Atla Raid (7)
The video was a tightly edited ten-minute highlight reel.
No one would watch if it were nothing but the endless, grinding slog of battle. There was a reason it had rocketed to the top of the recommendations.
It opened on a shaky frame.
Like every other Climber, the cameraman was struggling to film someone clawing their way up Atla’s leg.
“Ah, fuck! Not even a scratch.”
“They actually expect us to crack this thing?”
Curses and screams bled through the footage. On the mountain-range of a shell, Climbers desperately hammered their weapons down in a scene of pure desperation. The camera lingered on that hopeless sight and let out a sigh thick with defeat.
Then it happened.
“Whoa!”
“Ooooh, he cracked it!”
“Who the hell is that?”
At the shout from someone in the video, the camera whipped around. The frame jolted violently before locking onto a single point.
There was a man.
Thunk! Crack!
The instant he yanked his sword free, a chunk of the shell dropped away.
“Oh, damn—that’s insane.”
The cameraman’s awed voice was captured right along with it.
The community system’s Film Mode was notoriously clunky; anyone short of a real veteran could barely keep a stable composition.
In any case, the recording continued—and before long, every Climber watching felt their thoughts freeze solid.
Four beings encircled the man in a perfect formation.
A squat figure planted firmly on the shell, sending out pulses as if reading the earth’s veins. A lizard perched on his shoulder, scales already glowing as if ready to vomit searing flame. A blue girl hovering in midair, condensing icy cold. And a fairy circling with blade-like wingbeats, scouting the next target.
“……A quad.”
The cameraman’s dazed mutter spoke for everyone watching.
Did that even make sense?
Controlling spirits at a high level was already astonishing. Duals and triples existed. But a quad?
The earth spirit pointed out a section of shell; the fire spirit heated it. The water spirit flash-cooled the spot, and the wind spirit drove into the resulting fissure. Then the man’s sword punched through without fail.
Thunk, crumble!
Same method every time. After each strike he vanished in a fluid blur of footwork.
Confusion piled on confusion.
Then someone still thinking clearly spoke up.
The one who makes the rules?
Doesn’t need to follow them.
The instant that comment dropped, the live chat flipped completely.
The video rolled on.
Once the Pioneer’s identity was revealed, his movements looked even more godlike. Wherever his blade touched, the shell tore like paper instead of armor. The spirits’ coordination accelerated; the sword moved faster still.
Disassembly.
It was no longer destruction—it was systematic dismantling.
The cameraman forgot to breathe while he filmed.
How much time passed? At last the deepest layer of the shell gave way, revealing a colossal core that pulsed with red-black energy.
“Found it! Gravity Core!”
Someone in the video shouted. The cameraman immediately swung down into the massive hole Hyun Si-woon had carved. When the frame zoomed in, every watching Climber unconsciously held their breath.
A gigantic heart waited there.
Its surface was black and slick as if carved from obsidian. Inside, crimson lines of mana writhed like living veins, throbbing.
Thump—! Thump—!
A low, ominous beat seemed to punch through the screen itself.
Before the question finished, the man was already leaping.
Thunk!
His sword drove dead-center into the Gravity Core without a flicker of hesitation.
“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
Atla’s death scream shook the entire island of Jeju. A ground-shaking roar followed as the massive body began to collapse. The camera jolted violently; Climbers’ cheers exploded loud enough to rupture eardrums.
And in the center of the frame, the message every Climber had been waiting for appeared.
Congratulations!
You have successfully defeated Atla!
Contribution calculation will begin in 9 hours and 49 minutes.
“Hwaaaaaaaah!”
The cameraman’s ecstatic voice rang out. Staggering, he swung the camera around again, desperate to catch one more shot of the hero.
But no one was there.
That was where the video ended.
And that was why the community detonated.
At that same moment, atop the shell of Incheon’s Atla—
KRA-KRA-KRA-KRAANG!
Yoo Jin-hyeok’s sword triggered another chain of explosions.
Right then—
“Hey, leader.”
Jeong Da-wit approached.
“Yeah?”
“You check the community?”
“Community?”
“Yeah. Jeju side. They already took down their Atla.”
“What?”
That was absurd. Even here in Incheon, where he and the woman he suspected to be EndSeeker were working, they still had a long way to go just peeling the shell. How could anyone already be finished?
Yoo Jin-hyeok kept hacking at the shell while he opened the community window. Deep furrows of suspicion cut across his brow.
Rage-bait, probably.
It wasn’t even Seoul or Busan—it was Jeju. Common sense said it was impossible.
But the post’s recommendation count and the real-time flood of comments proved it was no simple lie.
Yoo Jin-hyeok swallowed dryly and, with a trembling gaze, hit play.
“…….”
Ten minutes flew by. He was so absorbed he never noticed the time pass.
