Chapter 3
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Supply Procurement (2), Camp Roberts
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#Supply Procurement (2), Camp Roberts
After going through procedures like tactical maneuvers, basic hand signals, and mental conditioning, the supply procurement mission finally commenced. In truth, it was little more than a formality. A crowd had gathered to see off the vehicles as they departed. What they were thinking as they waved goodbye remained a mystery. If he had higher ranks in leadership skills like Insight or Discernment, he might have been able to read them.
As he pondered skills, the control AI reacted to his subconscious and displayed a help message.
「AI Help (Insight Rank 4): You have unused spare experience points available. Experience points are consumed when acquiring skills, and your base stats also improve through skill acquisition. Acquiring skills without prior knowledge requires a large amount of experience points. Even simply confirming the existence of a specific skill can consume experience points. If you have sufficient prior knowledge and experience with a skill, the experience points required for acquisition decrease. Prior knowledge can be gained from books or friendly NPCs. For skills acquired in previous playthroughs, the experience required for reacquisition decreases based on the number of times learned. In some situations, acquiring a skill with no prior knowledge—even at great expense—may prove more beneficial. The choice is yours, Player.」
He already knew all that.
The boy opened his skill list. Skills he was unaware of didn't even appear. There was a way to check for related skills by entering specific keywords, but as the control personality had warned, that would consume experience points. Acquiring the skill afterward would require several times more. This was called the 「Disadvantage of Ignorance – Unknown Penalty」.
For example, a player could acquire a high-level Mechanical Engineering skill out of nowhere. It would cost an enormous amount of experience points, though. One might wonder if it was worth the loss, but the advantage was being able to instantly obtain rare specialized skills when needed.
However, some advanced skills that required prerequisites were exceptions.
One more thing players had over NPCs was a form of legacy.
Skills acquired even once in a previous playthrough were immune to the 「Unknown Penalty」. In fact, for skills already learned, a tiered 「Talent Advantage」 applied based on the number of times mastered. In other words, they could be reacquired for far fewer experience points. However, this benefit only applied up to the rank previously achieved. If the highest rank learned in a past playthrough was 6, there would be no advantage starting from rank 7.
Along with this Talent Advantage, additional effects from challenge completions were the only perks given to multi-playthrough players.
The boy allocated his experience points primarily to combat skills. Since they were essential and he'd mastered them many times, he could raise them to decent ranks with minimal points. Of course, that also meant he'd hit dead ends in countless worlds before this playthrough.
Rank 9 「Close Combat」, Rank 10 「Melee Weapon Proficiency」, Rank 8 「Personal Firearms Proficiency」.
As the vehicle rumbled along, Sergeant Elliot, the American soldier in charge, was scribbling furiously in a green-covered notebook. He seemed to be writing the date at the top—a diary, perhaps. Staring openly caught the sergeant's attention, and he awkwardly covered it with his hand.
“I don't know much about manners in other countries, but staring like that doesn't look good.”
“My apologies. I wasn't thinking.”
“…Well, it's nothing special anyway.”
The sergeant closed and pocketed the notebook. It looked like standard-issue supplies.
A functional notification blinked in the corner of his vision. The time acceleration feature. When moving to a specific location or shortening time until a mission start, accelerating time made the virtual reality flow faster.
Events in between were determined by the control AI's situational calculations, and any info the player needed was provided in journal format. In essence, time acceleration was just another way of expressing journal-style progression.
It might be fine in the mid-to-late game, but using it early on was a bad idea. This was a phase where benefits from minor incidents and human interactions couldn't be ignored. Sure enough, even sitting quietly, someone struck up a conversation.
“Hey, kid. What's your name?”
A soldier from another seat asked. His skin tone marked him as mestizo. True to the U.S. military's reputation for ethnic diversity—even in the melting pot of America—various races stood out, and he was one. His name tag wasn't typical Anglo-American.
