Chapter 127

In the 1980s, when *Mario* and *Mega Man* were all the rage, action games were all about simple jumps and attacks.

But then, with the rise of standout games like *Street Fighter*, *Devil May Cry*, and *God of War*, action games evolved endlessly. Yet, whether back then or now, the core of action games has always been the same.

How satisfying it is.

When my baseball bat splits a zombie’s head in half.

The cheerful hit sound signaling a critical hit rings in my ears.

It’s incredibly refreshing, giving me auditory pleasure.

In game action, sound is half the battle, so it’s already halfway to success.

Plus, the hit-stop was perfectly implemented—not too long to feel sluggish, not too short to feel weightless. The developers clearly knew their stuff.

Groooaaan—the zombie charges. It’s almost running, making it tricky, but still slower than *Eternal World*’s basic attacks.

I step and swing—*clang*! The cheerful hit sound echoes as the zombie drops.

The next zombie rushes in, and I handle it similarly, assessing the situation.

The zombies swarm like a tide, reacting to the noise.

I’m in a villa corridor with limited retreat options, so I move cautiously.

I step back and smash a zombie’s head. Blood sprays everywhere as another zombie lunges.

I step back again—*clang*! The cheerful hit sound rings out. The zombie charges—*clang*! The sound repeats.

After countless repetitions, my back hits a wall.

Cornered, the zombies surround me.

Then, I lightly kick off the wall and soar into the air.

*Clang*! With the force of my flight, I bring the bat down, turning a zombie into a squashed tomato on the ground.

The sudden 3D movement leaves the zombies stumbling. Seizing the moment, I neatly rearrange their heads.

With five zombies down, I point my bat at the remaining horde and mutter,

“Come on in.”

The battle resumes.

I split a zombie in half—well, just its head—but hey, diet success!

The zombie, now a worthy opponent for a famine victim, was clearly overfed. Feeding it a baseball bat meant it’d never go hungry again.

One second in.

I kicked a head-pierced zombie like a bowling ball. Zombies toppled like pins—strike! I dashed forward.

The zombies reached out to grab me, but my gamer instincts were too sharp for such clumsy attacks.

The commotion drew all the zombies in the building. After shaking off the chase, I easily navigated through.

I ran down the stairs and spotted the exit.

Leaving the hungry mob behind, I stepped into the sunlit street.

The zombies turned their heads in unison. If this were a manga, exclamation marks would’ve popped above their heads.

If you’re gonna open a store, you should clean the path nicely.

Today, I’m the sanitation worker.

Dodging a zombie from behind, I raised my bat and noticed something long on its back. I grabbed it and swung—*slash*! A zombie head flew into the air, severed by a Japanese sword.

Unrealistically sharp, but hey, it’s a game.

In games, Japanese swords are OP by default.

This is deeply tied to developers growing up on Japanese games. Let’s be real, otakus have a weird fascination with katanas.

Sure, they break easily, don’t work against plate armor, and even samurai used them as sidearms, but the fantasy persists.

The power of media is terrifying.

Killing zombies for loot is a staple in apocalypse games.

I yanked the scabbard from a headless zombie and sheathed the sword.

Then, I drew it in a flash.

Five zombie heads floated in the air.

Drawing the sword is mandatory when you get a katana. If you don’t, the cops will get you. Remember that.

I disciplined the next wave of zombies with the sword.

Each swing sent zombies crumbling.

Having a weapon definitely made combat easier. With the bat, I could only kill one at a time, but the sword could take out multiple with precision.

Though I was slightly worried about durability, I decided not to stress over it.

If it breaks, I’ll just find another.

I charged forward, slicing through zombies.

The katana is better for slashing than stabbing, so I used it accordingly.

After repeating this, the endless zombie wave finally showed signs of ending.

While I wasn’t tired in real life, my in-game stamina was draining, making stamina management a struggle.

I took a sip from my thermos and slashed the sword left to right—*shwaaak*! Blood sprayed, and the zombies stubbornly bared their teeth.

Applauding their persistence, I moved my right arm for the finishing blow.

*Koooooong*!

The ground shook from the sudden vibration.

It was exactly at that moment.

Splash—. The arm that had already started moving didn’t stop. The corpse’s blood spurted out.

