Otling back of the trubsp;
Despite being armed to the teeth, the tension among the people aboard alpable.
"Just a little longer! We're almost there!"
A sudden roar and shouts pulled me back to reality.
An unfamiliar sight greeted me.
A dark, overcast sky.
Steel beams and shattered crete ruins, like the exposed skeleton of a ohriving civilization.
"What the…?"
But the words that left my mouth were not in my native nguage.
Yet, somehow, I spoke and uood it perfectly.
It made no sense.
"Carl! Quit spag out and take this!"
…Carl?
What the hell?
Even as fusion clouded my mind, my hands instinctively caught the pistol thrown to me.
Cold. Heavy.
This was no toy.
Even though I had spent years holding a mouse instead of a gun, I khe difference.
This was a real firearm.
"Why are you handihis…?"
"Are you seriously still hung up about what that old man said?! No time for that, get ready!"
"…Ready? For what?"
"Goddamn it! Just do whatever you want!"
The tattooed man s me before turning away.
'Carl?'
I hadn't misheard.
He had called me Carl.
‘Why?’
Before I could make sense of the situation, the man shouted again—this time in panic.
"Shit! They're already catg up!"
And then—
A chorus of monstrous howls erupted from all dires.
[Kyaooooo!]
…An animal’s cry?
No—
It wasn’t.
This was…
"…What the hell is going on?"
"What do you think?! Those goddamn mutts are on us!"
I finally looked outside the truck.
[Grrrrr! Bark! Bark!]
[Kyaoooo!]
Three trucks—including the one I was on—were speeding down a ruined road.
And behind them…
Dozens of monsters.
But what made my blood run cold was how familiar they looked.
"Why do they look so much like…"
Hellhounds.
Grade 10 Beast-Type Monsters.
Creatures straight out of The Defense.
And now, they were hunting us.
"Shit! They're ing!"
With a furious shout, the tattooed man raised his rifle.
[Bark! Bark! Bark!]
[Kyaoo! Kyaoo!]
"Fire!"
The truck bed erupted with gunfire.
—Bang! Bang! Bang!
—Tat-tat-tat!
[Yelp!]
Several hellhounds colpsed, but their numbers barely thinned.
"Just a little longer! We're almost at the Ark!"
…The Ark?
"Hey."
"WHAT NOW?!"
"Are we really heading to the Ark?"
"ARE YOU BRAIN-DEAD?! OF COURSE WE ARE!"
…This was insane.
The only Ark I knew was the st human stronghold in The Defense.
Not only that, but I had been called Carl—the same name as the character I created.
And noere heading toward the Ark.
‘…No. That’s ridiculous.’
But so was everything else happening.
The impossible had already happened.
It was time to face the truth.
The Defense.
I had somehow been pulled into that world.
And I was in the body of Carl Marcus—the character I had created.
As absurd as it was, everything poio that clusion.
‘And judging by the situation… Carl Marcus isn’t from the Ark.’
The trait penalties I had picked…
"Because of his fn ins, he is treated with suspi. He will face many hardships."
The Defense assigned characters based oraits.
I had never seen a character start outside the Ark before.
‘Then…’
A thought struck me.
I hesitantly touched my left ear.
It was the in-game gesture used to check character stats.
──────────────Name: Carl MarcusRank: ─Css: ─
Strength: 11Endurance: 12Dexterity: 10Luck: 7Ether Sensitivity: 5
Traits: [Superhuman Stamina], [Agile Movements], [Superhuman Willpower], [Insomnia], [Hand Tremors], [Nearsightedness], [Sudden Deafness], [One Shot One Kill], [Firepower Specialist], [Heavy Rounds], [Possession…──────────────
‘…It’s real.’
And those stats.
A newly created character should have an average of 2 or 3 in each stat.
But mine exceeded 10.
That was on par with elite veteran soldiers.
‘Stats like these only show up in e-Line characters.’
And my Ether Sensitivity was already 5—without needing surgery.
Suddenly, the penalty of being an outsider made a lot more sense.
‘Which means…’
I had figured out where I was.
Now, I o figure out what to do.
Luckily, that was simple.
"Just hold on a little lohe Ark is just ahead!"
I o survive until we reached the Ark.
I studied the pursuing hellhounds.
‘…Most of them are just Grade 10 beasts.’
If we were ihe Ark, they’d be no threat.
But out here?
One mistake, and we were dead.
‘Then…’
I quickly checked my equipment.
──────────────[Rusty Makarov Pistol] [★(1-Star)]
—An old, deteriorating Makarov pistol.
—Uses 9mm rounds.
—High risk of malfun.
《View Details》──────────────[9mm Standard Rounds] [★(1-Star)]
[Current t: 15]
—Standard 9mm rounds.
《View Details》──────────────
‘…Pathetic.’
A deg pistol and only 15 bullets.
Even if I nded every shot perfectly, I could maybe kill three hellhounds.
That wouldn’t ge anything.
I sed the situation.
—A moving truck.
—Low-quality equipment.
—Destination: The Ark.
Given these ditions, there was only oion.
‘Eliminating the monsters is impossible.’
I needed a better pn.
I climbed toward the back of the truck.
"Oh, great desdant of the spirits, Carl Marcus! What brings you here?"
"To help."
"HA! So, you've finally decided to lend a hand? Are you doh your nonsense?"
"Something like that."
