Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Fully Armed
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“Ugh...”
I woke up with a grotesque groan.
Where was this?
It felt pretty soft and cushy, so not the mat in my SUV.
“Ah...”
Right. I’d called a designated driver.
Hunting down that orc and parking the car near Jirisan had gone fine, and I’d fallen asleep.
But I couldn’t wake up in the evening.
After the Survival Thirst skill deactivated, I’d been groaning in agony.
That skill dramatically boosted survival rates, but when it shut off, it took time to reactivate.
So the key to staying alive was to end fights fast and bolt the moment it activated.
I’d called both a designated driver and a taxi.
I could still picture the drivers’ baffled faces.
—Busan? You’re joking, right?
I’d told them straight-faced no, handed the car to the designated driver, and gotten carted off in the taxi’s back seat.
Finally made it to Busan, crawled home, and passed out.
“Hnnngh...”
I slowly tensed my neck, limbs, fingers, and toes in order.
Fortunately, nothing seemed broken or unusable.
Moving bit by bit loosened up my muscles.
“Won’t be doing this twice.”
Even as I said it, I knew I’d have to pull it off a couple more times.
I endured the nagging aches and finished my shower.
Then, while eating, I booted up my computer and searched.
Monsters, Jirisan, fires, etc.
I scoured the news, but no articles on what I feared.
“Figures. Nobody knows.”
Just a few posts in the Awakener communities.
Sorry the stream was boring!
I browsed more Awakener communities and spotted an odd post.
“A group preparing for the end times...”
Shortened to End Prep Mo.
Run by a self-proclaimed vet with over 3,000 hours playtime.
Verified ID and even uploaded gameplay footage...
“You? A vet?”
I snorted at the guy’s ID.
Come Watch
Wasn’t this one of the whiners?
Users who cleared the tutorial but couldn’t get past the orc wall.
Among them, some begged us incessantly for advice.
We called them whiners.
No skill, no drive, but endless demands.
Come Watch was infamous for persistence.
Stalking Bunny Duo’s feminine ID, begging nonstop, right?
“He’d die of shame if he knew Bunny Duo was a 30s dude.”
He even posted a “vet dance” video, but it was wrong.
In Survival Life, us vets did the Cossack dance.
You know, Russian soldiers with those crazy foot tricks.
Tough in real life, brutal in VR gear.
“Total scammer.”
Putting his name out there to recruit? Obvious goal: minions to leech off.
Dunno if it’ll work.
“Whatever, do you.”
So many groups popping up.
Extinction Survivors, Last Survivors—grand names.
Some offered “priority rights” for early joiners.
No explanation, but they’d turn into privileges, no doubt.
“Guilds handing out privileges...”
Reminded me of early-game Survival Life guilds pulling all sorts of crap.
Decent playtime meant they wouldn’t act sloppy.
They’d build offline power and bide time.
“These vets aren’t posting at all.”
Searched known vet IDs—nothing.
Just pleas from Awakeners hunting them.
Lesser vets? Zilch.
Probably prepping hard.
Me too—rested enough, time to work.
Calculating event dates, the sword importer called.
Finally here.
.
.
.
Arming swords, maces, spearheads galore, shields, machetes, arrowheads, 100-pound recurve bow, war club, survival knife, tomahawk, etc...
What’s with all this?
I ordered it, but it’s absurd.
Not one each—five per item.
Staring at the five gleaming arming swords felt reassuring.
The clerk, weapons lined up on display, grinned at me.
“Had a hell of a time importing these piecemeal.”
“Thanks for the trouble.”
Importing blades needs police permits and carry licenses.
I’d filed everything ahead, but hurdles were likely.
Korea’s strict on weapons.
So, split shipments under company names.
Loophole, but no choice for me now.
Clerk apologized for a missing item.
“Spear got denied clearance.”
Tch, oh well.
Spearheads okay, full spear no—weird, but bureaucracy gonna bureau.
With staff help, loaded weapons into the car and headed home.
Backed right up to the first-floor entrance, hauled to the second.
Inspected each one.
“Hmm... looks good.”
I’m no expert, but from a reputable seller—solid and cool-looking.
Take this arming sword.
No frills, pure functional beauty for combat.
Not razor-sharp, but I can hone it.
Not showing off anyway.
“Sucks can’t use early on...”
Gripped an arming sword, posed.
Early zombie apocalypse: Metal Plague shatters all metal.
