I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 226 – Axe and Hammer

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-[Warning: Irreparable damage detected to the Lower Sector 2, Zulu Sector Server Control Room panel.]

-[Warning: A security team will arrive in 2 minutes to investigate the cause. Researchers must either evacuate the area within 1 minute or lie on the ground with identification ready. Failure to comply with these procedures may result in immediate termination.]

“…Yoo Jin?”

While hiding nearby and observing the outcome of the surrounding battle, a bizarre warning suddenly blared from the speaker mounted on the ceiling.

A serpent’s tail slithering past right in front of my eyes. It sounded odd, but upon reflection, whenever something unexpected and insane happened, Yoo Jin was the first suspect. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t trained through a formal curriculum for special forces but through impromptu and real-world experience.

As I pondered this, past memories mingled with the current layout and interior, suddenly flooding my vision. Several incidents had imprinted this exact thought not just on me but also on my teammates in similar locations.

‘When was it?’

Now, I was facing the same user in virtual reality, but back then, we were fighting a cartel formed by the collaboration between the so-called Patriots, a militarized faction of the US-PMC.

During an incident where a directional EMP had detonated, rendering the ICARUS Gear in poor condition, an enemy unit pressing down on operators with night vision goggles had suddenly found themselves engulfed in flames when someone threw incendiary grenades, neutralizing their night vision and creating an escape route.

Though it was a highly unorthodox method and not listed in any manual, I clearly remembered that scene. Of course, while this chaos ensued, I, like a serpent, moved stealthily in the darkness, twisting enemies’ necks 360 degrees.

───Tududududu!

“The Juggernauts are coming, and someone still hasn’t evacuated.”

Gunfire shattered my reverie. As my vision returned to reality, Logan—words escaped my mouth unconsciously. That comment could apply to me as well.

Though fleeting memories of the past surfaced, the main point remained unchanged.

Yoo Jin might be nearby.

Or someone influenced by her.

In any case, there was no special reason for staying in this soon-to-be kill zone.

My exit was delayed, but compromising wasn’t part of Task Force Dagger’s mission ethos, and this mindset hadn’t changed. It might be because we always took on missions that couldn’t be halted.

Whether I’d break first or the obstacles before me would fall was something to see.

-Clunk!

According to my recollection, three Juggernauts would be deployed following the speaker’s warning. They wouldn’t move in a group but patrol the area, joining the Juggernaut encirclement tightening around us.

True to their name, Juggernauts were incredibly tough and even carried shields. If not taken down quickly, reinforcements would arrive, and even if they didn’t, you’d have to retreat as the kill zone approached.

In other words, there’d be no problem if they were taken down swiftly.

And—

───Toong! Toong! Toong! Toong! Toong!

I emptied a magazine.

As patrol units, the Juggernauts carried thick ballistic shields. But I wielded a Barrett, and as soon as I emptied two 10-round box magazines, the shield shattered helplessly. What would happen next was predictable.

By the time the third empty magazine hit the ground, the enemy had turned into a pathetic, crumpled mixture of metal and polygons.

Having heard that Yoo Jin did this, I tried it myself—it wasn’t that difficult. Despite saying that, I threw the spent Barrett away. I had no spare ammo.

Almost no one carried .50 BMG rounds, and upon acquiring a skill, I could only hold one weapon.

‘Now, I need to find out where the skill activation zone is….’

Contrary to my worries, it wasn’t far.

Though some time remained before the kill zone approached, there was no room for complacency. My steps naturally led to the skill activation zone. Perhaps in this area, other than the Juggernauts, seeing other users might be rare.

But that thought was shattered as soon as I entered the construction site where the skill activation zone was set up.

───Tudududu!

“Brutal.”

My shield evaporated rapidly.

Each bullet carried a lethal intent. Moreover, the enemy maintained thorough shooting discipline, making pinpointing their exact location difficult. The area was a complex multi-layered structure of metal shacks and scaffolding, indicative of a construction site.

