It was common knowledge that guns using larger bullets had more firepower.

However, this world always operated on the principle of equivalent exchange. In other words, more powerful ammunition came with its own set of drawbacks.

Heavy.
Strong recoil.
Resupply issues.
Lengthy barrels.
Limited usage…

These drawbacks were particularly noticeable among special forces.

The heavier weight and strong recoil reduced operational endurance, supply lines hated the fact that the ammunition couldn't be unified, and the length made close-quarters combat (CQB) difficult. But the biggest reason these guns couldn’t become the main weapon of choice was their limited applicability.

Even though special forces trained with various firearms and practiced for specific missions that only large-caliber guns could accomplish, no one carried such weapons as their primary equipment.

But everything changed with the pandemic—and with the appearance of defecting operators.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

"Aaagh!"

The lack of stamina and operational endurance was compensated with devices. Protection was handled by nanomachines. Recoil control? That was covered by the sophisticated absorption systems of Icarus gear.

As everyone began wielding shields, spears had to become heavier and sharper than ever. Unfortunately, the first to fall victim to these new heavy spears were the highly skilled individuals who stubbornly clung to their 5.56mm small-caliber bullets.

It didn’t take long for the most trusted bullet, the one that had claimed countless lives from enemies like the Taliban, Al-Qaeda, and ISIL, to become just one of many options.

Problems that couldn’t be solved with the 5.56mm NATO rounds began appearing one by one. Even the most vulnerable part of the body, the head, required at least three direct hits to penetrate when the nanomachine barrier was activated.

Defecting operators, having abandoned their duty to protect their homeland, demonstrated the efficiency of using higher-caliber bullets in combination with Icarus gear through the blood of their comrades.

And among these Icarus operators who overcame all the drawbacks, I was the one most in favor of higher-caliber firearms—except for the resupply issue, that is.

Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all this is because...

Boom!

Whether it's close range, mid-range, or long-range, assuming you can handle these firearms—including recoil control—the firepower gap in 1v1 operator engagements becomes incredibly important.

Naturally, every gun is used slightly differently. But as your skill improves, the gap in how you use them narrows, and even methods that seem impractical become valid.

For example, using the Mk.18 Mjolnir in close combat, like right now.

Thud!

This gun may seem overused at this point, but it was the one I relied on the most in the past. It was one of the few guns capable of swiftly dismantling enemy units in New York, where unmanned drones that could shred people in less than a second were rampant.

Even Fallen operators couldn’t escape its fate. They may have dug numerous traps and deployed their subordinates to block me, but once you got hit by this gun, it was a one-way ticket to the afterlife—or the River Styx, if we’re in America.

Not that it mattered if they showed up in person.

"Urgh!"

Thud.

Once hit, a significant chunk of nanomachine reserves was gone.

The enemy I was chasing could no longer move to escape. If I had been using a standard assault rifle with 5.56mm rounds, they might have sacrificed their shield and gotten away, but this gun set a new rule: "Get hit and die."

The burden of not getting hit, even while retreating and reducing the enemy's strength.

Though it might sound arrogant, I was more confident in my shooting skills than anyone else.

Warning: Enemy Seeker Mine approaching.

Of course, the opponent wasn’t just going to sit back and take it. As soon as their skill cooldown reset, they used it. Had they thrown it into the air, I could have intercepted it, but they rolled it out from an angle I couldn’t see.

I didn’t have enough nanomachine reserves to be careless. Sure, I could take the hit and continue, but that would be a last resort. I had to prepare for future scenarios, so I chose to destroy it myself.

Adjusting the magnification on my LPVO scope, I aimed and shot down the rapidly approaching Seeker Mine, resulting in a massive firestorm. It seemed they opted for a version split into incendiary rounds.

A silhouette emerged from behind a vehicle, dragging a ballistic shield across the ground to hide their footsteps while sprinting. The sound of the shield scraping against the asphalt was irritating.

As expected of KSM players, their tactical thinking was top-notch. If they were a little farther away, I might have lost them.

