Fenrir Translations
Under the clear autumn sky, in the quiet hours of late dawn, a man dressed in civilian clothes walked on the asphalt within one of the most secretive camps in the world. The camp’s location was heavily classified, and security was tight.
The facility was massive, larger than most university campuses, and watchtowers stationed across the base were manned by external security personnel. The mid-October night air was cool, with temperatures hovering between single and double digits. The chill of the night seeped through exposed skin, making his hands feel the crispness of the air.
At the end of his gaze stood an old warehouse, dim and unlit. It was his destination. Dragging his weary body, he quietly opened the door. Several doors were firmly closed inside, and the dust that had settled on the floor suggested the age of the place. But amid the darkness, a new keypad glowed faintly.
He placed his fingers on it.
The door opened.
───Beep.
Light poured into the room.
Inside, in a space as large as a basketball court, over a dozen people were gathered, each engaged in their own conversations while watching floating screens.
For a brief moment, glances were exchanged. A quick scan from head to toe. Every face was familiar. It couldn’t be helped—each face belonged to an agent from Delta, people who had operated not only across the United States but around the world, executing missions from the past to the present and even in other worlds.
"Ah, Senior Owens."
"Here, it’s just Sergeant. But really, is it okay for you to be here, Logan?"
"I’ve already gotten permission, so don’t worry. If they’re giving medals to Eugene, I think I can sneak into a place like this, don’t you?"
At the sound of the voice, his eyes naturally turned in that direction.
A familiar yet unfamiliar woman stood there. It wasn’t VR; this was reality, which made the sight even stranger. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled like topaz, and her long, milk-white hair cascaded down. But what really stood out were the large bear ears on her head—a sight hard to get used to. Only memories of New York, where not just the Omega Virus but events beyond human understanding unfolded, made it somewhat acceptable.
His gaze shifted slightly to the side. A muscular man lay sprawled on the ground, seemingly unconscious, completely ignored by the others who continued to watch the screens.
"Why’s Kevin like that?"
"He hasn’t called me ‘Logan’ even once since we met today. Even after I changed my name back, that bastard still won’t get it."
"You reap what you sow."
Suppressing the word "Laura" that almost slipped out, he quietly sat down in the seat he was directed to. The screen displayed a message in translated English: The fifth match will begin in 10 minutes. Owens nudged Kevin with his foot, pushing him aside, as Laura sat next to him.
Catching his glance, she flashed a mischievous smile, waving her new blue badge, indicating her regular employee status. Even in the stark white light from above, her milky skin glowed brilliantly.
She added, "What were you doing before? This isn’t exactly a place that gives out permits quickly."
"I was working as a contractor for 1st SAC. Even before I got my memory back, I guess part of me always knew what was going on."
"What a strange coincidence."
Laura nodded briefly, then manipulated the screen in front of her.
A new screen popped up right before his eyes. It was an unmistakable sight. The long hair, the piercing blue eyes under a tactical vest, and the submachine gun she held. Even the sharp ears protruding from the sides of her head.
She moved across the battlefield, with no hesitation as bullets rained down around her, the sheer determination in her eyes making it seem as though she’d chase her target to the ends of hell. It was a sight all too familiar.
There were many things to say, but they could all be summed up as:
"You’re still alive—and sharper than ever."
"I’ll be back in the States at the end of December."
"Should I throw you a belated funeral? I burned all your personal belongings during the service. Sorry about that."
"How can you joke about something like that?"
A small reproach.
Owens closed his mouth as she sighed in frustration.
"I can’t do stuff like that anymore unless it’s VR. I thought I was living a tough life, but then my body changed like this. I came to my senses, and suddenly, I wasn’t part of Delta anymore. Damn it."
"Delta still has plenty of work, even without being a military operative. If you want, you can go through the formal process and rejoin. I’ve got room in my squad if you’re up for it."
"Well, if it’s Sergeant Owens’ Assault Squadron, I’m sure there’s room for me."
A short silence followed.
Logan Blemis. He had once been part of the task force Owens commanded and one of the rare, if not unique, victims of the Omega Virus. A person whose transformation was thought impossible—his gender and physical form had undergone a profound, almost incomprehensible change.
In any other scenario, Eugene would have been dissected in a lab somewhere, but instead, he was accepted with few issues by society and Icarus. It was thanks to New York’s inexplicable nature at the time that they could take things in stride. Later, when Jordan Amherst was interrogated, it was revealed that the Omega Virus had nothing to do with bodily transformations, leaving the issue unresolved.
Logan’s words broke the silence.
"But that’s something to worry about next year."
"Why? What’s coming up?"
"I’m going to the finals."
Another popup filled the screen in front of them. The words Dark Zone - AP national player in North America floated above a photo. Owens let out a chuckle.
"Quick on your feet, aren’t you?"
"I signed up on a whim, but it turned out to be fun. I’m planning to send Eugene my regards soon. If you’ve got anything to say to him, now’s your chance."
"If I tell you now, you’ll forget it by the time you get there. Might as well tell him myself."
"Who, me?"
"Who else? Kevin? The guy passed out on the floor isn’t going to relay a message. He didn’t even hear what we’re saying."
"Oh, come on!"
Ignoring Laura’s red-faced outburst, Owens returned his attention to the screen, just in time to dodge her punch aimed at his side.
Enhanced fists hurt.
Settling back into his seat, the personal conversation resumed.
"Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing well. Any discomfort?"
"Well, I’ve lived this way for 29 years, so not really. I’m stronger and fitter than before. The only awkward thing is when I’m showering. I always wanted to date someone this pretty, but seeing it in the mirror? Kinda sucks."
"That’s a disaster. Did you ever have a girlfriend?"
"Well, I used what I had before it was gone, so no regrets. But why ask a woman that?"
"Same old excuses when you’re at a disadvantage, just like the old days."
"…The match has started."
Indeed.
Some things never changed, even when the world did.
It was 5:03 a.m., and despite the sudden late-night test, tomorrow was technically a day off. Whether that was lucky or unlucky, Owens wasn’t sure. The 13-hour time difference with Eugene meant that matches started in the middle of the night by U.S. time.
But none of the people here took their eyes off the screen. Even if they were lying in bed, the conversation never stopped. The main topic, naturally, was Eugene. After all, that was the reason this space existed.
Though the unexpected wake-up call and the test had left them exhausted, they were among the few people who could suppress their physical urges better than anyone else. No one would be turning off the lights until all the matches had concluded.
"…Why is that?"
Meanwhile, in Russia, their players were becoming the personal punching bags of the South Koreans.
"If anyone here can solve this problem or at least offer a clue, I’ll instantly give them 50% of their salary as a bonus. Anyone have anything to say?"
Silence.
Everyone exchanged cautious glances, but no one spoke. It was the first time any of them, whether coaches or players, had faced such a situation, and it had effectively paralyzed their ability to think critically.
The best they could do was share their individual experiences and discuss where they had hit roadblocks. Even data that could be interpreted in various ways would start to take shape once enough people pooled their findings. They were at least skilled at doing that.
The conclusion they reached was this:
"…Currently, none of the players are utilizing the strengths they developed through their training. Their aggressive tactics have been thoroughly exploited, leading to consistent counterattacks that completely neutralize their offense."
"Is this happening just against Eugene?"
"No, only when they encounter South Korean players."
"…Sigh."
It sounded like avoiding 20 out of 100 players would be enough, but those 20 players occupied the top ranks, so avoiding them was no different from saying, 'I’m content with a middle-tier rank.'
In the end, they were back to square one. At least they weren’t the type to get trapped in a negative spiral of thinking. They still couldn’t shake their curiosity about how South Korean players were seemingly aware of Russia’s strategies as if they’d been analyzed from the start.
In fact, 'analyzed' was too weak a word. It felt like every move had been scrutinized from beginning to end.
"…What about Japan?"
"They’re performing as expected."
"As expected, huh?"
There was a slight lift in the tone of his voice.
In other words, Russia still had a chance to break through Japan. Originally, the fight for first to third place should have been between Russia, Japan, and South Korea. Last year, China had muscled in, but they weren’t much of a factor this time.
He let out a small breath before continuing.
"…This is the fifth match, so we can’t say for sure, but based on the analysis so far, here’s a brief rundown."
With that, several screens filled with complex charts, graphs, and movement patterns appeared, all condensed into a single, clear summary. The conclusions that could be drawn were numerous, but the head coach delivered them in a concise and straightforward manner.
"In conclusion, South Korean players’ overall gameplay has changed significantly from last year. The most noticeable difference is in positioning, which has become less important. But don’t take that as a hopeful sign. Anyone know why?"
"Is it because no matter how well-positioned their opponents are, South Korean players have the physical ability to break through with ease?"
"That’s exactly right."
Biting back the words 'I hate to admit it,' the head coach continued.
"As Zvezda pointed out, for the top-tier South Korean players, positioning hardly matters. It’s simple: they’re strong enough to overpower even unfavorable situations with their individual skill."
A brief pause.
Their new strategy was starting to take shape.
"The core point is still clear. You must secure the best position before anyone else. You need to exhaust Japan and South Korea. If you can pit them against each other, even better…."
With a bang, several combat data screens appeared.
"As I mentioned earlier, South Korean players don’t pay much attention to positioning. In other words, they’re slower at securing key terrain compared to other nations. In theory, if we claim those spots before Japan, their representatives will be caught between us and South Korea, getting crushed in the middle."
It was a textbook, theoretical approach.
It wasn’t as though the other countries hadn’t considered it, but Russia had its own reasoning for adopting it.
The head coach added, "Strategy isn't just about gameplay; it also considers external factors. At this point, Japan is firmly holding second place while seeking a way to reclaim first. That makes them unstable. If we don’t strike at their soft underbelly now, the gap will widen beyond our ability to close."
Bang.
The presentation ended with a sharp sound.
It was a bold strategy, one that could be described as both audacious and reckless, depending on how you looked at it. Despite all the added complexities, the core message was still 'secure the best position as fast as possible.'
Whether or not this would work was anyone’s guess. Even the coaching staff, who based their strategies on statistics and data, weren’t sure if this plan would be enough to navigate the turbulent waters of the Asian qualifiers.
But perhaps that was the nature of competition—an unpredictable chaos created by human effort and desperation.
"I trust everyone who’s come this far."
That was all the head coach had to say.
The fifth match was about to begin.
───Ratatatatat!
"Damn it! What the hell are they doing now?!"
It wasn’t long before players from Japan and other nations began cursing, watching in disbelief as the Russian players, entrenched in their advantageous positions, began re-enacting a scene straight out of Normandy with their machine guns.