「Guilherme」
He could read the spelling, but wondering about pronunciation brought up only a garbled holographic string. It meant a name in a language form unknown to the player.
“Winter.”
“Gear-ool?”
“It's Korean. Means Winter.”
“Sounds kinda like my name.”
The boy pointed to the name tag.
“How do you pronounce it?”
The soldier looked amused. Curious about his thoughts, Rank 4 「Insight」 activated.
「Everyone else is cowed or tense, but you seem unfazed—it's intriguing him. He thinks you've got guts. (72% chance of error / Higher ranks in 「Insight」 and 「Discernment」, plus Intelligence correction, required to reduce error probability.)」
Makes sense. It was a reasonable guess within common sense. The soldier replied.
“Just call me Guilherme.”
“Private First Class Guilherme, sir.”
“Just Guilherme.”
The other soldiers burst out laughing. The Korean honorific 'nim' had translated to 'Sir.' The man himself grumbled, not finding it funny.
Truth be told, there wasn't much time for chit-chat. It was only 5 km away, so the village outline soon came into view. Even as distant scenery, it looked desolate. Unease rippled through the refugees. Private First Class Guilherme let out a heavy sigh.
“Creepy. I was pissed about the lockdown, but now that we're out, it's like this.”
Lockdown meant no leave or outings. Normally a punishment for discipline violations. But right now, all soldiers were barred from off-base access by default.
The southward convoy veered left off the national highway. With the gas station on the village's south side, they sped past as if bypassing it.
The gas station sign appeared. The Chevron logo—two stacked red and blue bars angled downward—was readable. Sergeant Elliot pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the gun carrier. A metal case for storing rifles.
“You've had the briefing, but don't run. If you're spotted by aerial recon heading east, you'll be shot on sight without warning. With the full mobilization order, crossing the blockade line safely is impossible anyway. Stick closely to my orders. Depending on circumstances, you could face summary execution on the spot. Everyone understand?”
The refugees nodded gravely.
Hearing the convoy, a few infected variants burst from the village. The soldier on the lead Humvee's turret fired immediately—not the pintle-mounted machine gun, but his personal rifle with a suppressor.
Kreeee— The variants charging with low, dragging cries tumbled messily. Their running form alone marked them as inhuman, but their speed was terrifyingly fast. Even shot, they thrashed and tried to rise, continuing the pursuit. Pain or bleeding alone couldn't stop them like a normal person.
“It's dangerous—stay seated. We'll handle it up front.”
Sergeant Elliot scolded, but the refugees ignored him. Private First Class Blake across the way grumbled.
“They said San Miguel area was cleared early with hardly any variants, but we get a welcome party right on arrival.”
“Probably strays from elsewhere.”
Private First Class Guilherme shot back curtly, then shouldered his rifle over the railing, scanning outside.
Soon, the convoy halted. While sluggish tankers crawled into the station, refugees received firearms, machetes, jungle knives, and such. Even selecting the mentally stable ones, tension was high lest someone trigger a negligent discharge. The boy got his weapons too. The edged blades, sharpened on a powered grinder, were razor-sharp. He'd seen the sparks fly like fireworks powder from toy sparklers.
“Disembark!”
At the low shout, soldiers led, and refugees piled out. As planned, soldiers took perimeter watch while handlers conducted headcounts. Voices of trouble drifted from the station.
“Damn, it's a card-locked pump and won't release. What now?”
A staff sergeant scratched his head under his helmet, looking pained. Dandruff snowed onto his shoulders—visible from a distance. Seemed they weren't getting shampoo resupplies. Or he was just lazy.
“We'll proceed as planned. If safe, clear road obstacles to call in the trucks. If not, fill your issued duffel bags and return. We have extras, so multiple trips until dark is fine. We'll evaluate your enthusiasm and reward accordingly. Give it your all.”
Refugees glanced around, nodding.
“Alright, move out. We'll cover the rear. Take point in order.”
