Global Awakening: This VR System is Tyrannical!

Jong-Un stood frozen, staring at the paper silhouette at the end of the lane. The ragged, single hole right in the center of the target looked less like human marksmanship and more like an industrial punch press had stomped straight through the paper.

"How..." Jong-Un stammered, turning slowly to face Zerke. "Director Stygan, are you using steroids or doping?! This is impossible!"

Zerke chuckled, setting his 9mm down on the bench and engaging the safety mechanism. "What are you talking about? Why would someone my age, at forty-eight, mess with things like that?! It’s just a matter of skill. Pure skill."

The entire shooting range remained stunned, struggling to process the reality before their eyes. Meanwhile, Jong-Kook chuckled in the back, sweeping up all the betting cash and handing it directly to Zerke.

"Director Stygan, how about another match? I don’t think they can accept the results yet," Jong-Kook baited, grinning with a tone that practically oozed smug satisfaction.

He turned to face the crowd. "What do you guys think? This time, none of you even need to put up money if you’re scared, because I’m going all-in on Director Stygan—no matter who his opponent is."

The members were initially reluctant, still disoriented and nursing their lost pride. But Jong-Kook’s subtle provocation struck a nerve. After all, few men could sit quietly after being called a coward.

"Fine! This time it’s my turn, and I shoot first," a member named Suk-Jin declared, stepping forward.

Zerke didn’t mind in the slightest. He simply shrugged and gestured for Suk-Jin to take Lane 5.

Suk-Jin picked up a standard-issue 9mm semi-automatic pistol. At the green light signal, he raised his weapon and fired.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The automated track pulled the target paper back, displaying ten solid hits clustered neatly near the center. While the precision wasn’t perfect, it was easily Suk-Jin’s personal best.

"Phew!" Suk-Jin let out a long breath, relief washing over his face. He felt a surge of confidence—he was in top form today, and there was no way Zerke could pull off another miracle.

"Nice shot, Suk-Jin!"

"Good job, man! Don’t worry, the Director can’t possibly repeat that fluke."

A few surrounding members cheered him on, their hopes rekindled.

Before the crowd could even celebrate, Zerke stepped up to Lane 4. This time, he unholstered a heavy-caliber .45 ACP—a notoriously stubborn sidearm with a sharp, jumping recoil that made rapid-fire grouping nearly impossible for standard shooters.

Without saying a word, Zerke racked the slide, locked his wrists into a rigid isosceles stance, and squeezed the trigger.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The thunderous report echoed through the range like consecutive cannon blasts. In under two seconds, ten heavy rounds tore down the lane. There was zero muzzle flip, zero hesitation, and zero wasted torque in his frame.

When the automated track pulled his target back, a collective gasp filled the room.

Another single, blown-out hole sat directly in the absolute center of the chest silhouette.

"Is this... is this a joke?!" another veteran member shouted, rubbing his eyes in sheer disbelief. "Different guns, but the exact same result?! What the hell is this?! Is the target system rigged?!"

"Hey, don’t throw around wild accusations," Zerke chuckled, tossing his empty magazine onto the tray. "Maybe I’m just lucky. Besides, if you think it’s rigged, feel free to inspect the equipment yourselves. I’d never stop a thorough investigation. Hehehe."

The crowd blinked, utterly bewildered and out of words.

"Kim Jong-Kook, how about you go up against Director Stygan?" Jong-Un suggested.

Among the regulars, Jong-Kook was widely considered one of the absolute best shooters on the floor, right alongside Jong-Un and Suk-Jin.

Jong-Kook merely smiled at the proposal. Beside him, Zerke leaned back against the counter, resting his elbows on the polished wood as he offered the crowd a tantalizing, mysterious smirk.

"Me?" Jong-Kook chuckled, tossing a portion of his betting winnings back onto the table for the members to reclaim. "Even with how much I’ve improved lately, I’m still no match for Director Stygan. His combat presence—both in real life and in virtual reality—is downright menacing."

And he wasn’t exaggerating.

Whenever the two of them finished their daily sessions at Origins VR Cafe, they frequently tested their skills against each other right here at the range. Out of ten matches, Jong-Kook was lucky to squeeze out two victories against Zerke’s eight.

The crowd traded bewildered glances, completely unable to digest what Jong-Kook was implying.

"Better than you? Seriously? So... those target results weren’t a fluke?!" Jong-Un asked, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. "And what’s this about ’real life and virtual reality’? Is this some kind of code?!"

"He means inside a virtual reality game called Counter-Injustice," Zerke explained smoothly. "It’s a hyper-realistic simulation game over at Origins VR Cafe, right down near S University."

