You Are an Aircraft Carrier

I couldn't keep living off my brother's convenience store salary.

That's what my sister said when she left home.

I couldn't exactly argue with her, so I couldn't stop her.

My paycheck was far too meager to cover living expenses and my sister's college tuition.

I was bored out of my mind — no customers, no deliveries. So I pulled out my phone, logged into the Hunter Gallery, and shitposted.

I'd been posting so consistently that some regulars had started recognizing me and leaving replies.

I corrected the slanderers who were trying to defame me. I'm not that kind of weak-willed little girl.

"Oh yeah? Talk like you've actually been there."

Back in the day, the Hunter Gallery was the first gathering place for the climbers the Tower had chosen. But anonymity cuts both ways — once the Hunter system got organized, the place turned into a cesspool of liars, schizos, and roleplayers spewing nonsense.

This guy wasn't even trying hard to sound convincing. Should've at least written a halfway decent script.

I was killing time at my convenience store job, browsing the Hunter Gallery, when I got home and it hit midnight.

Finally, the Tower had chosen me.

There was a reason I couldn't be purely happy about it.

A slot opening in the Tower meant someone had died.

But I didn't have time to mourn a Hunter I didn't even know.

In ten minutes, I'd enter the Tower. I'd escape this poor, heavy life and get rich. And then my sister would definitely come back.

It had been five years since the Tower appeared. Anyone who didn't know the tutorial info by now was practically a spy.

Easy Mode. One goblin. The same goblin rumored ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to have the strength of an elementary schooler and cunning intelligence. It sounds like an easy win, but apparently plenty of modern people with weak mental fortitude still lose to that goblin — armed with a dagger and full of murderous intent. And losing means death.

Still, it's just a basic goblin. People dying here is rare.

Normal Mode. Three dagger goblins and one poison dart goblin. Luckily, the poison isn't lethal — it slowly stiffens the body over thirty minutes. So even if you get hit, if you kill the goblins quickly and get the antidote, you can survive. The recommended strategy is to block the darts with a shield from the start. The darts have weak penetration — even a wooden shield stops them easily. That's why sword-and-board is so popular.

Hard Mode. Five dagger goblins, two sword-and-shield goblins, and one archer. Two goblins carrying the sword-and-shield combo everyone loves. The total number is grotesquely high. Even if each one has the strength and intelligence of an elementary schooler, with that many opponents, it's a serious challenge for anyone who isn't a trained professional. The estimated survival rate for Hard Mode, based on testimony and data, is under 5%.

"Whatever I get, I'll survive."

I had no martial arts training. If I had money for dojo fees, I'd give it to my sister as allowance instead. But I believed — if I had the will, I could survive. So I waited.

Ten minutes passed. The place I was summoned to was hell.

"Huh?"

In the tutorial, you're supposed to choose from four or five weapons depending on your aptitude. But the place I arrived at was a weapon museum. Indoors. Weapons displayed in elegant cases, with nameplates in front of them.

Countless display cases. An enormous variety of weapons. I couldn't see them all — no X-ray vision — but it looked like at least a hundred different weapons. When I spotted the arming sword and wooden shield, I was thrilled and ran straight for them.

Sword and shield. The ultimate comfort food combo. Offense and defense combined, even capable of blocking arrows. A broken combo.

But just as I reached for them, something stopped me.

This was an irregular situation. Never reported before. I had a bad feeling about it.

'Maybe I'm just lucky. I hope it ends with "congratulations, here's a free armory pass."'

Was this because I got a never-before-reported difficulty? And they gave me a choice to match it?

"No way."

The tutorial is known to have Easy, Normal, and Hard. But "known" is just that — known. It's slightly different from saying the tutorial only has Easy, Normal, and Hard.

What if there was a difficulty with no survivors? A difficulty that was never reported because nobody came back to report it?

I started to get the paranoid feeling that I'd been dropped into that Hell Mode. And if that was the case, sword-and-board wouldn't cut it.

Imagine ten or more goblins. If they attacked from multiple directions, the shield's efficiency would drop sharply. Even a balanced one-handed sword would become a liability.

The biggest advantage in a multi-enemy fight is a large attack range.

My eyes landed on a claymore nearby.

Total length: 1.7 meters. A weapon that wouldn't even let a clumsy goblin get close.

Even the neighborhood dog knows that a two-handed sword hits harder than a one-handed sword.

But in the end, I chose a polearm.

A glaive. Total length about 2.5 meters, with a blade that could both thrust and slash. Even if it was trickier to handle than a claymore, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wanted to maximize my reach.

'Reach is absolute. Trust that advice.'

Weapon selection done. The moment of battle arrived.

But in the end, my choice was wrong.

I was summoned to a place like a Colosseum. The enemy I faced was a Hobgoblin Warrior.

