I Became the Dystopian Swordsman – Episode 004
The Bell Tolls in Silence
There’s a certain charm to the sound of a bell ringing in quietude.
Right now, a similar atmosphere lingers.
An eerie, almost unnatural silence.
Amidst the backdrop of pained groans—
CRACK!
A deafening roar, an awkward mix of resonance and shattering, echoes through the air.
Those still somewhat sane can only stare blankly at the scene.
CRACK!
‘Can I only use skills with bladed weapons?’
A tinge of disappointment.
I wanted to try unleashing Slash with the baton, but the support skill didn’t activate.
Still, the saving grace is that this riot baton is absurdly sturdy for what it is.
SHATTER—!
The second alloy-reinforced glass panel bursts apart.
People stagger back in shock.
The reason I shattered the rest of the glass was simple:
I needed to get inside.
Normally, I’d have found another way, but after breaking one door, anything else felt tedious.
Too time-consuming.
“Hey.”
“Y-Yes?”
“Mind if I keep this?”
“Th-That’s… Y-Yes, take it.”
While the flustered security guard hesitates—
The people trapped inside begin to move, one by one.
“O-Outside…”
“Don’t push! Let’s get out slowly!”
A flood of bodies spills out like water bursting through a dam.
Hundreds, thousands, surging forward.
It’s not hard to guess why they’re fleeing.
Inside Wayris HQ—
Apart from critical facilities, the lack of shielding left everything in darkness.
The pitch-black interior must have amplified the chaos and terror of an already disastrous situation.
Perhaps this mass exodus was inevitable.
In fact, it might have been the right call.
The reason Wayris HQ is so difficult to breach early in the game is simple:
It’s teeming with mutants and infected.
From that perspective, this flood of soon-to-be mutants means future infiltration will be smoother.
Amidst the chaos—
A clear voice cuts through the noise.
“Who are you?”
Ellie Wayris’ question.
Sudden, but not easily answered.
The real me.
The player-character me.
Neither identity can be explained simply.
So I settle for the clearest answer.
“Kyle Han.”
“Kyle Han?”
“That’s my name.”
“I’ll remember it.”
“Make sure you repay that debt later.”
“Yes… Of course. For now, don’t worry about legal repercussions or any minor issues regarding the door.”
“That’s the least of my concerns.”
The fact that she’s talking about legal responsibility in the middle of an apocalypse only highlights how little she grasps the situation.
“……Is that so?”
“Then, I’ll be going.”
She’s a capable survivor.
Exceptionally talented.
Which means her importance lies solely in her abilities.
Right now, I don’t need her.
Even if she’s a member of the Wayris family, dragging her to the top floor won’t help me obtain the master key.
She’s just one of many children bearing the Wayris name.
Lore-wise, that’s all she is.
The wasted time fuels my urgency.
‘I need to move.’
Not a second can be spared.
Now that I’ve confirmed my traits—
I feel bold enough to act faster.
“Hey.”
Just as I’m about to push through the crowd like a salmon against the current—
Ellie calls out.
Her words are muffled by the surging mass of people.
“Th… Thank you.”
‘Seems like I’ve successfully raised her favorability.’
The Nature of Mutants
When mutants emerge, they begin indiscriminate attacks on non-infected lifeforms.
Those attacked have a high chance of turning into infected themselves, creating more victims.
Their behavior isn’t far from zombies.
But there’s one key difference:
They evolve.
Even the infected undergo physical transformations, becoming monsters beyond human limits.
What if there are tens of thousands of them?
Manageable.
Hundreds of thousands?
Still manageable.
But when the numbers shift scales—
Millions.
Tens of millions.
Like a swarm of locusts, they scour the world for prey.
Can they be stopped?
Nearly impossible.
Even 10% of this city’s population would mean millions.
And this isn’t the only city.
That’s why the easiest way to clear this game is one thing:
Annihilation.
The only speedrun-viable ending—
A nuclear self-destruct.
Right now, I have no choice but to exclude that route.
It’s an extreme ending where even the player-character dies.
But that doesn’t leave many alternatives.
Hiding on a deserted island, living self-sufficiently.
Escaping to build a bunker in the wilderness.
But even those aren’t ideal endings.
In the game, surviving for a set period triggers an ending.
This isn’t a game anymore.
It’s reality.
I can’t settle for a route where I barely survive a few more months.
Then what?
I don’t know yet.
I’ll have to find out.
At the very least, I understand this world inside out.
The first step is Wayris HQ.
Find the master key that can control this city and restore order as much as possible.
With that thought, the staircase I’ve been sprinting up finally reaches its end.
“This is insane.”
76 floors.
A dizzying height without elevators.
The strange part?
Even after climbing all this, the [Fatigue] debuff hasn’t appeared.
“……This mechanical cardio is no joke.”
My heart and lungs aren’t implants, yet my body refuses to tire.
‘Against infected hordes, though…’
Even with mechanical endurance, fighting hundreds with just melee weapons would be grueling.
Equipment matters.
Gear strong enough to slaughter thousands and survive.
