No Friends to Brag To
"It's a shame there's no friend to boast this fact to...."
No, to be precise, I did have friends. Quite a lot of them, even. It's just that... I don't anymore.
They're all dead.
...For real.
"But I've got NPC friends."
I dispersed everything except for one Permafrost. 'Gotta see how long this state holds.'
I clicked the mouse to move the character back to the hideout.
A neat office look with a sharp bob cut. A beauty of an NPC named Tier, complete with a monocle. She's the manager of my hideout NPCs.
"Mood today? Top-notch."
Matching that mood, I typed '/dance' into the chat window, and my character busted out some slick moves.
Tier watched for a bit before joining in right in front of him. The maids and butlers working in the hideout came rushing out in a flock, dancing alongside my character and clapping along.
"Heh."
They don't discriminate against me. They share in my joy. That's a true friend.
I was just sinking into the afterglow when—
Whoosh—
"Huh?"
The Permafrost I'd left floating behind me suddenly vanished.
And that wasn't all.
"What the—?"
The mana filling my entire body started dissipating.
"No, don't go! Stay!"
I shouted like Batman desperately clinging to his parents' souls, but...
"Don't leave me!"
The mana that was slipping away left me anyway.
My mana hall emptied out.
In an instant, my body reverted to that of an unawakened nobody.
"How did this... Huh?"
Trial of Skill: Synchronization (EX) has ended.
"Trial? It's over?"
The system message floating in front of me sank my heart. Like a switch flipping, my chaotic mind cooled instantly.
Snapping back to 'normal' at any moment is one of my top skills.
Right after awakening, I'd been too distracted by the EX-grade frost mana rush to focus on the outcome.
"I see."
Any sane unawakened person wouldn't doubt for a second that something as absurd as 'awakening' could happen.
"Was it a dream?"
I do dream of awakening a lot, since I want it so bad. Guess those dreams got so vivid they turned into hallucinations bleeding into reality.
"...No, wait. Calm down. Get a grip!"
No way it was a dream!
"Damn, the letdown almost broke me."
The name of the skill I got: Synchronization.
Simply put, it means the skill's duration ended. So just use it again.
Just use it again.
Gulp.
"...Synchronization."
I cautiously uttered the activation word. And waited.
A tense moment.
Waited.
...Waited.
"?"
No change!
'Did I say it too softly?'
"Synchronization!"
I put more force into it, but same result. No sign of that frost mana from before.
'This isn't it?'
My mind's about to shatter...
"Huh?"
That's when my wavering gaze caught something odd.
My character, Nebula's, MP gauge had plummeted!
An insane 90,000 MP drained. In Lost Honor, a character's mana drops for one reason only.
When a 'skill' is used.
'What? What skill got used?'
I swear I never used any skill on Nebula that could burn 99,999 MP.
Then...?
'No way.'
I opened the skill window.
There was a skill with a shiny gold 'NEW!' tag.
An icon of a spinning silver circle, like a recycling symbol.
'Never seen that icon before.'
I've maxed every class in this game. There can't be a skill I haven't seen.
One exception: brand-new skills.
Gulp.
With my trembling mouse, I hovered the cursor over it.
Skill: Synchronization (EX)
"This is it."
It was there. But no extra description below.
Normal skills have lines like 'Throws a spear for physical damage,' but this was blank.
Instead, a few lines followed underneath.
[Hallway of Constellations]
[1/99]
[Unlocked Classes]
[Frost Sorcerer - Han Seol-ah's 'Bingjeong'] (Active)
'It's like they've unpacked the info I learned in the Hallway of Constellations.'
Click.
I clicked to activate the 'Synchronization' skill.
Fwoosh!
The frost mana returned to my entire body.
Click.
I clicked again to deactivate.
Whoosh.
...The frost mana vanished, reverting me to my pathetic unawakened flesh.
"So that's how it works...."
It's not me activating it. My character has to do it.
I turned it on again.
"It's dropping."
Nebula's MP bar slowly ticked down.
Like other skills, Synchronization costs Nebula's MP.
The drain rate... about 170 per second.
Max MP is 99,999, so...
"Rough math says about 10 minutes."
10 minutes. Time as an EX-grade hunter.
