Nine Mile Point NPP

As the AP soloing matches heated up enough to warrant an official broadcast room, one keyword above all others seized the public's attention: Eugene.

Her exploits had already been circulating in dribs and drabs through the tournament rankings, and as half-formed rumors among a handful of teams via scrims — but the preliminary ranks were the first time her full strategy and raw capability poured out unfiltered for everyone to see.

Shock and frenzy were inevitable.

And the vast majority of pro gamers — barring the occasional special case — were people with excellent instincts. Among them, only the quickest actors were the first to freely pour out their praise for her.

Specifically, it was the pros from SSM Entertainment, where the embargo had fully lifted, and the small handful of players from each team who had participated in the same scrims as Eugene.

"Ah, Coach Eugene? I knew this was going to happen. That person is completely, uh… I'll stop there. If I had to give a tip, though… you're going to have to smash your preconceptions first?"

SSM.

"It was already a complete circus from the first scrim, honestly. Looking back now, it's a little disappointing. If she'd come to Xi… anyway, like I just said, even if we were half-skeptical, people had been talking about her since the early scrims. We knew it would turn out like this."

Xi.

"She's not human… ah, I feel like I'm going to get embargoed again for this. This is bad. You can edit that out, right?"

Even Dice.

As the present began drawing attention, those earlier remarks that naturally started getting unearthed became popular clips in an instant. The conditions for cultivating popularity were optimal. The nature of AP itself — perfectly suited for showcasing individual physical skill — was also a factor.

Considering that becoming a public figure required both personal effort and external mention, Eugene was one step away from becoming a goose that laid golden eggs.

Whether she wanted it or not, she had become a name that passed not only through viewers' mouths, but through the pros' as well.

But Eugene had never been the type to move according to other people's expectations. Her refusal to be swayed by popularity or outside commentary was a constant. The kind of approach that hung up every flashy title imaginable to farm viewer counts simply didn't suit her.

People came or they didn't. If they came, fine. If they left, fine. Even when the flood of new viewers poured out every question under the sun, she answered only with lead.

"Grenadier and sniper hound on the left. Drone operator on the right. Set your priorities, then clear them as fast as possible. Even if you fall back, always fight while thinking about where and how you'll form the next line."

"Ugh, my head's going to explode…!"

"You still have to pull your own weight."

Of course, no matter what anyone said, she remained fully absorbed in pushing the main mission and training her newbie.

"We've been going back and forth around northern New York a lot lately."

"Artemis PMC's base of operations is around here. Follow the lakeshore about three hundred kilometers west and you hit Niagara Falls."

"Oh, I want to go!"

"I wouldn't know — I've never been. Not sure if the falls are even implemented."

Like so many games, Dark Zone had a story, and with it, a timeline.

Separate from the way it roughly followed my own past in a linear fashion.

If the tutorial was forming a temporary team of one or two people and safely reaching Central Park HQ, what came after started with ordinary street-cleaning — taking down the gangs and escaped convicts roaming the area.

Then, little by little, you dealt with airborne and special forces units from Russia or China, until the mid-game, when you first encountered Artemis PMC — who used technology even more advanced than theirs.

As I'd explained before, these were the ones who had monopolized what used to be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Tech Valley in Upstate New York, killed anything that got in their way, and stripped the surrounding regions bare to secure resources and technology.

Dangerous enough by ordinary standards — but there was another reason they couldn't be left alone.

"Geiger counter… that's radiation, right?"

"That's right."

"And of course, since there's never anyone else available, they only ever send us to these miserable dumps."

"That's a bit harsh."

To be fair, it wasn't entirely wrong.

The nuclear power plant ahead of us was absurdly massive, and two moderately armed people could never cover the whole thing even if they died and came back. The fact that it was already crawling with Artemis personnel was also a solid selling point.

The Little Bird, equipped with a Geiger counter, set us down ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠near the plant with impressive speed. The behind-the-scenes story was that they'd scraped one together specifically to detect radiation levels in advance — because if a nuclear plant went into meltdown, no one who approached would survive.

