Terraforming = *HARD MODE*

Tch... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Honestly, I'd expected the failure penalty to be something like 'deduct XX from your current karma.' That's why I'd deliberately spent my karma right up to the limit, trying to loophole my way out of the penalty.

But reducing future rewards like this... 'Damn. So the rumors about the system having an AI are true.'

Unfortunately, my little scheme had failed.

The quest was simple: prevent any casualties.

'The difficulty... it's ambiguous.'

If it had told me to fight the assailants head-on, I never would've accepted. The stat gap between them and me is at least 2-3 times, even being generous.

But just running and evading? That might be possible. In the original story, the protagonist barely failed to protect everyone by a hair's breadth. With me here, I could probably pull it off.

And the reward? Thousand Fists One Kick? No detailed skill info, but from the name alone, it's clearly combat-related. High chance it's a martial art that channels mana.

'Fuck... making ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me agonize over it...'

How long would it take me to get a combat skill otherwise? At least until I finish this Terraforming arc and the next novel—only then would mana-based skills show up in the shop. Way too late.

What's the point of getting mana through the Immortal Daily Decree, Bay Bay Moon Moon if I can't use it properly? All I can do is basic body enhancement and boosting my voice's presence. That's like using electricity in modern civilization just to shock people.

Electricity can realize countless dreams—from lights to communications, automation, you name it, if you have the tech. But right now, I have no 'tech' to harness mana.

A proper martial art, researched over generations, tested on bodies for efficacy... its efficiency would dwarf crudely slamming mana into your body.

'Let's do it. I won't die, and even if I fail, the loss is less than 1,000 karma...'

"Hey. How about we call it quits now?"

"This fucker's still trying to crawl up."

"Guhhh!"

At some point, Brack had stepped in to stop me and Gwangnyeon-i.

"Did I do wrong? Or did I not?"

"Guhh... I was... wrong..."

"Will you do it again? Or not...? Damn it!"

"I won't... I won't do it ag— Huh?"

"...Fuck. Brack?"

"Looks like it..."

Suddenly, Gwangnyeon-i released the trainee she'd been tormenting. She lifted her foot from his back, planted it on the ground, and straightened up.

'It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠begins?'

The assailants had arrived.

*

"...Fuck. Brack?"

Tension laced Chris's voice—it was unavoidable. If her senses were right, the situation wasn't funny at all.

"Looks like it..."

Brack confirmed her suspicions. She wished he'd denied it...

Four? No, five. They strode forward without even bothering to hide their presence.

'You bastards. Acting all bold for a surprise attack?'

Chris thought. Fitting for guys obsessed with pretty appearances.

Lucky for her, though. At least she had a little time to prepare.

She took a deep breath.

"TOOOOM!! It's them!! Run!!"

Her mana-infused shout boomed out.

Tat-tat-tat-tat!!

The guy Chris called 'Tom' was the youngest staffer in the training camp. No reply came—just the sound of someone sprinting out of the camp, caught by her sharp ears.

Chris's voice, laced with mana, echoed through the entire training camp. Tom heard it clearly.

Tom was fast. It was his ability from mana awakening years ago—simple speed for running, but perfect right now.

He'd reach the 12th District Combat Lodge nearby soon, and reinforcements would race here at superhuman speeds.

Just hold out until then.

Chris knew their target: the trainees. She decided to evacuate them first.

Luckily, her earlier rampage had gathered all the trainees here. And Brack was present too.

'...Come to think of it, that could've been fucked.'

Cold sweat trickled down her back. She was genuinely glad Brack happened to be inside.

If he'd been away for personal training... Unthinkable.

'Double luck. Can't count on more... Evacuate the chicks first.'

She and Brack couldn't leave—they had to tie down the assailants.

She needed to designate a leader.

Chris quickly recalled the trainees' profiles. Who could lead without panicking in this chaos?

'Shit...'

Reluctantly, she had to pick the one who'd stood out lately. He had an inexplicable calm about him.

"Hey! Lee Kang—"

"Trainee Park Chanyoung! Lead the trainees and evacuate! It's an attack!"

"Yes, sir!"

'Brack?'

Chris whipped around, startled by the name from Brack's mouth. She knew it well.

'Ah.'

In less than 0.3 seconds, she realized her mistake. There was another Park Chanyoung here.

She'd forgotten, amusingly. The guilt from facing the one she'd crossed paths with—intensely, at that—had made her avoid him, handing Brack the training plans as an excuse.

Brack naming Park Chanyoung over Lee Kangin, whom he'd praised endlessly on days one and two? Surprising.