"Huh? A... a VR game?" another member asked, his voice dropping into utter incredulity. "Wait a minute... did I leave my damn brain at home today?! You’re telling us you developed military-grade recoil control, reflex tracking, and tactical spatial awareness just from playing a video game?! Does that make a single bit of sense?!"

"It’s no ordinary game," Jong-Kook interjected, his eyes gleaming with absolute, dead-serious intensity. "Every bullet fired, every flashbang dodged, every corner cleared—your brain and muscles process it as 100% real life. You die in there a hundred times a day until your body naturally learns how not to die. If you don’t believe me... why don’t you all come down to the shop and see for yourselves?"

A heavy, stunned silence fell across the shooting range. The members traded wide-eyed looks, the seeds of intense, undeniable curiosity planted deep within their minds.

A bright Saturday morning had arrived. A week after the incident that befell the Baek Family, the local civilians had already forgotten the chaos.

The area around S University was bustling even on the weekend, anchored by the surrounding commercial district.

However, Origins VR Cafe sat just outside that vibrant zone. Despite its proximity to the campus, the neighborhood looked more like a rundown slum than a proper commercial space, lined with weathered, mismatched storefronts.

"Are you sure we’re on the right track?" Jong-Un grumbled, frowning.

When they had first parked in the large lot connecting the campus to the main road, he had assumed the cafe was on the commercial strip. But after walking for more than five minutes into increasingly narrow, neglected alleys, his doubts intensified.

’How could revolutionary technology come from a cramped, deserted dump like this?! Have the Director and Jong-Kook gone senile?’ he thought.

He wasn’t the only one. The four range members accompanying them looked equally skeptical and anxious.

Only Zerke and Jong-Kook walked with easy, relaxed strides, as if completing a mundane morning routine.

At the exact same time, approaching from the opposite path, was Si-Yeon, accompanied by Butler Yoo and her two personal bodyguards.

Unlike Zerke’s noisy group, the two bodyguards didn’t dare question their Young Miss’s destination, making their march silent and disciplined.

Soon, both parties converged right in front of Origins VR Cafe, where Ga-Eun happened to be outside.

"Oh! You guys brought friends today! Hehe, thank you so much," Ga-Eun greeted them brightly, reaching for the shop door.

After entering, she flipped the sign on the door to OPEN.

As the official part-time employee, Ga-Eun had full authority to open up whenever she arrived during operating hours.

Neither group stepped inside immediately, however. A third figure standing in front of the door had caught everyone completely off guard.

It was a striking beauty with long, sleek blonde hair and a slender figure encased in tailored casual clothes and tight denim. Resting her hands behind her back, her sharp, icy eyes slowly swept left to right, evaluating Si-Yeon’s party and Zerke’s group in a single glance.

It was Carla Mislaine, Chairwoman of Babylon.

"Oh my. Does my presence make you freeze in place?" Mislaine purred, her voice soft and alluring. "Are you all looking to enter the shop as well?"

Si-Yeon offered a brief, polite smile before shaking her head and stepping past her into the doorway first.

While Mislaine possessed a mature, dangerous allure, Si-Yeon—having recently undergone a physical cleansing and transformation from the shop’s food—held an ethereal, unblemished grace that naturally drew the eye.

’This girl...’ Mislaine thought, quietly amused as Si-Yeon passed. ’How delicate her frame and skin are, despite the sharp edge she carries.’

Meanwhile, Zerke and Jong-Kook shook their heads, dragging their five dazed range members into the cafe. Seeing their veteran shooters gawk open-mouthed at the blonde woman was frankly embarrassing.

But because they were so distracted by Mislaine’s striking appearance, the five newcomers didn’t pay attention to the shop’s humble exterior. Thus, when they stepped inside, the vast interior didn’t shock them long enough.

Mislaine, who entered right behind them, froze dead in her tracks.

She was a master of emotional control—a corporate mercenary chief who could feign vulnerability or exert absolute dominance at will. Yet, the instant her hyper-sensitive perception registered the shop’s impossible spatial expansion, her icy composure cracked.

Ga-Eun approached smoothly, well-accustomed to this exact reaction after working the counter for weeks.

Unlike Donape, Ga-Eun spoke in a casual, reassuring tone to keep new customers from panicking.

"Welcome! Our shop is a place where magic and mysticism come to life, so you’ll experience things like this quite often while visiting," Ga-Eun explained with a practiced smile. "Please rest assured, everything is entirely safe. It’s all been thoroughly tested by my boss."

"Tested by me? How on earth am I supposed to test spatial expansion?!" Donape’s dry voice called out from the back as he stepped out of his quarters, yawning lazily. "Hoam! Don’t go making things up, kid."

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