Over two meters tall. Strength three to five times that of an adult male. Known to be able to rip wolves apart with his bare hands. And in one hand he held a longsword, in the other, a steel tower shield.

"I guess even goblins know sword-and-board is OP."

You bastards. If you were going to throw me against something like that, you should have given me a gun. Not even a pistol. I need a shotgun that can blow a head off in one shot, or an assault rifle with full-auto fire. Anything less and I can't even compete.

"Kuoohhhh!"

Intelligence equal to a human's. A physique surpassing an adult male's. Overwhelming strength. A literal monster charged at me.

"!!!"

I couldn't let him get close. I swung the glaive with all my strength.

But his shield blocked it easily. I didn't have any amazing weapon technique to overcome the difference in strength. His shield pushed my glaive back with force.

'He's too strong!'

I'd never felt a power disparity like this. It was as absurd as an arm-wrestling match between an adult and a child. If I tried to match him, my palms would tear and my wrists would shatter. I couldn't hold my ground.

But if I let go of the weapon, I'd die.

So what could I do?

'Use rotation to change direction.'

Use the goblin's pushing force — redirect it into another attack!

Weapons are tools made by humans, who lack proper claws and fangs, to fight animals. Weapon arts were born from humans, who were pathetically weak, to hunt down beasts. I scrambled to recall everything I'd learned in science class — circular motion, the lever principle. The point was to use his own attack against him.

It's the principle of the Taiji! The subtle art of borrowing force, you monster!

Nonsense. My rookie stance control was a complete mess. But I held on with sheer will to live.

I spun around and landed a heavy blow on him.

THUD!

He blocked it with his shield again without much trouble. Well, swinging a weapon this long in a full circle takes forever — if he couldn't block that, he'd be a cripple, not a monster. The impact seemed to register, at least — he was stunned for a moment.

But his massive frame, solid muscles, and overwhelming strength absorbed my spinning strike without issue.

A difficulty never reported. A tutorial where you could choose from countless weapons. What that meant was: no survivors.

Even so, I couldn't give up.

"I'm going to survive!"

I couldn't let my parents — who died in an accident — and my sister — the only family I had left — get a death notice saying her brother was dead too. So even if my palms were shredded, even if just gripping the polearm felt like my hands were on fire, I couldn't let go.

"I said I'm going to survive!"

I wasn't born to die in a place like this!

Ten minutes later.

"Kuh-hack!"

I lost.

I was face-down in the sandy Colosseum floor, my posture completely wrecked. Willpower alone couldn't overcome my limits. That kind of miracle wasn't for me.

My palms were torn so badly the muscles were exposed. My wrist was twisted. My arm was broken. My legs were ruined. There wasn't a single part of me that wasn't damaged.

It was infuriating.

If I'd been a medieval person who'd devoted their whole life to martial arts, maybe I could have cut him down the moment I held a weapon. But I was a modern person. Someone who went to school as a kid, then went to work as an adult. A weak modern person who never had a reason to hold a weapon.

Yeah. The only weapon I'd ever held in my life — besides kitchen knives and scissors — was the K2 rifle I'd handled during my Navy service.

"The K2. If I'd just had a K2..."

I could have turned you into a sieve, you monster!

The Hobgoblin Warrior stepped up to me and spoke in his own language.

"Womonga! Tada kunda!"

I had no idea what he said, but I could guess. Something like "Not bad, human. I acknowledge you as a warrior." Given the gap in our specs, I'd put up a decent fight. So he'd kill me cleanly. Something like that.

Ptui.

I spat at him.

I wasn't giving up yet.

"I'm going to live. Cough."

Blood clots coughed out of my mouth. My broken ribs were piercing my lungs. Every breath was agony.

But I couldn't just go to sleep. I couldn't die here. I was going to go home. I was going to go home alive.

I gritted my teeth and lifted the glaive with my torn hands. Luckily, the wooden shaft was still holding up. Since when does a human break before wood?

That's when a message appeared before my eyes. The same format as the one that had thrown me into the Tower. Maybe — just maybe — this was the only salvation that could save me now.

The most powerful being I could imagine?

A gun? No, not something small and insignificant like that.

A bomb? No, something way bigger than that.

A missile? Not just one missile. A monster that could carry a whole bunch of them and launch them all.

The pinnacle of all human science. The cutting edge of warfare. If I could compress that into a single thing...

"An aircraft carrier."

During my time in the Navy, I'd seen one. A massive aircraft carrier docking at port. Capable of operating nuclear bombers. Powered by a nuclear reactor, cruising the seas. The strongest power I could imagine was an aircraft carrier.

"...What?"

You're giving me an aircraft carrier ability, so why did you turn me into an aircraft carrier?