"───Antony, Antony! Did you lose your mind while eating?"

"…Damn it, my head's ringing. I can hear you just fine, so shut up. Did you auction off your call sign on Amazon?"

The strong scent of gunpowder lingered on the two men, overpowering even the smell of food filling the dining hall.

The building wasn't empty, but it was far from bustling. No more than five people were scattered across the spacious room, each engaged in quiet conversation.

Antony, the man addressed earlier, glanced at his steaming mac and cheese before sticking his spoon into the dish and pushing it away. He placed his hand on his neck, and a satisfying crack echoed in the room.

He was the first to speak.

"I haven't slept well these past few days. My head’s been aching constantly."

"What did the medic say?"

"He thinks it might be tinnitus. If the headaches don’t stop or get worse, I’ll have to take some time off."

"Hah, even the hardwall has to deal with pain. Try not to live so tightly wound."

"Eat shit, Carson."

Thud.

Antony shoved a spoonful of mac and cheese into his mouth, mechanically chewing the food, while Carson, the man across from him, waited patiently before speaking again.

"Don’t end up packing your bags because you miss your mark in Zone A during training. Eat up and take your meds."

"I’m going to, so mind your own business, George. And trust me, anyone who can’t hit their target after two days of headaches would’ve been kicked out long ago."

"Yeah, sure."

A brief silence followed.

"For someone who claims to be in bad shape, you’ve been performing pretty well lately. Or am I mistaken?"

"You’re not wrong. But how about you go shower instead of pestering me while I eat?"

"Wait, did you sneak down to the range during personal time and shoot until your head hurt—ow, damn it! Fine, I’m going, I’m going. You didn’t have to kick me in the shin!"

"Stop lurking while I eat, damn it."

Of course, even as Carson walked away, he flipped Antony the bird with a perfectly extended middle finger, limping slightly as he left the dining hall.

Despite the banter, Antony had known Carson for years. He was a decent guy, with even better skills. No doubt, Carson would find some ridiculous way to get back at him later, but that was a risk Antony was willing to take.

It was like being awake but dreaming.

'…What am I even seeing?'

This wasn’t just a simple headache.

It was a confusion of memories—his own memories, but from a future that didn’t yet exist. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the silhouette of a woman. A gun clutched in the hands of a round-faced, naive girl.

It was he who had handed that gun to the girl with the snake tail—he had set her on that path.

From the future.

"Yujin. Here’s a rundown of your schedule for today. After you wake up, have breakfast and be at the shooting range by 08:00."

"Yes."

"You’ll conduct flat range shooting until 13:00, have lunch by 14:00, and then return to the range for more shooting until 18:00. All of it will be live-fire exercises."

"Understood."

"…Damn it, am I dreaming right now?"

Fragments of the future glittered in his mind like shards of broken glass reflecting sunlight. Between the fleeting memories, the year "2036" flashed before his eyes.

The patch on his uniform, his rank, his authority—they all showed that he, now a Staff Sergeant, would become a Master Sergeant. As these non-existent memories flowed into him, they merged with his current ones, causing a new kind of mental friction.

Dark Zone.

That game, used as a simulation even by operators in his unit—though the servers were separate.

"Hah."

The headache had long since faded.

The phantom pain left behind was like sparks from the clash of newly blended memories and his current reality.

At that moment, he was Sergeant Antony Owens, but he was also a Master Sergeant. And in another existence, he was an Icarus training instructor with a single, irreplaceable student named Yujin....

Though why she still had that snake tail, he couldn't quite figure out.

After returning the now-empty dish, he headed to his private room and shed his gear. His body was drenched in sweat from the live-fire exercises earlier that day.

He was going to take a shower.

A very long one.

"She actually did send it."

Among the nearly overwhelming number of unread emails near the top of his inbox, one from Icarus stood out. It was unread, shining brightly among the rest.

Under normal circumstances, there was no way he would have missed it. But yesterday was anything but normal, and the emails that should have been checked were buried under the more pressing task of drafting a curriculum for Harmony, postponed until the next day.

Should he be relieved that he finally saw it, or should he question why it was sent only a day before?

Of course, thinking like that would be quite narrow-minded. After all, had Icarus International ever sent an email like this to any other user? Especially for something like this?

So technically speaking, it was an impulsive request, but it had to be.

They likely didn’t want him to unnecessarily participate in tomorrow’s match when it wasn’t even necessary. But the issue was that being a special caster was an entirely different matter. It wasn’t that he lacked communication skills, but playing a match and commentating on a game watched by tens of thousands were two completely different things.

He read through the email in more detail.

The good news was that he could choose which match and time slot to commentate. The latest match was scheduled for 8:00 PM, which was prime time.

And it was only one match, not several. The only slightly daunting aspect was the possibility of conducting interviews afterward, but the email kindly provided guidelines for that as well.

"…It’ll be more of an interrogation than an interview."

Given his past experience with interrogations, he couldn’t help but hope his tone wouldn’t get too stiff.

