Doctor Space's Prodigy and the Railgun's Thunder
Doctor Space would go down in history as the most famous figure humanity had ever known, drawing the spotlight from every corner of the world.
His family was no exception.
What's more, Doctor Space had far more children than anyone could have imagined. Officially recognized offspring numbered over twenty-three, and the unofficial tally was even higher.
Among those children were more than a few who truly deserved the label of genius.
The same went for his grandchildren, one of whom was Jennifer Cho.
Doctor Space, who dismissed even most geniuses as unworthy and refused to acknowledge his own kids if they fell short, had this to say:
"Jennifer, that girl... she's got a bit of me in her."
That statement carried two meanings.
One: she was a genius worthy of his recognition.
The other: she was an eccentric on his level.
In any case, she was a genius validated by Doctor Space himself, and naturally, the entire world coveted her brilliance. The one who claimed it was none other than the United States.
That was the story of Jennifer Cho up to this point—and for most of humanity, that was as close as they'd ever get to her.
Kim Seo-jun was no different.
He had zero interest in Jennifer Cho, or even Doctor Space for that matter.
The only reason he learned her name was thanks to his little sister.
One peaceful day after finishing his service and returning to Earth, she burst in and gushed about how Jennifer Cho had covered some famous singer's song and nailed it—absolutely killed it.
Seo-jun brushed her off with a "Whatever, go grab me some water," which led to her retorting, "That's why you'll never get a girlfriend, oppa!"—and the usual sibling squabble ensued. That was his origin story with Jennifer Cho.
"Jennifer Cho is on Amotia Planet?"
But now, hearing that he was stuck on Amotia with that Jennifer Cho? Seo-jun's immediate thought was predictable.
"This has to be fake intel."
The possibility that it simply wasn't true.
At those words, in the emergency meeting that had hastily convened, Private Park Bo-seop blurted out in shock,
"Sergeant Kim, are you saying the U.S. headquarters is lying?"
To him, it was unthinkable.
"I'm leaning heavily toward that myself."
"Huh?"
But Major Lee Hye-na's follow-up left Private Park Bo-seop stunned.
That's when Seo-jun chimed in.
"People will lie through their teeth to survive. Name-dropping celebrities is a dime a dozen."
He knew better than anyone how limitless the desperation of cornered humans could be.
"Especially since it's the U.S. Who do you think would rush to help if the American headquarters put out a distress call?"
Crucially, America was a nation that had never needed anyone's help.
Or more precisely, no other country dared offer it with a "Need a hand?"
The only exception might have been China, but they were currently at war—declarations of war had been exchanged.
From every angle, the survivors at the U.S. base had every reason to pull out all the stops for rescue.
It wasn't strange at all.
"So what's the plan, Sergeant Kim?"
The key was Seo-jun's decision. He pondered briefly before laying it out.
"We ignore the rescue request."
Silence fell over the group.
No one spoke.
No one argued.
If the U.S. headquarters was begging for help, it meant an absurd Mog legion had hit them. Facing that with Polish base forces? Suicide.
'Our own asses are on the line.'
Above all, the Polish base was in peril itself.
Sending troops for support when China or the Mogs could strike anytime? By the time they returned—if they did—the radio might crackle with "Help us!" from here. And that wouldn't be surprising.
Of course, there was a hypothetical.
"Sergeant Kim, what if it is really Jennifer Cho?"
"Then we'd sketch out a rescue op. If it's legit, the U.S. would mobilize for her—by any means necessary."
Success there would skyrocket their own odds of getting back to Earth.
But this wasn't a snap decision. And Amotia Planet soon provided the evidence to back Seo-jun's call.
"Major Yan! Emergency!"
A Polish base staffer rushed into the meeting, frantic.
"Mog legion incoming!"
"Force size?"
The subordinate replied,
"Not exact yet, but we've confirmed at least five Tank Worms!"
Tank Worm defeated. Acquired 500 points.
Bonus: 1,000 points acquired.
Defeated from 5km+. Bonus: 2,000 points acquired.
The moment word spread of another Mog legion approaching, the first thing that flashed through Kim Seo-jun's mind was a question.
They'd routed a substantial force last time.
And Mogs, by their nature, didn't launch follow-ups without at least triple the numbers.
"Total count?"
"Not confirmed yet, but looks like under 10,000."
But the incoming force fell short of that.
This wasn't Mog math.
Of course, things didn't always follow the math—but deviations always had reasons.
One thing was crystal clear, though.
"We thin 'em out as much as possible before they get here."
Sitting around theorizing wouldn't kill any Mogs.
"Private Park Bo-seop, prep up."
"Yes, sir!"
With that, Seo-jun's squad geared up and rolled out immediately.
No fear.
They'd faced similar forces before.
