Special Rank Adventurer (2)
“Uwaaaah…… Th-they’re really trying to kill him, aren’t they?”
The ordinary adventurers watching Kim Sung-tae’s one-sided beatdown of the Piaz crew trembled, clenching their fists tightly. It was satisfying to see the Piaz gang—who usually strutted around acting superior with their little clique—get thoroughly wrecked. But at the same time, they feared the backlash might reach them, the ones who’d shot Sung-tae contemptuous looks earlier.
“Shouldn’t we…… report this to the guild?”
“But it’s self-defense. Piaz was trying to kill Kim Sung-tae.”
“Still……”
The adventurers hemmed and hawed, at a loss. Then a voice drew all their gazes.
“What’s going on here?”
Their faces lit up with relief. They’d wanted to keep watching, but also hoped Sung-tae’s revenge would end soon. This person—this group—would surely stop Sung-tae.
“Ah…… it’s you!”
“A fight?”
An old man with a white beard reaching his chest murmured as he surveyed the brutal scene. The deep wrinkles around his eyes evoked long years of life, but his blue eyes were cold and emotionless, like a doll’s.
The adventurers brightened at his appearance but snapped to attention, more tense than during Sung-tae’s brawl. And for good reason: getting on this old man’s bad side could make their adventuring life—and even their very existence—miserable.
“Yes! The Piaz crew picked a fight with another adventurer.”
“Picked a fight? Tell me the details.”
At the old man’s words, the adventurers spilled everything in exhaustive detail—from Sung-tae’s rumors, to what happened when he arrived in the city, to how it escalated to this. They reported like soldiers briefing a superior, then fell silent, watching the old man stare wordlessly at Sung-tae.
“Not a fight. It’s one-sided playtime.”
“Ugh……”
Piaz twisted his body to flee from Sung-tae approaching through his foggy, blurred vision. Like an earthworm crawling out on a rainy day only to dry up under the scorching sun, he flailed amid the searing heat scorching his flesh and the fishy stench of blood from his melted tongue.
But the black-armored man in his sight grew closer, like the Grim Reaper himself. Realizing escape was impossible, Piaz begged for his life in terror.
“Haaargh…… Heh…… Huhaha……”
“What’re you saying? Speak clearly.”
“S-spare……”
Sticky blood drooled from his mouth like saliva. He looked up at Sung-tae with the eyes of a frightened puppy, too broken to even wipe it away.
If he’d been a real puppy—cute enough to bite but forgivable—Sung-tae might have let it slide.
Crunch.
“Gaaaahhh!!!”
“‘You can barge in however you want, but getting out’s another story,’ right? You started it, but I end it. No choices for you.”
Sung-tae mercilessly stomped Piaz’s knee. It snapped like dry twigs, twisting in an unnatural direction. His eyes no longer saw Piaz as human.
“If it weren’t for me, you’d have killed him already. A normal person would be dead. You’re basically a murderer. Even if not, attempted murder. And now you beg to live? Isn’t that selfish?”
“Grraaah……”
Piaz rolled his eyes back in agony, then glared at Sung-tae with every ounce of strength. No fear left—just the mad fury of a cornered rat biting the cat.
Sung-tae smirked at the glare.
“See? You’re already glaring like that. Why risk what you’d do if I let you live?”
Honestly, Piaz’s revenge wasn’t a worry. Nothing he could do to Sung-tae. Even targeting allies like Garba would fail—she was too strong. But the mere intent was dangerous. These types sold their souls to demons, donned cursed items, sowing chaos. In a fantasy world, such gear existed; he’d met demons, and unknowns lurked. Better nip it in the bud.
“I’ll…… get revenge……”
Taking it as his last words, Sung-tae raised his foot to crush Piaz’s skull.
“Revenge? Impossible. You die here.”
“Hey, you there! What do you think you’re doing?!”
Roman’s voice interrupted. Foot poised, Sung-tae turned toward the source. Graying hair and wrinkled face suggested age; as a Korean valuing elders, he paused.
“I, Roman, command you: stop the slaughter now!”
“……Grandpa, there’s a reason for this.”
“What? Grandpa!?”
To Sung-tae, he looked every bit the grandfather. No armor like other adventurers, just plain clothes and no sword—maybe a local? But naming himself boldly suggested guild ties.
“I’m Roman. You an adventurer too?”
“Yeah, for now.”
