Chapter 32
Chapter 32
On half of the screen, the hellscape of Mapo Boulevard unfolded in real time.
Beside it was a post on the Survivor Forum.
Glossary - Owner of a Workshop …
[Live Mapo Boulevard Situation.avi (feat. total chaos)]
Author: Thunder
Pig and Karambit are throwing down.
“Throwing down?”
Calling that brutal scene a mere “throwdown” was absurd. When I looked at Picker in disbelief, the drone rolled its sensor-eye in a circle.
“You told me to draw attention to this account before, Boss.”
“Well… I did say that.”
At that moment, the battlefield situation suddenly shifted.
Just as Karambit’s subordinates, wearing gas masks, pushed through the smoke toward the hotel lobby—
A massive shadow leapt down from the second-floor terrace.
BOOOOM!
The anti-tank mine thrown by the man obliterated the frontline.
The screen shook violently while screams and heavy breathing layered the audio like sound effects.
Of course, that breathing sound was fake—something Picker had synthesized.
[MapoIronFist: Holy shit lol. Was that Vulcan just now? They say he used to be a shot-put athlete, but he’s throwing mines like baseballs.]
[Nation’sCrush: OMG… Thunder oppa, what are you doing there? That’s dangerous ㅠㅠ]
[HanRiverSeal: Look at Karambit’s guys getting shredded. As expected, you can’t beat Big Pig. The king of Mapo is eternal.]
—Did Pig hire you to post that? Stop kissing his ass.
The forum had already become another battlefield.
And right in the middle of it, Thunder—or rather Picker—was displaying godlike typing speed.
[Thunder (Author): Did you guys see that just now? That crazy Vulcan just team-killed his own guys and barged in;; Karambit bros look totally screwed. Is this legit?]
The veteran users instantly reacted to Picker’s provocation.
[SeodaemunRecon: Are you new? Since when is Karambit anyone’s “bro”? That punk just relies on an E-Grade Reflex trait. Against Pig he’s nothing. The gap in weight class is huge.]
[YeouidoFinanceKing: For real. Pig has Steel Skin. He’s basically a human tank that deflects bullets. An E-Grade stabbing him all day won’t even scratch him.]
[Thunder (Author): But Karambit is fast though. If he dodges and stabs weak points like the eyes or neck, wouldn’t he win? Pig looks slow.]
Picker was cunning.
Pretending to be clueless, acting like a naïve newbie, he asked questions that stimulated everyone’s urge to explain.
Soon the know-it-alls started typing furiously.
[FormerDrillInstructor: lol this is why clueless newbies are hopeless. Listen up. Awakened fights have compatibility like rock-paper-scissors. Reflex specialists are grim reapers against snipers or magic users. But they’re weak against tank builds that dump everything into defense. They just can’t deal damage. Meanwhile tanks are slow, so ranged attackers turn them into punching bags.]
[MapoIronFist: Yep. It’s literally rock-paper-scissors. If Karambit wants to beat Pig he’d need at least a C-Grade item. But those beggars can’t afford that lol.]
[Thunder (Author): Damn… you guys are geniuses. The analysis is insane. So if I bet all my money on Pig winning right now, I’m good?]
Hooked by Picker’s subtle gaslighting, users enthusiastically rattled off the Mapo district’s power structure and Awakened stats.
“Boss, did you see how simple humans are?”
Picker puffed up as if he might leap out of the screen.
“Praise me, Boss!”
I chuckled and nodded.
Whatever this drone was, it manipulated the forum as naturally as water flowing downhill.
Reading the chat, several things became clear.
First, Karambit possessed an E-Grade Reflex ability. Pig possessed C-Grade Steel Skin.
Glossary - Owner of a Workshop …
Second, abilities had rock-paper-scissors style compatibility.
Third, public opinion overwhelmingly predicted Pig’s victory.
Indeed, on the screen Karambit’s men were collapsing like fallen leaves before the brute force of a man called Vulcan.
According to the crowd, the war would end anticlimactically.
But I thought differently.
Karambit isn’t stupid. He must have a hidden card to overturn the matchup.
What could it be?
I glanced back at the forum.
Picker was throwing out another bait.
[Thunder (Author): Damn… look at all those bodies. Who gets the gear? K-2 rifles and body armor going to waste. Isn’t whoever picks it up the owner?]
[OldManScrapCollector: Are you insane? Walk into the middle of that battlefield and you’ll get hit by a stray bullet and die. If you’ve got multiple lives, go ahead lol.]
Right.
“Wait, Picker. Stop.”
“Yes Boss? I was just about to drop a ‘your mom’s a mutant’ joke.”
“…Wouldn’t that get the account banned? Anyway… read the line you just wrote again.”
I pointed to the phrase whoever picks it up owns it.
“What’s the problem we’re facing right now?”
“Hmm… lack of combat power? Or the fact you don’t have a girlfriend, Boss?”
“Stop joking. Our problem is identity.”
I glanced at the wall piled high with materials.
“I can practically produce items endlessly right now. But I still can’t sell them freely.”
Then I pointed at the battlefield on Mapo Boulevard, littered with corpses and equipment.
“But what if the items were looted from a battlefield at the risk of someone’s life?”
Picker’s camera lens zoomed in and out as realization dawned.
“Holy—holy shit! Money laundering! You’re turning this mess into a laundering machine!”
“Exactly.”
Battlefields are chaos.
No one knows who lost what, or how much.
We could sell the items exactly as they were—or repair them slightly first.
And if I slipped in a few things I crafted and claimed they were battlefield loot?
No one would suspect a thing.
They’d just envy the lucky bastard.
Especially when the footage proving the battle already existed.
“Picker. Advertise immediately.”
“Advertise?”
