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[Human: Simo Hayha]
[Specialty: Sniper]
[Difficulty Level: A+]
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My vision spun, and an overwhelming feeling of nausea ran through my body, causing me to drop to my knees and puke into the toilet.
But as I looked up, a snowy and monotonous terrain filled with trees appeared in front of me, and I was confused.
I was just in the bathroom, heaving my dinner into the toilet, and now I was in a forest.
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[Teacher Quest: Learn The Hayha Breathing Technique]
[Description: Your proficiency with the sniper has allowed you to proceed with a teacher that has mastered the art of sniping. Parts of information have been lost in time, but with a historical record of about 500 confirmed kills, he was granted the title of [The White Death].]
[Reward: [Skill Book - Breath of the Snowy Underworld]
[Penalty Upon Failure: Cut All Stats In Half]
[Time Left: Infinite]
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Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…
I snapped my head around after hearing the crunching of deep snow, and what met my face was a sub-machine gun pointed right in between my eyes.
"Hello," A calm and emotionless voice greeted me.
"H-Hello," I muttered and slowly pushed the barrel away from my face and then quickly moved.
The system isn't working... strange...
I pushed the barrel into the deep snow beside me, but when I tried to get up, I was clocked in the face by a hard elbow which almost knocked me unconscious.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtAs soon as I opened my slightly teary eyes, I flanked my head to the left, dodging a hand that was about to grab my entire face.
"Where do you come from, boy…?" The same creepily calm and cold voice asked me, and this time I got a good look at the surprisingly short man in front of me.
He was about 5'3 or potentially 5'4, though despite him being so short, his presence was large and intimidating.
But, I guess you could say it wasn't the normal idea of intimidating… it was more… cold, merciless, or even lifeless?
He wore a large winter coat that reached to his ankles, and his feet wore thick snow boots that I assume allowed him to trudge through the heavy snow.
The hood of the coat was large and covered most of his head, but I could see a glimpse of short light blue hair, small black eyebrows, and creepy pale gray eyes.
They looked so familiar, but for some reason, I couldn't put my finger on who he looked like…
"Boy, one last time. Where do you come from…?"
"Aml-"
I stopped myself before I said the place where I lived as giving out this information could potentially harm me.
It wasn't even feeling, just common sense, as I didn't want to reveal any information about myself to anybody.
I should make a fake name as well…
"Aml-what?"
"Am… Ummm… I'm sorry, Mister, but I can't remember where I came from. D-Do you have any clue where this is?" I asked, but the man stared coldly at me with his pale gray eyes.
It was as if they were looking through me, not directly at me.
"No. I don't," He replied before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a magazine which he loaded into the unloaded sub-machine gun.
Shit… that thing wasn't even loaded.
As I let out a sigh of relief, the man continued to walk away into the distance, disappearing with my own white and misty breath.
I laid back down onto the thick snow and then realized the attire I was wearing.
A thick coat similar to the one the short man was wearing and a similar pair of boots that he was also wearing.
The only difference was that I didn't have a gun.
"Hey. Come on. We have to return to the base camp," A voice suddenly called out to me, and just like a ghost, the short man appeared out of thin air and stood right in front of me.
"Huh?"
The man let out a sigh which surprisingly didn't create a cloud of mist in front of him, but besides that, he poked my upper chest.
"You're part of my unit, aren't you?"
I glanced down at my chest and noticed the same badge on my coat that was on the man's coat, so I immediately got the gist of the situation.
"Ah, you're right. The cold must be getting to me," I muttered before standing up and following the man through the forest.
It was so insanely cold that it even bit through my coat, and I couldn't help but sniffle continuously as we trudged through the thick snow.
After about a long hour of walking, we arrived at a small base camp with a few camouflaged tents and thirteen others resting on cut tree trunks.
"We're heading out,"
"Sir!" They all replied, and in only a few seconds, everything had been packed up, and we made our way up a giant hill.
Everything was happening so fast, but I just went with the flow.
"Excuse me, sir, but may I know your name?" I asked the man who had brought me here, and the other thirteen men stared at me with suspicious looks.
"Sauvo, did you hit your head that hard?" One of the men surrounding me smirks, and the other men just chuckle.
"Quiet. He's just a kid, so the stress is probably getting to him," The man who saved me defended me, and the other men immediately shut up.
"So… May I ask you what your name is?"
"Just call me Sir. But if you need to identify me, just call me Simo," He replied.
"Yes, sir,"
So this is a military unit for some sort of country, I'm assuming, as the flag on the upper left chest of this coat… looks familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time.
Hmmmmm… Is this one of those old flags that I read about?
The stripes would make sense, so I guess it really is one of those old flags… a strange wonky blue cross with a white background… strangely simple.
I also noticed that my name is Sauvo.
I would've asked where we were going, but I think that would just place way too much suspicion on me, especially after finding out that this is a military unit.
They might think I'm a spy if I keep asking questions, so I'll just act relaxed and follow the flow.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmAfter another few hours of trudging through the wintry terrain and freezing cold, we arrived at the top of a giant mountain that overlooked a wide wintery landscape.
There were very few trees, and the snow looked to be about three to four feet tall.
"Set up," Simo said, and within minutes, the entire camp was set up.
Even our weapons had been laid out, and after seeing everybody pick up a pair of guns, one sniper and one submachine gun, I picked up the remaining ones.
"This can't be a coincidence, right?" I muttered as I picked up the only suppressed sniper and met up with the small circle formed around Simo.
"Today, we'll continue picking off the outskirts. If you find a high-ranking soldier, try to go for them, but remember to be aware of everything… everything,"
His tone didn't change, but it was obvious he emphasized that last "everything."
"Sir!" Everybody shouted, and two snipers set up near the cliff while the remaining soldiers held their sub-machine guns tightly as they scouted the back of the two snipers.
Simo, who was obviously the leader of this unit, oversaw the snipers as they watched through binoculars, scouting the landscape below.
"We're relocating," He suddenly said, and without question, everybody replied with a firm,
"Sir!"
"Huh? This is a perfect position," I muttered, and it seems one of the men overheard me as they were packing up the tents.
"No, we were about to fall right into their trap," One of the men said, and I was completely out of it as I had no idea what these guys were talking about.
When it came to knowledge about fighting and scheming, I was competent, but with military and war strategies, I definitely needed to improve a bit.
After everybody had packed up our stuff into large camouflaged bags, we made our way down the same way we came up but then took a sharp turn.
We took a steep pathway down, which led to a lower flat part of the mountain that was overshadowed by the peak above us.
"We'll ambush them here," Simo said, and everybody pulled out their sub-machine guns, so I took out mine as well.
Crunch… Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…
Suddenly, the sound of snow crunching appeared in the distance, and my heart began to beat fast as they passed by our turn and trudged all the way up to our original spot.
How did they know we were going to get ambushed? Was there any sign?
After thirty minutes of intense, sweaty waiting, a familiar scent lingered in the air.
Dried blood wafted through the air and the scent of metallic weapons pierced through that initial draft.
A battlefield… I'm back on a battlefield.