Fenrir Translations
“Oh, what... what is going on! TK1’s HellOworld and Blank Kickers’ SsaeJedudonban have been literally wiped out! In less than 10 seconds, two players have been sent packing back to the lobby, just like that!”
Something had happened.
Even the viewers, and the highly experienced commentators and analysts, couldn’t track the split-second movement. However, one thing was clear: after Yujin dropped to the ground, she had arrows gripped between her fingers, almost like brass knuckles.
At that very moment, a blur was seen around her opponent's neck.
Her right hand, as elastic as a bowstring, shot forward like an arrow, penetrating the back of the enemy's neck, finishing them off in one swift blow. She quickly picked up the pistol left behind by the fallen player, reloaded, and swiftly eliminated another enemy who had approached.
Most of the audience mistook this for part of a QTE (Quick Time Event) melee attack—a misunderstanding caused by the fact that the hyper-realistic gameplay had blurred the line between reality and fantasy. The sheer speed and fluidity of Yujin’s movements created a cognitive dissonance in the viewers, leaving them baffled.
“Who could possibly doubt her? Who could turn a blind eye to the truth? They said she wouldn’t make it in the qualifiers, and that she wouldn’t survive in KSM! But within just a few minutes of the first match, Yujin has crushed all doubts with pure skill once again!”
The commentator’s voice echoed throughout the stadium, growing more intense with each word. It seemed like if he kept speaking like this, he wouldn’t have a voice left for tomorrow. Though the match had only just started, the energy was already as chaotic as a rollercoaster.
Amidst the frenzy, only a few hundred viewers out of the 1.5 million tuned in were calmly assessing the situation. Nearly everyone else was caught up in the hype, cheering and shouting.
Ironically, most of the unnecessary and baseless doubts about Yujin came from ordinary people—not professional gamers. To put it simply:
Once this argument was debunked, a second ridiculous claim emerged:
Yujin had already proven that scrims were just a suppressor on her skills, and with an overwhelming display of physical prowess, she claimed the top spot in the qualifier ranks. Yet, no matter where you go, there are always fools.
Normally, such absurd comments would be ignored, but framing theory always finds a way to work its magic. The more these claims were dismissed, the more people started to wonder: could Yujin really maintain her performance in KSM?
Oddly enough, it was the professional players who had faced Yujin head-on that remained the quietest.
It wasn’t worth discussing.
Players with far superior analytical skills than regular people understood that every move Yujin made was packed with meaning, so they said nothing.
But on the flip side, as the saying goes, “empty vessels make the loudest noise.” The ones who knew nothing were the ones shouting the loudest. Yet Yujin countered them in the most effective, elegant, and concise way possible, and that brought us to the present moment.
There were no long-winded explanations.
She didn’t go out of her way to gather evidence or persuade viewers.
She didn’t even glance in their direction. Instead, she simply showed them everything they needed to see—enough to effortlessly silence the doubters and convert those wavering fans into die-hard supporters.
In the midst of it all, Yujin calmly looted the gear of those she had defeated, quietly exhaling as she transformed into a full-fledged operator. The commentator’s passionate voice vibrated through the air, but a thought slowly started to form in everyone’s minds.
Soon enough, Yujin might not even need to play in KSM anymore.
“I wonder if my student is still doing okay.”
Of course, Yujin was still preoccupied with concern for her disciple.
Ratatatatatat!
Loud noises always seem louder in enclosed spaces. They reverberate, bouncing off the walls, gradually fading but never truly disappearing. In close-quarters combat, noise can be a huge factor, depending on how it’s utilized.
What mattered was how to create the sound, and who would be forced to react to it.
Luring an enemy into firing by exposing yourself was hardly worth considering. If your position was compromised, it was pointless, so the only option was to create noise through other means.
Carefully, she retrieved a grenade. Wrapping her hand around it to muffle any metallic clinking from the pin, she wedged it between a gap in the vehicle she was using for cover, tying the pin to a fishing line. Then, she slowly moved away.
Once she had put some distance between herself and her previous cover, she tugged on the line, pulling the pin. An eerie silence followed as the pin clattered to the asphalt.
A few seconds passed.
BOOM!
With a thunderous explosion, the vehicle shook.
It wasn’t the type of fiery explosion you see in movies or games—just black smoke, thousands of shards of shrapnel, and a shockwave that could momentarily deafen anyone nearby.
The echo of the explosion fragmented as it bounced off the walls. The structure resembled a giant hollow chamber, like a tunnel carved out by massive insects burrowing into the rock—fitting, given the NBV Desert Base’s lore.
NBV Desert Base.
The base camp had expanded over time, but due to limited space, the only option was to carve into the surrounding rock, creating new paths and facilities. Over time, the frames had rusted, and only explosives intended for further excavation remained, scattered throughout the area.
“Ugh, seriously!”
She heard the grumbling of a nearby enemy.
30 meters... 20 meters... 12 meters. She quickly closed the distance. The enemy, realizing things were taking a turn for the worse, tossed a smoke grenade and bolted. As expected from KSM players, they were crafty.
She fired blindly into the smoke as the enemy barely escaped with their life, leaving only a damaged nanomachine barrier and disappearing into the vast hollow. She had lost them. Understandable—facing her meant certain death, but escaping offered at least a chance of survival.
