"So, according to our youngest, there's a free-for-all happening in Sacramento, right?"

"Correct."

Paso Verde Elementary School.

After hurriedly logging out and sprinting back to the Sanctuary, I met up with Dagger Team at an abandoned elementary school—the closest location to Sacramento International Airport. I'd explained the situation to Harmony and Dice, adding that the airport had already been cleaned out, so there was no need to continue there.

The reason I rushed to meet Dagger Team was simple: considering the current situation in Sacramento, Dagger Team might run into serious trouble if they proceeded as planned.

"So, unrestricted operator-versus-operator combat is breaking out? Is there some mass incursion of Fallen or something?"

"Well, it's a bit of a long story…."

Where should I even start?

After a moment’s thought, I began to explain—an explanation I knew I'd have to give sooner or later. This was about why users, called "Shadows," could return even after death, and why I, too, could come back after dying. It wasn’t something I could just brush off.

And to an extent, they seemed to have guessed it.

"So, it's like a kind of clone, or maybe an advanced, remotely controlled, unmanned soldier."

"Pretty much."

It wasn’t far from the truth.

Starting from this rough but accurate concept, I explained further: in Sacramento, various factional and extermination battles were taking place, with frequent clashes against enemy coalition forces and other operators. I managed to give an overall picture, albeit a glossed-over one.

As for the reason for these skirmishes, I used the "goal settings" as an explanation—essentially, a programmed objective setup. This was enough to wrap up the situation in Sacramento. However, as it stood, it wasn’t enough reason to stop Dagger Team entirely. That came next.

"So, there’s a chance the Shadows might attack us?"

"That’s why I stopped you."

Frankly, I wasn't sure how Dagger Team would be portrayed in-game. Perhaps as NPCs? Back in Los Angeles, the Western U.S. military forces had pulled out, so there’d been little overlap between users and actual military troops.

But now, with Dagger Team diving into Sacramento, things were different.

As I mentioned, this area allowed unrestricted PvP.

"Even back in Los Angeles, there were over 100,000 Shadows… This could get messy."

"Still, I don’t think we can just halt the operation. You understand why, don’t you?"

"Of course. This isn’t just any mission; it’s related to nuclear warheads."

There was a reason why people in movies and games about modern warfare panicked whenever nuclear weapons were mentioned. Even in this era, where nuclear missiles were somewhat more common, the stakes were the same. The frequency of their use might have increased, but a nuke was still a nuke.

It would be impossible to cancel the mission just because it seemed risky. And even if I warned them about the Shadows, upper management wouldn’t believe for a second that “someone else” would handle it. What would the upper ranks rely on when they didn’t trust anything outside of the material realm?

Fortunately, it wasn’t entirely impossible to support them.

"While you won’t be able to resurrect like the Shadows, I can still offer some support."

"Such as?"

"I could swap out all your rounds for compact thermite ammo or high-density polymer bullets. Or, we could reduce the Shadows' attack power against you…."

"Just the first would let us knock them down in one shot each. That’s the kind of bullet that can tear through buildings."

It wasn’t a difficult fix.

So, I received a few bullets from Laurentina, who had brought them along for data scanning before the mission. The cartridges were painted bright red. While everyone called them "compact thermite rounds," what they contained wasn’t technically thermite—though it was far more powerful.

After a quick, high-precision pulse scan of the bullet, I transmitted the data to Icarus International. This would act as dummy data, integrating seamlessly into the game. Copying it into Sacramento, it would be—

Thud!

"There you go. About 5,000 rounds. Should be enough for the nine of you."

"Incredible."

"5,000 rounds… That’s a $2 million magazine right there."

"Don’t bother saving them; use them freely and get out safely."

Laurentina, who’d been tapping my shoulder, laughed as she spoke.

"Thanks to you, it feels like I’m finally getting my Christmas and New Year’s gifts all at once."

"Not sure anyone would want this as a gift, but… Thanks. Just don’t get too close if we end up in combat."

"Of course. And the plane was headed to Mater Airport before it crashed, so no need to search south of the Sacramento River."

With that, I’d given them all the crucial information.

Everyone gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It was time to go back.

"You all have Geiger counters, so I’ll be on my way. If you find anything, let me know immediately, and I’ll do the same."

"Right. Take care."