A bit late, but he selected a time slot and sent a reply. The confirmation was almost instant, as if they had been waiting for him. He pushed the confirmation message aside. Now, it was time to prepare.

There were three main tasks to tackle.

First, he needed to draft a notice for his viewers. No need to take the day off; the match would only take about an hour in virtual reality time, at most. He could prepare the notice ahead of time and post it when the time came.

Second, he had to do some basic preparation and practice for his role as a commentator. While he didn’t need to forcefully raise his energy levels, it was still important to understand how commentating worked and to prepare some lines. No need to overdo it, but he wanted to ensure a quality performance.

Third, he had to write a message to Harmony. The curriculum for the next day was ready, and their joint stream would proceed as usual. Taking a short break during training to commentate was something they had both grown accustomed to over the past few days.

It wouldn’t be any different this time.

The first and third tasks didn’t take long.

It was now 11:00 PM. A bit late, but to avoid wasting time, he would have to practice in virtual reality.

Lying on his bed, he pressed the choker’s button and logged into Icarus International’s official YourSpace account for the Korean branch. A long list of well-organized commentary videos appeared. He selected one at random.

High energy, seamless delivery. Long-winded yet precise explanations with excellent pronunciation. Commentating was a profession that required immense effort.

But it was pointless to compare himself to the professionals at this stage. As always, he would do his best. In a way, this would be his unique style of commentating.

Of course, that didn’t mean it should end up as low-quality commentary.

"Testing, testing."

He activated the pronunciation check software and read out a few sentences displayed on the screen.

After about ten minutes of evaluation, it was safe to say that there were no glaring issues with his pronunciation. In fact, it was probably above average. The operator training program included speech correction, so that was a relief.

As he continued practicing, a reply came through.

However,

-[Harmony: ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡]
-[Harmony: I’ll come watch tomorrow~~!!]

…Why is she so excited?

He paused the video and replied.

-[Yujin: Don’t get your hopes up too much.]
-[Harmony: lololol]
-[Yujin: Did you enjoy the match?]
-[Harmony: It was so coolㅎㅎㅎㅎ]
-[Harmony: You were way better than when we play together??]
-[Yujin: It was a bit more relaxed than running missions together, lol.]
-[Harmony: ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ;;]
-[Yujin: Just kidding, just kidding.]

Half of it was a joke, but half was true. Facing actual players and AI required different approaches.

While it couldn’t be said that he’d never swung a hammer at real players, it was only natural for his restraint to disappear when facing AI.

In PvE, enemies often appeared in bizarre locations to compensate for lacking AI, and nothing was more effective in such situations than a merciless hammer swing.

-[Harmony: I want to carry a hammer too!(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑]
-[Yujin: Don’t even think about it.]
-[Harmony: (｡•́︿•̀｡)]
-[Yujin: lololol]

A firm response.

Unfortunately, if you ever had to rely on such a melee weapon, something had gone seriously wrong. In his case, it was a significant exception.

If Harmony simply wanted a tactical hammer for fun, that was one thing, but at her skill level, there was no need to lug around an extra kilo of metal.

Harmony’s valiant attempt was promptly shut down.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

-[Harmony: Oh, right, I’m planning a collab with some streamer friends soon. Any tips on how not to mess it up?]
-[Yujin: Just stick to what I taught you.]
-[Harmony: Ahaha; I hope I didn’t come across as lazy…]

What to say…

Maybe it was because she hadn’t played much with other users besides him, but Harmony seemed oddly lacking in confidence in her abilities. She probably didn’t even realize how skilled she had become.

While she was still far from the level where he could confidently say, "She can survive anywhere," she wasn’t doing poorly either.

She kept pace with him, executed the tasks he assigned her, and overall performed well. She wouldn’t be a burden to anyone, not with the training she was getting.

Now that they were getting into more intensive training, she’d likely improve significantly over the next month.

-[Yujin: If people could improve overnight, they wouldn’t be struggling so much, right?]
-[Harmony: ㅠㅠㅠ]
-[Yujin: But after a month of training together, you’ve got the skills to hold your own ㅎㅎ.]
-[Yujin: No one starts out perfect, so don’t worry too much XD.]
-[Harmony: ( ღ'ᴗ'ღ )]
-[Harmony: Thank you♡.]

After exchanging a few more words, his throat felt a bit dry.

He took a sip of water and typed out a reply.

-[Harmony: What time are you planning to hit the bed tonight?]
-[Yujin: I’ll probably be up for another two or three hours.]
-[Harmony: Oh no….]
-[Harmony: Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, but we’ve got training tomorrow too…ㅠㅠ.]
-[Harmony: I’ll head to bed first~~.]
-[Yujin: Sleep well(๑′ᴗ‵๑).]

Watching the “1” disappear next to the message, he felt a quiet stillness settle in.

He reopened the program, pulling up various voiceware and compiling commentary scripts. The mass of text would soon pass through the suggestion engine, resulting in a new script tailored just for him.

The night was still dark, and it was going to get darker.

His own night was passing by.