The solution was simple—advance towards a point where the enemy couldn’t secure a firing angle, even if it meant taking some hits. The enemy would move to maintain their firing angle, revealing their position.

The enemy was skilled. Even at a low estimate, they had basic combat knowledge.

Nonetheless, the situation unfolded as initially predicted.

One unexpected element was,

‘Wait. That avatar looks familiar.’

An avatar I recognized.

The one always seen with Yoo Jin, named Dice—

Ah.

“Ha.”

My heart pounded, and my limbs tensed.

Luck wasn’t the issue. The critical fact was that we were entering a skill test, and in virtual reality, death didn’t matter.

However, beyond the fast-flowing VR-blood, understanding the opponent’s abilities was crucial. Dice likely arrived here before me, implying a high chance of possessing a skill.

Depending on the skill, my actions would vary, but based on past matches, he frequently used turrets, shields, or sticky bombs for stable gameplay.

Standard but powerful. Hence, I already had countermeasures in mind.

But—

-Click.

A plastic clink echoed in my ear.

It was a familiar sound but surpassed expectations, momentarily freezing my thoughts. The opponent reloaded swiftly and launched something with a ‘thump.’

Time slowed as I tracked the source. A purple canister, the size of a 40mm grenade, cut through the air.

Before I could shoot it down, identifying its nature, it struck the metal scaffolding.

───Hiss! Clang!

With a sinister hiss, the metal pillar bubbled and melted. As the platform I stood on tilted, the second and third purple canisters of nanomachine oxidizers followed.

With the scaffold turning into useless scrap, I was already aiming for an escape, but the ominous drone propeller sound mixed with the crashing pipes.

Moments later, blinding flashes and explosions erupted from all directions.

“Oxidizers and bombing drones, huh.”

I knew exactly whose style this was.

That was Logan’s last thought before being buried under a heap of steel fragments.

After some time, Dice glanced at the collapsed framework, checked the kill zone on his PDA, tossed a grenade onto the wreckage, and hastily left the area.

After a series of loud noises, the skill activation zone was emptied of all players.

───Clang.

“The timing of your retreat was good, and trying to confirm the kill with a grenade was also a nice touch, but you should have held out a bit more boldly.”

Of course, the life of a manifested being with a shield was tenacious above all else.

With her HP below 10%, she struggled to get back on her feet.

For Dice, it was a bitter pill to swallow – but Logan intended to repay this incident with interest, and he had plenty of opportunities ahead.

“…We couldn’t finish her off completely. But it seems like she retreated at the right time. With only 40 seconds left to the kill zone, it would’ve been tough to confirm her survival.”

“Not bad. For a first scrim match, it’s quite an encouraging result. Last year, we had only one player left at this point….”

“That’s right. But now, all Korean users are still alive.”

When there are participants, there are also spectators.

Especially for the first scrim match involving a hundred top-tier players filtered from around the world, it meant that thousands, if not tens of thousands, were watching the game, predicting the outcomes, and calculating the potential results.

And as always, more than 70% of the lower-tier players experienced repeated joy and sorrow. Competitiveness meant trampling others down to smooth the steps of the ladder to climb higher. If you couldn’t become a predator, the result was obvious without needing an explanation.

However, on the flip side, the remaining 20-30% didn’t concern themselves with this. They already had a full hand, not getting swayed by minor ups and downs.

Of course, this meant there were exceptions.

There was an imbalance here with the heart of a lower-tier player and the body of a higher-tier one.

“How many are left now?”

“35 players left. Among the Korean representatives, there are… no eliminations so far.”

“….”

Hiss.

I intentionally covered my mouth to keep my rough breathing from spreading. However, I couldn’t slow down my pounding heart.

It was inevitable. The results they had achieved were – from a positive perspective – completely opposite to last year. The situation before our eyes was different from last year, when we never achieved a good result in the final championship.

