I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 448

"Welcome, everyone, to the practical CQC curriculum."

"Wow…."

"Hey, hey. What are you all doing? Clap already."

The sound of lackluster clapping echoed through the dusty exterior of some base.

About 30 users were seated on chairs, looking up at me. I stood before them, preparing to deliver my lecture to a group of pro players from Dark Zone. On the plastic table in front of me lay an array of melee weapons—axes, daggers, hammers, push daggers, and various other close-combat implements.

These weapons, however, were sleek in design, devoid of any shine, and equipped with ergonomic structures and rubber padding—items one would never find in Glory and Honor. Naturally, they were specialized melee weapons designed exclusively for special forces and CQC scenarios.

I shifted my gaze. Everyone seated was clad in a combination of body armor and tactical vests.

I was no different.

"Let’s skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point. Have any of you felt the need for CQC while playing AP? Raise your hand if you have."

A faint rustling.

About six hands rose among the thirty attendees. Not as many as I expected, but it wasn’t surprising.

To be frank, the purpose of gathering them here today wasn’t to enhance their general combat proficiency but to train them for specific, albeit rare, scenarios they might encounter.

I elaborated on the kind of scenarios I had in mind.

"Those who raised your hands, you can lower them now. As you’ve probably guessed, today’s session is focused on mastering CQC—close-quarters combat with melee weapons."

"Wow."

"Before we dive in, let me pose a quiz. In AP, where engagement ranges span from as close as 10 meters to as far as 400 meters, when exactly would you use CQC? Whoever gets the right answer will get a specially tailored curriculum from me."

The hands shot up enthusiastically.

Of course, they’d want to answer. Even if “Eugene’s special curriculum” seemed daunting, these were professional gamers. Turning down a clear advantage would go against their very instincts.

I began listening to their answers one by one.

"When turning a corner and encountering an enemy at close range, especially when both have run out of ammunition."

"Unfortunately, that’s incorrect."

"A throwing knife?"

"Interesting idea, but in most cases, using a handgun would be more effective. If the opponent’s shield hasn’t broken, it’ll just ricochet off."

"What about sneaking up and slashing at their ankle or thigh?"

"Not a bad answer, but once again, a silenced pistol would be a safer bet in such situations."

Every response was unique.

Still, all were worth considering. After all, these weren’t just average players—they were the cream of the crop, representing their respective countries with talent and skill that surpassed even the toughest academic competitions.

I jotted down a few interesting points, a faint smile creeping onto my lips as I prepared to reveal the answer.

The correct answer was something completely unexpected.

"It’s right after you land—or respawn—before you’ve even managed to secure a firearm."

"…."

"I understand if that sounds strange to some of you. But it’s not impossible."

Simultaneously, a video began to play.

The screen displayed a ridgeline shrouded in darkness and fire. As the footage rolled, a few pro players nodded in recognition, some exclaiming softly. The scene was from last year’s Asian qualifiers during the California Gas Complex event.

At the time, I had landed in a hotspot. Without so much as a pistol, I had to fend off nearby players using nothing but a fire axe hanging on a wall. And yes, I sent every single one of them back to the lobby. The point, however, wasn’t to showcase my accomplishments—it was to emphasize the possibility of being left weaponless, even in tournaments where chests were supposed to yield guns or grenades in abundance.

As the footage ended, I continued speaking.

"This is an extreme example, but the next scenario I’ll show you is far more common."

Landing after landing, players descended from the sky. One player opened a chest, while another landed about five meters away, realized their mistake, and dashed into a nearby building. The chest opener was still loading ammunition into their weapon.

As a few of the attendees began to grasp my point, I paused the video and explained.

"Considering that all players carry a melee weapon by default, charging and attacking in such a situation might actually be more effective than running away."

"But wouldn’t you risk being attacked by other players nearby while engaging in melee combat?" someone asked.

"An excellent point."

I picked up a dagger, twirling it in my hand, then generated a holographic avatar before me. Without hesitation, I drove the blade into the back of its neck. A flurry of warnings appeared—damage reports, impact analysis, and effects. I twisted the blade diagonally to finish the job and reopened the wound before setting the dagger back on the table.

"However, if you know the correct way to use your weapon and where to strike, you’ll find that it takes mere seconds to send someone back to the respawn screen."

"…Ah."

