The apartment smelled faintly of fried chicken.
Nari had insisted on ordering takeout after their "victory," and now the empty boxes sat abandoned on the low table, their grease stains glowing under the warm kitchen light.
Jihoon leaned back against the sofa, the V-Lens resting in his hands. Sleek, light, deceptively fragile. Hard to believe something so thin could turn the entire world into a battlefield.
Nari flopped onto the rug across from him, her cheeks puffed out from the last bite of drumstick. "You didn't even check your player board yet."
"My what?"
"The player board!" She scrambled upright and tapped his Lens.
Her fingers flicked in the air, and a glowing interface blossomed before her face like a holographic screen. "Here, look."
Jihoon raised a brow. "I didn't see that in the park."
"That's because you didn't open it, Uncle. Total newbie mistake." She tossed the chicken bone aside and turned the display toward him.
Across the transparent screen floated a profile window:
[Player: kim_Jihoon]
Level: 5
EXP: 240/250
HP: 100% | Stamina: 87%
Inventory: Slime Core (1), Slime Gel (2), Basic Sword
"Stats are simple," Nari explained, a little too proudly. "No complicated RPG numbers or skill trees like in those old games. Just HP, stamina, and levels. Every level up makes you stronger—your swings hit harder, your body moves faster. All real."
Jihoon studied the screen. "No points to allocate?"
"Nope. The system balances it for you. People said it was designed to keep pros from min-maxing." She puffed her chest. "The only way to get stronger is to actually fight. Grind monsters, clear quests, or win PvP matches. Oh, and gear matters a lot."
Jihoon turned the Lens over in his hands, feeling the faint hum of its circuits. "And money?"
"The Exchange." She swiped, bringing up a new tab. Rows of glowing icons filled the display—items, cores, weapons. Prices scrolled in won beneath them. "You can sell loot here or buy stuff from other players. It's synced with real accounts. Super safe, super official."
He squinted. A Slime Core like hers was listed for ₩2,500.
"For a pebble?"
"It's not a pebble!" Nari exclaimed. "It's a crafting material. People use cores to upgrade weapons. Since, you've hit level five, you'll need a decent sword or you'll get wrecked."
Jihoon exhaled through his nose. "People really pay for this?"
"Uncle," she whispered conspiratorially, "some people make a living off AR. Like… a real living. Farmers grind materials and sell them. Guilds sponsor raids and split profits. There are even delivery drivers who do nothing but transport loot between hubs."
Her eyes sparkled, but Jihoon remained quiet, staring at the faint numbers flickering across the board.
A digital economy overlayed reality. People earning money, fame, and influence—all from fighting monsters no one else could see.
Then Nari's expression brightened, and she tapped another part of the interface. "Oh! And I should tell you about skills. See, each weapon in AR has its own skill set. You can't use skills with the basic beginner swords—you need at least a D-grade weapon. Weapons can be bought at the shop, dropped by monsters, or exchanged for cores in the market."
Jihoon raised an eyebrow. "Skills? Like… flashy moves?"
"Sort of," she said. "Each skill depends on the weapon and your experience with it. You unlock skill slots as you level up, but you can only use them if you're skilled enough and the weapon supports it. A D-grade sword might give you a single heavy strike skill. A spear? Maybe a thrust combo or defensive parry. The higher the weapon grade, the more advanced the skills. But remember—skills aren't spammable. Using one takes stamina, and timing is everything."
Jihoon turned the Lens over in his hands again, intrigued. "So I can't just swing wildly and hope for a super attack?"
"Exactly," Nari said, nodding. "It's not a game where your character can jump thirty meters or smash through a building. Skills make you more effective, but only if you know how to use them and manage your stamina. That's why the system is fair—even solo players can compete with teams if they master their weapons."
For a moment, he remembered his kumdo days. Sweat dripping down his jaw, hands steady, mind laser-focused. The trophies. The medals. And then… betrayal. Pain. His hand, scarred, stiff, and useless for real steel.
He flexed his fingers, the muscles stiff but moving.
The AR sword had been a revelation—the weight light, the grip steady, the strikes powerful, as if nothing was wrong with his hand. And now, with the skill system, he could grow even stronger with the right weapon.
Nari waved a hand. "Uncle?"
He blinked. "Just thinking."
"Well, think about this," she said, pointing vaguely to a corner of the interface where a small, fading holographic banner reminded players about the Grand AR PVP Tournament. Jihoon caught only a glimpse of it—just enough to know it existed.
He set the Lens down on the table. The faint hum disappeared, leaving only the quiet apartment, the smell of grease, and the soft sounds of the city outside.
Nari yawned, stretching, and headed to her room. "I'm going to sleep. Don't stay up too late, Uncle!"
"I won't," Jihoon replied, watching her small figure disappear behind the door.
The apartment fell silent. Only the soft hum of streetlights outside and the faint neon glow from nearby buildings filtered in.
Jihoon retrieved his laptop from the side table. With a quiet click, the screen flickered to life.
He typed "AR: Artificial Reality player progression guide" into the search bar. A flood of pages appeared—tutorials, fan-made guides, forum posts from experienced hunters, videos of boss hunts, and breakdowns of beginner strategies.
Jihoon scrolled carefully. Skills, stamina management, loot priorities. Strategies for solo hunting. He paused at a video titled:
"Solo vs Team: How to Survive Your First Ten Levels"
The narrator's voice was calm, instructive. "AR is designed to reward careful observation and real-world tactics. Your body is your limit. Stamina is crucial. Solo players will advance slower than teams at first, but with patience and efficiency, they can surpass them in combat skill."
Jihoon nodded to himself. That aligned with his style—slow, deliberate, precise. He highlighted several points:
Target weak points, one hit at a time.
Conserve stamina; avoid unnecessary swings.
Use environment for cover, positioning, and escape routes.
And now, with the skill system in mind: choose the right weapon, master its skills, and time them carefully.
He leaned back, fingers steepled.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of his laptop and the city lights outside. Jihoon bookmarked guides, saved diagrams, and drafted a mental plan:
Begin with low-level mobs near the spawn areas.
Practice combo sequences using minimal stamina.
Test skills once he acquires a D-grade weapon.
Slowly incorporate loot management into daily routines.
Avoid other players until he mastered basic survival.
Finally, he closed the laptop and let out a long breath. His hand itched slightly—not from effort, but anticipation.
For the first time since the Slime hunt, he felt a controlled excitement, a quiet readiness.
Jihoon glanced toward Nari's room. She was already asleep, her small form curled under the blankets. He allowed himself a faint smile.
Tomorrow, the real grind would begin.