Short if you're nitpicking, but it depends on how you use it.
'What if I use a skill?'
"Ice Arrow."
Crackle!
Han Seol-ah's basic attack, an Ice Arrow, formed—and the MP bar dropped.
"500 MP. Fixed cost."
I made 10 more arrows to confirm.
Exactly 5,000 MP gone.
"And this?"
I tried Permafrost.
A compressed orb of chill floated above my palm...
"Oof."
One shot: 50,000 MP. Over half of Nebula's MP evaporated.
Firing this would leave less than 4 minutes of uptime.
'Spamming high-power finishers like Permafrost would shut down Synchronization in seconds.'
I immediately turned off the 'Synchronization' skill.
"Whew...."
Feeling massive fatigue, I focused on the MP bar.
The character's MP bar refilled at a scary speed.
"Nice, worth it."
The 'endgame character' label doesn't go on just any char.
"10 seconds."
Time to full MP refill—aka Synchronization's 'cooldown'—is basically 10 seconds.
"All sorted."
I leaned deep into my chair.
EX-grade hunter power. 10 minutes uptime. Skill costs. 10-second cooldown.
"And..."
I glanced at my PC tower.
"My range is limited to this PC—our house, basically."
If I stray too far to click 'Synchronization,' I'm back to unawakened trash.
"What am I, a ghost bound to this spot...?"
That's when—
—Beep! Beep beep!
"Huh?"
The alarm on Cheol-su's door blared loudly.
This sound. This pattern.
It's the alert for monsters appearing nearby.
"Of all the times?"
No one left in this villa—or the area.
Monsters showing up in that situation? Normally terrifying.
But now?
Grin.
A golden chance to test my powers freely, without anyone spotting me.
A showcase prepared just for me.
"Time to show off my skills properly."
EX-grade hunter Ha Seong-un.
Deploying.
Click!
The Hunter Association's operations room was ice-cold ahead of the Ice Dragon's third subjugation.
And for good reason.
Han Seol-ah, the core of the subjugation op, had vanished mid-press conference.
Two days of wide-scale searches turned up zilch, leading to today.
Korea's already staring down unprecedented doom—nation's collapsing, monsters everywhere. Good vibes would be scarier; it'd mean everyone's given up and lost their minds.
The clacking of keyboards from dutiful staff. Occasional gulps. Even tiny ambient noises thundered in the heavy silence.
'...Please, tell me it's not.'
Incheon monitoring lead. Grade-2 clerk Kim Jin-cheol was sweating bullets.
—'Report any anomalies immediately. No exceptions.'
Vice President Min Ji-hee's razor-sharp order had been issued about two hours ago.
Already, three monitors had been fired.
For reporting 'non-anomalies' to Min Ji-hee, who was a powder keg ready to blow. Branded 'useless,' they'd been demoted to field work.
Demoted staff all met the same end. Non-combatants who couldn't awaken as hunters.
Send 'em to the frontlines? They wouldn't last, just die or vanish.
'...Gotta hold the line somehow. But I don't want that fate.'
No one wants to be the sacrifice.
So everyone prayed: 'Nothing happens in my sector.'
But of course, an anomaly pinged in Kim Jin-cheol's sector: Incheon.
A gate alert, no less.
Kim Jin-cheol squeezed his eyes shut and muttered, 'I saw nothing.'
But if it is a real anomaly...?
'...Just watch a bit longer.'
Yeah. Could be a false positive. Slim 0.1% chance, but...
'Shit.'
Okay, not a false alarm.
'...Gotta be Grade 3. Yeah, Grade 3.'
Grade 3s aren't anomalies. They dissipate naturally fast, enemies are goblins—armed civilians could handle 'em.
'Even Grade 2's fine.'
Grade 2s are risky but don't wreck buildings, just people. A stretch to call anomalous.
Why okay? 'No one's in Incheon right now.'
All Incheon hunters summoned to Association HQ for Ice Dragon subjugation. Civilians evacuated to shelters.
Incheon: zero people. No risk = no anomaly.
'Logical.'
Gulp.
'Yeah. Just not Grade 1.'
Grade 1s... can't ignore those. Above that, only boss-grade 'Grade 0' gates.
Boss gates are periodic, every 3 months. Grade 1s are the nastiest irregulars.