"Knife fighting in reality isn’t long, flashy, or chaotic like in movies. A well-placed strike at the right spot can eliminate an opponent in the time it takes to inhale and exhale."

The audience fell silent, though the chat filled with colorful reactions.

"Excuse me, sir, that was disturbingly detailed."
"Translation: ‘I can take someone out in the time it takes you to breathe.’"
"Is this guy the Baba Yaga? LOL"
"I get it, but wow… this guy’s insane…."
Despite the shocked expressions, I didn’t mind. My job was to process and deliver the necessary information, helping them understand when and why to prepare for CQC scenarios.

I activated the combat simulator, projecting a dozen scenarios where players were slightly slower to act than their opponents. Picking up a tactical tomahawk, I prepared for my demonstration.

"You’ll find the tactical tomahawk to be the most effective melee weapon. Its ability to deliver broad, sweeping strikes is a significant advantage. In contrast, a tactical knife requires far more skill."

The simulator engaged, and I found myself descending slowly toward the ground. Before me, a holographic opponent had already landed and opened a cabinet. As my feet hit the ground, they were pulling out an M249 and ammunition.

I sprinted.

They loaded the ammo.

They entered the tomahawk’s attack range.

As their barrel lined up with me, I swung the tomahawk, deflecting the muzzle upward, and rammed into their body. The cabinet dented as air hissed from the impact. I grabbed the muzzle with my left hand and shoved it aside, preventing them from firing.

The next move was inevitable.

Thwack!

A single strike to the head triggered multiple status effects. The holographic enemy’s grip on the machine gun weakened. A follow-up blow reduced the avatar to a glittering explosion of golden polygons, and the dry "Simulation terminated" announcement echoed.

The holograms disappeared. Setting the tomahawk back on the table, I addressed the group.

"Starting with the front row, come up one by one. If you have a sick houseplant at home, don’t worry—I’ll make sure you feel worse."

"Is this a lesson or a threat?! LOL"
"What’s up with the houseplant joke? I can’t even…."
"This guy’s unhinged. Tactical marathon begins now!"
They had no choice but to comply. Each team member reluctantly began their training. Six in-game hours later, they would come to curse the concept of time acceleration.

Later that evening, as the sun finally dipped below the horizon:

"So, this place is only 100 meters from Eugene’s home?"

"In Cheongdam… A penthouse… Unbelievable."

"Thirty people for a company dinner sounded crazy, but it makes sense now."

"And Dice is still plotting to move into the apartment below Eugene’s—ah, ouch!"

"Why would you bring that up?!"

"This is absolute chaos LOL."
"Taking all 30 people out? Bet the dinner bill hits a million won easy."
"Fact: Eugene eats 500,000 won worth of meat alone."
By 9 PM, I decided to reward the day’s effort with an all-you-can-eat feast at a barbecue restaurant just 100 meters from my home. Plates of meat piled high as pro gamers filled the tables, the scent of sizzling beef setting the mood.

Dice was the first to break the conversational ice.

"…So Harmony’s entering the competitive ranks this season."

"Freelance? Or under a team?"

"I’ve already scouted her. Harmony agreed, and SSM is backing her up. She’s skilled, but not quite the kind of player who’d crush everyone without practice."

"Fair point."

Dice glanced around at the SSM pro gamers seated nearby, including Blooming. She turned back to me.

"…They’ve got to grow enough to actually beat Mina someday."

"Wait, she’s that good? We still can’t beat her?"

"Focus, people. Mina took first place in last year’s Partner Streamer Competition. I’ve told you—I lose to her three out of ten times. What more do you need to hear?"

Even as she vented, Dice grabbed onto my tail like a stress ball. Despite the slight irritation, I let her be, rationalizing that my tail was serving its purpose as her emotional outlet.

Fifteen minutes into the feast, someone asked:

"By the way, what’s this 1:300 thing you mentioned earlier?"

"I told you—it’s like a raid, except I’m the raid boss."

"You really do the wildest things."

"Looking at his old battle records is terrifying LOL."
"Honestly, he’s probably stronger than most historical heroes."
"That’s why they call him the Warlord."
As the chat spiraled, Dice leaned over with a sly grin.

"So, when’s the raid happening?"

"…September."

"Aha."

She smirked mischievously.

"This is why people can’t stop bingeing popcorn during your streams."

I sighed. She wasn’t wrong.

And thus, another chaotic day came to an end.