Preparing a Disaster-Class Troll Strike on the Hunter Gallery

A day has passed since the Ophiuchus Gallery went private.

Why does everyone assume I'd only pick one?

I've learned one thing from all my time posting on galleries. A question with the answer already baked in isn't a question ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at all.

A prime example: lmao or rofl ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— which one would you pick?

Lmao or rofl, which would I choose?! Obviously I'm taking the whole damn keyboard smash. AHAHAHAHAHA.

Ahem... anyway.

A book pops into my head — one whose title everyone knows, even if they've never actually read it.

No Longer Human.

That's right. If literary history has No Longer Human, then this kind of question is No Longer a Question.

Byeolbaembaem's question is the same breed. Post on the Hunter Gallery, or keep climbing — which one am I going to do?

I'll do both.

Besides, a first appearance has to hit hard.

Proof of a 4th-floor clear? The number's awkward, and it just feels... off.

I'll stamp the 5th floor clean, kill the mid-boss, and burst onto the scene like a comet.

There goes my heart again. It's been pounding a lot lately. Am I about to develop arrhythmia at this rate?

......

Cut the bullshit.

"Enter the Tower!"

Hey. I'm back.

The Tower's interior is the same as ever. The enormous white barrier dividing the battlefield from the waiting area. Five minutes of standby.

One thing is different, though: the battlefield itself.

Not a grassy plain, not a rocky field with a few piles of stones — a village on fire.

So this is what a mid-boss fight looks like? It's got atmosphere, I'll give it that.

Ah... come to think of it, I never asked what would show up. Too excited, maybe? Lately I keep making mistakes that don't feel like me.

...Or do they? Was this always who I was? All those years of calculating everything down to the decimal, reviewing the plan over and over, moving with absolute caution — was that just a version of myself I manufactured?

The sudden self-reflection session makes my head hurt.

This is me and that's me too, I guess.

Focus on the battlefield.

Before I know it, two minutes remain.

Hah...

The high that had me buzzing settles, nice and quiet. The heart that was hammering with excitement finds its rhythm again.

I give the firearm one last check. Click. Click. Tap. Tap. Firearm status: good.

I look myself over from head to toe. Outfit status... poor. Once this stage is over, I should put together a proper set of gear.

Except for Stage 1, the tutorial, Stages 2, 3, and 4 were easy. Too easy. Even so, I can't let my guard down.

Even someone who holds everything in their hands can eat dirt from a single moment of carelessness. And it doesn't take an example that extreme. I've seen it more times than I can count. What pushed people over the line between living and dying wasn't a lack of skill — it was arrogant complacency.

I roll my thumb and click the selector to full-auto.

I set myself ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to run, same as always. Eyes locked on the entrance.

Five seconds left.

The barrier lifts, and the noise of the battlefield slams into my ears. Everything around me is burning. I think I can hear screaming. The acrid stench of char punches into my nose — I've smelled this plenty of times. Skin burning. Damn... not exactly a pleasant memory.

I shake it off and lock back onto the battlefield, ducking behind the cover I'd already marked.

No monsters yet.

In that case, I put my sight on the entrance. The goal is an entrance cut — drop them the second they spawn.

If I were holding a sword or a mace, I'd still be sprinting my lungs out just to make that cut. Even with a bow, unless you've got some kind of rapid-fire skill, you're getting one shot, maybe. I'll grant that one shot would hit like a truck. But still — no matter how fast a person's hands are, can they keep up with a gun that spits seven hundred rounds a minute?

I'm in the middle of that thought when—

KUNG!!!

A footfall of staggering size.

Hah... come on, then.

I'll turn you into swiss cheese.

KUNG!!!

The house I'm leaning against shudders. Brick dust trickles down from above.

Whoa...

KUNG!!!!

The footsteps grow louder, and at the same time the entrance itself keeps getting bigger. What had been a two-and-a-half-meter opening is three meters before I know it, then three and a half, and it just keeps stretching.

KWAANG!!!!!

It's not a thud anymore. It's a crash. My body shakes along with it.

The shaking is a variable. Is it because I've gotten so small? Damn it.

Focus. When it comes to shooting, I've always had this. A disrupted sight picture just needs to be realigned.

The footsteps stop.

The entrance looks about six meters across. If the goblin's around six meters tall, the head should be about... here. I draw an imaginary head-line and shift my sight onto it.

The world around me is a racket of fire and screaming, but the space I occupy feels silent. Like I've partitioned the battlefield off from where I am.

I'm staring at the entrance, swallowing, when—

KWAANG! KWAANG! KWAANG! KWAANG!

A furious barrage of footfalls, and at the same instant—

UOOOOOOOORGH!!!

A roar like fifty bombs going off at once.

Eeeeeee—

What, did this thing swallow a locomotive? Why is its voice that loud? My ears have already clocked out of the job; all they're doing is spitting out a useless ringing.

