Story Reader / Festival Event Story / Shape of Thunder / Story
Blue Bolt
>A boundless sea of snow churns with crashing waves. The cold mountain air slices like a blade, revealing a once-familiar view all over again.
Even after mentally bracing for it, the biting cold is overwhelming, making anyone stop to take a few deep breaths.
The transport craft only reaches the foot of the mountain. Beyond that, brutal terrain, dense fog, and extreme cold knock out most equipment, so going on foot is the only option left.
According to multiple intel reports, ever since a massive outbreak of the Punishing Virus erupted near the monastery, no life signs have shown up there at all.
The Punishing concentration at lower altitudes remains steady for now. To establish a new conservation area beyond Wuming City, another thorough survey is needed.
Because the terrain is so harsh, you're only able to bring a small survey squad as an advance team on your way to the destination.
A vast white expanse blankets the world in hushed stillness. You trudge on, step by step, each of you silent to conserve your strength in the biting cold—until, at last, a soft complaint breaks the quiet.
God! Who on earth decides to build a new district in a desolate backwater like this?
Suddenly, faint bursts of gunfire drift through the air.
All at once, a fierce wind picks up, and the sky grows menacingly dark.
Y-yes... but this place is vast and almost empty. With the weather shifting so wildly, some spots might've been missed.
Copy that.
You move quietly through a stand of pines toward the gunfire. Ahead, in a clearing, a few small houses dot the landscape.
As you look farther up, the monastery stands silently in the distance, as if it's dozing beneath the drifting snow. Dark clouds are closing in, easy to spot as they move ever nearer.
Although the building is in ruins, it still offers decent cover. Gunshots echo from somewhere near its walls, and swift shadows flicker in the darkness—there must be quite a few people huddled there.
****! They snatched our weapons and even brought in new hired guns? A bunch of scrap-picking refugees. So ******* shameless!
You trying to muscle in on our turf? Got a death wish?
Fill them full of holes!
As soon as the leader yells, the guns hidden under those bulky monk robes come up, spitting fire.
****! We're going in too! No way we're letting the boss look down on us!
Bullets are streaming in from every direction like a torrential downpour, scattering shell casings everywhere.
Hey! Stop! We're not your enemies!
One of your squad members steps forward, arms raised high, trying to get them to hold their fire. But the gunfire doesn't let up—if anything, it just intensifies and rains down harder on you.
They're so hostile that they're even firing on people who are not showing aggression. It's almost too late to find cover now.
Damn it—did I not make myself clear...!
You rush over and yank your hotheaded teammate back. He stumbles forward and crashes into the snow, narrowly evading a volley of gunfire. Your hand twitches toward your sidearm, but you hold yourself in check.
Even if it's just self-defense, the moment you look like you're fighting back, any chance of negotiation goes out the window.
You crouch low, watching your flank and covering your retreating teammates. To your surprise, the enemy closes in, their footsteps echoing behind the barricade.
Before you can finish speaking, a burst of light flickers in a blind spot. A cunningly angled bullet slices through the air, whistling straight at you.
Your reflexes take over. You fling a handful of snow to blind the enemy, then raise your other arm to shield your chest, hoping to weaken the impact as much as possible.
The gunpowder smells more like fireworks. It looks like they're using homemade guns, which send bullets flying in unpredictable patterns and make it harder to track their trajectories.
A heavy feeling settles over you as you think about how to deal with any injuries on the spot.
Just when everything is about to come crashing down, you hear an engine roar in your ears. In a split second—faster than lightning—a figure rushes right into the thick of the fight.
Who dares lay a finger on my prey?
A blade, polished like a mirror, flashes sharper and colder than winter frost, slicing that vicious bullet clean in half in the blink of an eye.
Everything shifts into slow motion. The halved bullet lands in the snow, its scorching heat creating a faint ring of steam. Only then does the sound finally return, echoing through the cold air.
Both sides lock up in shock, their attacks frozen mid-action. But the refugees rally almost immediately, bursting from their cover and launching a renewed assault on the other side.
Splitting the bullet in half? No way!
Guys, hold your fire! Don't waste any more bullets!
It's Boss! She's so cool!
(Whistles)
Show them who they're messing with!
We're out of ammo! Run!
Stones and splintered wood become makeshift projectiles, plunging the battlefield into deeper chaos. The refugees lack the firepower to hold their ground and are forced back, one step at a time.
In one fluid motion, the driver lowers the vehicle, spins in a graceful arc, then whips it around and races back, kicking up a flurry of snowy dust behind the wheels.
Hop on!
You don't have time to think. In the blink of an eye, you barely dodge the roaring behemoth, and your instincts kick in as you grab the outstretched hand.
A faint jolt of electricity runs through your body, and the world around you suddenly freezes, like a single frame caught in your sight.
Let's talk later.
You hold on tight, and a strong pull hoists you upward. Your head reels for a moment, and you start worrying if you've brought enough serum.
Gunfire and crashing noises echo behind you. Remembering that halved bullet from moments ago, you're caught between relief at still being alive and fear of what lies ahead.
Your hand lands on Alpha by reflex. She clicks her tongue, twists the throttle, and propels the metal beast forward, speeding away from the gunfire.
The scenery blurs into straight lines under the motorcycle's top speed. The wind whips up tiny snowflakes, and you instinctively press your face against the back of the person in front of you.
Her hood's fuzzy trim flutters in the breeze—it feels incredibly soft.
You're pretty bold.
Alpha seems completely at home here. She doesn't slow down for a moment, charging full speed along the rugged mountain path. You can only grip tighter and hope for the best.
It's your second time on this thing, and that sense of familiarity oddly reassures you.
But that peaceful illusion doesn't last long—the vehicle lurches to a sudden halt.
Here we are.
The ride is surely fast. The monastery that felt so far away just moments ago is suddenly right in front of you.
For the sake of efficiency, you should probably request an off-road military bike next time.
How long are you planning to sit there?
Alpha picks you up like you're a kitten. The moment you plant your feet on the ground, your comms channel—previously all static—finally sparks to life.
Hello? Hello? [player name], can you hear me?
Th-that red figure slices right through the bullets, then suddenly whisks you away from the battlefield before we can even get a good look. After that, both sides retreat in a flash.
Are you okay? I see a few stray Corrupted in the woods, and they're all heading your way!
A blizzard's coming, and no one knows what's happening deeper inside the monastery. You keep the reserve troops on standby, and make sure everyone stays on high alert.
That figure is moving in closer, and at last, a delayed sense of wariness creeps over your skin.
[player name]? Your voice keeps cutting out—what's happening?
Alpha cuts the connection the instant her patience wears thin, then turns toward you with a subtle, enigmatic smile.
Are you done talking with Babylonia?
You know that she already knows the answer, but you don't see any point in talking back. Things have reached this point without much planning, so you have to take it one step at a time.
She inspects her right hand at a leisurely pace, as if she's still getting used to its new look. Bold, perilous markings coil up her arm, vanishing beneath the fabric at her shoulder.
So, it's just the two of us again.
Alpha acts like she doesn't care, but her fingers drum against the scabbard in a measured beat, stopping as soon as she finishes talking.
Now that we're both stuck in this barren, isolated spot, what's your goal this time? What kind of partnership are you after...?
Go ahead, tell me. I'm really interested right now, and I've got plenty of time.
