I Have Played This Game

"Bennett-nim!"

"I'm fine. Good work."

Clack-clack-clack!

When bolts began raining down from both above and below at the same time, Bennett took it in stride. Ambishes in stairwells were practically routine in places like this. But what followed forced even a veteran like him to feel a prickle of genuine alarm: both flanking groups were armed with rapid-fire repeating crossbows. And these weren't shoddy, knockoff replicas either—they were genuine dwarven masterworks.

Thump! Th-thump!

Fortunately, the incoming volley failed to inflict any real damage. Edgar's reinforced shield shuddered with each impact, but that was the extent of it. Bennett peered through the narrow observation slit cut into the shield's plating. The ambushers wore matching gear—a clear sign they were an organized expedition party. Up above stood a ranger paired with a swordsman, while the rest of their squad waited in formation on the lower flight of stairs.

Reconfirming their positions with Detection, Bennett called out to Kyle.

"Kyle, take the upper landing. It's a ranger and a swordsman. They're laying down suppressing fire, but their magazines will empty any second."

"Understood!"

"Edgar, the moment I tap your shoulder, advance right up to the edge of the downward stairs. Not an inch farther."

Bennett held his breath, calculating the cadence of the fire. Then he firmly tapped Edgar's pauldron.

Click!

Right on cue, the rapid clicking from the upper landing cut out. Edgar lunged forward, using his massive frame to seal off the lower stairs. Behind him, Kyle burst forth like an arrow released from a bowstring, his longsword flashing in a lethal thrust. The enemy ranger, desperately fumbling with a fresh magazine, stared in wide-eyed horror as steel tore through his windpipe.

"Ghk—"

The swordsman beside him swung his blade in panic, but Kyle shoved the dying ranger's heavy body directly into the strike. The errant swing cleaved uselessly into his own comrade. Kyle stepped through the opening without missing a beat, his follow-through severing the swordsman's throat in a single fluid stroke.

Claaang!

Down on the landing below, Bennett slipped the barrel of Shooting Star through the gap beside Edgar's shield. The female ranger coordinating the fire from the bottom of the stairs gasped, her eyes bulging.

"They have a repeating crossbow too?!"

Th-th-thump!

The counterattack came at the worst possible moment—the exact second her drum had run dry. Knowing the lethality of a rapid-fire weapon better than anyone, she threw herself backward in a frantic retreat.

"Buy me some time!"

"I've got you!"

Her vanguard companion stepped into the breach, planting his tower shield squarely across the stairs to screen her retreat—

Thunk-thunk-thunk!

The ranger paused mid-reload, paralyzed by what she was seeing. Her vanguard was already slumping against the wall, several armor-piercing bolts driven clean through the center of his reinforced shield and into his chest.

"Wh-what? How did that punch through?"

Even against a masterwork repeating crossbow, an enchanted vanguard shield should have held against basic bolts. Yet before her bewildered mind could process the impossibility, a dark figure surged into the periphery of her vision. Seeing Bennett charging down the steps, she slammed the magazine home with desperate haste and raised her weapon.

Th-th-thump!

True to her training, she aimed low, hammering a burst into his torso and legs—the widest targets available.

Her bolts tore through empty air. Before she could blink, Bennett had vanished and materialized directly in front of her. She didn't even have time to scream. The weighted frame of Shooting Star slammed into her jaw like a steel bludgeon, whipping her head violently aside. In the breath between heartbeats, a razor-sharp combat dagger drove into her sternum. The ranger desperately surged her mana to form an internal shroud, but the Psionic Energy coating the blade sliced through the magical defense like parchment.

Squeltch! Chk!

The blade struck with brutal efficiency—puncturing the heart, flanking the ribs, and burying into her armpit. She couldn't even manage a dying shriek, only a faint, suffocated rattle slipping from her lips.

"Hnk..."

"Halt right there!"

From the foot of the stairs on the fourth floor, an enemy mage leveled his staff. The air rippled with a shrill, shrieking whine—wind magic. Recognizing the signature distortion of compressed gale blades, Bennett snatched the collapsing ranger's corpse and hoisted it up as a human shield.

Ssshhk! Rip!

The scything blades of wind struck the dead woman's back, reducing leather and flesh to ribbons. Bennett shoved the mangled body forward just as a fully armored knight lunged up the stairs, his broadsword extended in a vicious impaling thrust. The blade pierced straight through the ranger's corpse. Even with the added deadweight of his comrade on his sword, the knight didn't break stride, intending to pin Bennett right through the meat.

Bennett waited until the tip was inches away before stepping lightly to the side.