I stepped out and headed back home.

The moment I logged back in, Harmony and Dice were there, shaking their heads before I even spoke. They hadn’t found much. But now, that hardly mattered.

Reactivating the blur function, I added,

"We’re headed for the north side of the American River. Everyone, grab a Geiger counter and get ready."

The swirling snow was waiting for us.

"Wow, this snow and wind are insane!"

"So, where exactly are we going?"

"We’re headed to the probable crash site. Fortunately, I managed to recover some fragmented information. I’ve pieced together enough data to get some control tower communications."

It was a lie. I got it straight from Dagger Team.

But claiming an unknown source would only undermine credibility, so I glossed over it. It was still plausible. Since viewers only had the general story, I could say we’d recovered data during the stream break, and they wouldn’t question it.

Besides, they had no way of proving otherwise.

After running the data, I’d found some rather interesting details.

‘The transport plane carrying the warheads took off and immediately hit turbulence. The engine failed, and as they tried to regain altitude, another engine shut down.’

While I couldn’t be certain, it was clear the plane hadn’t been properly maintained.

Or perhaps a broken tree had gotten sucked into the engine.

If we assume the aircraft was an An-225, a massive six-engine cargo plane, it would take a serious mechanical failure to knock it down. Given the dilapidated state of Sacramento International, this wasn’t hard to believe.

Maybe their hangar had collapsed, or the cold had contracted some parts, or the strong wind had stressed the fuselage… There were countless possible causes, but none really mattered now.

The control tower communication logs indicated that as soon as it reached a certain altitude, the plane lost all thrust. They must have attempted an emergency landing. After all, they kept communicating until the signal cut off a few minutes later.

‘Based on the departure time, speed, and heading, it likely crashed about halfway to Mater Airport.’

Moreover, the rapid altitude drop suggested more than side winds—they’d likely hit a microburst. That meant the plane probably hadn’t strayed far from its expected path, with a margin of error around 3km.

The blurred map section was transmitted to Dice, Harmony, and five other Sanctuary members following behind us. The map skipped over individual houses, so the area to scout was relatively reduced.

There were roughly three potential sites to check.

But I had a hunch.

"Cal Expo and the California State Fairgrounds. Let’s search around here."

"Understood."

The viewers complained about the blurs again, but today, instead of a frying pan to the head, I just buried them in the thick snow. They were a noisy bunch. After issuing a “Quiet down, please!” to the louder ones, it was under control.

Even with the narrowed search range, we still had nearly 2 square kilometers to cover today. Finding plane debris was unlikely. The high-altitude crash would have shattered the aircraft, and any remains would be buried in snow.

The best bet would be to check for buildings that had taken significant damage.

Yet just ten minutes into the search, one of our scouts picked up a lead.

"This is Stalker 4-1 to Stalker 1-1. We’ve spotted suspicious lights and numerous life signs. It’s likely enemy coalition forces, not players."

"…What?"

"Seems they’re getting desperate too."

Of course, they were.

If Mater Airport was operational, there’d be enemy troops stationed there. And with their nuclear warheads missing in the middle of Sacramento, they’d have to send someone to retrieve them. Given that warheads weighed hundreds of kilograms, they’d need vehicles to transport them. The lights probably indicated an excavation, and the life signs hinted at the same.

This was either a jackpot or a disaster.

We regrouped and dug out a temporary cover in the snow to observe the site. While the others discussed tactics, I fixed my gaze on a particular spot.

"…Professor Yujin?"

"Hold on."

The screen flickered strangely.

Hunters were there.

I couldn’t see them clearly, but the black ballistic masks obscuring their faces were unmistakable, broken and regenerating through a pixelated haze. And there weren’t just a few—there were at least eight of them. After marking the enemies and sharing my view, everyone had something to say.

Although we were at a disadvantage in numbers, there was no way we could just leave them alone. Despite those thoughts, my fingers were already reaching out to notify Dagger Team, who were likely somewhere in Sacramento. Even a distant sniper shot could help immensely.

All that remained was to finalize our strategy.

"There are about ten Hunters. Harmony, Dice, and I will lure them. Everyone else, circle around and clear out the enemies guarding the excavation."

"Understood. Stay safe, Professor."

The moment we launched into action, my brain felt like it was accelerating.

