A Space Marine Got a Status Window

— Retreat authorized! Return safely to the main base!

The moment those words came through the radio, all the soldiers riding in the vehicle driven by Kim Seojun let out sighs of relief.

“Thank goodness they authorized the retreat.”

“Whew, I thought I was going to end up in the brig when I was already so close to being discharged.”

Having their lives saved was something to be grateful for, but even so, there wasn’t a single soldier who wanted to end up in prison.

However, there was one exception.

Private First Class Park Boseop, the military driver sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, was unable to smile after hearing that transmission.

Clack, clack, clack, clack!

Far from smiling, he was more terrified than ever, trembling so badly that his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

And he had good reason for it.

Vroooooom!

‘T-This is insane!’

The way Kim Seojun was driving was absurd.

No.

It couldn’t even be called driving.

He was practically out of control.

If someone sent the footage from the truck’s camera to the manufacturer at that moment, even the company that had built the vehicle would probably say.

‘Ah, we’re sorry. It seems our vehicle suffered unintended acceleration. Otherwise, there’s no way to explain how a vehicle could drive like that. We admit it.’

That was how insane it was.

Not only was Kim Seojun not using the brakes, he was keeping the accelerator pressed practically all the way down.

And they weren’t even driving on anything resembling a German Autobahn.

There weren’t any proper roads there.

An enormous rock could appear in front of them at any moment and, to make matters worse, they couldn’t even detect them properly because of the sandstorm battering the area.

Furthermore, Private First Class Park Boseop wasn’t just an ordinary driver.

To become a military driver for the Space Marines, one had to pass fairly difficult tests.

A considerable amount of driving experience was also required, and precisely because of that, the position paid quite well.

In Park Boseop’s case, although it wasn’t anything extraordinary, he had even won a prize in a professional motorsport competition in Korea.

Precisely because of that, he could understand it better than anyone.

‘H-He’s crazy. This is practically suicide!’

Sergeant Kim Seojun’s driving was complete madness.

Kim Seojun knew that too.

He knew perfectly well that what he was doing was crazy, and during his previous active service, he had been told so countless times.

But he was confident.

And it wasn’t baseless confidence.

‘I can say for certain that I have more driving experience than any military driver.’

For starters, Kim Seojun had an enormous amount of experience driving in space.

The reason was simple.

‘Because when you lose your mind, it’s impossible to hold the steering wheel.’

Kim Seojun possessed the talent of not feeling fear in the face of the Mog.

That was why, in the worst situations, when an extremely powerful Mog appeared and every member of the unit lost their minds, Kim Seojun was forced to take the wheel.

In those life-or-death moments, he had to drive to escape from the Mog while carrying the lives of his comrades in the back of the vehicle.

‘When that Behemoth appeared, I was the only one capable of continuing to drive normally.’

Kim Seojun had even encountered those walking catastrophes twice, creatures that, just by seeing them, would make an ordinary Space Marine not only piss himself, but lose consciousness or even die of cardiac arrest.

While practically everyone else was unconscious, Kim Seojun had to take the wheel and desperately flee from the Behemoth.

From that living island.

‘And with a star sitting beside me.’

After going through experiences like those, there was no way Kim Seojun could be a bad driver.

Furthermore, Kim Seojun possessed extraordinary Dynamic Vision, and that was enormously useful when driving.

A landscape rushing past at three hundred kilometers per hour before everyone else’s eyes was, to Kim Seojun, like one passing by at a hundred kilometers per hour.

‘And the drug is still in effect.’

Furthermore, due to the effects of the Stimpak, Kim Seojun was perceiving the passage of time even more slowly at that moment.

‘I have to get as far as possible before it wears off.’

In other words, from Kim Seojun’s perspective, they had to get as far away from the base as possible before the effects of the drug disappeared.

And, above all, Kim Seojun had a bad feeling.

‘I have a bad feeling. I don’t think this is going to end here.’

He felt that the attack wouldn’t be limited to just one base.

And his hunches tended to be right far more often than expected.

Even if he was wrong, they had nothing to lose by hurrying.

And so, the truck driven by Kim Seojun sped forward at an insane speed.

After driving for seven hours, they finally reached an automated supply base where they could resupply.

[Air regulation has been completed. You may now remove your suits.]

“Let’s rest.”

Only after entering that underground supply base, commonly known as a bunker, did all the members of the unit remove their battle suits for the first time.

The moment they did, a mixture of nauseating odors flooded the place.

It couldn’t be compared to the simple smell of sweat.

For starters, the blood and chunks of Mog flesh stuck to the battle suits gave off an unbearable stench.

Furthermore, everyone except Kim Seojun had pissed themselves so much that their diapers were completely soaked, and the smell was absolutely disgusting.

But no one complained.

They all knew.

Even being able to smell that stench was fortunate.

A miracle they could experience only because they were still alive.

Kim Seojun knew that better than anyone.

That was the smell of survival.

It was then that Kim Seojun saw five of his subordinates who still hadn’t removed their battle suits.

He knew why.