“Say Thunder Shop will receive a large batch of captured goods after the war.”
Picker’s sensor-eye whirred excitedly.
“Boss… even demons would cry at that level of marketing!”
He immediately began typing again.
[Thunder (Author): Guys, I’ve made up my mind. Life’s short. I’m going in to farm with my life on the line.]
[Thunder (Author): Thunder Shop Mapo Boulevard War Special – now taking reservations. K-2 rifles, body armor, and medical supplies arriving soon.]
The reaction was explosive.
[MapoIronFist: ??? Are you serious? Grenades are flying around there.]
[BuyBullets: So that’s how he got good items before? This guy’s gutsy.]
[Nation’sCrush: Oppa! I’m first! I reserve one! A clean pistol please! ♥]
As the views climbed, the number of users following Thunder Shop skyrocketed.
Users following this shop: 3,452
The true winner of this war wouldn’t be Pig or Karambit.
It would be the one turning the battlefield into resources.
Me.
Kang Sinhyeok.
“Haah… haah…”
My rough breathing echoed inside the gas mask.
I was clinging to the rooftop edge of a collapsed building behind Mapo Boulevard.
Over my Mechanical Reinforced Exoskeleton Set, I wore a loose poncho raincoat, and on top of that a patchwork bulletproof vest.
Not the bomb-throwing maniac.
Just a low-level Awakened scavenger—Thunder.
“Boss, 11 o’clock direction. Karambit’s strike squad just swept through. Area is safe.”
Receiving Picker’s signal, I stood up.
Corpses of snipers lay scattered before me.
Their heads blown apart, throats slit—bodies sprawled across the cold concrete.
“As expected… the good stuff is already gone.”
The corpses had been thoroughly looted.
Working rifles, ammunition, even military boots worth money had all been stripped.
Only broken junk remained.
An ordinary raider would spit and leave.
But I smiled.
I picked up one of the discarded rifles.
It was an M24 SWS sniper rifle with a bent barrel.
I can’t repair this for use… but…
My hand brushed the barrel.
The system reacted instantly.
[Disassembly Available]
That was it.
What I needed was the technology inside it.
This one I would keep.
Humming quietly, I stuffed pieces of scrap metal into my backpack.
The bag grew heavy.
But the real problem began now.
“Ugh!”
Grabbing my aching back, I sprinted across the rooftop.
The workshop storage system had a fatal flaw.
Items could only be stored or retrieved within a certain radius centered on the workshop.
Mapo Boulevard lay outside that range.
Meaning I had to physically carry everything to the edge of the junk hill within the workshop’s range.
“Haah… haah… this is insane!”
Without the reinforced exoskeleton, even an Awakened body would have collapsed quickly.
Running back and forth between the battlefield and the hill was exhausting.
“Boss! I’ve mapped all the good farming spots! Hurry before the raiders steal everything!”
Picker circled above my head, cheering obnoxiously.
After my third trip to the junk hill—
Suddenly a chill ran down my spine.
Something about the terrain felt wrong.
My instincts reacted before Picker could warn me.
I dropped the scrap and threw myself behind a wall.
BANG!
Concrete fragments exploded where I had been standing.
A chillingly precise gunshot.
Not the stray fire of some random raider.
“Boss?! I’m sorry! Thermal sensors didn’t detect them! Hostiles are hiding nearby!”
Picker shouted in panic.
Pressed against the wall, I peeked down the alley.
Four men in ash-gray uniforms.
They exchanged silent hand signals while encircling me.
Mercenaries.
Reinforcements hired by Pig.
They must be wearing heat-blocking suits to evade Picker’s infrared sensors.
Their rifles were already aimed directly at my hiding spot.
Did they have sensors too?
“Tch.”
It was a dilemma.
Could I win?
Yes.
At my waist were a White Phosphorus Incendiary Grenade and a High-Tension Bio Sling.
At this distance I could turn them into burning corpses instantly.
But I couldn’t.
Those weapons were signature equipment of the Workshop Owner class.
Right now, I was supposed to be Thunder—a scavenger risking his life for loot.
If I attacked them—
They would radio their comrades before dying.
Don’t fight. Run.
I made my decision.
The exoskeleton output surged to maximum.
WHRR—CLACK!
Before the mercenaries could react, I kicked off the ground and vaulted over a three-meter wall.
RATATAT!
Bullets rained behind me.
One grazed my backpack.
The heavy bag nearly pulled me off balance, but the hydraulic joints of the exoskeleton forced my body upright.
“Ugh!”
My knees screamed from the impact.
But I didn’t stop.
Using the twisted terrain of the junk hill, I fled like a rat.
Fortunately, the mercenaries didn’t pursue far after seeing my appearance.
“Haah… haah… damn…”
The moment I reached the workshop, I collapsed flat on the floor.
My heart felt like it might burst.
Staring at the ceiling, I gasped for air.
“This… won’t work.”
If those mercenaries had been slightly stronger, I would have died without even realizing it.
And I wasn’t a combat-type Awakened.
Running back and forth like this to collect items had clear limits.
I was already exhausted after only three trips.
“I need something that can take bullets for me… and carry cargo.”
My gaze shifted toward the K-5 Cargo drones stacked in the corner.
Unlike K-1 Wasp drones—the prototypes of Honeybee and Picker—these had been designed for transport.
But just like Honeybees, a single bullet could shoot them down.
Then suddenly I remembered the Iron-Tusk Boar.
Its thick hide had endured even the monstrous automated turrets of Union’s exchange depot.
Right. Why bother flying high in the sky?
That only made drones easier targets for snipers.
Heavy armor.
Ridiculous cargo capacity.
That would be enough.
The outline of a new blueprint was already forming in my mind.
I jumped to my feet and walked toward the Central Control System.