I ighe man’s sarcasm and tightened my grip on the pistol.
The cold, heavy weight settled in my palm.
It had been a long time since I st held a gun.
Not since I was discharged from the military.
But ohing was clear—
‘This gun isn’t enough.’
My eyes naturally drifted to the rifle itooed man’s hands.
It wasn’t great, but it was better than a pistol.
“That.”
“…Huh?”
“Trade with me.”
I held out my pistol aured to his rifle.
For a moment, he just stared at me—like I had lost my damn mind.
“…Are you kidding me?”
“I’m serious.”
“Ha… haaa…”
He sighed in exasperation, shaking his head. Then, without another word, he unclipped the rifle’s strap and ha to me.
“I know what you’re capable of. That’s the only reason I’m agreeing to this.”
“I know.”
And just like that, I sed my pistol for his rifle.
Holy, I hadn’t expected him to agree so easily.
Apparently, Carl Marcus had a stroation among these people.
Which was great for me.
‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’
──────────────[Old M1 Carbine] [★ (1-Star)]
—An old M1 Carbine.
—Uses 7.62 x 33mm rounds.
—Needs maintenance.
《View Details》
──────────────
[7.62 x 33mm Standard Rounds] [★(1-Star)]
[Current t: 30]
—Standard 7.62 x 33mm rounds.
《View Details》
──────────────
‘Tch.’
pared to Ark-issued equipment, this was trash.
Holy, it was a miracle they had survived this long with gear like this.
‘And more importantly… I don’t have enough bullets.’
I only have 30 rounds.
That wasn’t nearly enough to fight off the horde.
It wasn’t even enough to hold out until we reached the Ark.
"Aaargh!"
As if to firm my fears, several people on the rear truck were dragged down by the hellhounds.
“Kud!!”
But we had no time to save them.
"YOU BASTARDS!!"
Refugees oher truck started firing wildly.
But the hellhounds were smart.
They easily dodged the panicked gunfire.
—Click, click.
“…Shit.”
And then—
Hellhounds leaped onto the truck.
Screams.
Blood.
Flesh and bone ripped apart.
"AAAAAAGH!"
Some people jumped from the tru desperation—
Only to be torn apart by the waiting hellhounds.
There was no escape.
"FUCK!!"
As a hellhound lunged for the truck behind us, I fired without hesitation.
—BANG!
[Yelp!]
The Hellhound’s ots are its eyes which is unprotected by its skull and the ter of its chest which is also unprotected by its armored ribs.
‘The chest is a little harder to hit… but it’s doable.’
My hands trembled.
Maybe from fear.
Maybe from the [Hand Tremors] trait I had picked.
Under normal ditions, my shots should’ve missed.
But thanks to Carl Marcus’ enhanced abilities, I nded every shot.
‘This is doable.’
I steadied my grip on the M1 Carbine.
First target—
A hellhound rag toward our truck.
—BANG!
[Yelp! Yelp!]
[Kieeeek!!]
Sed target.
—BANG!
[Screeeeech!]
Third. Fourth. Fifth.
Not a single bullet was wasted.
Each shot struck true.
"Holy shit! You shoot!"
The tattooed man—now swinging a battle axe—yelled in amusement.
"That axe suits you."
"THANKS TO WHO, DO YOU THINK?!"
"What's your name?"
"…Seriously? Are you saying you fot my name?! You son of a—!!"
He swung his axe mid-sentence, cleaving through a hellhound.
"Listen up, dumbass! My name is Kurilta! Son of Iron Axe Kurild! If you fet again, I’ll MAKE SURE you remember—with this axe!"
"Got it, Kurilta."
I had fired over 30 times.
My bullets should have run out.
A—
—BANG! BANG BANG!
My rifle kept firing.
And thanks to that, the hellhounds’ numbers rapidly dwindled.
"LOOK! THE ARK!"
In the distance, a massive fortress wall rose over the horizon.
"WE’RE GONNA MAKE IT!!"
But then—
"WAIT—!!"
—BOOOOOOM!
A deafening explosion.
One of the two remaining trucks flipped over.
"What the hell—?!"
Kurilta’s question was answered immediately.
A giant shadow emerged from the dust.
[Grrrrr…]
Its shape was simir to a hellhound—
But its size was monstrous.
Spiked bones jutted out like armor.
‘…Shit.’
Grade 8 Monster — Skull Hound.
The alpha of the hellhounds.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"
"DEAR GOD…"
"WE’RE… DEAD."
Despair spread through the group.
But my mind remained cold.
I had fired over 30 shots.
My bullets should be gone.
A—my rifle was still firing.
—BANG! BANG BANG!
Like my ammo was infinite.
‘This isn’t just my imagination.’
If I had really been pulled into the world of The Defense—
Therainer’s effects had to be real, too.
"…Carl?"
Ign Kurilta’s fused stare, I gripped my rifle.
I didn’t know why I was here.
But I sure as hell wasn’t going to die.
[Grrrrr…]
The Skull Hound bared its fangs—
And charged.
Boom! Boom!
With every step, the ground shook.
A house-sized beast barreling straight toward me.
My body screamed to run.
But I shook my head.
There was o run.
—Click.
I pulled the trigger.
'Right now.'
Fmes erupted from the M1 Carbine’s muzzle.
—BANG!!
[KIEEEEEEEEK!!]
A fountain of blood erupted from the Skull Hound’s eyes.