Yoo Jin, Dice, Gambit, Michael, Ink. Each time they moved, and despite the decreasing seconds left in the game, the flames of life still burning vividly, the sound of an abacus clacking in my head grew louder.

The reason was simple.

‘Could one person really have the skill to single-handedly lead Korea’s AP soloing domain?’

If someone had said or heard this six months ago, there would have been at least three or four reactions: ignoring it and doing their job, laughing it off as a joke, or telling them to stop talking nonsense and get back to work.

But as always, reality was dramatic enough to outstrip media – though it was hard to even entertain such thoughts, as the ongoing game’s dynamic results unfolded, further solidified by the real-time discussions reflecting the decreasing numbers.

The number of players steadily dropped, now around 20. From this point on, it was the real deal. Only users known by name to those interested in soloing remained, engaging in fierce battles with no room for compromise.

The first to be eliminated was Gambit.

And from that point, eliminations came in quick succession.

“Clear Sky’s Gambit ranks 17th.”

“Xi’s Ink, 14th.”

“Reaper Infected’s Michael, 11th.”

And it didn’t take long for the last human bastion, Dice, to fall.

The words were imbued with intentional gravity and firmness. All the observers knew it sounded like someone trying to suppress their emotions.

“…SSM Entertainment’s Dice ranks 6th. Eventually, she ended up giving Logan another kill count.”

“Wasn’t last year’s best record 21st place? They’ve improved significantly.”

“More importantly, Logan, that user is a huge variable. His repertoire is almost identical to Yoo Jin’s. He appeared in AP soloing just a few months ago and suddenly seized the final championship selection rights.”

“I know.”

A brief breath.

I closed my mouth for a moment before speaking again.

“If he was able to track Dice specifically in such an important scrim and take her down leisurely, it means we have no way to deal with him yet.”

“Not yet….”

Not yet, indeed. Only a slender thread of hope lay in between.

And everyone’s attention shifted to the TOP 5.

Naturally, the lineup at the top seemed to defy reality. Unaffiliated Logan, likewise unaffiliated Yoo Jin. Last year’s final championship winner Storm Seer from Delta Blue, former SAS member Wiseman, and last year’s overall 4th place Arcbird.

Those watching couldn’t help but recall memories from a year ago.

‘Everyone’s expressions….’

Their eyes were filled with killing intent.

Everyone present had trained for years on how to professionally kill people and how to mentally handle such situations without hesitation when faced with them.

Intense, even maddened battles. The scrim’s intensity made one forget it was just a scrim. The pressure through the screen was stronger than last year.

Only a very few could tread the top-tier grounds, where those who had learned every possible technique were fighting with all they had for survival and killing.

The numbers steadily decreased.

But it wasn’t because they lacked skill; rather, luck played a part – but regardless, five became four, then three.

When it was down to two, the battle began. No one knew, but the fight between these two, who knew each other all too well, continued not only physically but also mentally.

There were many ways to describe that fierce battle, but simply put – both used up all their bullets by the end of their fight. Unfortunately, they couldn’t loot the bodies of the dead.

Thus, an unexpected yet inevitable melee battle ensued.

“An axe and… a hammer?”

“It’s almost frightening now. The preferences of the manifested….”

A tactical axe and a construction hammer.

This unprecedented clash in a private scrim would be talked about countless times in the future, but to sum up the results simply:

– I had so much to say… Anyway, it’s really good to see you again, Yoo Jin.

– Logan… Logan-ssi. It really is you.

– Yes. Who else could be Logan but me? But now isn’t the time for leisurely greetings. A senior officer and a crazy shark are observing, and they’re yelling in my head.

– Ha, haha….

– See you later.

Bang.

With an expression that couldn’t tell whether she was laughing or crying, Yoo Jin watched Logan disappear into polygons.

The first scrim, which might never be fully revealed, ended like that.