Strength Is Not a Free Pass
He had thought five warehouses would be enough.
These were no ordinary storage units; each boasted a considerable scale.
But he was wrong.
Yujin—or rather, the little bear named Chunbae—literally spat out weapons without end. Halfway through, Lee Ki-seok had to prepare five more warehouses of similar size.
“How’s that?”
Whether he understood Ki-seok’s feelings or not, Yujin looked on with a proud expression at the weapons he’d shaken down.
“Remarkable.”
In more ways than one.
“So? You want me to set all of these up?”
“Yes. Like I said, nothing fancy. Just make them fly, hit, and explode. That’s all I need.”
“Hmm.”
That itself wasn’t particularly difficult. If he requested personnel from the Ministry of National Defense right away, they could finish everything in a few days. Of course, soldiers would be worked to the bone in the process, but he wasn’t in a position to care about that.
The problem was relations with the United States.
“If we touch these, we’ll certainly have to pay a corresponding price.”
Things might even escalate to extremes. After all, a Korean had invaded American territory, taken a US military commander hostage, and plundered their property. There was no way that superpower’s pride would let it slide.
“It’s fine, I tell you. Well, if you’re really worried, I can clean it up myself.”
The smile on Yujin’s face was chilling.
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
Lee Ki-seok quickly shook his head. If Yujin handled it personally, it wouldn’t be by any ordinary means. He might actually fly to the US and turn the White House upside down. He had the ability for it, and the personality for it, didn’t he?
“I’ll handle this myself.”
Thinking he might need a few painkillers, he dissuaded Yujin.
“Then how long will it take?”
“Another week this time?”
“Yes, it’ll always be about the same. Very occasionally I might stay a bit longer.”
There was a workaround. Impossible for now, but usable once he climbed to a higher tier.
“Hmm, then I’ll have things ready by then.”
A few of the weapons were a bit complex, but it should be possible. As he’d said earlier, Yujin wasn’t asking for anything elaborate.
“Thank you.”
“No need for thanks. Instead, next time you need weapons, come to me first instead of the US military. If you give me a heads-up, I can prepare in advance.”
“I will. That was my plan anyway.”
This time he’d deliberately targeted the US base as a warning. Since they’d made the first move, they had to pay the price. And if they touched him again, he wouldn’t let it slide. They’d probably get the message. If not, he’d just show them directly whose temper they’d crossed.
“Anyway, leave this to me, and let’s talk about something else.”
“Ah, the thing you mentioned through Lee Sia?”
“That’s right.”
Item combinations. He’d heard they’d found some quite useful recipes.
“You can look forward to it.”
Confidence filled Lee Ki-seok’s face.
“Holy fuck. I’m finally out.”
Kwak Jun-yeong gazed up at the hazy sky with a face full of emotion. Seoul’s sky, choked with exhaust, fine dust, and yellow sand. How he had missed this filthy, stuffy air.
“I really got out. Thought it was bullshit.”
He looked around. People stared at him with wide eyes.
“What the hell are you looking at, you bastards? I’ll rip your eyes out.”
He rolled up his sleeve as he barked at them, revealing densely packed tattoos. People flinched, hastily averted their gazes, and quickened their steps.
“Looking to die, huh.”
Apparently satisfied with the reaction, Kwak Jun-yeong grinned, baring his teeth. This feeling, this emotion, this sense of superiority—along with Seoul’s air, it was one of the things he had missed most.
Inside the Tower, he had been weak. The monsters went without saying, and the other players were the same. Every last one of them wielded power beyond human limits, so he hadn’t been able to pick fights the way he used to.
“Heh heh heh.”
But now it was different. Outside, he was strong. And he was a player, no less.
“With my skills and traits, nationwide’s a cakewalk.”
He could crush most people with a single finger. Letting power like that go to waste would be a crime. That was how Kwak Jun-yeong saw it.
“Looks like a player.”
“Shouldn’t we report this?”
“To that SID?”
“Yeah, that’s it. They ran a ton of ads saying to contact them if you spot a player.”
People whispered while shooting sidelong glances at Kwak Jun-yeong.
SID? What’s that supposed to be?
He’d never heard the name before. Some new kind of police?
Kwak Jun-yeong tilted his head, then realized he didn’t need to figure it out alone.
“Hey, get over here.”
Grabbing one person and asking would do the trick.
“Y-yes?”
“I said get over here. You want me to come to you? You’ll regret it.”
He flexed his tattoos as he spoke, and one man shuffled over hesitantly.
“Ah, damn, you’re slow. Hurry the fuck up.”
“Yes, sir!”
The man scurried over.
“That thing. Seed? What’s that?”
“Ah, SID, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s a place that manages players, supposedly. Honestly, someone like me doesn’t know much…”
“Manages players?”
Kwak Jun-yeong barked out a hollow laugh at the man’s words.
“Bastards who’ve never even set foot in the Tower are putting on all kinds of bullshit shows. If those assholes are managing people, what, am I supposed to let myself be managed?”
“N-no, it’s not like that.”
After giving the man’s nape a few pats while he answered with a nervous chuckle, Kwak shoved his face away.
“Then get lost.”
“Th-thank you for your hard work.”