Luckily, one such piece is waiting at the top of Wayris HQ—alongside the master key.
The Top Floor
As I approach the highest level—
“Impressive.”
Dozens of black-suited men stand at the entrance, staring intently.
“Implants? No… That can’t be. All implants should be disabled right now… Unless it’s military-grade with shielding.”
My blood runs cold.
They must have noticed my condition at the entrance—my lack of exhaustion.
The fact that they know all this means the security systems here are still operational.
Wayris’ top floor is shielded against electromagnetic pulses.
‘I already knew, but…’
The lingering unease fades.
“You’ve got a knack for making people uncomfortable.”
A middle-aged man scratches the back of his head awkwardly.
His scar-covered hands are faintly visible.
His relaxed demeanor is… irritating.
But at the same time—
Familiar.
At first, my vision was too blurry to recognize him, but now it’s clear.
“Turn back. Even in this situation, outsiders aren’t allowed here.”
“Can’t you step aside?”
Bergo Heinz.
“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here.”
A rare survivor encountered when infiltrating Wayris in-game.
His middle-aged appearance means he’s a pure human—no NH-03 injections.
This is the first time I’ve seen Bergo uninfected.
Bergo Heinz
In the game, Bergo fights mutants inside Wayris HQ before becoming infected.
His friendly disposition toward the player made him a popular companion in community builds.
Even I, under the name Kyle Han, researched ways to save him.
But no matter the route, saving an already infected Bergo was impossible.
“Chief.”
“Yeah, I know. Protocol says to subdue intruders immediately, but things are messy. Let’s avoid unnecessary trouble.”
Seeing Bergo in his uninfected state feels surreal.
But there’s no time to dwell.
Dozens of eyes lock onto me.
About thirty men.
Over half have bloodshot eyes.
Yet, my tension has lessened slightly.
Perhaps because I’ve grown more confident in my traits.
‘Should I force my way through?’
If I treat myself as a game character and them as mere NPCs—
It’s doable.
No—
It’s enough.
I might not pull off flashy maneuvers, but brute force could work.
The real problem is what comes after.
Even if I break through, the top floor’s defenses will activate.
‘Can I destroy the security systems?’
‘Not like the entrance. The baton would break first.’
‘I need firearms or explosives. But I can’t use guns…’
Force isn’t the best option.
Then—negotiation.
How do I convince these stone-faced men?
My head already hurts.
But unlike my racing thoughts—
These aren’t ordinary security guards.
They don’t even groan in pain.
Despite the agony of early-stage mutation, they endure silently.
It’s almost admirable.
‘I’ll try talking first.’
But how?
A brief moment of thought.
What would a player-character say in this situation?
The carefully chosen words spill out:
“I’m here to resolve the situation.”
“The situation will resolve itself. No need for outsiders to interfere.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“And why wouldn’t I?”
“Over half of you are already showing symptoms.”
A short back-and-forth.
Just that much is enough to crack Bergo’s composure.
‘Is this working?’
“Do you know something?”
His urgency is telling.
So I feed him a half-truth.
“The reason you’re unaffected is because you haven’t taken NH-03.”
The revelation sends a ripple through the black-suited men.
They must have suspected as much.
‘Hmm…’
Still, something’s missing.
This alone isn’t quite enough.
After racking my brain—
It hits me.
“Which means the head of Wayris isn’t unaffected either.”
“……Interesting.”
Bergo falls silent, deep in thought.
‘Now that’s a proper reaction.’
In the game, the head of Wayris is never alive.
So I’m certain—
By now, he must be showing symptoms.
Bergo has no choice but to take this seriously.
After a tense silence—
Bergo’s expression darkens.
“NH-03 was administered to a massive portion of this city’s population. Isn’t it reckless to assume it’s the cause?”
“The situation doesn’t lie. The difference between those showing symptoms and those who aren’t is clear.”
“If NH-03 really is the problem, do you know how to stop the mutations?”
“Yes.”
There is a way to halt the mutations.
But it’s a loophole.
Unreliable.
Still, I instinctively know—
Right now, I need to dangle certainty as bait.
“That’s why I’m here. If things escalate further… this city will descend into chaos.”
A clever play on words.
Its weight depends on the listener.
“Chaos? We’ve weathered disasters before.”
“Not if the head of Wayris dies.”
Of course, whether he lives or dies, the immediate outcome would be similar.
But—
For a brief moment, Bergo’s brow furrows deeply.
“You’re crossing a line.”
“The situation is that dire.”
“What’s your game?”
“That’s not for you to hear. Take me to the head of Wayris.”
“You’ve got a silver tongue, you lunatic. You think a few smooth words will get you an audience?”
He scoffs, shifting his stance.
The men around him subtly prepare to strike.
A brawl is imminent—
But my thoughts run deeper.
‘Breaking into the top floor was never going to be easy.’
Just as that thought concludes—
Whirr—Clunk.
The dimly lit stairwell floods with light.
The door opens far more easily than expected.
A small, bespectacled man steps out, his gaze indifferent.
“A fascinating guest.”
The master of Wayris.
Gale Wayris.
It’s not too late yet.
