Tomahawk

The past. One that had grown rather distant by now.

Back when I was stationed in Gangwon-do, guarding the ammunition depot, the senior soldiers who'd enlisted as marksmen would always ask me the same question: would I rather do duty in winter, or in summer?

Honestly, I didn't think there was much difference. Still, I'd answered winter, because I absolutely hated bugs. I also didn't care for humidity.

After those seniors discharged, and around the time I'd finally face winter myself, and then again—when I'd suddenly dropped into a blizzard-ravaged America—I came to understand the true terror of winter and cold in the most visceral way possible.

That way, the number of seasons I disliked went from one to two.

"…Heh…"

"…Why are you always laughing?"

…And I had a feeling I was about to grow to hate this season of winter even more today.

That look on her face, like she'd just gotten a good one in on me—it was really…well, let's stop there. If I described it in detail, I'd only make my own nerves worse. At least it was considerably warmer than before, which was something.

The problem was that this godforsaken weather was still brutally cold, despite everything.

Even with layers of clothing thick enough to impede movement, the cold seeping slowly in from the extremities was simply unbearable. And on top of that, my ears had a larger surface area than a normal person's…well, let's stop there.

I would vent all this frustration on the enemy.

───Click-clack.

The M249 light machine gun in my hand made a heavy, solid sound as it loaded. Whether for balance, or to prevent players from dying in a sloppy game of bare-handed brawling, this mode dropped all sorts of parts just from rummaging around.

With any other gun, you'd need to adjust the gas regulator settings in weather like this, but the M249 had no such adjustment function. It made me uneasy, worried that bad luck might trigger a malfunction.

Whatever. I'd think about that part later.

"Let's start by clearing that out first."

"That doesn't sound like a great idea…"

"Then let's go."

Of course, she only shook her head slightly before ultimately trailing after me anyway. You have to train your disciples hard—if you coddle them, all you get is weakness. That's it.

There was absolutely no personal sentiment involved.

In one corner of the UI, the numbers 32/40 were visible. A Survival Mode session that accommodated 40 players per match allowed unlimited PvP, and desperate battles were raging all over the map.

Until now, I'd been deliberately avoiding combat to familiarize myself with the system and adapt to the mode. But not anymore.

It was time to experience real combat.

The sound of gunfire began to mix with the wind.

An unprecedented blizzard blanketed all of New York, turning the world white.

The bone-chilling snow and flesh-biting gale were not something a single person could endure—and that included the hostile forces who had dared to set foot in New York.

Those who couldn't withstand the changed world—vagrants who had to steal others' lives just to survive, escaped convicts who'd been locked up since before the virus outbreak, foreign troops equipped with superior gear who had invaded America—they were all powerless before natural disaster.

Those with proper precautions, superior equipment, and survival skills acted first, finding the most suitable positions to preserve their strength and making them temporary shelters.

Those without were pushed out by factional struggles and wandered outside, fighting over lives even in weather so harsh they might not survive a single night.

And so, before the night passed, past midnight, Manhattan was transforming into a blood-soaked battlefield atop the white snow.

However.

───Rrrrrrr!

Even the elite forces who had secured the best positions for preserving their strength found it difficult to remain unscathed after taking fire from an M249 spewing 5.56mm rounds at 900 rounds per minute into their soft flanks.

"Aaaargh!"

"Enemy! Get down!"

First, the patrol team that had been scouting the exterior for a set period collapsed like autumn leaves in a gale.

Due to Manhattan's current weather conditions, fluctuating around minus 30 degrees Celsius, the barrel that should have been slowly heating up was instead maintaining an optimal firing temperature.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

This meant that even with more rounds fired, the gun wouldn't expand easily, allowing for smoother firepower projection.

But that was just a preliminary skirmish.

Like disturbing a hornet's nest, enemies began pouring out from inside.

"…What do we do now?"

"I'll lay down suppressing fire. Prioritize the ones trying to come out the front gate."

Countless sparks erupted in the dark heart of Manhattan.

Rounds poured toward the front entrance, tracing thin, elongated trajectories. Fired at a rate of 900 rounds per minute, the bullets connected like a single glowing strand of thread.

Several enemies who had rushed out in a panic fell right there, leaving their items piled thick behind them—but this was only a temporary situation.

Immediately, personnel taking cover behind the outer walls opened return fire.

As bullets struck the surrounding area, gouging the ground and walls and sending concrete fragments flying in all directions, Eugene quickly swapped out the 150-round magazine after pausing her fire.

While Harmony, who had grown considerably accustomed to situations like this through her time with Eugene, attempted return fire, Eugene pulled the charging handle back with a satisfying motion and added:

"Fall back while I'm firing. From now on, we just need to clean up the ones coming out one by one."

"Yes!"

The second burst followed, and heat that no amount of freezing cold could mask surged hotly up the barrel.

Through the squeeze signal, Harmony indicated her retreat. Each time she disappeared backward with quick, light steps, the sound of her footsteps faded like a Doppler effect.

The tail wrapped in a muffler moved. It didn't take long for a grenade from her multi-purpose pouch to dangle from the tip.

A black object flew through the air.

───KWANG!

The retreat was successful. The two of them had completely destroyed the hornet's nest and reached a safe position without a single casualty.

The footprints Harmony had left were gradually being erased by the falling snow, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they were still far from impossible to identify.

Grabbing their weapons and moving quickly toward the pre-designated rally point, Eugene spotted Harmony in the distance, peeking just the muzzle of her gun out and aiming at her. But the moment the green IR marker lit up, she lowered her weapon.

