Chapter 23

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 23

Chapter Title: The Revolution Happens Quietly and Certainly

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Near the S-grade Corrupted Gate, Swamp of Corrosion, in Nevada, USA.

The prestige of America, the world's greatest superpower, was being brutally crushed amid the venom-laced sandstorm.

Even the S-grade hunter team urgently dispatched by the government hesitated to enter the gate. Their top-tier equipment melted grotesquely the moment it touched the poison near the entrance.

In the midst of that hellish chaos, a single shadow moved stealthily.

An S-grade hunter from the U.S. Intelligence Agency and infiltration expert, codename Phantom.

He lay flat near a relay connected to the Korean server deep in the swamp, biding his time. His mission wasn't monster extermination.

"Lee Do-ha... If we can just extract the source code of the system you built, we won't have to bow to you."

The hardliners in the U.S. government had chosen theft over negotiation with Lee Do-ha.

Phantom was using his unique skill, Electronic Infiltration, to force open the backdoor of the system Lee Do-ha had constructed.

"The security is airtight. But my skill doesn't just fool mana waves—it fools data signals too."

The blue mana flowing from Phantom's fingertips began subtly eroding the server's firewall. He believed that if he could just widen that tiny gap, he could seize control of the system.

He had overlooked one crucial thing: who had designed that system.

A red warning window filled Phantom's vision.

"What? It detected me?"

At that instant, a chilling rupture sound pierced from the cutting-edge stealth suit Phantom wore. The suit's mana circulation forcibly halted.

"Urk! The equipment...! No! Don't stop!"

With the stealth function and purification filter shutting down, the gate's intensely toxic atmosphere flooded into his unprotected lungs—a catastrophe.

Phantom vomited blood and clawed at the ground. It wasn't as if Lee Do-ha had attacked him with a blade himself; the system had simply rejected him for assaulting it.

Monsters from the swamp slithered toward his unprotected body with ravenous eyes—his final moments.

"Headquarters! Support! I need support! The equipment's dead!"

His screams were swallowed by the sandstorm.

While ordinary American hunters, who hadn't antagonized the system, merely stamped their feet in frustration over lost gear, the one who had tampered with it paid the most gruesome price.

At the same time, in Seoul's D-grade Gate.

Unlike the hell unfolding in America, this place resembled a massive logistics revolution in progress. The virtual warehouse update Lee Do-ha had deployed was upending not just the hunter industry's landscape but the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lives of those toiling at its very bottom.

Mr. Park, squad leader of the corpse disposal team at the gate entrance, was a veteran who'd rolled in this line of work for over a decade.

To him, gates meant the stench of rotting blood, the vomit-inducing guts, and endless manual labor.

"This kind of work was never meant for humans anyway."

Mr. Park muttered wistfully as he lit a cigarette.

The old methods had been downright primitive. After hunters cleared monsters, the disposal team had to follow behind, scouring bushes for bodies one by one—hauling out corpses swarming with maggots, tying ropes around them, and dragging them groaning to the entrance. Pure drudgery.

Colleagues poisoned by toxins or mauled by hidden stragglers were a dime a dozen. Even after all that toil, hunters would pinch their noses at the smell and treat them like dirt.

But the scene before Mr. Park's eyes today was unrecognizable.

"Squad leader! C-Zone collection complete. Shall I call the truck?"

"No need for the truck. Check Protocol 1."

The system's introduction had long transformed the filthy, dangerous corpse disposal business into a smart logistics center.

The revolution began with Stage 1: Rally Point Protocol.

No more trudging through blood-soaked forests for the disposal team. Hunters finishing hunts followed system guidance to gather monster corpses at designated coordinates—rally points.

"Hey, disposal crew! Coordinates marked here—just verify!"

A hunter waved. In the old days, they'd have argued over body locations, but now the system map pinpointed them with red dots for convenience.

The disposal team just wheeled over a cart, confirmed the piled corpses, and hit the virtual warehouse collection button. Done.

"My god... Not a drop of blood, and it's collected?"

Mr. Park stared incredulously at his pristine gloves.

No rotting stench, no backbreaking labor, no infection fears. Just verification and approval—pure oversight work.

The most dramatic shift occurred among the lowest rung of hunter parties: the porters.

"Ugh... This is heavy as hell."

F-grade porter hunter Kim Min-su sweated buckets under a mana stone bag as big as he was. The straps dug into his shoulders; called a hunter, but really just a pack mule.

Then, a blue system window materialized in the air like a miracle.

"Virtual... warehouse?"

Kim Min-su blinked dumbly at the orc corpse on the ground. A small hologram button hovered above it.

