Chapter 14: Survivors (1)

Train car 2. Near the armory, I'd laid out the fresh materials I'd hauled back from the dungeon: spider fangs like scythes from the boss spider, hairy legs, and low-grade mana stones.

"...Alright, time to get crafting."

I picked up one of the scythe-like fangs first. It was sturdy yet lightweight—perfect weapon material. I selected the dagger blueprint from the armory menu, slotted in the materials, and added a mana stone just like when I made the toothed flail. The armory hummed to life, processing them naturally.

Whirr—clang! The sound of metal being shaved filled car 2.

While it worked, I hung out with Donggle for the first time in ages. Nothing fancy—just poking at the marimo's tank and watching it bob around.

Moments later, a pair of daggers emerged, gleaming with an ethereal green sheen.

"Looks solid." Even to my eyes, it was a quality piece. The blades were razor-sharp; just looking at them sent a chill down my spine.

Next up: armor.

"Ugh..." I gingerly pinched one of the legs that looked ready to twitch at any second. I really didn't want to touch it. But since it came from the boss, it'd make top-tier material, right? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Signal had mentioned lacking physical strength like me. They needed something light and mobile.

'Same here.'

I used the spider silk I'd gathered as the base, selecting a blueprint for lightweight cloth armor that wouldn't hinder movement.

"And... I need one too." Using the leftover spider silk and monster materials from trades, I crafted my own custom armor. Mobility and lightness were priorities for me as well.

"...How many extra materials can it take?"

Curious, I kept slotting in more until the armory rejected them. With the exchange now open, I had plenty of mana stones and monster bits anyway.

'No skimping on armor. Not when my life's on the line. Max it out—'

Clink, clink, clack. Lost in the zone, I dumped in around 50 items total—mana stones and materials mixed. Suddenly, the armory spat out rejects and started crafting on its own.

"...Some weird features ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠got mixed in." Blame the random materials? But when I slipped it on, it hugged my body perfectly. In the mirror, I looked like a little sister who'd stolen her big sis's long coat.

...Who cares about looks when the functions rock.

"Alright, time to pack for shipping." I grabbed my new coat, boxed up Signal's daggers, robe, and a portable flashlight nice and neat, then fired up my smartphone.

Signal replied right away, sharp as ever.

I shot back a "Be careful out there." Hunting those gross giant spiders for materials wasn't just for the credit vouchers. It was more than that.

"You survive, and we all survive..."

That's what the Survivor Gallery meant to everyone.

Soon, the rift I'd been waiting for cracked open. Five sheets of paper fluttered down—100-credit vouchers each. A nice chunk of change.

"Alright, let's leave Incheon behind today."

In my hand: five 100-credit vouchers from Signal. My usual vending machine didn't have enough stock for a 500-credit haul. I was curious about purified mana stones and that exact 500-credit fireball, but other machines intrigued me too.

So I headed to coordinates a user had tipped off during a trade a few days back.

Rumble rumble—

The train let out a heavy roar as it thundered down the tracks. Past Incheon, through Bucheon, nearing Seoul's edge—the scenery shifted dramatically. Unlike Incheon, where half-collapsed buildings hid only monsters, here human traces lingered. More intact structures too.

Screech—

The train slowed, gliding through Seoul's sights. People passing the tracks whipped their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heads around.

"Wh-what the hell is that?"

"A train? Subway?"

"That nasty thing on the front—"

"Isn't that basically a moving dungeon?"

Mouths agape, fingers pointing. To them, my train looked plenty threatening: silent glide, vicious front spikes. Not exactly normal.

I lounged in the cab of car 1, canned coffee in hand, peering down at them. Tinted windows hid me perfectly—they just saw their own scared faces reflected in the black glass.

"Seoul's got way more people near the tracks."

I sipped my coffee, scanning the crowd. Not your average survivors. Jeans and hoodies, or mud-caked tracksuits—modern gear, but mismatched weapons: gleaming double-headed axes, ominous longswords, daggers at the waist.

'Awakeners, huh?'

Veterans with real monster blood on their hands. That's how they scored gear like that. Normals would've bolted; these eyed me warily, greed and curiosity flickering.

Maybe calculating if robbing my train was a jackpot.

Rumble—

I ignored the growing cluster of awakeners, driving deeper in. Mingling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would've just meant headaches. Vending machines were my only goal.

The train halted at a station past the crowds, in front of an apartment complex.

"Drone, scan the area."

I checked the feed. No monsters, no people. Good. I straightened my clothes and stood.

"Cover me."

Hiss—bang!

Heavy mechanics whirred as the door opened. I stepped out, flanked by two combat drones. Felt like an SF flick protagonist. Solid backup.

'Got mana stones piling up—maybe upgrade the drone hangar?'

Post-credits, it was time to reinforce the train anyway. Musing, I spotted the vending machine in the complex.

This one differed from Incheon's gold models—a subtle platinum sheen.

"Seoul prices higher, maybe?"

Excitement bubbling, I scanned the slots.

"Different stock, as expected." Short invisibility potion, sturdy shield—tempting stuff. But the centerpiece stole my gaze: the flashiest box smack in the middle.

"...Four hundred credits?"

I swallowed hard. I had 500. One pull was doable.

"Nah, that's steep..."

Reason screamed no. Pricey gacha. No-duh skills like last time's underwater breathing were nice, but—

"Gotta be trash-tier options too..."

I agonized, then caved.

"Screw it, just once?"

Mesmerized, I pulled out Signal's vouchers. Hands shaking.

[$100. $200. $400.]

Worked like a charm—credits ticked up with each slip. The machine hummed, glowing.

"...Yes."

Eyes squeezed shut, I slammed [Y].

Thud!

A heavy clunk, and a luxurious purple box tumbled out.

Fist-sized, now in my grip.

"Please... something useful...!"

Trembling fingers reached for the lid. Right then—

Step, step.

Irregular footsteps from afar. My hovering combat drone snapped its barrel that way; I instinctively gripped my toothed flail's handle slung over my shoulder.

Out of the shadows stepped a woman. Aura screaming "not normal." Tattoos snaking from neck to wrists, gripping a savage serrated machete. Leather jacket, work boots—straight out of a Mad Max apocalypse raider flick.

'Oh no... don't tell me...'

Tension spiked; I dry-swallowed. I'd checked for people precisely to avoid this.

'Worst case, drones buy time, then Leap skill outta here.'

Brain running sims, I waited for her move.

She stopped five meters out. Eyes flicking from my purple box to the drones, then she casually lowered her machete hand.

"Hey."

Husky, low voice for a woman. I tensed my legs, ready to bolt.

"You... lost or something?"

"...Huh?"

A dumb "what?" slipped out.

"I mean, girl wandering alone these days... What's with the drones? They got toys on 'em?"

"...Eh?"

Her eyes brimmed with worry and pity. I reassessed my vibe slowly.

"Oh."

Finally clicked.