“Who would have thought the war to reclaim America, projected to drag on for at least five years, is wrapping up in under three months?”

“Well, it’s better to have things go smoothly.”

San Diego Command Center, clear skies.

With a steady rhythm, the footsteps of nine people echoed down the hall, stopping at the door to the debriefing room. As they entered, the pressure sensors activated, projecting a large satellite map of California. The eight team members took their seats as the map zoomed in at a glance, showing California’s capital. The unique sight of rivers crisscrossing Sacramento stood out, though this year, a freak snowstorm had buried the area in snow as late as March.

Those who glanced at the climate data for Sacramento chuckled in disbelief, and Owens, standing at the podium, quickly dismissed it from the display.

“Now this is some insane weather.”

“Apparently, this is a snowstorm that might only happen once in a thousand years. Bad luck, really.”

The city, where temperatures rarely dropped below freezing even in winter, had seen lows of -27 degrees Celsius. It was a surreal event that the nine—or ten—people present had personally experienced. Even UAVs had been unable to operate in such a severe storm.

“At least it left the enemy alliance dumbfounded. I heard that the death toll from hypothermia is expected to reach the thousands.”

“Half of those casualties were probably stationed at Sacramento International Airport, the same place we hit.”

“That’s obvious.”

Unfortunate circumstances, but that’s war. The chance of receiving the right support, at the right place, at the right time was rare, even in the most documented wars. Most of the time, it was more about dealing with unexpected and unfavorable situations.

For the alliance forces, that unexpected twist had been the weather. Relying on past data that showed cities like Sacramento had a Mediterranean climate, they hadn’t prepared for the freezing conditions and ultimately paid the price, turning into frozen corpses.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

“Most of the remaining forces were wiped out in the recent battle.”

“Exactly. According to the rookie, the situation in Sacramento is nearly finished. The three battalions of reinforcements sent from Martyr Airfield were entirely wiped out, and the nuclear warheads were seized. There’s nothing left for them to hold onto.”

“Wish the guys in Seattle would surrender too at this point.”

“Given that you’re saying it, that’s not likely.”

Indeed, recon showed that Seattle, both the next target of the counteroffensive and the endpoint for the American reclamation, was already clear of the storm. Though covered in snow, the city had been left undisturbed for about a month.

It was likely that all the major roads had already been cleared, and any favorable weather could accelerate the thawing process. And as a port city, it still had the firepower of some docked destroyers ready to support it. However, regardless of Seattle’s defenses, the team’s conversation centered around another reason.

“Once Seattle falls, the forces in Portland will lose all support, increasing their chances of surrendering.”

No matter how strong America’s reputation and strength remained, large-scale urban warfare would always be expected to lead to Pyrrhic victories. It was often more efficient to exhaust the enemy within the limits of international law than to capture them through brutal force. Of course, the International Court of Justice had long since vanished.

Anyway, on a different note—

-[Alert: Communication Connected.]

“…Ah, ah. Can everyone hear me? Glad to see you’re all safe.”

“You’re saying what we were about to say. How’ve you been?”

“Haha, I’ve been wandering around Sacramento as usual.”

It was now the rookie’s time to speak.

Despite the suddenly warm atmosphere, this was still a necessary step. None of them fully understood, but each person in the room knew that the simulation Eugene was conducting in the real world affected their reality. Besides, they’d recently encountered the shadow version of Eugene at CAL EXPO, indicating that they were working on different missions. A debrief was in order.

Eugene began to share his story skillfully.

“The weather’s finally clearing here. It hardly ever snows anymore, and we just reclaimed Martyr Airfield yesterday… With any luck, everything here should be wrapped up in a day or two.”

“Thanks for all your hard work.”

“I told you, they’re reducing the number of troops deployed in these operations.”

The nine others chuckled quietly. Just a few weeks ago, this would have sounded strange, yet the impact of Eugene’s work was already noticeable. They were no longer endlessly sabotaging Los Angeles or San Jose; the missions were fewer but far more effective. Full reclamation of the U.S. was within reach.

That, however, brought about a new dilemma.

“I almost don’t know what to do with all this free time.”

“Why don’t you go see a military doctor for a PTSD evaluation instead of talking nonsense?”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that! Damn it, Owens…”

It was a joke, but everyone could relate. Chris Hedges, a former war correspondent, once said in his book that “war is addictive, like a drug, so intense that it’s hard to break free.” For them, who had lived on the brink of life and death for five years, the statement held true.

With the justifiable goal of restoring the U.S. and the morally supported fight against invading forces, PTSD wasn’t a severe concern for them. Yet, the sense of “normalcy” began to feel worn.

So, a quiet question arose.

“What are we up to in that other world?”

“Unfortunately, not much difference. Kessinger is in the Secret Service, the section commander works as Chief of Staff for the Secretary of Defense, Logan and Owens are in The Unit, Lorentina is with DEVGRU, and Marcus and Rapier hold senior PMC roles…”

“Enough. Seems like more of the same.”

“You should’ve asked the rookie to bring you some cigars, like I did.”

“If it weren’t for Icarus Gear, your lungs would be coal.”

Of course, there wasn’t much choice in hobbies.

Finding an alternate interest required some infrastructure—music, movies, and shows were out of the question, and sports like soccer, basketball, or boxing needed time and people. It wasn’t that time was entirely lacking, but the constant interruptions of emergency operations made it difficult to settle into any routine.

When society’s infrastructure crumbles, finding new hobbies becomes naturally challenging.

“…Well, I’ll bring anything you need back with me next time.”