The broadsword buried itself deep into the concrete wall ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with a dull screech. The knight snarled, yanking hard to free his weapon, but Bennett's Shooting Star was already leveled at his visor. The knight flinched, then let out a contemptuous bark of laughter.

"Ha! You think mere arrows can pierce—"

Crack.

The knight's eyes went wide behind his slits. A bolt humming with psionic energy punched straight through his aura-reinforced steel helmet and tore through his brainpan. His jaw worked silently for a moment before his knees buckled and he crashed down the steps like a sack of scrap iron.

"Fireball!"

"Shield!"

The enemy mage unleashed another offensive spell, but Erika stepped up right behind Bennett, deploying a radiant translucent barrier that swallowed the explosion whole. Bennett gave her a silent nod of gratitude, stepped through the dispersing smoke, and pulled the trigger.

The mage ducked frantically behind the concrete banister, but the psionic-tipped bolt punched clean through the masonry as if it were plaster.

"Gaaagh!"

With a bolt protruding from his back, the mage crawled desperately across the fourth-floor corridor. Bennett calmly raised his crossbow and sent a second round through his skull, ending his struggles. The man shuddered once, then went limp.

"Edgar, come down."

"Right behind you!"

Leaving Edgar to secure the stairs, Bennett and the rest of the party immediately set to work stripping the fallen ambushers. The opposing squad had consisted of six members: one mage, two rangers armed with repeating crossbows, one shield-bearing vanguard, one light swordsman, and one armored knight.

"These people..." Kyle murmured, examining an insignia sewn onto the inner lining of the knight's mantle.

"Recognize them?"

"I believe they belong to an expedition force from House Beryl."

It was a name Bennett had heard in tavern chatter and guild halls. While they didn't hold supreme power within Dungeon City, they were widely considered ambitious contenders maneuvering to claim rulership over the districts. Yet they were far more notorious for something else.

"The dwarven half-bloods," Bennett said.

"Precisely."

House Beryl was famous for its heavily mixed dwarven lineage. The bloodline's traits were unmistakable: both men and women tended to be stout, broad-shouldered, and remarkably hirsute. More importantly, they held immense pride in their dwarven ancestry and maintained intimate diplomatic and commercial ties with the sovereign Dwarf Kingdom. Whenever dwarven slaves needed liberating, or expatriate dwarves fell into legal trouble on the continent, House Beryl was always the first to intervene with coin or steel.

"That explains how they managed to field two genuine repeating crossbows," Kyle noted. Given that the Dwarf Kingdom sold degraded knockoffs to outsiders at exorbitant prices, an influential faction like House Beryl wouldn't have had any trouble securing authentic originals through their homeland connections.

"Bennett-nim, we've gathered everything of value."

"Good."

The corpses were neatly stacked in a corner, flanked by their confiscated weapons and gear. Leaving behind the items ruined during the skirmish, the remaining haul alone promised a handsome bounty once brought back to the surface. With their packs weighted down, the unicorn party pushed through the fire door onto the fourth floor.

Screeech.

The heavy door groaned open, revealing an office space that felt far more like a fortified military bunker than a corporate workplace. Thick concrete walls and bulletproof glass framed the perimeter, and the corridors were narrow and cramped, barely wide enough for two grown men to walk abreast. Mounted high on the ceiling, a dome-shaped glass fixture blinked with a steady, rhythmic crimson glow—the same surveillance device Bennett had encountered in the Abandoned Headquarters.

Marco said these things were called surveillance cameras.

Bennett focused on the red light itself. An active light meant it was drawing power. And if the cameras were still functional, it meant other facility systems and automated defenses were likely active as well.

Reading the sign written in the Dungeon Language, Bennett retrieved the card he had scavenged earlier from Senior Administrator Kim Dae-won and pressed it against the scanner beside the bulkhead.

Beep!

The scanner flashed green, and the dual steel doors slid apart into the wall, unveiling an austere, monochrome corridor. At the far end lay a split junction.

Just before the junction stood an expansive front desk and partition.

Beyond the reinforced glass counter, several logbooks lay scattered across the tables. Bennett flipped through the dusty pages, his brow furrowing as he translated the characters.

The card currently in his hand bore that exact name: Kim Dae-won.

"We check the Security Office first," Bennett commanded.

The office's security door refused to recognize Kim Dae-won's credential, forcing them to breach the lock using raw force and a coat of psionic energy.

Creeeak—shhk!

A wave of stale, suffocating dust rolled out from the unsealed room. Suppressing a cough, Bennett stepped inside and scanned the dark interior. While Kyle and Edgar rummaged through metal lockers looking for standard loot, Bennett's eyes tracked across the desks with singular focus.