Soldiers fell back. Pre-agreed between base command and refugee reps. Couldn't afford U.S. casualties when manpower was short. Refugees had griped when announced, but these volunteers accepted the terms.
#Public Service Announcement, First Half of 2040, KBS
Worn neighborhood, rundown alley. The screen shows a trash-picking old man. Frayed sleeves flutter in the autumn breeze. Wind whistles through crude stitches. Soaked in salt and grease, unwashed for ages. A passing schoolgirl wrinkles her nose, pinching it. Stench. The old man feels ashamed. His lonely inner thoughts appear as text.
「At least this'll buy one meal…」
Angle shifts. Deep focus. Hillside. Screen gazes down from above. The old man struggles up in tiny silhouette. Hard going. Dwarfed by his cart of scraps. Sunset sky behind evokes life's twilight. Bleak mood and shabby surroundings hint at impoverished, grueling old age. Perfect for elderly viewers' empathy. A warm female narrator follows.
“Age 86 this year. Park Woo-cheol sustains himself picking trash. He gets 630,000 won monthly pension… but it's not enough. In 2040, the government's estimated minimum cost of living for a single household is 1,645,053 won. Prices rise yearly, yet the depleted national pension fund has stagnated for years. Life for Korea's elderly is too harsh.”
The old man crests the hill. Close-up. Beads of sweat on his brow. Crinkled wrinkles. Cut. Junk dealer sorts the paper. Not all fetches the same. Old man waits anxiously. Quick calc: 13,325 won. His bag has pricier aluminum cans, rusty iron bits. Total with weight: just over 20,000 won. Kind dealer rounds to 20,000. Old man is deeply grateful.
Narrator resumes.
“Park Woo-cheol is still better off. Few scrap yards left in Seoul, allowed by waste laws. More are closing without profit, leaving most elders unable to sell trash. They rely solely on meager pensions.”
Now, the old man finishes a late meal, lies in his sparse, cramped room. Early to sleep, but nothing else to do. Fiddles with broken old TV—nothing. Tries to rest. Tough. Can't stretch out; drafty house chills even in autumn. Huddles under thin quilt. His thoughts on screen.
「Save the briquettes for winter…」
Not thrift—survival. Can't last otherwise.
「I wonder what Soo-young's up to…」
He thinks of his daughter. Pupil fills screen, zooming on her image. Narrator's voice, kind yet oddly off-putting, explains.
“The parental heart that won't burden children, even with them—every Korean knows it. Harsh world; even without being a burden, kids struggle alone. Parents don't want to impose. But is this right?”
Cut. Techs sweat building facilities; scientists and doctors in white debate. Bright contrast to prior gloom. Their screen shows a human brain. Bioelectric signals glow.
Then, happy smiles in diverse scenes.
Young woman soaks feet in stream under summer sun. Caption: 92-year-old Ahn Mi-young. Youth strolls flower field in spring breeze. Caption: 88-year-old Choi Dae-yang. More elders enjoy impossible youth, endless joy in mismatched seasons.
“Convert your national pension to post-life insurance. This is the era of existence, not mere living. Any Korean 65+ can discard the flesh for mental freedom, unlimited happiness. Korea's post-life insurance guarantees life after death.”
Montage: Old man's sorrow vs. countless virtual happy souls.
“No need to cling to daily anxiety and pain. Don't fear ideotomy extraction. Failure rate lower than plane crashes. World-renowned Post-Life Insurance Corp.'s life-support and neural interfaces keep your brain healthy beyond lifespan. If VR seems alien, request a preview. Experience your future world firsthand. VR centers open year-round to the public.”
Centers gleam clean. Elders try headsets in groups. Impressive. Wonderful. They smile contentedly. Park Woo-cheol among them, youthful, strolling sunny spring flower path.
“A happy Korea for all, built by post-life insurance.”
End: Taegukgi flag waves across screen.
“This campaign by Public Service Ad Council, National Pension Service, Post-Life Insurance Corp.”