“Thanks, that’d be great.”

Then Logan added,

“Feels like we’ve come far enough to worry about small things like this. That’s thanks to you.”

The long war to reclaim America was nearing its end.

Eugene smiled, continuing as casually as ever.

15 days before the Shadows landed in Seattle.

“Wow, Eugene! There’s a city called Eugene on the way up to Portland and Seattle!”

“I was about 140% sure you’d mention that. You never disappoint.”

Of course.

The spelling was even identical. Unfortunately for Eugene, the city’s emblem wasn’t a snake. It was a moderately well-known place for agriculture, timber, and high-tech research and manufacturing.

So this is why California’s cities are always being compared to Silicon Valley, he thought. Not that any of the big tech giants were around in that world anymore.

Anyway, after about 25 days, Sacramento had safely returned to America’s control. Many players who had tasted the thrill of factional warfare protested for the mission to be reopened, but the game company unceremoniously kicked them out just hours ago.

Well, it wasn’t quite kicking them out; several guild buildings—now called Sanctuaries—had been built in San Diego. PVP-focused players barely cared, but I had something to worry about.

“I can’t believe they copied and pasted this cursed place onto San Diego.”

“Oh, come on! It looks nice up close, and besides, wouldn’t it be a shame if… okay, I’m sorry! Teacher, no—!”

“Harmony sure likes to push Eugene’s buttons as the self-proclaimed first disciple.”

Hall of Fame.

Harmony and Dice, in a fit of overzealous fandom while I was away, had crafted a sort of gallery dedicated to me. They had permission from fan artists to display impressive—not suggestive—fan art, and even replicated my trophies and gold name tags.

There was even a movie room where you could watch a one-hour montage of my achievements in the Final Championship, which Harmony edited and posted on her channel. It boasted over 30 million views.

There were many other indescribable, bizarre additions that I’d been too busy to deal with, given work and missions.

“I can’t get rid of it, either.”

“Nooo, you can’t…!”

“I’m not getting rid of it.”

Thanks to that, the guild’s HQ had over 10,000 visitors daily. Charging an entrance fee would’ve been reasonable.

Anyway, I let Harmony dangle in the air for a moment before setting her back down and checked the screen. The countdown beside “Seattle” was a striking reminder that the complete reclamation of the U.S. was within sight. But the bustling atmosphere at the HQ broke my reflective mood, so I turned my attention to the latest message, which was far more relevant.

The gist of it was this:

-[Laurentina: I’ll be deployed to Korea from March to July for tactical exchange. Seems I’ll have some free time in March. Logan’s planning a private trip there too; how about it?]

“Can’t leave the country? Fine, they’ll deploy to Korea instead… what a crazy group of people.”

Laurentina was coming to Korea.

Somewhere in the Jinhae Naval Base, someone must be dumbstruck, looking over the list of incoming personnel for joint exercises. I vaguely remembered Laurentina was the top of the Gold Squadron in skill and reputation.

It looked like I’d have to enhance the drone’s blur feature significantly. Logan was still manageable, but Laurentina’s identity had to remain tightly concealed.

Meanwhile, Harmony and Dice, seeming to have a sudden idea, returned carrying a large box, set it up in front of the Hall of Fame, and started collecting entrance fees.

The fee was modest, but my patience was wearing thin. I checked the real-world clock—it was 11:30 PM. Logan would likely be free, so I called him while the two were busy.

After a moment, he answered.

“You timed this well. It must be past midnight in Korea.”

“Peak time for streamers. So, why didn’t you tell me about Laurentina?”

“I just found out 30 minutes ago. She’s insane…”

Of course, she was.

Yet, having one or two extremely determined people did make things easier. Who would’ve thought they’d use tactical exchange as an excuse to come here…?

Since I’d read her message, Laurentina immediately sent me her schedule. It was a high-security file, but with Icarus Gear, I had nothing to worry about.

Seconds later, my phone buzzed with another call.

“You read it?”

“Whoa, you scared me! I just opened it!”

“There’s not much to see. Just know that weeks one and two are ‘Korea Adaptation,’ so I have two weeks free.”

“Wait, so you only told Logan 30 minutes ago?”

“The Korean joint exercise was posted a week ago, and we just got confirmation.”

“Oh.”

It seemed impulsive, but all things considered, it made sense. Korea was no -stan, after all, and aside from the language barrier, there shouldn’t be any issues.

Looking at the list of units, I saw Laurentina would be working with Korea’s UDT, a premier special ops unit. She’d likely turn the place upside down, both in terms of skills and… other ways. But that wasn’t my problem.

Returning to the call—

“Jinhae, huh? That’s far.”

“I remember our little cat took an expensive prize recently. Think they’ll pick you up? What do you think, rookie?”

“…I’ll just rent a car.”

“Just don’t wreck it this time.”

“I’m telling you, I won’t!”

Oops.

I’d raised my voice, and of course, Harmony and Dice noticed. With their streamer’s sixth sense, they homed in, eager to know what was going on.

As expected—

“Teacher, you really do have a knack for content.”

“It’s not me; it’s my friends.”

“Birds of a feather, Eugene.”

It seemed I had no choice but to accept that truth.

Now I had something to do in the 15 days before the battle in Seattle began.

“Gold Squadron? Wow, they’re pulling out the big guns this time.”

“And they’re enhanced? Can I skip the knife fight?”

“Oh, wow. This person broke a level-4 armor plate bare-handed.”

Meanwhile.

Those witnessing the strength of a true enhanced soldier were left in shock.

The shark’s teeth were closing in.