullets off himself. He fired five times and six men went down. It was exactly like the videos. On and on it went.

"He was throwing magic around too. I heard he's from As?"

Someone muttered that, and the commander tried his best to swallow it.

Right. He's a fantasy native, so of course he can rack up fantasy-level kills.

Even so, he still could not quite accept what he was looking at. There was, however, one fact he could somehow get his head around. He asked about that.

"Even if I didn't see it myself, you basically shot a Hollywood movie, is that it? Can you... keep producing results at this level?"

Gaon answered as if it were nothing.

"Probably."

"So if I send you to a few more locations, you can deliver the same outcome? Are you really sure that's all right..."

Most players, once they had already pocketed a mountain of loot, wanted no further part of the fighting. Die, and you could lose all of it.

Gaon, once again, answered with overflowing confidence.

"Yeah, sure."

The commander hesitated, wondering if this was really allowed, then deployed Gaon and the other two to another point on the map.

Fifteen minutes later, a report came back. The enemy had been annihilated and the position taken.

The same thing happened three more times.

Collecting the items of enemies you had killed was the principal income of a 4 Fantasy Online pro gamer. And now the commander stood staring at a truck piled high with loot, at a loss for words.

All of that, from one man and two others, killing their way through the enemy?

This isn't that kind of game.

The defining trait of urban combat is that it defies prediction. Everything around you is cover, and there is no telling how many enemies wait behind it. Sightlines are cramped; civilians and hostiles do not come neatly labeled. Ambush can erupt from any direction at any moment. That is why, even with identical forces and identical tactics, no two street fights ever produce the same result.

And yet the results Gaon and his two companions produced were identical every single time.

A one-sided annihilation, repeated.

There had been a Wood Elf sniper holding back a battalion's advance by himself. True to his nature as an NPC, he was an enemy on a level no player could match — darting across rooftops with astonishing agility, shifting his firing position, loosing his bow in silence. You could scarcely tell where he had come from, where he was going, or from where the shots were even coming.

After Gaon and the other two were sent in, they found the Wood Elf sniper's corpse draped over a rooftop. His heart had been pierced with surgical precision.

There had been a goblin squad ambushed in the city streets. Goblins are a small-bodied race — small enough that a whole unit can vanish into a drainage system. Catching that kind of ambush in time is nearly impossible. They had caught it in time, apparently. Looking at the goblin corpses laid out in a neat line, it was impossible even to guess how the fight had gone.

Everywhere the three of them were sent, the same kind of scene unfolded. Enemies the commanders had assumed would be difficult to suppress even with heavy troop commitments and accepted casualties were being erased in a matter of minutes. A slaughter that was at once dynamic and mechanical.

The slaughter had been worth it.

Gaon smiled. Level 17. In a game where monsters were so scarce that stable leveling was nearly impossible, this was already a high level that even veterans among veterans struggled to reach.

He distributed his stat points into Strength and Mana, then headed back the way he had come.

"Uh..."

A scout who had arrived late to survey the scene stared around with his eyes bulging. He would have to go back now and report these thoroughly fantastical combat results as reasonably as he could. That was going to take some work.

In truth, they might not even need a stiff after-action report. A single line would do.

Corpses lined every alley.

A few hours later, the commander assembled his forces again.

Every gaze, the commander's included, was nailed to a single man. Gaon savored the attention. While he was still riding the high of accomplishment and sheer exhilaration, the commander spoke.

"That takes care of the streets. All of you — and one of you in particular — have done outstanding work."

"If the streets are cleared, does that mean all the enemies are dead?"

"Not completely. They were getting slaughtered and pushed back, so it looks like they holed up in the buildings. Which means what we do next is building clearance. Look."

The commander pointed at the structures. Tall, thick high-rises, built with reinforced concrete poured without a hint of thrift.

"Treat every one of those buildings as an enemy strongpoint. We'll have to take them one by one, in sequence. It won't be easy. In the real world we'd put an anti-tank missile into them from an attack helicopter, or smash the walls with a bulldozer. We can't do that here."

"Helicopters and bulldozers aside — why not just roll up a tank and put a main-gun round through them?"

"That's a bit..."

"Ah. So a human-wave assault is just cheaper. That's what you're saying."

"Well... yes. That said, even if you die here, we guarantee you'll keep every piece of loot you've collected so far. So please — don't hold anything back."

The loot they had taken so far. The truck bed piled high with it. The thought of this haul seemed to have gone to Jijonmussang's head. He roared.

"We're wiping them out! We're wiping every last one of them, fuck!"

Lee Bok-dong, mortified, clicked his tongue inwardly.

Why's he getting so hyped? All he did was trail along behind...

The fighting continued. Troops poured toward buildings all across the city.

If the equipment was this poor, it would have been better to send in special forces — but that was not how this game worked. In the end, the order that came down was simple. Finish it fast. Commit troops and accept the casualties.

Ordinarily, packing too many soldiers into a tight space killed efficiency. Nobody was worrying about that now. The commanders wanted the battle over as quickly as possible.

They threw an excessive number of troops at each building all at once. The result was that men died in droves with every charge — and still, one after another, the buildings fell.

And in the time it took a large force to barely suppress a single building, Gaon and the other two had already cleared two and were on their way back.

The commander saw Gaon and bowed his head.

"Ah. You're back already..."

Gaon felt as though he had heard that word — already — dozens of times today alone. He grinned, and the commander went back to his radio.