"Same op as last time?"
"Negative."
Especially since Seo-jun now had that.
"We use Thunder to take out the Tank Worms first."
With its overwhelming range.
"You're with us."
This time, Major Yan Zabwotski tagged along.
Two hoverbikes, two riders each, blasting toward the Mog legion at top speed.
Truth be told, hoverbikes weren't the smartest for combat.
They guzzled supplies, and aside from mobility, offered zilch.
But Seo-jun was the exception.
His vast inventory was a walking arsenal.
They sped toward the Mog legion—and at one point, halted.
"Here?"
Major Yan Zabwotski blinked at the empty spot.
"Nothing's here."
No sign of Mogs. No vibes.
Seo-jun felt it too.
Instead, he trusted his ears.
"Private Park Bo-seop."
"Crystal clear, sir. Sounds are loud and closing fast—from that direction."
Seo-jun nodded.
In this scenario, no sense sharper than Park Bo-seop's hearing.
"Got it."
Major Yan Zabwotski, knowing the kid's gift, caught on quick.
"Mines, then! You're gonna lay 'em out ahead of their path!"
Preemptively mine the route to cull numbers—classic hover rider playbook.
Smart. Effective.
To Yan, Seo-jun replied,
"We'll use that too."
"That too?"
No explanation.
Demonstration time.
"Inventory."
He pulled Thunder from his bottomless storage. Yan stared, puzzled.
Mogs not even in sight yet—what's the play?
Vrrrrm—clunk!
Thunder revved, then its wheels locked.
'Locked?'
As Yan wondered, Seo-jun, Park Bo-seop, and Major Lee Hye-na sprang into action, hauling massive metal braces.
Stabilizing Thunder.
One reason for braces like these.
"N-No way?"
To brace against the railgun's monstrous recoil.
"H-Here?!"
Meaning a railgun barrage right here—Yan’s face drained of color.
"Y-You're firing from here?"
No answer.
No time.
Bracing took longer than expected, and even then, post-shot checks were mandatory.
'Gotta see if it works.'
Seo-jun wasn't even sure it'd pay off.
First time using a railgun like this in combat—no precedents.
All uncharted.
'If it flops, we bail and pivot.'
No retreat? Recipe for disaster.
No time for chit-chat.
"Mount up and aim! I'll handle bracing!"
"Thanks."
Even then, without Major Lee Hye-na's superhuman strength, impossible.
Normally, you'd need a dozen engineers.
As she braced, Seo-jun and Park Bo-seop hopped back in.
Seo-jun took railgun control.
Piece of cake.
'Simple as hell.'
China-made? Hard to believe—intuitive mastery.
"Incoming—getting closer."
Park Bo-seop called timing as the Mogs entered Seo-jun's sight.
"Visual."
Ten klicks out, straight line—blurry horde.
Mogdogs, Thorn Snakes? Dots, even to his sharp eyes.
Tank Worms were all that registered.
Plenty.
He aligned the railgun, red dot on a Tank Worm.
Lock acquired—
"Charge!"
Whiiiiiine!
High-frequency hum built as Seo-jun finalized aim.
"Fire!"
SKREEEONG!
The world lurched.
Like a knockout punch in the ring—brain-rattling.
Shock unlike any before—like space itself warping.
"Urgh!"
Even Seo-jun, veteran of hell, reeled.
Skull hummed.
'Insane recoil.'
Worse than imagined, up close.
Mind-blowing.
'Thunder's a beast to tank this.'
The vehicle just shuddered—no damage. Incredible engineering.
A standard Battle Tank? Electronics fried, frame cracked.
'Not Chinese work.'
As Park Bo-seop said—no way they built this.
Sightseeing over.
Weapons boiled down to one metric: results?
The Status Window answered.
One-shot one-kill confirmed.
One shot, done.
Seo-jun grinned—not at the points, but the opportunity.
Tank Worms, snipable in one.
"Reload!"
Can't waste it.
"Sir?"
Park Bo-seop, still dazed, missed a beat.
"Next target."
"N-Next?!"
Dawned on him.
First shot landed.
To the private's shock:
"Reload's 66 seconds. Major Lee Hye-na, reset braces."
"Got it!"
She caught on, re-securing.
Seo-jun re-aimed, countdown ticking.
Then—
"Wha—whoa!"
Park Bo-seop yelled.
"Special unit incoming! At least Fly-class!"
Seo-jun bit his lip.
'That's why the math was off.'
Explained the anomalous force composition.
And it spelled trouble for his squad and the Polish base.
'Our luck sucks.'
As he chewed on his cursed fate, a chime rang in his ear.
One-Shot Fly-class Tank Worm
🎁 Reward: Skill Upgrade Ticket (A)
Ridiculous mission.
Ridiculous reward.