I Became a Swordsman in a Dystopia

A bell rings through the silence.

There was a certain beauty in that sound. 

This moment had that same quality. 

An eerily complete silence.

Only pained groans echoed like some twisted background music.

CRASH-!

A thunderous sound – part resonance, part explosion – ripped through the air. 

Anyone still in their right mind could only stare at the scene, frozen.

CRASH-!

‘So skills only work with actual blades, huh.’ 

Bit of a shame. 

I wanted to try pulling off a ‘Slash’ with the baton, but the skill didn’t respond when called out. 

Still, lucky for me the baton was built tougher than it looked.

CRACK-! SHATTER-!

The second reinforced glass window burst apart.

People stumbled back, panic written on their faces.

The reason for breaking the remaining glass was simple.

I needed to get in.

Usually, I’d try something else, but after wrecking one door, anything fancy just felt like a waste of time. 

Too slow.

“Excuse me.”

“Y-yes?”

“Mind if I take this?”

“Th-that… yes, take it.”

While the security guard stood there bewildered,

People inside started moving, one by one.

“O-outside!”

“Don’t push! Let’s get out slowly!”

The crowd poured out like a broken dam. 

Like floodgates bursting open, hundreds, thousands of people rushed outside. 

Didn’t take a genius to figure out why they were running.

-Inside Waylis.-

With no radiation shielding except for the critical areas, every light was dead.

The dark interior must have seemed even more terrifying amid this disaster.

Maybe this exodus was meant to be. 

Hell, it was probably the best thing that could’ve happened.

The reason it was difficult to breach Waylis headquarters in the early game is simple.

There are too many mutants and infected inside.

In that sense, having so many potential mutants pour out meant that entering Waylis headquarters would become smoother from now on.

Amid all the chaos,

A clear voice cut through.

“Who exactly are you?”

Ellie Waylis asked.

It came out of nowhere, but…

It was a kind of question that couldn’t be easily answered.

The real me.

The player character me.

Neither explanation would cut it. 

So I went with the simplest answer.

“Kyle Han.”

“Kyle Han?”

“That’s my name.”

“I’ll remember it.”

“Make sure to repay the debt later.”

“Yes… Of course. As for the entrance and any other minor damages, there won’t be any legal issues.”

“That’s the least of my worries.”

In the face of an impending apocalypse, her talk of ‘legal issues’ just showed how little she understood what was coming.

“…Is that so?”

“Well, I’m off.”

She’s what you’d call a capable survivor. 

Top-tier talent, really.

Which means her value as a key survivor comes down to pure ability. 

Right now, though, I don’t need her. 

Being a Waylis doesn’t change the fact that dragging her to the top floor won’t help me get that master key. 

She’s just another face in the Waylis family album. 

That’s all she was written to be.

The lost time brought back my sense of urgency.

‘Time to move.’

Can’t waste a single second. 

Now that I was sure about my trait, 

I had the guts to pick up the pace.

“Um.”

Just as I was about to cut through the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream, 

Ellie stopped me for a moment. 

Her words barely reached me through the rushing crowd.

“Th-thank… you.”

‘Seems like I’ve mostly succeeded in gaining her favor.’

* * *

When mutants pop up, they start attacking anything that’s not their kind. 

Get attacked, and there’s a good chance you’ll turn into one of the infected, creating even more victims. 

Pretty much zombie behavior 101.

However, there’s a clear difference from zombies.

These things evolve physically. 

Even the infected are like that. 

They turn into monsters that blow past normal human limits.

If there were tens of thousands?

It might be manageable.

Hundreds of thousands? 

Still might have a shot.

But the scale is different.

Tens of millions.

Tens of millions of these things swarming like ants, tearing through the world looking for food. 

Could anyone stop that? 

Pretty much impossible. 

Even just 10% of this city’s population hits millions. And obviously, this isn’t the only city out there.

Therefore, the easiest way to clear this game is one thing:

Annihilation.

The only ending that works for a speedrun. 

Blow everything up with nukes. 

Right now, though, that ending’s off the table. 

Because that’s the extreme route where even the player character dies.

Not that there are many choices left.

Either hole up on some deserted island and live off the land. 

Or make a break for it and build a bunker in the middle of nowhere. 

Even those aren’t what you’d call ideal endings. 

In the original game, you just had to survive for a set amount of time to clear it.

But this isn’t a game anymore. 

This is reality. 

So I can’t stick to routes that only buy me a few extra months.

Then what? 

I don’t have the answer yet.

I have to find it from now on.

At least I know most of this world inside out.

The first step is Waylis headquarters.

Find the ‘master key’ that can control this city and normalize the situation as much as possible.

-By the time I finished that thought, I’d reached the top of the stairs.

“This is insane.” 

76 floors worth of stupid height. 

Way too high to climb without that miracle of technology called an elevator.

The strange thing was that even after climbing such stairs, not even a [Fatigue] status effect appeared.

“…Well, I got a good mechanical cardiopulmonary system.”

My heart and lungs might not be implants, but my body just doesn’t quit easily. 

‘Though hunting infected might be another story…’ 

Even with souped-up cardio, taking down hundreds with just melee weapons would be pushing it.

That’s why equipment is important too.

Powerful equipment that can let you survive even after taking down hundreds or thousands.

Fortunately, one such piece is at the top floor of Waylis headquarters along with the master key.

As I approached the top floor.

“Impressive.”

Dozens of men in black suits were already watching the top floor entrance.

“Did you get implants? Hmm, that can’t be. All implants should be dead right now… No, military implants would have shielding.”

