Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Gravis 707
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Brof led Jin down to the basement.
In an utterly unconventional way.
I mean, he pulled the triggers on the guns hanging on the wall in a precise sequence and rhythm, and the entrance to the basement slid open.
Jin was floored.
Crazy.
Is this what a cyberpunk gun shop looks like?
Of course, it was just a gimmick—Brof had subtly pressed a hidden button on the rack.
But Jin had no way of knowing that, so all he could do was stare with fresh admiration at the old man's shock of white hair descending the stairs ahead of him.
"Right here."
The basement was a space enclosed by iron cases of all sizes.
If you'd stumbled in blind, you might've mistaken it for a warehouse. Brof turned his head.
"Got anything specific in mind?"
Of course not.
Jin's gun knowledge topped out at basic reservist level from back home in South Korea. Aside from the K2—whose model number he couldn't even recall anymore—M4s, Skals, and Agnis were all just things he'd fired in games.
So it wasn't hesitation; he genuinely had no clue. His face must've shown it plain as day.
Brof looked like he'd seen it coming.
"If nothing's jumping out, toss me a few keywords. I'll narrow it down for you."
Jin crossed his arms and muttered.
"Hmm... A pistol with rifle-level firepower. Specialized for single shots over bursts. Something I could use in close quarters now and then... that'd be ideal."
"That's pretty detailed."
Brof nodded and added,
"Got something that fits the bill. But it'll be heavy as hell. You up for it?"
Jin didn't answer with words. He just bent his arm inward.
Bicep flex. The thick aviator jacket hid any real show, of course.
But the message got across. Brof let out a dry chuckle and turned away.
Jin smirked and plopped down on the nearest chair.
Not much to sightsee with nothing but iron crates everywhere. No excuse to wander, and he couldn't just crack open someone else's stuff. Best to sit tight and wait.
Luckily, the wait wasn't long.
"Nngh-"
Brof had snuck up close and set a fancy case on the table with a grunt like he was passing a kidney stone.
But the thing was massive.
"...Why's it so damn big? That a rifle you brought?"
"Easy mistake to make."
Jin's reaction clearly pleased him. Brof cackled in that gravelly old-man way before cracking open the case.
"Oh."
Jin couldn't help but let out an exclamation.
Black silicone sponge padding for shock absorption. Nestled against the stark backdrop lay a massive silver pistol.
It resembled a Desert Eagle—the one once hyped as the world's most powerful handgun (never true, then or now).
The issue? The barrel was at least twice as long.
Isn't this basically a rifle without a stock?
A line flashed through his mind.
...It was too big to call a pistol.
Enormously large, thick, heavy, and—
Ah, man, I wanna rewatch Berserk.
"Gravis 707. A freakish masterpiece from Ruger & Dolman. Total length 32cm, weight around 10kg. Matches its absurd specs with custom .666 R&D Magnum rounds."
Brof went on about polygonal rifling and magnetic recoil buffers, technical jargon galore, but Jin mostly let it wash over him—didn't even pick his nose, at least.
The origin story piqued his interest, though.
"Originally designed for enhanced humans—beastmen, specifically. But handling issues in human form and insane recoil killed mass production. What you've got here is one of just three prototypes."
"Oh......"
Jin narrowed his eyes.
Prototype?
Unreleased gear, huh.
Warranty's probably trash.
"Quit staring it down and pick it up."
First customer to have a staring contest with a gun, apparently. Brof jerked his chin encouragingly.
Jin played reluctant, wiped his nose, and gripped the handle. 10kg? No sweat... right?
"How's it feel? Think light and you'll regret it."
Just like Brof's grinning warning—no comparing this to an Arling. Weight aside, the balance was a nightmare.
Blame the design.
Grip like a normal pistol next to a barrel over 30cm long. The force needed to steady it was superhuman.
You could break it down with physics—moments, uneven loading—but there's a better example.
Ever had some psycho officer make you grip a K2's muzzle skyward for "morale"?
If you have, you know holding that pose for 10 seconds is brutal.
And unloaded, a K2's just 3.37kg.
This beast? 10kg, barrel shorter than a rifle's but still.
Not built for one-handed aiming.
No wonder it flopped.
And sure enough, Jin's face grew serious as he held it single-handed. Watching, Brof spoke up sympathetically.
"Too much, huh? That's why I asked if you could handle it. Still, color me impressed. Holding a Gravis one-handed... I knew you weren't ordinary. Set it down before you snap a wrist."
The quiet Jin finally spoke.
"Gramps."
"......? From 'sir' to 'gramps' just like that?"
Cutting off Brof's flustered voice, Jin pressed on.
"So, this thing. Performance is legit, right?"
"Legit as they come. Firepower rivals just about any... uh... wha—?"
Brof nodded on reflex, then his eyes bugged out. Jin was waggling the barrel—looking way more relaxed now.
