"Feels like I’ve just come back from a business trip…."

Thud.

Lying on the bed, he disconnected from the neural interface, a different setup from the usual VR connector, and collapsed back onto his bed. After nearly forty-eight hours of lying there, his body felt incredibly stiff. With only minimal breaks for meals and necessary bodily functions, he had invested almost every moment in the operation, so it was only natural. Now that it was finally over, he felt genuine relief.

Perhaps it was because it had been so long since he’d gone on an operation, but his head throbbed slightly. It wasn’t a physical issue—more likely, it was due to the intense concentration and heightened alertness he had maintained, especially while working with Team Dagger again for the first time in a while.

"…Water. Need water."

His throat was parched.

Even with a humidifier running, his throat was dry, suggesting it could have been a lot worse without it. Heading to the kitchen, he gulped down an ice-cold glass of water, finally feeling some relief.

He vaguely remembered the three-day break announcement he had hastily posted before the operation. He could already imagine the uproar from his viewers…yet reconnecting with Team Dagger and executing the joint operation took priority.

He checked the date, realizing he had another day before his next broadcast, which was enough time to explore the Dark Zone at his leisure. Recently, he’d been all about missions, with barely any downtime.

With a hologram display open, he started preparing lunch. Today’s menu was pasta and pizza, along with a protein-packed shake to fill in any gaps. Eating like this every day was certainly a major perk.

There wasn’t much he needed to do. Reheating the pizza in the oven and following a recipe for the pasta was straightforward enough. While the water boiled, he took out various ingredients from the fridge. Of course, checking in on any happenings during his absence was standard.

Activating the Icarus Gear’s action-assist function, he could chop ingredients without much effort, freeing his eyes to focus on other things.

So, the top headline of the day—

"…Sacramento faction war?"

It seemed another major event was underway in the game.

Curious about the exact nature of the chaos, he decided to leave the finer details for later and instead reviewed the basics. The event was set in Sacramento, currently covered by a once-in-decades blizzard that had engulfed the American West.

Moreover, a unique prompt appeared on his screen, exclusive to him, describing this event as a “Second World Synchronization Result.” Once again, it looked like the role of retaking the city would fall to an entity needing no supplies or support.

The premise was simple. It was called a “faction war” for a reason: the event allowed players to form groups as large as entire battalions, not just their usual operation teams. The main objectives included establishing superior base camps, forming alliances, or engaging in battles with other teams.

Since it was nominally a Sacramento “reclamation” operation, players gained more points from patrolling or clearing out specific zones than from PvP or building fortifications.

Noting this, he saw that the pasta was about 80% cooked and dropped it into the pre-made cream sauce, giving it a good stir with the ladle. With the pasta and the pizza, whose timer had just finished, now arranged on the table, he sat down to eat.

Slurping and chewing sounds filled the air, and it didn’t take long for the meal to disappear.

"Phew, finally full."

Afterward, he sat at his desk, handling a few errands.

Nothing elaborate—mostly replying to messages, reviewing incoming sponsorships, and keeping potential ones on file. Recently, he’d been focusing on easy-to-eat food brands, so he got quite a few of those offers.

Then there was the matter of the think tank. Over the past few weeks, its expansion had been exponential, requiring regular check-ins. Although he was the majority shareholder and technology provider, he often left most decisions to the professional management team.

One notable decision he’d recently made was granting stock options to the management and engineering staff. This brought his shares down from 100% to about 99.62%, but they seemed thrilled about it, to his slight embarrassment.

Additionally, Henry’s proposal to support small and venture-sized companies had passed, allowing the think tank to benefit from it starting in April of this year.

"It’s finally taking off."

To celebrate, he had offered to provide any necessary technology, but, interestingly, they’d declined, explaining that even after a threefold increase in personnel, they still hadn’t fully absorbed the tech he’d already provided. It was hard to argue with that. The mere wristwatch he wore incorporated mind-bending technologies like room-temperature fusion and ultra-miniaturization. Clearly, the tech level from his previous world was far beyond what was available here.

In any case, he felt his blood sugar rising and decided to get dressed for a short walk, savoring the late-winter air. Naturally, he turned on the heating function of his Icarus Gear; otherwise, his cold-sensitive body would have reacted unpleasantly.

After about thirty minutes of strolling, he returned home, feeling somewhat refreshed and eager to check what was happening in the Dark Zone.

He wore his choker, lay back on the bed, and activated the interface, a familiar yet strange ceiling coming into view.

There he was.

"Damn, that’s flashy."

The sight in the mirror.

In this virtual reality where practically anything was possible, his shoulder patches, gun camo, and firearm accessories stood out, resplendent in their varied shapes and colors.

Out in the open, he’d be immediately recognized. Thankfully, the shoulder patches could be removed—a lifesaver given his dozens of Omega Rank mission patches, Incursion first-clear patches, 1st Place in Qualifiers, and KSM Rank 1 patches, among others. Wearing all of them would be ridiculous.

Unfortunately, the Final Championship patch and crest couldn’t be removed.

Creak!

He opened the door and walked to the community park. Fortunately, the game included an optical camouflage function, allowing him to remain unseen. Otherwise, it would have been like a surprise fan signing session.

Looking around, he saw the bulletin board filled with papers. Most were recruitment posts for mission partners or operation team members.

Today, however, there was something new.

"Ah, ah. Recruiting members for Dark Room Director’s Sanctuary! Five spots available, located in California State Library! Great location, lots of private space for building! Looking for players SOF and up!"

"Looking for both newbies and pros at the You-Can’t-Survive-Here Sanctuary! Prioritizing players with free schedules over skill level! Located in Bierce Bookstore—no regrets! Lots of space, looking for people to grow with us!"

