I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun
Chapter 172 Table of contents

 

“Pfft.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Looking at the thumbnail posted in the group chat on Ngram, where Yujin’s editors and thumbnail designers gathered, it was hard to hold back the laughter. It was too ridiculous not to laugh.

How should I describe it? A doodle? A color rough draft? Either way, you could easily guess what the final product would look like. The thumbnail designer was so skilled that the key elements were already perfectly captured.

I clicked to enlarge it.

In the bottom right corner of the image, there was a giant box—the very same one sent by Icarus as a reward for completing the Dark Zone main mission in hardcore mode. The box was running away in terror, caught by its tail.

Behind it, Yujin, wrapped in all sorts of items from the unboxing—earrings, bracelets, and a puffy jacket—was holding a gleaming axe, preparing to smash a lock.

It was anthropomorphized… well, not exactly, but that huge box, which seemed to have gained a life of its own, was screaming something ridiculous.

‘It’s an unboxing! An unboxing!!!’

I burst out laughing.

Naturally, my fingers moved to add a comment.

 

The way they served it up on a silver platter—how could I not touch it?

Now, it was time for the editors to take over.

 

But there was a good reason for it.

The fact was that even editors and thumbnail designers who had previously worked with various streamers would say, “Wow…” when payday came around. It was no joke to say that one paycheck could cover a semester of college tuition.

Considering how much Yujin had been raking in lately, it wasn’t that surprising. Foreign viewers had been flooding in too, thanks to some mysterious algorithm boost, and the basic view count on every video had recently been hitting at least 700,000.

Per day.

 

Anyway, back to the present, the goal was to upload a video today and another tomorrow. Of course, this was beyond the goal Yujin had set. That goal had been achieved a long time ago, and now every video posted was pure incentive.

Yujin’s current milestone was to upload all the edited main mission videos. So, at least one of the three editors had to keep working on that non-stop—meaning the other two could focus on other tasks.

And then there was the unboxing. This was Yujin’s unexpected move as a streamer, after a period where it was unclear whether he was more of a streamer or a pro gamer. The result? A peak viewership of 70,000 at one point.

And it wasn’t just any unboxing. From the get-go, Yujin had boldly pulled out a tactical tomahawk, which, after slicing through the tape, had even smashed a thick lock. The axe had taken some damage, but it was still in good shape.

Yujin had essentially advertised the axe in the best way possible.

In fact, after that outrageous unboxing, tomahawk orders had skyrocketed.

‘…Sending us axes as gifts is a bit hard to understand, though.’

The thought of a streamer sending axes to their editors was terrifying. Even if I hadn’t done anything wrong, I felt like I should apologize preemptively.

So I apologized.

 

Of course, Mr. Yujin sent back a string of question marks as if he were a confused elder receiving New Year’s bows out of nowhere.

Anyway, since I had contacted him, I explained the situation. As expected, the OK sign came in less than three seconds. Given that, I went ahead and uploaded the thumbnail after getting all the necessary approvals from both chatrooms.

And Yujin’s reaction?

 

It was perfect.

I figured he’d like it, considering the thumbnail designer had poured all their effort, passion, and creativity into it. But seeing his enthusiastic response made me feel oddly satisfied.

 

With Yujin’s blessing secured, I signed off with the usual pleasantries and got back to work.

It was time to crack open another can of the energy drinks Yujin would occasionally send. I opened my editing software and resumed working. The main mission video was finally nearing completion.

Though it had been tough, the main mission edits were ironically the series with the highest view count. They consistently pulled in over a million views.

The reason was simple: all the clear ranks were Omega.

It had even been revealed that the hidden requirement to achieve Omega rank in the previously impossible Washington Retake Mission was tied to completing all the missions with Omega ranks, leading to yet another surge in views.

If not now, then when?

“Time to get to work…”

Today’s video was going to cover exactly that section.

The Washington Retake Mission. The Return of 9-Line.

With the unboxing videos also going live over the next couple of days, there wasn’t much to worry about.

And then—

 

Both of Yujin’s unboxing videos shot to number one on the trending list.

In many ways, it had become legendary.

 

 

What can I say?

As the world progresses, there seems to be an ever-growing tendency to turn every little thing people do into a meme. Maybe it’s because I’ve chosen to prioritize streaming over being a professional gamer.

Anyway, the reason I’m talking about this is not particularly important.

“Wow! A master of lockpicking without using any tools!”

“They say sufficiently advanced strength is indistinguishable from technique… and yeah, that’s definitely the case… AAAH!”

“No complaints before training today, huh?”

Crunch!

One person, who had been babbling for no reason, got called up to the stage and ended up getting floored by some ground techniques. The scream they let out was quite pitiful. But, as I said earlier, it was training time, and from that perspective, this was just another form of CQB. Well, CQC in this case.

The timing was perfect, so I shamelessly shifted the conversation.

“If an enemy shows up, this is how you neutralize them.”

“Wow, this is progressing really fast.”

“Isn’t this a bit too aggressive for close-quarters combat, sir?”

