The Selection Zone

The fight was over in a blink. There hadn't been a shred of tension to it.

Is it even allowed to be this easy? The thought arrives in the same breath as a prickle of unease. Things this smooth usually mean the difficulty is about to spike without warning. I'll find out once I climb higher.

Floors one through ten are goblin territory, as far as I know. Floor five is the mid-boss; floor ten is the boss. Maybe that's where it actually gets hard. For now, I keep my head in the present.

As always, a luminous glow bursts forth—a sphere so brilliant it paints every scrap of scenery in its own color. Then, with a soft pop, the rewards resolve into being.

A Weapon Selection Ticket? Don't tell me firearms like rifles are in the pool. My heart starts hammering.

The system's voice slides in one ear and straight out the other. Register me, don't register me—I don't care. Just send me back already!

I land lightly on the bed. And—right. Barefoot. I should pick up shoes and gloves at some point. I can't keep running stages like this forever.

Rewards first. Weapon Selection Ticket: activate.

Guns… there are no guns? I look left, I look right. Still no guns. Are you kidding me?

Azure Flash looks like a dagger, at least. Maybe I should just take that. I'm sitting there, deflated and faintly sulky, when the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠status window starts to crackle.

Kzzzt—kzzzt.

The dopamine that had been drilling a hole through the floor suddenly rockets straight back up. If you were going to do this, you could've just shown me the real list from the start!!

Before I know it, my nose is practically mashed against the window. Hurry up and change.

Those names. I've seen them a thousand times. For a second I can almost smell a rain-soaked poncho climbing up the back of my throat. I expand the tooltip and check the details.

You little—! That's the rifle I'm thinking of. You absolute bastard of a system… where did you even get this?

It isn't a perfect copy, of course. A few extra lines hang off the bottom—mana conductivity, mana capacity ceiling, that kind of trivia. Just in case, I check the K55 Pistol's specs too.

Yeah. Figures.

The rifle and the pistol I handled until I was sick of them. Ugh… it even smells like the army. The whole room seems to go dingy for a second. Still. It's good to see them.

I used to scrub carbon fouling like my life depended on it, then work gun oil into every surface until it shone. Old memories. Haha… I wonder if those guys are doing all right.

The dopamine that had been climbing for the sky settles back down on its own. After the Tower first appeared and tore open gates across the planet—the catastrophe they called the First Impact—I heard even special forces unit compositions changed a lot. And it wouldn't have been just special forces. A lot of the world must have changed.

I fold the complicated thoughts away for later. Time to choose. So—what am I taking?

The pistol I picked up in the tutorial zone isn't any particular brand. A mash-up of this and that, more like something the Tower knocked together on its own. Item grade: Common. When I ran mana rounds through it, my mana got carved out in chunks—probably because its conductivity is garbage.

The guns on the reward list, though, are Rare. I don't remember the ladder perfectly, but Rare sits right in the middle of the pack. Five grades total? Six? I'll ask while I'm lurking the gallery later. Anyway, they'll be better than what I'm using now. That's a given.

Hmm… rifle, then. The K1B's magazine holds thirty. Two ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mags come with the gun, they refill every time I clear a stage, and if it comes down to it I can just craft mana rounds. Live ammo packed a serious punch too. Monsters won't keep bursting like wet tofu forever, but the power I'm putting out right now is the real thing.

Yeah. I've already got a pistol. Rifle it is.

K1B: select.

A hologram blooms in midair and the rifle assembles itself—barrel, handguard, trigger, hinge, stock. The finished gun and magazines drop onto the bed. I pick it up with both hands, and memories piled in the deep end of my head come flooding in all at once.

The handguard isn't the old plastic one, either. It's railed. If I get a scope or attachments, I can mount them. Heh…

I grumbled, but holding it like this actually feels good. A smile sneaks onto my face before I can stop it.

Safety check first? It isn't loaded. I lock the bolt to the rear and inspect the chamber. Empty. Selector to safe, bolt forward, then cycle it two or three more times. Selector to semi. Dry fire.

Click.

God, that click. I haven't heard that sound in a long, long time. Hahahaha. I can almost taste mess-hall rice on my tongue. I put the selector back on safe. Magazines are thirty rounds each, no damaged ammo, nothing out of place.

I left the army, and somehow I've taken a step closer to it anyway. Am I just a soldier down to the bone? A four-foot-nine silver-haired pretty girl in special forces? I laugh at the ridiculous picture.

Anyway—this is good. Sixty rifle rounds, ten pistol rounds, mana ammo for emergencies, and a dagger besides. The household's looking up. Elite beautiful-girl hunter life… I might actually pull it off. Kahahaha. Ahem.

Enough nonsense. Time to hit the gallery.

This time I go straight to the Ophiuchus Gallery. Maybe I want to brag a little, without quite admitting it. Then again… it's been years since I had anyone to tell my stories to. A few posts on the game board, at most. I guess my mouth's been itching more than I thought.

SNAKE_87 is worrying about me exactly the way I expected. Why isn't Newbie-kun coming? Did he get badly hurt? Is he taking the day off? He's practically wallpapering the board. I click into a thread, and sure enough, Archery101 is tearing into him. Perfect timing. I throw up a post of my own.

Notifications start pinging immediately.

The two of them keep going at it. Byeolbaembaem ignores both and keeps typing.

Byeolbaembaem has clearly built up an immunity to Archery101's roasting, because she just keeps going.

So Hard lives up to the name, then.

Archery101 asks about the reward like it's the most natural thing in the world. Is he actually curious what I got? What do I even say? What does Hard Floor 3 drop, anyway?

…I don't know! How would I know?! Should I go dig through the Hunter Gallery right now? Google it? Hey, AI, what do you get for clearing Hard Floor 3?

There's no time. A slow answer would look weird. I could stall with went to the bathroom or grabbed some water, but—ah, screw it. Thinking harder isn't going to spit out an answer.

Whew. Honesty really does beat a sloppy lie.

Coming straight here was the right call. Something in my chest eases. I don't think I'll be switching constellations anytime soon.

Anytime soon…?

Yeah. Why switch at all. I'll just plant myself here and stay.

The sun hung high overhead, but the room where the purple-haired girl lived was dim as a cave. The only light came from the monitor.

"Our newbie's no joke, dayo."

She reached for the snacks, scooped up a handful, and crushed them without mercy. Crunch. Her phone buzzed.

A text from Archery. Bound to be about their newbie. The purple-haired girl wiped the seasoning off her fingers and picked up the phone.

Floor 4 entry complete.

The battlefield has changed. A vast plain, a handful of enormous stones scattered across it. This one has horde fight written all over it. The stage hasn't opened yet, but I'm already glad I picked the rifle.

I click the selector to semi. Keep it there, or switch to full auto? That's the thought, anyway. Truth is, I want to rip it on full auto and just hose everything down.

The barrier begins to fade. My body heats up as if it's already craving the rifle's recoil.