[Collect Loot]

He tapped it, figuring what the hell.

Flash!

The massive orc body and mana stone dissolved into white light, sucked into the air without a trace.

"Huh?"

The heavy bag on his back was suddenly obsolete. The lifelong burden lifted, leaving his legs wobbling from the lightness.

"This... works? An F-grade like me using sub-space?"

The surrounding hunters were stunned. No more need for porters, trucks, or forklifts to haul dozens of tons of corpses.

"Hey! Porter! Ditch the bag!"

The raid leader bellowed.

"No more lugging gear—you pick up a sword too! Rent some gear from Lee Do-ha and switch to combat position!"

"Me... fight?"

"Swing a sword with the hands you used for bags, and you're a DPS! System hauls the loot—what's to worry about?!"

Kim Min-su dropped his backpack with trembling hands and gripped the mass-produced sword the raid leader tossed him. The hefty steel feel—the weight of a weapon for the first time.

It was a revolution. Scorned porters ascending to combatants. Cheers erupted from every gate in Seoul.

The hunter community was in absolute uproar. Not just posts—videos capturing the on-site excitement flooded in real-time.

[Video Playback]

Shaky bodycam footage: A porter with a mana stone bag stands awkwardly, sees the virtual warehouse alert, and hurls his bag to the ground.

"For real? I can really ditch it?"

The porter asks, voice cracking, as party members yell.

"Ditch it! Grab a sword!"

Porter grips the blade with shaking hands. A goblin bursts from the woods.

"Argh!"

He screams, squeezes his eyes shut, and swings wildly.

Clang!

Incredibly, it blocks the goblin's club. Unburdened, his body lightened, reflexes sharpened.

"Huh? I... blocked it?"

"Nice! Thrust! Stab it!"

Porter stabs clumsily; goblin falls.

"Woooah!"

Party members swarm, hoisting him in celebration. Porter collapses, sobbing happily.

[Video End]

[42 Comments]

The cultural shift didn't stop there. Gate entrances had flipped 180 degrees. Lee Do-ha's logistics system evolved in stages based on hunter proficiency.

Parties unlocking [Stage 2: Auto-Collection] drew swarms of waiting material merchants like clouds. Corpses poured from the virtual warehouse outlet beside the entrance.

"Look at... this freshness! Blood hasn't even clotted!"

The merchant caressed an orc hide with trembling hands. Truck transport usually tore hides on bumpy roads or let them rot in heat, but the virtual warehouse preserved them perfectly in sub-space, time frozen.

"No wounds, no rot... S-grade quality! I'll pay 30% over market!"

And the vanguard hunters cracking [Stage 3: Personal Inventory] bypassed merchants entirely.

"Clear out, collection team. I'll deposit directly."

The hunter reached toward the guild settlement window; sub-space opened, dumping tons of mana stones in a cascade.

Zero labor costs. Zero transport fees. Zero commissions.

"Man... the world's a better place now."

"Thanks to Lee Do-ha, even bottom-feeders like us are making bank."

Everyone smiled—but only those embracing the system. The chronic ninja looting culture vanished naturally too.

"Hey, newbie, what the hell are you doing?"

The raid leader snatched the wrist of a rookie trying to pocket a dropped ring.

"Uh, I just... for a souvenir..."

"You nuts? Don't you know it logs everything?"

In the past, pocketing loot left no trace. But Lee Do-ha's system was ruthlessly transparent.

"Moment you pick it up, whole party gets acquisition alert, server logs it to the second. Virtual warehouse auto-calculates contributions and deposits—why risk blacklist for theft?"

The raid leader tsked and smacked the newbie's back.

"System's watching us. Don't live shamefully."

"S-Sorry!"

No more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠theft, no settlement squabbles. The system's transparency enforced human conscience.

The Forge's control room.

Lee Do-ha sipped coffee before monitors cascading with tens of thousands of data streams. Graphs on the screens curved in beautifully steep ascents.

The numbers proved it: his design was flawless.

No need for fear to enforce compliance. Overwhelming efficiency and convenience made people follow naturally.

"Everyone's lives are getting easier. Feels good."

Lee Do-ha murmured with a plain smile.

U.S. and Chinese hunters bled without gear; antagonists were culled by the system. Korean hunters embracing it enjoyed unprecedented prosperity—the stark contrast.

This wasn't mere domination. It was a perfect ecosystem rewarding loyalty.

"Antagonists crumble. Allies thrive."

Lee Do-ha quietly eyed the next update button in the corner of a monitor.

With logistics and economy conquered, next: linking their positions and intel. The world already danced most efficiently on the web he'd spun.