But right now, they weren’t far enough.

Thud!

I ran.

At full speed.

At the same time, I aimed at the ballistic shield and fired. Despite the heavy vibrations shaking my shoulder, I continued unloading the rest of my ammo to ensure they couldn’t recover the shield and fire back.

By the time I’d emptied two 15-round magazines and loaded a third, they flung their nearly destroyed shield aside and fired back at me.

They must have calculated how many rounds I had left in my magazine.

However, they were running and turning back to fire at me, which meant their accuracy was shot. Meanwhile, my nanomachine reserves could handle the few lucky shots that did hit me.

I finished reloading.

It was time to skewer them.

"Urgh!"

Bang bang bang bang bang!

I rapidly slowed down, lowered my body, and took a shooting stance. Simultaneously, I fired five rounds. The enemy fell with a strange groan, collapsing as if dancing on the spot. The Lapua Magnum was too powerful for a soft human body.

Had I been using armor-piercing rounds, the damage might have been less severe, and they could have continued fighting. But since it was early in the engagement, I hadn’t yet acquired good ammunition—ironically, this only increased the damage output.

The enemy dissolved into a pile of items. The kill log confirmed it—Reaper Infected's Mikael.

That made it my second kill.

"Seems like you’ve had bad luck with shields."

A memory surfaced. This was the same person I had thrown a shield at during a fight at the Aurora Power Plant, near the Arctic Ocean. KSM truly had a way of bringing back familiar faces.

I didn’t need much from the items. Fortunately, I hadn’t used any grenades, and aside from the excessive use of bullets, there wasn’t much bleeding. Looting the pile quickly restored my resources.

After pouring ammo into the auto-loader attached to my backpack, I secured the magazines, and with a whirring sound, a fully loaded magazine was ready. Of course, if I didn’t have a backpack or decent loot, I’d have had to reload manually.

Warning: 20 seconds until the energy field collapses.

“Time to go…”

Since I had landed on the outskirts, there weren’t many enemies or items left.

The kill zone was approaching. It was time to move.

As the engine revved up and I felt the heavy vibration from beneath, the wheels of the vehicle began to turn—time to leave the outskirts and head toward the center. There was nothing more to do here.

Today’s lesson: How to handle enemies with pure shooting skills.

Featuring: KSM.

The Dark Zone was simple, and Apex Predator Mode was even simpler. Just aim and shoot every enemy you see, until you can no longer shoot—until you’re the last one standing.

The problem with this cursed game mode was that every time you played, it was new. Even familiar maps became new again. Couldn’t there be a way to breathe easy and win first place for once?

It was a hopeless thought, but Dice couldn’t help but wonder. She rested, exhausted, leaning against the wall of a warehouse now filled with loot, no longer expecting any visitors.

“Ugh…”

When you’re tired, no deep thoughts cross your mind.

Even just breathing left no room for boredom. Her entire body and nerves were focused on recovering. Fifteen minutes into the match, the first mid-game engagement had worn her out.

She knew who her enemy was. As someone who understood almost every avatar and playstyle of pro gamers, including the ones in KSM, it wasn’t hard to guess. But had that knowledge made a big difference in the fight? Not really.

Her nanomachine barrier was shredded, and her health was barely holding on.

After injecting a health booster and grabbing only the essentials, she stepped outside. The situation in the central zone was far from good. Gunfire echoed from all directions—that was the proof.

"This game’s not going anywhere exciting."

It was the unavoidable nature of tournaments. Death always carried high risks, and to avoid those outcomes, all players—except for the few maniacs—had to play defensively.

In the buildings within a radius of a few hundred meters… there were probably about 20 people already in position. As soon as the kill zone moved in an odd direction, firefights would break out during repositioning.

That was the reality of AP. Not every fight was explosive.

…And so, Dice suddenly thought of Yujin. Naturally, it wasn’t worry but curiosity. As a fellow SSM member, they had jumped out of the transport plane with at least 600 meters between them. Yujin was probably fine.