Security Wing. Where is the Security Wing?

Every instinct told him that the true core of this research facility was housed inside whatever they called the Security Wing. The problem was figuring out its location—and obtaining the clearance required to get through its doors. Rounding a corner cubicle, Bennett stopped in his tracks.

"Found it."

A printed briefing sat on a steel desk next to a cracked electronic tablet. Recalling how well tablets had fetched on the black market during his last run, Bennett clicked his tongue in disappointment at the shattered screen before turning his attention to the paper.

Bennett committed the written passphrase to memory. It was rendered in the Korean script of the Dungeon Language, but the sentence itself was utterly bizarre and lacked any obvious military context.

He pulled open the desk's lower drawers, systematically checking each compartment until his hand hit something rigid at the very back of the lowest drawer. He pulled out a stack of laminated cards.

Unlike Kim Dae-won's administrative pass, these had no photograph or printed name. Instead, a peculiar pattern of vertical lines and bars occupied the bottom edge.

What is this? It doesn't look like Dungeon Language letters.

There were several passes in the drawer. Bennett pocketed them and distributed one to each party member. Next, he uncovered a laminated facility schematic pinned beneath a corkboard, finally pinpointing the mysterious Security Wing.

It had been cleverly disguised, occupying the entirety of what was labeled the 'Chemical Laboratory.'

The scale of this complex is far larger than I thought.

Beyond Building 1—where they had entered—and the central Main Building they were currently standing in, the complex spanned several detached research facilities ringing the courtyard. The Chemical Laboratory sat within Building 5, situated at the furthest edge of the grounds.

"Bennett-nim, we've secured everything ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we could carry," Kyle reported.

The actual salvage from the security office was modest. Rather than firearms, the weapon lockers contained only several collapsible metal truncheons—expandable batons—and half a dozen thick, padded vests.

Edgar hefted one of the dense, slate-gray vests, his brow furrowed. "What is this strange armor? It's remarkably heavy, but there's no steel or mail woven into it."

"It's called body armor," Bennett explained, recalling Balduin's lectures on ancient human military equipment. "Garments designed specifically to catch and stop bullets."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Bullets? From those thunder-weapons?"

"Depending on the grade, yes. According to Balduin, different vests are tailored against different calibers. These ones are relatively light, so they're likely intended to stop pistol rounds."

"Fascinating..."

Even if it couldn't stop high-caliber rifle fire, armor capable of halting firearm projectiles could easily deflect light blades or crossbow quarrels. Bennett had the party pack all six vests before moving on to inspect the Archives and the Server Room.

Unlocking their bulkheads with a pulse of psionic energy took little effort, but the rooms offered little reward. The Archives were massive, lined with thousands of metal filing cabinets, yet virtually all the paper had been reduced to ashes or shredded away, likely burned for warmth by desperate survivors in the early days of the catastrophe.

The Server Room, on the other hand, was an intimidating labyrinth of humming black monoliths. Enormous rack cabinets stood shoulder-to-shoulder under flickering green and amber diodes, filling the chill air with an incessant, low mechanical thrum. The sheer complexity of the machinery was mesmerizing, but the servers were far too massive to dismantle or carry, and Bennett had no idea how to extract value from them regardless.

"...We head for Building 5," Bennett decided.

"Yes, sir."

The second and third floors had already been ransacked by the Beryl expedition, their bulkhead doors hanging wide open. Descending back to the ground floor, Bennett used his mapping skills to guide the party around the dormant spatial anomalies, locating an alternate rear exit that opened directly toward the courtyard.

The moment they reached the threshold, however, they stopped cold.

Pouring down from the open night sky was the eerie, suffocating radiance of The Blue Light.

"What do we do?" Erika whispered, terror creeping into her voice.

There was no canopy or covered walkway connecting the buildings. If they stepped into the courtyard unprotected, the blue radiance would penetrate their minds, turning their eyes into glowing lanterns and reducing them to mindless thralls raving at the moon.

Bennett's eyes darted across the exit lobby, landing on a pile of debris discarded in the corner.

"What are those?"

Erika reached down and lifted one of the garments. It was a full-body hooded robe designed to drape from head to toe. The material was bizarre—a mirror-sheened, silver composite fabric that was unnaturally slick to the touch, reflecting ambient light like liquid mercury. The hood featured a wide visor made of tinted, opaque black film, and several identical suits lay strewn across the floor.

Could it be?

Taking the silver garment from Erika, Bennett pulled it over his head. The hem reached all the way to the floor, slightly brushing the tiles, while the black visor settled over his eyes. Completely sealed within the strange suit, he took a step toward the courtyard doors.