Giving orders, assessing allied positions, and finding the right timing. As we engaged the Hunters, the five allies flanked to hit them from behind. The enemy numbers were around 40 to 50, so it was feasible.

A message pinged with an ETA: Dagger Team would arrive in five minutes.

"We’re starting."

The muffled sound of suppressed gunfire spread through the air.

A high-caliber bullet hit a Hunter's head, causing it to jerk. Although less powerful than the Icarus Gear, their armor could still withstand a single shot—but only one. Harmony’s follow-up shot cracked open the first Hunter’s skull.

Everyone immediately ducked for cover. Sirens blared as the Hunter in front attempted a return fire, while we picked off the unprotected enemies one by one.

Boom!

"EMP confirmed. Communications are down now."

A half-beat later, a pulse swept over us.

Now we’d have to communicate vocally.

I kept pulling the trigger, brass casings piling on the thick snow and melting away with a faint hiss. As this repeated, the number of Hunters continued to decrease. Anyone hiding behind cover found it obliterated by Dice’s adhesive bombs.

When the nine Hunters were down to six, they seemed to realize they had no chance if this continued. With their positions exposed, they decided to charge forward with ballistic shields.

"Front, 109 meters."

"Penetration adhesive bomb ready!"

Boom!

The explosion tore through a Hunter’s shield, ripping him to shreds. Five others immediately took his place, closing the distance. Harmony pulled out a handful of grenades, while Dice readied foam grenades.

When they were within 20 meters, five Russian grenades soared through the air. A quick shot detonated them midair, while a Hunter charged forward, shield raised.

At that moment—

Clink!

"Too close for comfort."

Harmony, who had been maneuvering in the background, threw twelve grenades into the fray.

The grenades traced twelve separate, lethal arcs before exploding all at once, producing an ear-splitting roar. Barely pressing myself to the ground in time, I avoided the blast, but the Hunters weren’t so lucky.

One of the staggering enemies’ shields was within reach, and with a powerful kick, I sent him tumbling back several meters. Switching my M14 to auto, I emptied 30 rounds over the top of the shield. Dodging an incoming shield strike, I drove a punch into the Hunter’s abdomen.

I felt the armor crack as his ribs splintered.

Seizing the shield, I quickly crouched.

"Ugh…!"

Bang bang bang!

Bullets ricocheted off the shield. Fortunately, it held up.

Predictably, the Hunter who’d discarded his shield was quickly riddled with bullets by two concentrated shots, collapsing to the ground. Only three Hunters remained.

But then—

Beep!

Boom!

A strange noise emitted from the Hunters’ watches, which glowed a sinister red before emitting a semi-circular pulse. I thought it was a shockwave at first, but I quickly realized it was far worse.

After reducing the last three Hunters to pulp, I glanced at the UI warning.

• [Alert: Icarus category breach. Network override…defending. Ongoing interference confirmed.]
• [Alert: Designating Icarus Gear user and five allies on the same network as Fallen Operators for the next hour.]

 

Rustle.

Nine figures appeared behind us.

As our watches ominously glowed red, their gun barrels shifted toward Harmony, Dice, and me—before lowering gradually.

A huge NPC marker hung over our heads.

Dagger Team had arrived.

"A moment too late."

"The HISAV system infected our watches. For the next hour or two, we’ll be marked as Fallen on the Icarus Network."

Whether this was a blessing or a curse, I couldn’t tell, but Logan, Laurentina, and Owens were masked, so Harmony and Dice couldn’t recognize them.

To these two, this was their first time encountering NPCs in Sacramento since the operation began. Unsure of what to say, they hesitated. I nudged them quietly, instructing them to stay quiet if they had nothing to add, and continued.

"There were ten Hunters at the dig site. I’m certain the warhead is close."

"Sounds complicated. Need any help?"

"Maybe."

Being flagged as enemies had its advantages.

The comms were now filled with unfamiliar transmissions, clearly not from Icarus. In other words, we were getting a legitimate window into enemy communications.

A loudspeaker amplified the message: reinforcements were en route to the dig site within 30 minutes. It was clear to everyone what had to be done.

"Hand over the warhead as payment, and just hold the line for an hour."

"Understood. Let’s see if there’s anything useful around here."

Thus began an unusual but necessary alliance.