Staff slang: 'Mid-boss gate.' 0's the boss, so 1's the mid-boss.
A Grade 1 gate opened in Incheon.
'Fuuuuck.'
Ignoring this is dereliction of duty.
Kim Jin-cheol shot to his feet.
"Grade 1 gate in Incheon!"
"...Hm."
Min Ji-hee's brow twitched. Kim Jin-cheol's heart plummeted.
'Get out' seemed imminent.
"Report on Incheon."
'Phew.'
"All Incheon-based hunters summoned for Grade 3 subjugation—zero hunters remaining. All civilians evacuated to shelters. Zero people left in Incheon."
"Certain?"
"Yes, ma'am. Ran mana scans multiple times. Not a single 'person' in Incheon."
Min Ji-hee nodded.
Mana scan: Peak mage-tech scanning mana density to distinguish monsters from humans.
Humans hold trace mana. No human evades it.
Association obsessively scanned Incheon for AWOL hunters. Result: 100% mobilization.
Zero people. Fact.
'...No such thing as mana-less humans.'
Kim Jin-cheol continued, 'Can't stop at report. Propose solutions.'
"..."
But he hesitated.
Normally easy. Obvious fix.
'Normally: Dispatch Hunter Han Seol-ah... Easy.'
Danger? Call Han Seol-ah! Intuitive, perfect.
But now? She's gone.
"Uh."
What then?
"Well..."
...No clue!
"So, uh, with Hunter Han Seol-ah absent... We, we gotta dispatch a hunter team. For a Grade 1 gate, minimum A-grade compo—"
"Rejected."
Min Ji-hee cut him off sharply.
"A-grade team on Grade 1 gate. Two outcomes: Fail to contain Incheon damage. Fail to preserve third subjugation forces."
"..."
"You've just doomed Korea."
Cold sweat beaded on Kim Jin-cheol's scalp.
"Other options."
"Uh, uh..."
But what? No options.
His vision darkened.
—Beep!
Then, despair hit his headset.
'Gasp!'
"B-Boss is an ogre! Name: Big Boss!"
"...What?!"
"An ogre! And Big Boss!"
Staff listening in stunned silence panicked. Ops room erupted.
Ogres: Kings of terrestrial monsters. Worst-case for Grade 1 gates. Tower equiv: 70th floor!
'Big Boss': Epithet for giant-mutated ogres with 'Gigantification' status.
Ogre Big Boss: 80th floor boss-tier.
'Why this monster now...!'
One razed a Suwon district before!
Even in Korea's 90-floor Break hell, 80-floor bosses don't pop often. True anomaly.
"V-Vice President! This is unavoidable."
With no Han Seol-ah, sacrifices are... Kim Jin-cheol swallowed the rest.
Ops room's job: Treat frontline hunters like chess pieces.
You die here, you there... And dangle hope: 'Hold till Han Seol-ah arrives.'
Kim Jin-cheol, veteran of such 'sacrifices' and 'deceit,' couldn't spit it out.
Pointless death. 80-floor boss unkillable without ambush setup for Han Seol-ah.
Even she couldn't guarantee victory.
Korea's hunter balance: Solo DPS Han Seol-ah, rest tanks. Dispatching a team? Just meat shields instead of rubble.
'...And no clue how many we'd burn through.'
No Han Seol-ah!
In the frozen silence, Min Ji-hee decided. Her eyes gleamed cold.
Her order: colder.
"Abandon Incheon."
"Gasp...!"
Room in uproar.
Post-Kraken Busan fall, Incheon's Korea's second capital.
Abandoning a key hub? Huge.
Most staff lived there.
Ditch it? Some lose their homes.
"Th-This can't be."
"Vice President! Reconsider!"
"Abandoning Incheon ends us!"
Room turned marketplace chaos.
Min Ji-hee: unyielding.
"No objections."
"..."
Room dead silent at her declaration.
Everyone knew the unspoken: —Nation's doomed anyway.
All shut up.
Living in a dying nation means swallowing sacrifices.
No one's picking 'certain death' over 'lose an arm, survive.'
'Day we run out of offerings = Korea's end.'
Kim Jin-cheol resigned.
As always.
"One shot, huh?"