…What in the world?

He couldn’t help but laugh at the scene—this faction war event had practically turned into a recruiting fair. Elsewhere, it was no different, with players plastering their shoulders with every flashy title and patch to advertise themselves.

At first, he hadn’t understood what it meant when he heard the survival system was implemented in Sacramento, but now it made sense. It seemed that without base camps or sanctuaries like these, prolonged activity would be impossible.

This implied that he might not need to roam around Los Angeles-style, personally fighting every enemy, as he could leave it to other players this time.

Thinking along these lines, he continued walking—until—

"Looking for raid members for TunTunConda House Sanctuary! Minimum 50 players, fully armed, welcome!"

"What?"

He couldn’t ignore that.

It seemed he had a reason to head to Sacramento sooner rather than later.

"Wow, look at all the people."

"Looks like there are about sixty of them, going all out to secure this spot."

"What’s the plan?"

"Wait until we declare combat, then have the fire and defense teams at the main entrance."

In front of the Sacramento State Prison, people began to gather one by one.

Their numbers had swelled to around two to three platoons, surrounding the prison and scanning continuously for vulnerabilities. Some had even brought portable anchors, making the rooftop a potential entry point, not just the main entrance.

The scene captured by hidden CCTVs was downright intimidating. Rockets and Juggernaut suits indicated their intent to break through any obstacle, causing those watching the footage to swallow nervously.

Meanwhile, Harmony and Dice observed the scene with subtle smiles.

"What do you think?"

"They’re a bit few in number, but we should be able to repel them without much trouble."

Everyone except Dice let out a wry laugh, but in their minds, they knew he was likely correct.

"I don’t recall the interior layout ever being exposed. It’s complicated enough that they won’t gain much from entering unprepared."

"Exactly. We could easily lure them in, trap them, then ambush them from side paths. The routes aren’t that wide, so they’ll deploy troops sequentially."

"We’re currently twenty-two people, so we’ll have to use our heads a bit."

"And if it comes to it, we’ll lure them to the trap rooms. We trained our control room operators for situations like this."

The conversation continued, despite the ongoing developments outside.

With a thunk, anchors launched, hooking onto the roof of the Sacramento State Prison. According to the pulse readings, sixteen units were preparing for rooftop infiltration, split into two groups of eight. The players inside the prison were unaware of this.

The rooftop alarms sounded, signaling all internal forces to prepare for combat. Harmony and Dice confirmed this from behind the two players operating the control room.

-[Alert: Combat Declared. Entering Defense Operation at Sacramento State Prison.]

-[Alert: Number of defenders confirmed to be less than half the attacking forces. Advantage “Income Hacking” activated. Select a user location to hack.]

"Target rooftop infiltrators as they ascend with income hacking."

A simple yet effective choice.

With only the information from intercepted conversations, they could deduce the timing and likely routes of infiltration.

A new screen opened beside the main control screen, automatically converting intercepted voices into text. Harmony took a calming breath, patting the shoulders of the two control room operators watching intently.

"It’s fine. Just keep battlefield updates frequent and accurate."

"Understood!"

"Oh, relax, will you?"

Yet, even as they prepared, the sixteen players began to ascend, their positions detected by the rooftop sensors—though, for some reason, some sensors weren’t working.

Scratching his head in confusion, he continued monitoring, and then—

-[Recording: Ah, ah, do you read? This is Loop 1-1. All sixteen have successfully reached the roof. How’s the connection?]

-[Recording: What’s this? Why did the comms suddenly cut out?]

-[Recording: Must’ve triggered the EMP. Guess there’s no helping it. I’ll go signal manually. Wait here and rig the door with explosives. Use a fuse or wired detonation since we’ve got EMP.]

-[Recording: Roger that.]

"…Did we have an EMP?"

"Other than individual pulse devices, I don’t think so. Strange…"

"Get ready to retreat if necessary. Even with sanctuary respawn, it takes six in-game hours to revive!"

And with that, they waited.

Now that the battle was truly about to begin, they watched as the rooftop enemies moved to the edges of the building, signaling manually due to the failed comms.

As one of them leaned out to signal, an odd sound broke the silence.

Rip!

The sound was familiar, like peeling tape.

In the next moment, a muffled voice transmitted over the comms, and suddenly, a rooftop player plummeted from the building.

Unwillingly.

"…?"

"…Huh?"

Thud!

Given the height, the automatic fall safety would have catapulted the player to the lobby to prevent heart failure. But now, an empty corpse soared momentarily before hitting the ground, dead.

A stir spread. The players on the roof, unaware of their missing member, leisurely continued setting up explosives. They were oblivious, but the players at the front entrance understood it was time to push forward.

A rocket shot at the entrance, exploding, while a blast simultaneously breached the rooftop entrance. The infiltration operation was in full swing.

As the first team of eight players entered through the roof, the second team of seven waited leisurely on the rooftop.

However—

Thud!

"Gah…!"

"What the hell’s going on!?"

"Caron’s dead! There’s someone on the roof!"

"Return fire, return fire!"

"Where!?"

Six remaining.

Five.

Four, three…

One by one, the second rooftop team disappeared. The blizzard and optical camouflage created a deadly combination. The infiltrators, unable to aim properly, fell or were mortally wounded, chased back to the lobby.

In less than thirty seconds, the sixty attackers dwindled to fifty, and then an unexpected someone picked up a communicator, crackling as if aware of the hack.

-[Recording: I’ll be there soon. In the meantime, think of a good reason why you named it TunTunConda’s House.]

"…Hic."

"…May I go to the bathroom?"

Baba Yaga.

Or something even more terrifying was coming for Sacramento State Prison.