After coming so close to death, it wasn’t easy to let their guard down.

Kim Seojun told them.

“Everyone, take off your battle suits and get some proper rest.”

“We’re fine, sir.”

“Well, I’m not fine.”

“Sir?”

“It’s better to rest properly for one hour than to half-rest for three.”

Those were words born from experience.

“Besides, the side effects of the Stimpak have already left our senses and stamina in terrible shape. Even if we entered combat right now, we wouldn’t be able to fight properly. If the Mog make it all the way here, we’d be better off simply pointing our own weapons at our heads.”

Furthermore, once its effects wore off, the Stimpak caused enormous physical and mental exhaustion.

To give an example, it was like being right after running a sixty-six-kilometer marathon.

And that was precisely why Doctor Space, the creator of the Stimpak, had received the Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

Even if only temporarily, it produced a stimulating effect capable of bringing a human practically to the level of a superhuman.

And the price that had to be paid for such an effect was merely suffering some hallucinations and enormous physical and mental exhaustion.

It was an absurdly extraordinary drug.

An invention that truly deserved a Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

In any case, at that moment, they needed to rest properly at all costs to recover the physical and mental stamina they had consumed.

“On the battlefield, the worst thing you can have is a comrade who’s no help and only becomes a burden.”

Only then could they avoid becoming dead weight during combat.

It wasn’t until they heard Kim Seojun’s words that those five finally removed their battle suits.

Afterward, everyone began frantically devouring the energy gels and drinks stored in the supply base.

Kim Seojun did the same.

He stuffed energy gel into his mouth until he could feel it piling up in his throat.

Because he knew.

On the battlefield, opportunities to replenish nutrients like that came far less frequently than one might imagine.

After that, Kim Seojun looked for a place to rest.

He intended to close his eyes immediately and, furthermore, he possessed the talent of falling asleep faster than practically anyone else.

‘Status window.’

At that moment, the status window appeared in Kim Seojun’s mind and, without realizing it, he said it out loud.

“Status window.”

It was then.

[Kim Seojun]

— Strength: 11
— Endurance: 14
— Mana: 1
— Skills: None
— Talents: Dynamic Vision (E)
— Points: 932 pt
— Tickets: 1 Silver Ticket

The status window appeared before Kim Seojun’s eyes.

By that point, Kim Seojun no longer doubted the ability that had suddenly appeared.

The simple fact that he was still alive was irrefutable proof that the ability was real.

Besides, there was nothing bad about that ability for him.

Kim Seojun knew that.

‘……Having a special ability is never a bad thing.’

It would be an enormous help in surviving.

Kim Seojun had seen on numerous occasions the absurd results that Psykers, people gifted with special abilities, could achieve in the war against the Mog.

At the same time, he also knew something else.

‘It’s not that strange for something like this to happen either.’

In the space age, countless phenomena occurred that human beings were incapable of understanding and that completely defied common sense.

So, instead of continuing to doubt it, he decided to use that ability immediately.

“Use points.”

He said it in such a low voice that his subordinates couldn’t hear him.

Then a new window appeared before his eyes.

[Point Shop]

— Bronze Ticket (500 pt)
— Silver Ticket (3,000 pt)
— Gold Ticket (10,000 pt)
— Platinum Ticket (Unavailable for purchase)
— Diamond Ticket (Unavailable for purchase)

Upon seeing it, Kim Seojun immediately understood how the status window system he had obtained worked.

There was nothing complicated about it.

He killed Mog and received points.

Then he could use those points to strengthen himself.

And as a Space Marine who never knew when he might die, there was no point in thinking something like:

‘I’m going to carefully save up my points so I can get something big later!’

“Purchase Bronze Ticket.”

He bought it immediately.

He didn’t have high expectations.

From Kim Seojun’s perspective, it didn’t matter what he received.

As long as it was better than his current state, he had nothing to lose.

Then he heard a notification.

[You have obtained 1 Strength point from a Bronze Ticket.]

At that simple notification, Kim Seojun’s eyes narrowed.

Not because he considered the reward insignificant.

It was exactly the opposite.

‘My Strength was 11 points. If I add another point, that means my physical strength increased by approximately ten percent.’

Achieving an increase in strength of more than ten percent through training, medication, or body modifications would have required an enormous amount of effort.

And he had just achieved it with a simple click?

Kim Seojun understood perfectly well how extraordinary that was.

That was why he began to feel anticipation.

‘The Silver Ticket I received as a reward.’

There were rewards of higher grades.

“Use Silver Ticket.”

Without hesitation, he used the one he had received as a reward from the battle.

It was then.

[Congratulations! You have obtained a Gold-grade reward from a Silver Ticket!]

A congratulatory notification echoed in his ears.

[A Talent Upgrade Ticket (C) has appeared!]

At the same time, an information window appeared before Kim Seojun’s eyes.

[Talent Upgrade Ticket (C)]

— Grade: Gold
— Effect: Raises one of your talents to rank C.

The moment he saw that, Kim Seojun blinked.

‘What?’

It wasn’t because it was difficult to understand.