In any case, the feeling was genuinely strange. Partly because this was a place the larger team had "almost" visited, and partly because it was similar to Indian Point Nuclear Power Plant — the last one I had gone to.

From what I'd heard, in that other world… after we'd been to Syracuse, Artemis had nearly invaded once, only for every enemy approaching the plant to get obliterated by a missile barrage and evaporate completely.

Never a perfect overlap with my past memories, and yet so similar. The sensation was deeply peculiar.

Separately, this operation offered a glimpse of one of the Icarus operators' absurd levels of authority.

As a brief aside: for a single operator to be granted attack clearance on a critical facility like a massive ship or a nuclear power plant was, in itself, a measure of that person's importance.

In the real world, that kind of operational authority was only given to Tier 1 units — The Unit, DEVGRU, the 24th Special Tactics Squadron and the like. Which meant that each individual Icarus agent held authority exceeding that of a Tier 1 special forces operator.

I activated the camouflage function and walked into the vast nuclear plant grounds, which somehow felt downright eerie.

"Whenever I hang out with you, Teacher, I end up seeing every weird situation imaginable."

"The difference is that when those situations hit, whether I happen to be there or not is what decides life or death, wouldn't you say?"

"I can't exactly deny that…"

"…If this place blows, we're in serious trouble. Don't say jinx things like that."

…Ever since the last time I'd smashed through the entire ceiling at the junction where all the water pipes crossed and escaped through the collapse, I'd had to watch, eyes open, as yet another grotesque entry got added to my nickname list — a list that should have been shrinking, not growing.

And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the nickname on that donation just now… if that person had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been next to me, I would have flicked them hard on the forehead. A shame.

I took a small breath and checked the message that had just come in before we entered the entrance.

"Hmm."

"Something wrong?"

"One moment."

Saying that, I ran through various hypotheses in my head.

We'd already come this far — canceling the mission here felt awkward. But one hour was a truly ambiguous amount of time, so it was a dilemma either way. I wasn't sure whether we could finish this mission within an hour.

Based on the speed of previous main missions, I remembered they had taken roughly an hour. But that had been possible because I'd gone with teammates who had more real combat experience than I did.

Even if, now that we'd crossed into a game, we wouldn't be fighting as desperately as in the past…

Just in case, I asked.

"Harmony."

"Yes…?"

"As a test — do you think you can match my pace?"

Pace.

It didn't simply mean running at the same speed — it meant that if she failed to act at my level, I would force the synchronization through shouting and repeated instructions as many times as necessary, unlike before.

Of course I'd account for her limits, but for Harmony, it was going to be a very hard stretch.

I intended to keep my own concentration at maximum as well.

She nodded, small but resolute, though her expression still said she wasn't quite sure.

"I'll try."

"Good. Let's go as usual."

And straight ahead.

Several patrols at the parking garage entrance.

From here on, every phase of the operation would proceed through my words and the images I transmitted.

"Three ahead. You take only the one on the left. On my signal. One, two, three."

"…!"

———Thud-thud-thud!

The sound muffled as it passed through the suppressors.

But without rest, without any drop in movement speed, I identified enemies loitering about twenty meters ahead on the right.

At the same time, another patrol group coming around the left corner.

"Clear the left."

"Yes!"

Piiing.

With each pull of the trigger, the enemies collapsed to the floor like marionettes with their strings cut. The right side was finished in an instant, but on the left, Harmony's slightly slower speed left about one and a half still alive.

The half was a wounded enemy.

I erased them the same way, then added:

"Don't slow down. Let's go."

"Ugh, why are you suddenly going this fast?"

"Sorry. I don't have much time left until the next preliminary rank."

"…Of course you don't."

Crossing the indoor parking garage, Harmony only gave a reaction that said she'd expected as much.

Her road of suffering was only just beginning.