As expected of national representatives, they catch on quickly.

It seemed like it was time to explain where we were at. In brief, it was time to get ready for the Asian preliminaries. The second week of training was coming to an end.

The twenty national representatives, divided into five teams, followed similar schedules but at different times. For example, while I was doing an interview with Dice, Michael, and Gambit on Monday, the others were shooting commercials.

This system worked both ways, with everyone alternating between real life and virtual reality, crossing the lines between advertising and television. It was only now that we finally had a moment to pause.

Nineteen people were sitting in chairs, all focused on my words as I stood on stage.

It was fortunate—if you could call it that—that the so-called "Task Force" from the pre-briefing had stuck to what they said quite well. They had even incorporated my input into the curriculum and training plans.

Not that I cared much. Since I was planning on giving personal lessons to a few people, including Dice, I wouldn’t have minded even if the Task Force had tried to push back.

Anyway, that’s how we ended up here.

“…Before we start, I’d like to open the floor for questions if possible. Clearing up any confusion you have is one of the goals of my curriculum.”

About ten people raised their hands.

I called on them one by one to ask their questions.

“How exactly will the training proceed? If there’s any conflict with the existing curriculum, how will you handle that?”

“I’ve been in continuous discussion with the Task Force this week, exchanging feedback on the manual they provided, and there haven’t been any major conflicts. However, the overall direction may differ in some aspects.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“To put it simply, it’s the difference between passive and active combat. But you won’t need to worry too much about the latter. I don’t plan on pushing that part.”

Besides, when it came to active combat, there was no one else who could do it but me.

And it wasn’t just any competition—it was the Asian preliminaries. The best twenty people from each of five different countries. Unless you’ve had no choice but to gain real-world combat experience for four years and two months like I did, there’s no need for anyone else to do it.

Moreover, the core focus of this curriculum was on pressure—the goal was to teach them how to stay mentally sharp in any situation, which didn’t necessarily involve aggressive combat.

Unlike me, they didn’t have the ability to take control of the battlefield themselves.

“…You’ll be learning essential skirmishing skills, such as how to read the combat situation accurately, disrupt the enemy’s offensive, and cut off enemy fire at the right moment.”

Everyone nodded.

But what they didn’t know was that none of this would be as easy as they thought.

“And… I’ll be participating in all the mock combat scenarios where you’ll be learning these skills.”

“Huh.”

The room buzzed with murmurs.

But within a few seconds, they quickly regained their composure, with many raising their hands for new questions.

“Will the process include in-depth behavior analysis, like what Dice received?”

“Of course. You’ll go through that process before the start of week four. Using an algorithm-based analysis program, we’ll prioritize the weapons and attachments that suit each of you best.”

At the same time, I called on Dice.

She was the only person who had fully experienced every aspect of the curriculum firsthand.

“Dice will serve as an assistant instructor. Most of the analysis will be handled by the algorithm, but any human elements that can’t be captured by the program will be checked by either Dice or me.”

“Is Dice really skilled enough for that?”

“I trained her. Your KSM rankings speak for themselves, don’t they?”

No matter what happened, that fact wouldn’t change.

Even if you leave me out of the equation, Dice had been the first candidate selected in the second cycle of pre-selection that didn’t even happen last year. From that perspective, she had more than earned her right to speak. Plus, since Monday, she had been running a continuous training program for future instructors….

Of course, it’s not like I was some certified instructor myself. As I’ve said before, I never went through a training curriculum to become one. I just took some data from Icarus and taught based on that.

Even that had been effective enough.

Anyway, with that said, someone brought up a question about attachments, which continued the conversation.

“By the way, Instructor Yujin, you often use LPVOs. Is there a particular reason for that? They’re great for mid- to long-range engagements, but without a canted sight, they seem unusable for close-quarters combat.”

“I usually choose them out of personal preference… but ever since last week, there’s also an advertising reason.”

“Huh?”

“I was contacted by a scope manufacturing company.”

The questioner finally nodded, saying “Ah…”

For me, using an LPVO was more about covering all engagement distances, not maximizing performance in every scenario. If I wanted to squeeze out every ounce of performance, I could always switch to an EOTech, a red dot sight, or other optics.

It’s just that I hadn’t faced any high-level engagements since coming here that would demand such precision. In simple terms, it was the difference between off-the-shelf and custom-made.

Plus, LPVOs are huge and heavy in real life. There’s a reason people avoid using them in games.

Anyway, the Q&A session wrapped up.

I clapped to liven up the atmosphere and added a final remark.

“Does anyone have time after this?”

Nobody said no.

I took a deep breath and snapped my fingers. The auditorium we were in instantly transformed into a mock combat training area.

As everyone’s faces turned from surprise to amazement, I crooked my finger to call Dice over. Standing beside me with her red cap on, she opened her mouth.

“If you have no objections, we’re going to dive into a training course demo now.”

It was time to put some tension back into this relaxed crowd.

 

 

 

Chapter written by
Fenrir Translations
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