“Well, there goes a grenade.”
It was a trivial remark, given that this area was littered with explosives. Just opening one of the boxes scattered around would yield an arsenal of grenades and explosives.
She retrieved a new grenade to replace the one she’d used, stashing it in her pouch before cautiously advancing into the massive hollow. The space was enormous—a key geographical feature in the game, a hub where countless players intersected. It was far from small.
The scene unfolded before her.
Rumble...
The aging structure.
Its vastness, wide enough to accommodate helicopters and tiltrotors, was overshadowed by a mix of eerie noises and unsettling silence. The wreckage of a tiltrotor hung from the ceiling, looking as if it could fall at any moment, though it had been rusting there for ages.
And below, at least 50 meters down, a massive chamber stretching over 300 meters in diameter was filled with makeshift structures, with flashes of gunfire and bullets flying between them. At least five players were sizing each other up.
The tiltrotor in the center was crucial, as it always dropped a zipline launcher, making it a prime spot for intense combat.
But there was another reason players gathered here.
-[Warning: Six unidentified individuals detected in the hollow. Security mode activated. Drone scanning in progress....]
The central control facility.
Located at the heart of the hollow, it controlled all operations within the rock mountain—gates, lighting, power, and even the explosives planted throughout the facility.
The fewer players in the area, the less intense the security protocols. The players were there to prevent anyone from sneaking in alone and exploiting the facility. They kept each other in check, ensuring no one could grab the loot and destroy the place.
But as they say, the darkest place is under the lamp. In truth, this was the perfect time to infiltrate the facility. The sporadic firefights would mask any attempts to sabotage the security system.
If drones or enemies caught her... well, there’d be no choice but to take them all out.
Pew!
The silenced gunshot was almost muffled to the point of being inaudible.
But the bullet, unhindered in its velocity, traveled several hundred meters, passing through a window and hitting someone engaged in a mind game within the building.
The nanomachine barrier activated. From bright blue to red in an instant. The head was a vulnerable spot, and just a few hits could shatter the barrier. Through the LPVO scope, she could see the enemy scrambling for cover in a panic.
This process repeated a few more times. The sudden, unexpected shots forced her opponents into hiding, allowing her to gain better control of the situation. From this point on, it was a battle against time.
Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!
CCTV cameras scattered across the area were destroyed in an instant. While it was common knowledge that the map structure changed with every game, the core framework remained the same.
The drones patrolling the area switched to intensive surveillance mode. They immediately assumed defensive positions, but AI wasn’t perfect. The farthest enemy drone was selected as a target, and she fired a few rounds at its feet.
Those drones may look lightweight, but once they’re hit, their fall trajectory gives away the shooter’s position. She needed a different method.
As the drone scurried away, triggered by the shots, she loaded a grenade into the under-barrel launcher and aimed. The UI automatically displayed the distance and the projected impact point, making it easy. All she had to do was pull the trigger.
With a soft thunk, the grenade flew in an arc.
The outcome was obvious.
Boom!
-[Warning: Alpha-level security mode activated. Drone at DH2 location hit. Focusing fire on that area.]
She watched as the drones converged on the spot, then leisurely strolled down the ramp, entering the forward base.
What followed was simple—hacking. With the Icarus Device in hand, nothing was impossible. It was like a giant computer disguised as a wristwatch, capable of interfering with all electronic devices in the area.
The main gate opened in seconds. She dispatched a few enemies with well-aimed shots, destroyed the remaining CCTVs, and dealt with a drone. It took about two minutes to breach the front gate.
Judging by the state of things, the others were still unaware that she had accessed the base. She calmly walked in, took the elevator to the third floor, and entered the relatively small central control room. There were all sorts of strange buttons, but only a few were important.
-[DO NOT PRESS THE BUTTON]
In the center, an overwhelmingly large red button.
Above her, visible through the ceiling, was the wreckage of the tiltrotor and the zipline launcher inside. Everything clicked into place like a puzzle.
She pressed the button with a satisfying click, and the ceiling sirens blared like crazy.
-[Warning: Base lockdown and self-destruction sequence initiated.]
-[Warning: Main base AI and drone operations suspended.]
-[Warning: All personnel must evacuate the facility within 5 minutes.]
“So many strange features in this game.”
What else could she say?
AP, as mentioned before, was a chaotic mishmash of virtual reality combat scenarios from the Dark Zone, cramming in all sorts of experiences she had never actually lived through.
And this feature... was too obvious to be an Easter egg. It was more like something the developers just wanted to include for fun. Like how mad scientists’ lairs in movies and games always have self-destruct buttons.
Ridiculous as it was, as long as it was useful, she didn’t care.
The scene outside the window was pure chaos.
The ground shook as if from an earthquake, two players frantically escaping through nearby routes, while three others were engaged in combat. They probably thought they could rely on the zipline. They must’ve believed that as long as they eliminated everyone else, they could secure kills and escape safely.
Their fatal flaw was underestimating that she had the same thought.
-[Warning: Self-destruction sequence completion in 30 seconds.]
Casually stepping out, Yujin checked the positions of those still fighting outside.
It was time to send everyone eyeing her zipline back to the lobby.