There was absolutely nothing complicated about it.

Anyone who had spent ten minutes playing one of those games with microtransactions that were still popular in Korea would understand the system perfectly.

‘Can something like this really come out?’

An absurd reward had simply appeared out of nowhere.

Of course, Kim Seojun didn’t start thinking:

‘What should I do with this? Should I save it to use later when I get something better?’

As already mentioned, worrying too much about the future wasn’t exactly a good habit for a Space Marine.

And above all, Kim Seojun already possessed a good talent.

“Use Talent Upgrade Ticket.”

[Which talent would you like to use it on?]

“Dynamic Vision.”

Kim Seojun immediately used the good fortune he had obtained on that talent.

[Dynamic Vision has increased to rank C!]

The notification came immediately.

At first glance, nothing seemed to have changed.

The scenery before his eyes remained exactly the same.

Then Kim Seojun gently tossed the energy gel he was holding into the air.

It was at that instant.

‘Ah.’

Before Kim Seojun’s eyes, the energy gel rising through the air began to look practically motionless.

He could clearly make out not only the brand printed on the package, but even the nutrition facts.

Furthermore, that sight was very familiar to Kim Seojun.

‘It’s the same as when I use a Stimpak.’

That was how he saw the world the moment he injected himself with a Stimpak.

Everything seemed to have stopped.

‘My God.’

Upon realizing it, a chill ran through Kim Seojun’s entire body.

‘Will the state I was in after using a Stimpak be my normal state from now on?’

And that wasn’t all.

‘Wait. Then, if I use a Stimpak now……’

Perhaps he could experience something he had never experienced before.

It was then.

Beeeep!

Suddenly, the bunker lights turned red and an alarm began to sound.

Everyone sprang to their feet.

Then the bunker system informed them:

[Headquarters has been destroyed.]

The place they were supposed to return to had disappeared.

Headquarters had been destroyed!

“W-What the fuck does that mean?”

The moment they heard the news, all the soldiers inside the bunker panicked.

“That’s impossible!”

They immediately began denying the reality before them.

And that reaction was perfectly understandable.

On a planet dedicated to resource exploitation, headquarters wasn’t simply a place from which orders were issued.

It was where the most powerful military force was concentrated.

It was also the starting point for all supplies.

“H-How the fuck are we supposed to get back to Earth?”

And headquarters was also the only exit that allowed them to return to Earth.

Headquarters had fallen?

That meant they had lost their only way to return to Earth!

Even though they had volunteered for that assignment, in essence, they were still active-duty soldiers subject to mandatory conscription.

For them, it was a shock that was difficult to process.

In the midst of that situation, only one person remained calm.

Sergeant Kim Seojun.

He wasn’t bewildered by all the commotion.

He had no reason to be.

‘The destruction of a headquarters…… This is the fourth time.’

It wasn’t the first time he had experienced something like this.

That was why he knew exactly what to do.

“Everyone, calm down. No matter how much of a fuss you make, the only thing you’ll accomplish is wasting oxygen.”

Panicking at that moment would only hurt them.

“And if you keep making a fuss anyway, I’ll shoot you.”

Kim Seojun issued a firm warning.

At those words, his subordinates, who had practically been shouting just seconds earlier, became completely still.

Everyone looked at Kim Seojun.

He told them.

“For now, we’re going to rest as much as possible. We’ll stay here and rest for at least eight hours.”

His subordinates’ gazes filled with doubt.

Rest?

In an emergency situation like this?

After headquarters had just been destroyed?

Kim Seojun explained.

“The fact that headquarters was destroyed means it suffered a powerful attack, whether from the Mog or an enemy nation. Even if we go there right now, we won’t be any help. Especially if the Mog were the ones who attacked it. If we go there, it would be the same as offering ourselves up for dessert.”

He explained what the most rational decision was at that moment.

After hearing his words, his subordinates’ gazes gradually began returning to normal.

They were still deeply confused.

But the soldiers had realized something.

The man standing before them wasn’t an inexperienced rookie NCO.

He was an absurdly experienced veteran disguised as a newly appointed NCO.

And in that shitty world, there was nothing more reliable than the words of a veteran.

Eventually, everyone began resting just as Kim Seojun had ordered.

Kim Seojun himself did the same.

Inside that extremely cramped bunker, he lay directly on the floor and fell into a deep sleep.

Fortunately, the bunker wasn’t attacked.

Everyone was able to rest for the eight hours Kim Seojun had ordered.

Of course, almost none of them managed to rest properly.

They kept waking up, unable to fully recover their physical condition.

Only one person was different.

Kim Seojun.

There wasn’t even the slightest trace of fatigue left in his gaze.

With that gaze, he said.

“Private First Class Park Boseop.”

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

At the question Kim Seojun repeated, Park Boseop reacted with a start.

“P-Private First Class P-Park Boseop!”

After hearing his response, Kim Seojun said.

“Get ready to drive.”

“D-Drive, sir? W-Where are we going?”

Kim Seojun answered his question.

“To headquarters.”