My mind went cold.

They seemed curious about what happened at the entrance and how I wasn’t even winded.

The crucial part was how they knew all this.

That would only be possible if the alarm systems and security cameras in major facilities were still running.

It also meant that Waylis’s top floor was EMP-shielded too.

‘Though I already knew that.’

Whatever worry I had left disappeared.

“You have a talent for making people uncomfortable.”

The middle-aged man scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

A hand covered in faintly visible scars.

Something about his casual attitude got under my skin. 

But, 

It was also kind of welcome. 

Because I knew that face.

I didn’t notice at first due to blurry vision, but now I’m certain.

“Turn back. Even with everything going on, this isn’t a place for outsiders.” 

“Any chance you could step aside?” 

Bergo Heinz.

“I don’t know who you are or what your purpose is.”

A rare survivor you can see if you rush to Waylis during gameplay.

His middle-aged appearance meant he was a pure human who hadn’t been injected with NH-03.

This was the first time I’ve seen Bergo without the mutant infection.

* * *

Bergo Heinz.

A survivor who gets infected fighting mutants inside Waylis HQ.

He’s even friendly to players – got the community researching builds to save him and get him on the team for ages. 

I was one of them, posting as ‘Kyle Han’.

However, no matter which route was taken, it was impossible to save Bergo who had already become infected.

“Director.”

“Ah yes, protocol says to subdue immediately, but the situation is messy, let’s not create troublesome situations.”

Such a Bergo in his normal, uninfected state.

That’s why even in this urgent situation, his appearance comes across as friendly.

‘Still, no time to be distracted.’

A steady gaze.

Simultaneously, dozens of eyes fixed on me.

About thirty people.

More than half of them had bloodshot eyes.

However, the tension wasn’t as high as before.

Probably because I had gained some certainty about my traits.

Our eyes meet as I contemplate.

Should I subdue them?

If I think of myself as the game character and them as just NPCs. 

It might seem doable.

No.

It’s definitely possible.

I might not pull off anything fancy, but if I just power through…

But dealing with them all might not be the real issue. Even if I get through, the top floor’s defenses will be running full steam.

‘Can I break through the defense facilities?’

‘It’s different from the entrance. The baton will break first.’

‘I need firearms or explosives. But I can’t use firearms…’

Subduing them isn’t a good choice.

So, persuasion it is.

Just thinking about how to get through these blockheads makes my head hurt.

But aside from all that.

The security personnel aren’t ordinary either.

Not even a grunt of pain from any of them.

They just guard the door with heavy expressions.

The mutant symptoms should be killing them by now, but watching them power through on willpower alone was something else.

‘Let’s try persuasion first.’

How though? 

Think for a second.

If I were the player’s character, what dialogue would I have chosen?

Perhaps due to the situation at hand.

When I spoke, each word came out carefully chosen.

“I’m here to fix this situation.”

“No, the situation will be resolved soon. It’s not something for outsiders to meddle in.”

“Do you really think so?”

“What reason is there not to think so?”

“More than half your people are already showing symptoms, aren’t they?”

Just that brief exchange put a crack in Bergo’s poker face. 

‘Is this working?’

“You know something?”

His question showed his desperation. 

So I dropped a heavier truth.

“The reason you’re not showing symptoms is because you haven’t been administered NH-03.”

And stating the root of the symptoms head-on made the agents in black suits subtly…

Begin to waver.

They must be feeling something’s off too.

‘…Hmm.’

Still something’s lacking.

This level is just slightly insufficient.

After wracking my brains.

Something clicks.

“So the head of Waylis won’t be fine either.”

“…Interesting.”

Bergo fell into thought after those words.

‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’

In gameplay, there are no routes where Waylis’s head survives.

That’s why I was certain.

By now, they must surely be showing symptoms.

For Bergo, this was something he couldn’t ignore. 

After a moment’s silence. 

When he looked up again, his face was deadly serious.

“The population that received NH-03 is enormous just in this city alone. Isn’t it too dangerous to speculate that it’s becoming a problem?”

“The situation speaks for itself. Look at who’s showing symptoms and who isn’t.”

“If NH-03 is the problem as you say, do you know how to alleviate the symptoms?”

“Yes.”

A way to prevent mutation.

It exists.

However, it’s a workaround.

So, it’s not guaranteed.

But right now, I sense I need to throw out a definitive answer as bait.

“That’s why I came. If this hits worst case… the city will fall into chaos.”

Even wordplay can carry different weight depending on who receives it.

“Chaos, huh? This level of disaster seems quite manageable though?”

“Not if the head of Waylis dies.”

Of course, whether they live or die, the immediate results will be similar.

However,

For a brief moment, Bergo’s brow furrowed deeply.

“You’re crossing a line.”

“Because it’s that urgent.”

“Just what are you plotting?”

“This isn’t a conversation for you. Guide me. To the head of Waylis.”

“So you were a smooth-talking madman. You think a few simple exchanges like this will get you an audience with them?”

He took a stance while snorting derisively.

All the surrounding personnel, though not showing it in their expressions, had already subtly shifted their postures, ready to pounce at any moment.

Though it was a situation where a physical confrontation seemed imminent, my mind kept running.

‘So reaching the top floor won’t be easy after all.’

But before that thought could conclude.

Whirr- Click.

The dark stairwell lit up.

The door opened more simply than expected.

And a small, bespectacled person who emerged from inside was gazing with indifferent eyes.

“What an interesting guest.”

The owner of Waylis.

Gale Waylis.

It wasn’t too late yet.