In weather where even breath scattered the instant it left the lips, carried away by the gale, Harmony added in a voice slightly calmer from the excitement:

"Hey, we got about…five or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠six, right?"

"Yeah. But there's probably ten more inside. And with this engagement, we've drawn a lot of attention…"

Haaah.

The waterfall of exhaled breath shattered into nothing.

"The most ideal situation would be for other operatives who heard the commotion to engage the Russian forces coming out, and for us to hit them from behind…But there's no way it'll go that smoothly."

"We could end up getting squeezed between two factions if we're not careful."

"You've gotten sharper."

Hehe.

She smiled faintly, clenching and unclenching her hands to fight off the cold. No matter how many layers you wore, minus 30 degrees wasn't something you could easily withstand.

At best, it could delay the onset of hypothermia. Even now, the time the two of them could endure the cold outside was gradually decreasing.

Scanning for enemy routes through the holographic sight, the only movement visible was a few silhouettes wandering around in the distance, closing the gap. The wind was so loud that gunfire was masked—there was no sign of anyone else nearby.

The decision was swift.

"Let's finish up over there, grab what we need, and move to a hiding spot. If this is the extent of the system here, there's nothing more to see."

"Got it. As fast as possible again?"

Eugene nodded silently.

The two of them stood up.

The primary duty of a machine gunner was, naturally, firepower support.

While riflemen from the same squad with relatively lighter armament flanked to strike the enemy, they pinned the enemy in place with firepower so they couldn't escape.

That was why their weapons were heavy and thick. Their objective wasn't really direct engagement.

Sustained firepower from a single position was easy, but a machine gunner faced various practical limitations when trying to suppress enemies through aimed fire like a regular rifleman.

However.

───Rrrrrrr!

"Enemy flanking! Breakthrough speed is unusual—Aaaargh!"

Under the meta that if you can't engage directly with a machine gun, you just need overwhelming stamina to control the situation, Eugene was literally shredding the enemy's front lines like a storm.

The lump of steel weighing over 10 kilograms including the magazine moved as easily in her small hands as a child's twig.

Chewing through even the inertia of immediate aim-point shifts, she wielded the light machine gun like a carbine, delivering at least six rounds into the backs of every enemy around her.

"…There's no way that's the same person…"

Behind her, Harmony—who had evolved into something unrecognizable—spoke without realizing it.

Even while wondering how to help, Eugene was pouring overwhelming firepower into the front, using cover effectively and cutting enemies down. It was truly…well, saying that felt wrong because her visuals were so bizarre.

Anyone who saw the pom-pom on the tip of her knit hat swaying with every trigger pull of the machine gun couldn't help but feel the irony.

Meanwhile, Harmony was picking up the items Eugene had passed by without looting, filling her inventory to the brim until it was completely full and she couldn't take any more.

With greedy, pig-like, land-grabbing, Kumchuk-Moni and other bizarre nicknames heating up the chat, the front courtyard had been thoroughly cleared—no one knew exactly what had happened.

Whether this was her true skill or what, she was truly remarkable in every way.

Harmony approached within Eugene's immediate vicinity, still without entering the building, and carefully took cover against the wall.

"A lot of people inside?"

"About seven, I think. Their defensive line is pretty solid."

The building interior was bright. Despite the weather, the power grid that the operators had desperately restored was doing its job perfectly.

There were likely several entry points besides the front door, but without knowing the internal layout, a wrong entry could turn them into a honeycomb of bullet holes in an instant.

After a moment's thought, Eugene activated a skill.

A circular pulse spread forward, detecting everything in the vicinity.

And Harmony knew exactly what she needed to do.

"I'll go cut the power."

It was a relationship that perfectly embodied the ideal of orders given and obeyed.

With her disappearing quickly around the back of the building, Eugene began to move slowly. How many interior lights there were, how dark it would get once they were off…she estimated all of it in her head, then set the machine gun she'd been carrying down on the ground for a moment. There was no need to carry it in—she had no dark adaptation.

In her hands was only a tactical tomahawk and a single pistol.

Thirty-five seconds after the engagement ended. Entry point: rear door.

───Click.

The lights went out.

Amidst the complete darkness, Eugene slipped inside.

The night vision function of the Icarus gear activated, the lenses glowing white, and urgent Russian voices echoed from all directions. The enemies probably had night vision too, but darkness was something that couldn't be solved by that alone.

She approached from directly behind an enemy hiding behind a pillar near the rear door, aiming at the front entrance.

And then—

"Kuh…!"

A body that had long since surpassed human physical limits crushed a Russian soldier's head like a watermelon with a single axe swing.

The enemy's bodily functions stopped immediately, and they sprawled on the floor. The commotion was less than expected. The combined sound of the axe strike and a faint scream was far quieter than gunfire.

Infrared lasers and flashlight beams flickered chaotically from the stairs above. Two enemies rushing down to investigate the situation were the next targets.

The next moment, two pistol rounds obliterated the thigh of the person who had started descending first.

"Aaaargh——!"

Thud!

Immediately losing the strength to support their body, the lead soldier rolled down the stairs. But one marine who had been trailing at a slight distance remained. The Russian-style dual-tube night vision goggles glowed bleakly.

But before his AS-VAL could spit fire, three more shots tore through the darkness. And unfortunately, one struck the T-zone of his face dead center.

Leaving the corpse that had collapsed face-first on the floor, the tomahawk swung again at the one whose life had not yet ended.

Four enemies remained. But soon, none would be left.