It was time to check the next kill zone when—

Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

"Gah!"

A harsh, low gunfire sound. Relatively low RPM. Must be an Eastern Bloc weapon. The weight of the rounds was something else, so it had to be.

That was how my troubles began. I couldn’t pinpoint where the bullets were coming from, so I ran. But before long, with a loud clatter, someone burst out of a building. Since the surroundings were a massive dock, there was no place to hide.

As I hurriedly ran, I spat out a curse.

"Dammit, I was saving this!"

The grappling hook I had been saving for emergencies.

I quickly pulled it off my back, looking around desperately. Nothing but high walls—gigantic container ships and rows of containers. There was nowhere else to go.

As soon as I fired the hook, a massive force pulled at my arms. My body was swiftly lifted into the air, and I was dragged across the open space at high speed until the line was fully reeled in.

I barely landed on top of the container.

But then—

Tat-tat-tat-tat!

"Ugh, there’s more!?"

Did I come to the center too soon!?

Thankfully, I could already guess where the bullets were coming from.

Due to the sheer size of the container ship, not every area was accessible. On top of that, I was standing on the highest container.

The shots must have been coming from the ship’s bridge.

Whoever it was, how long had they been up there? I didn’t have time to dwell on it. In AP, you had to assume enemies were everywhere.

"Argh!"

Thud.

With a heavy crash, my body slipped and fell off the container. The fall was over 10 meters, but fortunately, the nanomachine barrier absorbed most of the damage.

Just moments ago, things had been going well, but this round was turning into a mess. I barely had time to process it before more bullets came flying from the bridge. It was total chaos.

Then came the final nail in the coffin.

Alert: The large-scale loading gates for ship boarding and cargo unloading are now active.
Alert: Locking complete. Cargo unloading will commence shortly.

A massive bridge extended from the side of the ship.

It anchored itself firmly to the port. This meant the bridge was open, and soon, countless people—vehicles even—could flood the area.

The opening of a full-scale battle.

Few people would survive this.

“…Fine. You want to play like that?”

You brought this on yourselves.

With that thought, I carefully moved toward the only Revolution Trigger in Port City, Tannhäuser. Distracting the player on the bridge, I began unlocking the nearest container lock.

Yujin and I had once analyzed this map in detail, and while looking at the cargo manifest in the captain’s quarters, she had told me something shocking.

‘Ammonium nitrate, powdered sugar, lithium batteries, propane gas for welding… If they transported supplies like this, they’d be called insane. But I guess it’s fine because it’s a game.’
‘Fertilizer, sugar, batteries, and gas? Seems like a random assortment.’
‘It’s too intentional. Explosive materials, dust explosion triggers, batteries that heat to over a thousand degrees if their separators break, and flammable gas… What do you think happens if these mix on a container ship?’

I remembered it clearly.

Yujin’s calm explanation had been unsettling at the time, but today, I found it rather comforting.

With a clunk, the doors of several containers swung open. Inside were heaps of ammonium nitrate, bags of powdered sugar, piles of batteries, and rows of gas canisters packed tightly.

The order of operations was critical.

I opened every gas canister I could until my arms ached. Yujin had mentioned that propane gas was heavy and would settle at ground level. The smell of gas filled the air. After about three minutes of repeating this process, the effect was unmistakable.

In addition, I tossed a few batteries and gas canisters into the containers filled with ammonium nitrate and powdered sugar.

Everything was ready.

Standing precariously on the fall-prevention fence, I aimed at the container full of batteries and fired a shot.

Then, as I tossed a grenade, I spoke aloud.

“Burn, all of you.”

At the same time, I jumped from the container, plunging several meters into the water and frantically swimming in the opposite direction toward a parked vehicle. Based on the video Yujin had shown me, the explosion would be unimaginable.

I had to escape.

A loud boom erupted as the grenade detonated.

It was the spark that lit the fuse, connected to something comparable to a small tactical nuke.