I'm hanging onto the thread of concentration that's trying to bolt when—

There it is!

The head-line is exactly where I predicted. No reason to hesitate.

I fire.

TADADADADANG!

...Huh?

The trajectory was perfect. All twelve rounds of the burst flew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dead honest at the goblin's skull.

The result, however, was not perfect.

TINGTINGTINGTINGTING!!

It didn't punch through?

The bullets bounced off the goblin's helmet. The goblin staggered from the impact, but only for a moment. It found its balance and started charging straight at me.

KWAANG! KWAANG! KWAANG!

Figures. Since when is anything in this world easy?

I don't panic. I rapidly scan for gaps in the armor. There are quite a few. The front of the torso, the forehead, the shins — those are covered, obviously. But the joints, the eyes, the mouth — those are wide open. Kind of like low-level armor in an RPG.

Weak points confirmed. Hit those and I'm good. But let me check one more thing.

Third Bullet — Magic Bullet.

Can the enhanced rounds punch through the armor?

I activate the skill and resume fire. A three-round burst this time.

TADANG!

TINGTING!!!

They still bounce — but unlike before, the impact point is slightly dented.

Fifteen rounds left.

Shall I?

I think I can punch through.

The goblin has gotten considerably closer. Twenty meters, give or take? The original plan was to relocate by now.

So why do I feel like I can pierce it?

I kick off and break from cover. I drop to one knee, settling into a kneeling firing position.

I can do this.

Fifteen meters. The goblin's roar feels like it'll split my eardrums. No — they already burst, probably. It's so thunderous my brain is vibrating along with it.

Even so, I can do this. Not arrogance. Not conceit. Certainty in my own skill, a step beyond both.

I can hit it. I can put fifteen rounds through the exact same point I already hit. No — including the remaining thirty, all forty-five.

I hold my breath.

Ten meters.

Sight picture.

Fire!!

TADADADADADADADADADADADANG!!!

Casings rain down.

Did I get it?

Ha. Haha.

Hahahaha!

The goblin's massive body, its head gone, tips backward — slowly, so very slowly.

The aftertaste of recoil is still in my arms. Dopamine floods me from the tips of my toes to the crown of my skull, swelling, right on the edge of bursting.

This is me.

This is who I am! Wahahaha!

I haul myself up, about to strike a full-blown pose, when—

KWAAAAANG!!

"Uweeek?"

The shockwave from the goblin hitting the ground nearly puts me on my ass.

Phew...

Ahem. Ahem!

There's nobody here but me, but it's still embarrassing.

I tidy my hair for no real reason. Girls grab their bangs like this and smooth them down, right...?

......?

Wait... why did that movement come out so naturally?

Ugh.

I shake my head hard. Forget it. Drop it. Don't think about it.

I ignore the heat in my face as best I can and approach the corpse.

Say cheese. I need a photo.

Too vintage? Throw up a gyaru peace sign or something.

Ah, you can't, can you?

Hahaha!

......

Got way too excited there... hey. You a psychopath? What's wrong with you.

I have emotions, and I am definitely not a psychopath. And I'm not the kind of person who stands over something like this going haha, hoho.

Deokbae. I get that you're happy. And I get that lately something's been getting weird...!

Let's not become a monster. Let's live as a human until the end.

A promise.

After I'd settled the excitement as far as it would go, I made a promise with myself. One I'll keep for life. Finishing the photos and taking a short moment of mourning was a bonus.

That aside, this is this — I still have to post proof on the Hunter Gallery.

Here comes a mega-bomb.

You were curious who Deokbae was, weren't you?

Just wait.

I wanted to show myself too.

My favorite sound in the world. The sound of a settlement completing. Easily on par with a your package has been delivered text. Like Pavlov's dog, just seeing those words gets me going.

Hurry... show me! Show me that jacked, massive, ultra-tier reward!

A brilliantly glittering orb.

Khhh... the lustrous orb I used to see only after bleeding myself dry on the gacha grind now comes out as naturally as breathing.

POOF!!

Come to me, sweet rewards.

The usual flavor. Yeah, yeah — the usual flavor is good too.

I was feeling a slight pang of disappointment that a mid-boss fight hadn't dropped anything extra when another reward stacked on.

A Hidden Piece!!

I was wondering why there wasn't one. So that's where you were hiding?

Yeah, yeah. I'll put you to good use. Hurry up and show yourself. Look at me and tell me your name and abilities!

God?

Status? What's with status all of a sudden? Gonna bump me up a caste? I'm not even Indian.

ID card?

Huh?

A completely random item popped out. At the same time, my brain finished rapidly assessing its purpose and use, and I had no choice but to smack my forehead.

If things would just drop the way I pictured them, that'd be great, wouldn't it?!