"You still haven't taken that one? That's the most ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠important strongpoint in the city center. What do you mean you still haven't suppressed it? I told you, if a platoon isn't enough, just keep throwing bodies at it."

Someone on the other end of the radio reported back in a dazed voice.

"What? Why?"

The commander heard that report and understood nothing at all.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He headed for the site to confirm the situation himself. Gaon and the other two followed.

A building with thick walls came into view — the one the enemies had holed up in, the one the commander had ordered taken. From a distance, there was nothing particularly unusual about it.

And yet they had already thrown a massive number of troops at that building. Enough that they should have been able to punch through even if the place had been sown with mines. They had all been wiped out.

There was a survivor who had charged into that building and made it back out. He testified to what had happened inside.

"The bullets wouldn't fire. Not just mine — everybody's."

"The bullets wouldn't fire? You're saying you all had defective weapons?"

"No. The guns were fine. It felt like the rounds themselves just... wouldn't go off. And the building was packed with swordsmen and guys with crossbows. How are you supposed to win when your bullets won't fire? Everyone either caught an arrow or got run through. That's it."

The assembled commanders were all murmuring in confusion when Gaon spoke, half to himself.

"That might be..."

"The Goddess's authority."

"You know what that is?"

At Jijonmussang's question, Gaon cleared his throat and explained.

"It's a sacred spell. Some priest has spread a god's authority through the building."

One of the commanders put in,

"A priest of the Goddess of Fire and Hearth, then."

Gaon's eyes flew wide, and he corrected him.

"The Goddess."

"Pardon?"

"You add the honorific. Always."

"Ah. Yes."

The commander shrank back a little. Jijonmussang asked again.

"Anyway, the Goddess of Fire and Hearth... -nim? Divine authority? What the hell is that even?"

Gaon was almost offended that they didn't already know, but he explained anyway.

"When a priest of the Goddess recites the spell, her authority spreads. And in any area her authority touches, combustion reactions stop happening."

"Combustion reactions stop happening. And that means what, exactly?"

"Did you sleep through science class? Nothing catches fire. Nothing explodes."

"Ah. So that's why the bullets wouldn't fire. What the hell..."

"According to the myths, before the Goddess of Fire and Hearth took pity on humankind and granted them fire, no one could use fire at all. Which means the Goddess is the mistress of every flame and every warmth in As, does she not? With the authority of an owner, she reclaims the heat that was always hers and renders it unusable. That's the idea, more or less. Flint, matches, gunpowder — none of it works."

The explanation had been long. The part that mattered was a single point.

"So then... no gunpowder weapons work in there at all? And the ones ambushed inside already had swords and crossbows ready for exactly that?"

"That's what I've been saying. For reference, evaporative combustion doesn't happen either, so oil won't burn — meaning machinery won't work well in there either."

"That's weird. If they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could do that, why did As lose World War II? If they could force everyone into medieval combat, As would have won the whole thing."

"That's because the spell's range is usually only a few meters across. Even a more powerful priest can only spread it over a few dozen meters, and firearms have a baseline range of hundreds of meters, so it's next to useless. But a few dozen meters that wouldn't matter on an open battlefield is apparently enough to fill a single floor of a building."

He decided there was no need to add the rest — that a god's power was immeasurably great, but a human body could not fully channel that greatness, and so there were limits, and so on.

"What do we do, then? If we can't use modern weapons and there are that many crossbowmen, we'd have to suppress it from outside the building. Not sure how easy that's going to be right now..."

The commander said it while glancing at Gaon. More precisely, at the sword hanging from Gaon's hip.

What he wanted was obvious. Gaon nodded.

"We'll handle it."

The commander thanked him over and over, then asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him,

"Ah, come to think of it, I saw a woman who only brought a sword. Should I bring her over? She hasn't done a thing since she got here, and now she's got a chance to actually contribute..."

Gaon seized up.

"No. Do not send her in with us. If she tries to come in, you stop her. That's on you. No exceptions."

The commanders nodded, and the three of them entered the building.

Priest-planted bombs still lay uncleared throughout the place, but they could not fool a Swordmaster's combat instincts. Every time Gaon fired a single round, a carefully laid trap went dead.

They climbed the stairs without obstruction.

A short way down the corridor, Gaon threw up a halt signal. He stopped in front of a wall and whispered to his two companions.

"They're there. Ambush around the corner."

Lee Bok-dong groaned inwardly.

How the hell does he even know that...

On a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠test, Gaon lobbed a grenade around the corner.

It did not explode.

He threw another. Same result — even though he had pulled the pin cleanly before he threw it.

At that point, the other side seemed to decide there was no further use in hiding. A voice came from beyond the corner. A devout, religious voice.

The prayer alone was enough. A priest of the Goddess of Fire and Hearth was there. And because of that priest, the Goddess's authority had spread through the entire floor.

Gaon took a slow breath. Then he closed his eyes and inquired of the Goddess.

O Goddess. May I harm that priest NPC? I know it is only a fragment of data, but I do not know whether I am permitted to strike it down. Destroying a statue of the Goddess is a hideous blasphemy even though it is only an image. If that is so, then in the case of a priest...

Gaon grew confused.

Uh... if an NPC is my brother in the faith, then the game friends I have here are no different from real friends. Being here is the same as being in reality... No wonder I could never quite tell the game apart from the real world. The game was the real world all along...

The Goddess, who had only meant to tease her Champion, was seized with alarm.

Gaon, who had been standing there blankly, carried out the command his Goddess had given.

Sword in his left hand, gun in his right, he burst around the wall.