Weapons and shields unusable.
Metal Plague eases in 6 months to a year.
Till then, forest stick or this Indian war club.
“One swing of this’d hurt bad.”
Sturdy ball end with spikes.
No metal, but smash right, skull shatters.
Easy handling—perfect for early zombies.
“Ebony stick and this should suffice.”
Later, more variety needed—points’ll cover.
Via dimension gate, stashed weapons in the cave.
Now, finish the mortal floor.
Staring at the mortar pile, arm ached.
“Hope I never meet one, but feels like I will.”
Quietly prepped work.
.
.
.
“Finally done...”
Cave floor leveled.
Not perfectly flat, but good enough for me.
“Not bad at all.”
Proud, shone tactical light inside.
Some rough spots—fix later.
Wait for drying, stockpile supplies.
Popped home briefly, returned to forest burdened with barbed wire and fence delivery.
“Why all at once?”
All my orders, but same day unnecessary.
But this sturdy fence and wire’ll guard hideout and me.
Hammered posts, gloved up, installed wire.
“Just keep Bone Creepers away...”
Goblins, kobolds—wire stops ’em.
Bigger ones? Smash through.
“Open entrance like so...”
Test: removed wire, stepped out.
“Such a pain.”
But for monsters, worse needed.
Camouflaged entrance wire with brush, headed home—another delivery text.
What day is this?
Big boxes: infrared sensors, stab vests, etc.
“Perfect.”
Geared up, shield and mace in hand, posed before mirror.
“...Total mook.”
You know post-apoc flicks? Motorcycle raiders chasing hero.
I looked just like them.
Face hidden by bike helmet, gray tactical gear everywhere.
Tactical boots too—full kit.
Won’t lose to goblin or kobold.
“Paralysis darts worry me...”
Max chaos, dive in.
Downsides: limited vision, clunky movement.
Bow tricky too.
Many flaws, but can’t ditch it.
“In forest, defense first.”
This ain’t a game.
Blind goblin dart, dragged off, vivisected alive? Horrible.
Installed infrared at entrance, patrolled cave area.
Anything snagged? Smash it.
Orc-plus excluded.
“Nothing.”
A forest rabbit darted past.
Apocalypse hits, gotta hunt those too.
“Can’t live on cans forever...”
Forest dimension unaffected by Metal Plague.
Scout coast for fishing, plow fields too.
More food, better.
To-do list grew.
Concealed cave, went home.
Pulled checklist, ticked off.
“Tomorrow: terrain recon... tetanus shot... water and food orders...”
Forest nights cold—need winter prep.
Unprepared for winter? Misery jackpot.
Wood stove, pipes needed.
Jotting notes, hunger hit.
Grabbed fridge snack—heard a voice.
“Mister~”
Mi-kyung’s.
Peered out window: her waving small from street.
Everyone staring—bold girl.
Down to first floor, she ran over.
“Whoa... you lost so much weight...”
Admired my face.
Not teasing—genuine awe.
Few days hell’ll do that.
“Been exercising. What’s up?”
“Mind if we talk?”
“Hard to go out geared. One sec.”
As I turned, she said,
“Can’t we just talk at your place?”
“My place?”
Nod nod.
No harm.
Young lady in dark room with guy—wary, but we’d seen each other, kinda friends now.
Nodded, headed up first.
First woman in my room... uh, gas lady aside.
“Come in.”
She bowed slight, slipped off small sneakers.
“Pardon the intrusion~”
Hm... white legs flashing—unsettling.
Her curious eyes scanned every corner.
“Heard guys’ rooms are messy... this is clean?”
“Nothing to mess up, usually.”
Mystery floor fuzz aside.
“I see. Oh, eat this with me. Grabbed from nearby.”
Plopped black bag on floor.
No clue why, but no reason to refuse.
Set table, she knelt neatly, unpacked.
Kimbap, fritters, tteokbokki...
“Mi-kyung, you love street food.”
She giggled.
“That’s why I always got tteokbokki at your shop.”
True...
Ate kimbap—meh.
Not trendy thin slices, skimped filling.
Mi-kyung happily melted cheese, bit tteokbokki—odd face.
“Not great, huh?”
Nod.
“Tteokbokki tasting bad? Tough.”
Swallowed, asked me,
“Mister, ever heard of... Kimbap Lover?”
?
I kept my face neutral.
Fully Armed End