Looking as if he’d come back from the dead, the man fled at top speed.
“This country’s always been world-class at pointless shit.”
Kwak Jun-yeong clicked his tongue, scanned the area, then nodded. He’d figured out roughly where he was.
“Son of a bitch. It’s far as hell.”
He’d dropped a long way from his house. Even so, he wasn’t particularly angry. The outside scenery he hadn’t seen in months. The fearful glances people shot him. All of it pleased him.
Kwak Jun-yeong began swaggering along as if he were a king.
That was when it happened.
“Whoa, it’s Park Ji-hoo!”
“He’s a player, right? I’ve never seen one before!”
“Holy shit, running into Park Ji-hoo here. Where’s Lee Sia? Isn’t she usually with him?”
A commotion broke out—cheers far larger than anything that had greeted his own appearance.
“What the hell? Park Ji-hoo? A player?”
The mood that had soared to the heavens plummeted in an instant. He wanted nothing more than to go over and half-kill the bastard called Park Ji-hoo right then, but Kwak Jun-yeong stayed calm. If the guy was a player, there was no guaranteeing he wasn’t stronger. Judging by how they’d both appeared around the same time, their skills were probably similar.
Pretending not to care, he ambled toward the center of the noise.
Hm?
Then he saw the guy’s face.
“Ha!”
Young. Barely high school age, if that. He looked young enough that he could pass for middle school.
Weak.
His instincts told him so. His knack for sniffing out people weaker than himself whispered it like a ghost. His slightly hunched shoulders snapped back to their original breadth. Swagger returned.
“Aigoo, even pathetic little shits like this get to call themselves players. That thing’s a player? Bet he hasn’t even killed a single monster.”
Mockery spilled from his mouth on its own. The surroundings fell silent in an instant. The people who’d been trailing after Park Ji-hoo out of curiosity shut their mouths. Every gaze turned to Kwak Jun-yeong, then scattered.
“Man, even punks like you walk around with your shoulders puffed up calling yourselves players. Outside’s nice, huh? Inside the Tower you’d be scurrying around like a rat.”
Gaining even more confidence from the reaction, Kwak Jun-yeong closed in on Park Ji-hoo, pouring out more mockery.
“What’s your level? Who bused you up to the fifth floor? Don’t tell me you got summoned with your mommy.”
He threw his head back and roared with laughter.
But the atmosphere felt off. The kid who should have flinched and shrunk away was simply looking up into his eyes without moving.
“Look at those brat eyes. Lower them if you don’t want to die. I’ll rip them out.”
He raised a hand as if to strike. At this point most people would flinch, but astonishingly, this one was different. He showed no reaction at all. He didn’t even blink.
That fact pricked Kwak Jun-yeong’s pride. He lowered the raised hand and planted it on the kid’s head.
“I told you to lower your eyes.”
He applied force. No matter how strong someone was, grabbing their hair and yanking downward made them lose their balance. It hurt. Keep resisting and you’d end up with a bald patch. People didn’t bother holding out; they yielded to the strength.
But…
“Huh?”
He didn’t budge. It felt less like pulling a person’s head and more like trying to yank a boulder.
This guy…?
For an instant, the thought that something was wrong flashed through his mind.
“Let go.”
Something else entered those eyes that had held no emotion at all. Hatred. Madness. Rage.
Seeing it, Kwak Jun-yeong felt his body freeze of its own accord.
“I said let go.”
A chilling voice drilled into his ear.
“W-wait.”
Only then did Kwak Jun-yeong realize the situation was wrong and try to release his grip. Or rather, he tried to.
But it was far too late.
Crack.
When had it happened? From elbow to wrist, his arm had been completely crushed, as if run through a hydraulic press. Shattered bone punched through the skin, and blood poured out like a waterfall.
“A-aaaaaargh!”
The extreme pain hit him late. It was agony he had never felt even inside the Tower. Clutching his ruined arm, Kwak Jun-yeong toppled flat on his back. The tattoos he’d been so proud of were nowhere to be seen now.
“Why won’t trash like this ever disappear.”
A small fist. Through vision blurred by tears, Kwak Jun-yeong saw Park Ji-hoo’s clenched fist.
“You like being strong? Feel superior because you’re stronger than other people? Think that means you can do whatever you want? Harass the weak, hit them, curse them.”
It moved slowly. Slower than a three-year-old’s punch.
“Strength isn’t a free pass. You pay the price for the sins you’ve committed.”
The fist that approached at a crawl touched Kwak Jun-yeong’s chest. It looked as if it wouldn’t deliver any impact at all. It was not so.
Crrrack!
The center of his chest caved in, shaped exactly like a fist.
“Guh… gaaahk.”
Kwak Jun-yeong couldn’t even scream. He coughed up blood.
“So from now on, live right. And pray you never run into me inside the Tower. I won’t let it slide that easily next time.”
Park Ji-hoo’s icy voice rang in Kwak Jun-yeong’s ear as his consciousness faded.
Incidents like this began unfolding all across the world. Korea, the United States, China, Japan, Taiwan, India, Britain, Germany, Australia, South Africa, and more. Regardless of continent or race.
The world plunged into chaos once more.