"B-Bennett-nim?!" Kyle gasped.

"Wait, no! It's too dangerous!"

Ignoring their panicked protests, Bennett pushed open the door and stepped out under the open sky, directly into the downpour of the Blue Light.

Nothing happened.

The silver fabric repelled the supernatural light, its reflective coating scattering the eerie luminescence before it could touch his skin or seep into his senses.

"Are you alright?!" Kyle called from the threshold.

"I'm completely fine. This clothing seems designed to shield against it."

A collective sigh of relief echoed from the lobby.

"Put them on," Bennett ordered. "Every single one of you."

Though visibly unnerved, Kyle, Edgar, and Erika donned the silver hazmat robes and stepped into the moonlight one by one. True to Bennett's word, none of them suffered any ill effects.

"Do not engage in combat unless forced," Bennett said, his voice slightly muffled behind the visor.

"I don't think we could swing a sword properly in these things anyway..." Edgar muttered, adjusting the awkward hem.

"Move out."

The courtyard was eerily quiet. A few wandering zombies roamed the concrete plaza, but they merely stood motionless, staring blankly upward at the sky. Though soaked in the blue moonlight, they did not project the blinding sapphire glare from their eye sockets the way living victims did.

Distorted screams and manic laughter occasionally drifted through the night from the other annexes, but Bennett kept the party moving forward without pausing to investigate.

"Look with us! Join the vision!"

"Is there anyone out there who wants to behold this magnificent sight with meee?!"

Near the entrance of Building 5, they crossed paths with another scavenger party that had fallen prey to the Blue Moon. Their eyes burned with terrifying sapphire light as they wandered aimlessly, babbling in religious ecstasy. Fortunately, the cult-like thralls failed to notice the silver-shrouded figures slipping past them in the shadows, wandering off toward the far fences instead.

Above the heavy blast doors of Building 5 hung a clean metal placard:

Once inside the airlock, the four of them stripped off the stifling silver robes, gasping for breath. Whether from sheer tension or the airtight synthetic weave, their undergarments were completely drenched in sweat.

"Take a five-minute breather before we advance," Bennett instructed.

"Understood."

They shared a canteen of cold, heavily sweetened instant coffee and chewed on strips of dried meat to replenish their stamina. Once refreshed, Bennett led them deeper into the facility.

Unlike the previous buildings, this complex had no windows whatsoever—neither exterior nor interior. The layout was aggressively compartmentalized; every twenty paces, another reinforced bulkhead stood barring their path, requiring Bennett to swipe the dedicated Security Wing pass each time to cycle the locks.

They bypassed four consecutive checkpoints in this manner. Just as they rounded a blind corner into a broad, unlit hall—relieved to find no bulkhead in sight—a sharp sound echoed through the gloom.

Clack, clack. Clack, clack.

"Halt."

Bennett raised a fist, freezing the party in place. Kyle and Edgar drew their weapons, their expressions hardening as the heavy, rhythmic tapping of metallic joints grew louder.

"That sound..." Edgar whispered.

"Yes," Bennett murmured.

Through the darkness ahead, a solitary crimson optic flared to life. Stepping forward with mechanical, predatory grace was a quadrupedal combat platform—a Poongsan robot dog.

Bennett subtly gathered psionic energy in his fingertips, preparing for an immediate combat engagement. But the machine paid his energy signature no heed, its optical sensor sweeping horizontally across the entire party before emitting a synthesized feminine voice in the Dungeon Language.

Clack!

The weapon pod mounted to the platform's chassis whirred to life, its multi-barrel rotary assembly pivoting to lock dead-center on Bennett's chest. The dark muzzle looked primed to spit high-caliber death at the slightest twitch.

Bennett remained perfectly calm. Reaching slowly into his coat, he withdrew the dedicated Security Wing pass and held it out toward the machine. Kyle, Edgar, and Erika followed his lead without being told, raising their own passes in unison.

Bzzzzzzt—

A broad fan of red light beamed from the robot dog's cycloptic eye, scanning the vertical barcodes printed on their cards.

Bennett didn't lower his guard. He knew the protocol wasn't finished.

Bennett recalled the absurd phrase he had read in the security office briefing. Speaking in clear, deliberate Dungeon Language, he recited the code.

"I have..."

"...played this game before."

The menacing crimson glare of the cycloptic optic flickered out, replaced instantly by a docile, emerald green glow. The rotary weapon mount powered down with a low, descending whine and locked back into its travel cradle.

The mechanical guardian lowered its chassis slightly, stepping aside to clear the passage into the heart of the research facility.