"You... you good?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"......Your arm should be quaking by now? It's seriously not heavy? You were grimacing hard a sec ago."
"Huh? Oh—that was me debating buy or not."
Unreleased stuff nagged at him.
Not battle-tested.
Truth was, the Gravis's weight was no issue for Jin at all.
The solid grip even felt reassuring. Brof's freakout was starting to amuse him.
Blame it on Jin fully unlocking his Fist constellation as a superhuman.
Or his Irregular nature, breaking species limits and evolving.
Anyway, all good!
'Cept the unreleased part.
"If it breaks in use, you'll fix it, right?"
"......"
"Three-year warranty or something?"
"......"
"Why no answer? So, price? With today's gig, market value at 30%... nah, vibe check! 50! I'll do 50%."
"......What?"
Brof flinched as Jin casually halved the price.
What kinda thick-headed moron is this?
But he couldn't argue—the moron had saved his life.
Before his ears started bleeding, Brof waved the white flag.
"......Fine. 50% it is."
Then came the voice.
"Not budging, huh? Should've lowballed harder. Let's do 30%."
Brof clutched his neck.
A whopping 2.75 million credits.
What Jin shelled out at Good Neighbor.
Money's there one minute, gone the next—but handing over the hard-earned stash he'd guarded through a hail of bullets made his hands shake (they settled at 40%, eventually).
His arm handled the 10kg chunk fine, but quivered at the stack of bills. Brof finally spat out what he was holding back.
'Hey, you idiot! Loosen up that arm! It's gonna rip! Rip, I tell ya!'
Long story short, Jin became the Gravis 707's owner.
A gun, no less.
For Jin, his first real splurge beyond food and shelter.
Rational side: investment for solo life ahead. Emotional side: first gift to himself.
Couldn't stop fiddling with the oversized holster at his waist. Unwittingly spooked a few passersby.
Not that Jin was some psycho who'd pull the trigger on innocent heads walking their path (quest window aside). Testing Brof's endlessly praised firepower would have to wait.
So, he decided to crash hard.
From the first job's direct flamethrower hit, to the brain-scrambling knowledge dump, to the bullet storm at Good Neighbor.
Mental fatigue was piling up.
With 200k credits left, he blew it on rest. Wandered wherever, stuffed his face till his cheeks bulged at delicious smells, slept deep, shat, ate again—rinse and repeat for days.
Come Wednesday evening, he linked up with Jeki and Jenny at Rum Pump Pump for a meal and catch-up.
"Output dipped low at first, got dicey, but it's stable now. What do you think?"
Jeki, sporting his new heart implant, was awkward around Jin after so long but clearly trying to keep the convo flowing.
Jin appreciated that.
"Sounds way better than before."
"R-really? Whew... Oh, almost forgot. Jenny here's back at BH work. Not the public service stuff—taking anonymous editing gigs now. Picky about jobs, though."
"Hey. Why're you spilling that?"
Jenny shot her brother a classic little-sister glare before chiming in.
"Anyway, that's the deal. Hit me up if you need help."
"I don't have a BH implant."
"You don't, but not everyone's you. Who knows? Might need to rifle through someone's head footage someday. That's when you call."
Jin promised he would.
They wrapped up the neither-short-nor-long meal and parted ways outside Rum Pump Pump.
"See you next time."
"Next time..."
Jin muttered as he walked the darkened streets.
That throwaway goodbye stuck with him oddly.
"...What promises from a day-labor drifter."
He sighed at the starless sky.
And admitted it.
He'd just grown numb to loneliness—not truly embraced this desolate night street.
That 1.9 million credits, interest and all, could've been settled that way. But insisting on repaying with a meal? Probably cut from the same cloth.
Jin had always hungered for people.
Once he owned that, a chuckle escaped. No matter how he sliced it, street rat life and him didn't mix.
Suddenly, the character from life-path select flashed in his mind.
A man turning from the screen, facing a horizon packed with gray skyscrapers.
City stray. Lone brawler.
Conquer the slums solo, survive countless perils, then claim the top of a towering high-rise to survey the city he'd clawed through. Fate, maybe.
Even if not.
Wouldn't be like some poor soul obsessively cramming food to fend off hunger fears, gasping through panic attacks, seething hate at boxy windows.
Head to toe, a different breed.
Of course, none of it meant squat here.
This moment's Downtown crosser wasn't a keyboard-controlled game avatar—but a man walking, breathing, seeing on his own two legs.
Nothing proper to his name.
Still, clawing through every damn day fiercely.
At some point, streetlights grew sparse and distant.
Jin turned from the unknown shadows ahead toward a nearby motel.
Paid with his dwindling bills, showered in lukewarm water, then crashed deep.
Morning came.
Fumbling for the time on his terminal, one message waited.
[Second job's ready. Solo King.]