Beyond the fountain of blood, at the end of the corpse-strewn path, someone was walking.

A height that messed with your sense of perspective despite the distance. Bulky muscles. A violent build.

A corpse golem? Or a corpse giant?

I wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but even a human with gigantism couldn’t grow into a 5-meter-tall muscle monster.

Therefore, that wasn’t just a regular zombie.

A special zombie.

A zombie with special abilities or mutations, one of the settings borrowed from apocalypse games.

It first appeared in *Resident Evil* and evolved in *Left 4 Dead*. They were added because if only regular zombies showed up, the difficulty would be too easy.

As you can tell from the explanation, it’s the element that sadistic developers love the most.

What’s its name? Ogre? Or Giant?

Honestly, it didn’t matter much.

If a boss shows up, you kill it.

A gamer doesn’t need any more unnecessary thoughts.

The corpse giant slammed its massive fist into the ground. Boom! The asphalt cracked, and debris flew everywhere. It was a typical attack pattern for a large boss mob.

I lightly tilted my head to dodge the debris and closed the distance with the giant.

When the enemy can attack from a distance and you can only attack up close, you close the distance. Common sense among common sense.

Perhaps uncomfortable with my approach, the corpse giant walked over to a nearby tree, yanked it out, and threw it.

The tree floated through the air, bouncing off the ground as it flew toward me. I slid like a skater, slipping through a narrow gap at the last moment.

Annoyed, the corpse giant kicked a nearby car. I immediately jumped into the air. Screech! The sound of rubber scraping echoed as the car brushed past just below me.

It was a bit dangerous this time because of the speed.

But I had achieved my goal.

Having closed in on the corpse giant, I drew my Japanese sword and swung it with all my might. Then.

Clang!

A metallic clashing sound rang out, and the sword bounced back.

Huh?

I rolled to dodge the descending fist and clicked my tongue softly.

What kind of muscles are made of steel? The Japanese sword that sliced through zombie necks like tofu was useless.

I had planned to wear it down with accumulated damage, but now I had to revise my plan.

Not hit-and-run, but a quick decisive battle.

I had to cut off the enemy’s lifeline in one go.

The corpse giant swung its arm as if swatting a fly. It wasn’t the pattern I was waiting for, so I calmly dodged.

Next, a kick. Again, not the pattern I was waiting for, so I avoided it.

Maybe because I was dodging so well, the corpse giant couldn’t hold back its anger and brought both fists together, slamming them down with all its might.

—And that was the attack I was waiting for.

I dodged the giant’s fist by a hair’s breadth and leaped into the air, pushing off the ground.

Landing on the giant’s hand as if it were a platform, I charged toward my target.

The bewildered corpse giant shook its body violently. But it had no effect on me, as I had already leaped again.

I drew my Japanese sword.

Even if its whole body was steel, this part should be soft.

It’s the universal weak point of such large boss mobs.

Thunk! The Japanese sword, thrust with all my strength, pierced the corpse giant’s brain like it was slicing through soft tofu.

I pulled the sword out of its eye.

As if that was the signal, thud. The corpse giant’s knees hit the asphalt, and it fell forward.

Standing on the now truly dead special zombie, I said lightly,

“Opening a restaurant is really tough. This is the hardship of being self-employed.”

<ㅇㅇ님이 1000원 후원> (ㅇㅇ donated 1,000 won.)

What did I just watch?

*

“What did I just watch?”

In a dark room with blackout curtains drawn.

A man fixed his gaze on Han Yoorim’s broadcast.

On the monitor, Han Yoorim enthusiastically evaluated the game. Praising how well the action was made, how great the interactions were, how the combat difficulty was just right.

“Should I increase the combat difficulty?”

The man, a developer from *Apocalypse Chef*’s production team, sighed softly.

Because.

“This isn’t how the game is supposed to be played…”

The combat difficulty of *Apocalypse Chef* is set abnormally high.

The goal was to make players give up on the abnormally difficult combat and focus on cooking first, but instead, they’re enjoying the absurd difficulty and slicing through everything alone.

If this keeps up… uh…

The hidden route’s conditions are met, but, hmm.

Surely not.

Are they really going to do something crazy again?