Maybe from calling names during recent training? If so, a misjudgment.

She didn't like it, but objectively, Trainee Lee Kangin was better than a panicking average chick.

Chris could separate duty from personal feelings.

She peered at Brack's face—and was slightly shocked. He hadn't misspoken; he trusted this Park Chanyoung firmly.

'What the hell? What did he see in a few days of training to be so confident?'

No time to question. She trusted Brack's call.

The trainees were already fleeing under Park Chanyoung's lead. Definitely not a panicking chick.

'Whew... They're getting closer.'

Their features came into view from afar.

"Gerard... That fucking bastard came himself... Is he insane?"

"...Not good... Chance to catch him, but our lives come first. Drag it into a prolonged fight..."

"Obviously. Just hold out."

Thud-thud.

Gerard Hoffman, current rebel leader, arrived at the Northern Training Camp, draped in a massive bear hide.

Chris spoke up.

"Guess there really aren't many people? Only five for a raid."

She sneered mockingly.

Two versus five. Obvious who had the edge. But they didn't know if she and Brack were the only instructors—or if more lurked inside.

Bluff hard.

"Five's plenty. There's only you and Brack here, right?"

'Damn...'

Chris cursed inwardly, furrowing her brow. Somehow, they knew the camp's intel.

Scouted? She switched from bluff to provocation.

"Monsters in your district must be thrilled? Free meat deliveries fattening them up... Living the dream, huh?"

"Pfft... Spare me the clumsy taunts."

Dragging talk was good, but they weren't that dumb.

Provoke harder.

"Surrender. Join our cause. Can't understand rejecting greater happiness."

"Still pushing that retarded concept? Ah! Wait, your 'protected citizens' aren't humans—they're monsters? Now it makes sense! Watching your comrades die while monsters thrive happily."

"...I'll tolerate insults to me, but not to our philosophy."

*

Grrrr... Chris's skill at provoking while playing the madwoman was masterful. It worked again—Gerard's face twisted demonically as he glared.

Good news for Chris.

Taat!

His coiled body exploded toward her.

*

Tat-tat-tat!

The trainees sensed things were going south. They'd heard 'assailants' clearly.

Everyone moved as one.

I headed inside the building. In the original, Lee Kangin led them, but Brack had named me directly.

"Plan! Do you have one?"

Lee Kangin stuck close, asking. His face said he'd seize command if I slipped.

"Arm up first. We've never used weapons, but better than nothing. Kangin... Where's the armory?"

I knew it existed, but not the location. Novels don't detail every room.

But the protagonist knew—he'd lived here over three months as a regressor.

"...Why would I know that?"

Not the time for that. I get being sensitive about regression, but read the room.

"You're under the instructors' spotlight, right? Figured you'd gotten hints on the layout or scouted it grabbing good gear. If not, we'll ask remaining staff—"

"I know. I'll lead."

Tat-tat-tat!

Good he stepped up. Our group followed Lee Kangin to the indoor armory.

"The door..."

"Locked, obviously. Step back a sec."

I'd lost noticeable weight from hellish training, but still a massive bulk. Heaviest here, for sure.

I backed five steps and slammed my shoulder into the door with all my might.

Kwang—!

My strength stat, with buffs, hit 15—near Combatant level despite my trash tier. Superhuman is superhuman.

The wooden door twisted at the bottom under ~150kg impact.

Kwajik!

I kicked the twisted part to widen the gap.

"I'll help."

Lee Kangin assisted, and the door gave way with a snap.

We entered the armory. I ordered the awkwardly standing trainees.

"Grab spears you can swing. Skip armor—useless."

"...To maximize distance fleeing?"

"Yeah. If it's got instructors tense... Human or monster, they'll shred leather armor easy."

"...You heard him. Everyone, grab a spear."

Swish!

I tested a decent-looking one. Good weight, length. This'll do.

"Uh... No swords?"

"If you can face an assailant without flinching up close, go for it. Otherwise, spear. Best for threats and stalling. Dozens pointing them? Hard to charge."

"We're clumped, so maximize numbers. Swords are too short-range."

Lee Kangin backed me up.

Spears are beginner-friendly. Why armies give soldiers spears over swords: easier group training.

Lower entry barrier than swords.

He was right too. Except him, they didn't know assailants were human and few... but I did.

Hence spears for numbers vs. few.

"Now what?"

In the original, Lee Kangin holed up inside, barricading the biggest cafeteria, spearing intruders.

But I chose differently.

"Outside. To open ground."