What the hell is this.
Even after the video ended he couldn’t speak for a long while.
Using spirits and a sword at the same time?
Earlier he had faced the spear-wielding woman, Jang Cha-yul. He had been 99 percent certain she was EndSeeker. Force that overwhelming simply had no other explanation.
Then who is that man?
If he wasn’t EndSeeker, did that mean another monster of that caliber existed?
And the number of people suddenly going viral was ridiculous.
[HOT] There’s a crazy archer in Daegu;; (video included)
[HOT] Crazy archer? Some bear is rampaging in Gwangju. (edited footage)
“…….”
On a hunch he watched the other videos too. He turned into a speechless mute.
Every single one of them was monstrously skilled. They shared one more trait.
They spam every kind of skill.
Unique items alone couldn’t explain it.
And…
The main weapons of these controversial Climbers were all different.
Which meant?
No way.
One possibility snapped into place.
They’re all the same party?
The moment the thought struck, goosebumps raced over his entire body.
His own party was an all-star team—the absolute peaks of every field in the real world, gathered in one place. But these people?
They were on another level entirely.
That distant wall he had felt facing Jang Cha-yul in Incheon… monsters of that caliber didn’t exist as a single individual. They existed as an entire party.
Only then did Yoo Jin-hyeok grasp the situation.
Those people are EndSeeker’s party!
Grit.
The sound of grinding teeth leaked through his clenched jaw.
Humiliation. The wretched powerlessness of realizing the kingdom he had built was nothing more than a speck on some greater being’s palm. Every one of those emotions shredded his pride to ribbons.
But he was still Yoo Jin-hyeok.
He was Oracle.
I don’t give up.
KRAAAAAANG!
The force behind his next sword swing turned savage beyond comparison.
Not for victory. He already knew he couldn’t win.
Still…
Bloodshot eyes locked on.
That woman at least…
He now knew the spear-user was not EndSeeker. Compared to the other members in the videos, her level wasn’t even that overwhelming.
In fact…
The man who had cleared Jeju—the one presumed to be the Pioneer—was far more likely to be EndSeeker. He had briefly considered the archer, but that girl was a famous gold medalist. Realistically, a nineteen-year-old national archery team member being a rotten-to-the-core gamer was nearly impossible.
Just beat that woman.
The goal had changed. Even if he excluded EndSeeker himself, he could still take one of the party members, right?
“Hyaaaaaap!”
Yoo Jin-hyeok roared and poured everything into his blade.
Hyun Si-woon’s party was performing brilliantly overall.
Pioneer Hyun Si-woon.
Mad Archer Kang Si-a.
Rampaging Bear Hwang Dae-un.
Coiling Dragon Jang Cha-yul.
The community was practically wallpapered with their dazzling exploits.
But that was only true for the damage dealers.
Two positions remained ambiguous: Baek Yeon-ho and Baek Do-hee. As tank and healer, they were naturally not specialized in shell-cracking.
First, Daejeon.
Crunch! Crack!
Baek Yeon-ho had slung his shield across his back and was hammering Atla’s shell with his bare fists—damage dealing via Diamond Fist.
“Ohhh, rookie! You can throw a punch after all? But there’s no power behind it. Try twisting your waist more!”
Ah, just shut up for a second.
He let Kenzo’s nagging wash over one ear while he kept swinging without rest. Dozens of other Climbers clung to the shell around him, yet the gouges Baek Yeon-ho left were incomparably deeper.
“Whoa, what’s with that guy?”
“He’s carrying a shield—shouldn’t he be a tank? Why’s he punching?”
“But the damage is actually disgusting.”
“Some new hidden skill?”
A shield-bearing tank smashing a shell with his fists. A few people were filming him, and he really was peeling a decent amount of shell. Still, it wasn’t the kind of firepower that set the community on fire.
He, too, was watching his teammates’ real-time exploits through the community.
Damn, everyone’s gone insane.
The Jeju video in particular had hit him hard.
Si-woon really isn’t human, is he.
Impatience flared. The anxiety of being left behind alone.
“Kraaaaaah!”
Baek Yeon-ho drove his fists even harder.
Next, Seoul.
Baek Do-hee could do nothing.
No—there was nothing she could do. Her Saint’s Prayer was lethal against undead, but it had zero effect on the living titan’s hardened shell. Healing power couldn’t melt armor, after all.
So she decided to focus entirely on treating the injured.
How did people get hurt when the turtle just sat there?
“Aaaagh!”
Like that—plenty of people simply lost their footing and fell.
“Ghh—s-someone help, my leg!”
“Hah.”
Because it was Seoul there were quite a few healers, but mages still outnumbered them. She was already feeling the strain on medical manpower.
No choice, then.
Baek Do-hee dropped to her knees, preparing to unfold Saint’s Prayer.