“An adventurer who doesn’t know my name?”
“……Do I have to?”
Roman’s eyes narrowed like a predator spotting prey. Sung-tae’s opinion of him plummeted—and hit rock bottom soon after.
“Kids these days have no manners. Shouldn’t you memorize your seniors’ names?”
“……”
“Adventurer who doesn’t know a Special Rank like me? You been shoving your adventuring career up your ass?”
“Do I need to memorize seniors’ names? It’s not the army.”
“Back in my day, we memorized seniors’ names, birthdays, debut dates—everything. That’s normal. Respect seniors to survive this world. Looks like you’ve scraped by on that armor. What’s your rank?”
Sung-tae’s brief calm reignited with anger. But elder, so one last chance.
“C-Rank.”
“……C-Rank?”
Misheard? Roman thought so. Leblanc, city of adventurers, had customs: only A-Rank+ entered. Requests from nobles/royals were too tough for lesser ranks. Incompetents stayed away; guild/others persuaded them out. Fame ensured self-selection.
“I see. Low-rank, so you crushed the advisors with gear.”
Roman interpreted freely. In his head, Piaz’s crew became “kind seniors advising a scrub”; Sung-tae, “cocky noob relying on gear.”
“There’s a misunderstanding. These guys……”
“Hey, one more question.”
Annoying grandpa, but brave to confront him. Needs courage, justice—clear it up.
“No parents? Rumors say con artist, troublemaker. Useless act. Proper upbringing wouldn’t do this.”
“……”
“Grrraaah!”
Piaz lunged in final desperation. No strength left to harm, just injustice and rage blinding him.
“Grandpa—or old man.”
Sung-tae grabbed Piaz’s throat, squeezing.
Crunch!
“Wanna get hit?”
“No manners.”
Arms crossed, Roman extended a hand casually. Provocative pose, but suited him perfectly.
He stepped before the two surviving crew, shielding them. Dying, but healable with priest/potion.
“Murder before me? I’ll handle you—no more victims.”
His fingertips blurred into dozens. Mana flowed naturally, decades of mastery evident.
“I, Roman of Illusions, stake my name to judge this rogue.”
“When will he arrive?”
A woman muttered at Leblanc’s outskirts, waiting. Her striking looks and delicate grace stirred men’s protective instincts, but none approached.
“He’s never been this late.”
Wind tousled her thin silver hair against her cheek. Roadside adventurers gawked, round-eyed, but dared not speak.
No one in Leblanc ignored her half-year exploits.
“Something happen?”
Scanning anxiously, fearing wrong spot, she spotted him—golden waves towering skyward. Familiar.
“No way……!”
Heart pounding, she bolted, forgetting the appointment. Only one wielded such power.
She’d trained relentlessly to meet him.
“You’re here!”
Special Rank Adventurer. Exactly ten on the continent, hero-level prowess. Fixed at ten; newcomers challenged incumbents for spots.
Long guild history meant endless contests, birthing ever-stronger Special Ranks.
“I’ll teach you manners, brat. It’ll be your death.”
Some say Special Ranks might surpass heroes. Why not hire them against Demon Kings?
Heroes slayed gratis. No need for costly adventurers, money-driven despite strength.
“I’ve crushed gear-bragging punks like you countless times. Know their end? Lose gear, beg, die miserably. Today, yours.”
Chatty.
Roman, one such Special Rank. Stronger than sin-chosen heroes. Heaven-blessed genius beyond geniuses.
“No reaction? Scared? Too late for regrets.”
Roman blurred, multiplying.
Sung-tae recalled “Illusions.”
Afterimages from speed?
Several charged—not bull-rush, but predator pounce: controlled, lethal.
Afterimages struck from all sides. Sung-tae didn’t budge, eyeing the unmoving original farthest away.
Afterimages are fakes. Distract the eyes.
No point if real joined. Could end quick, but curious, Sung-tae took hits.
Eyes unblinking, tracking. Armor dented dully, cracking.
“Huh? What!?”
Black Oriharcon—how crack from normal hits?
Numerous Romans laughed mockingly.
“Black Oriharcon, huh. Why everyone falls. Know how to break it? Simple: focus force on one point……”
A Roman appeared behind, finger-piercing armor.
“See? Easy. Not for scrub adventurers like you. Only my level.”
“Yeah? You talk too much.”
Sung-tae’s hand gripped the wrist. Solid—real. Fist smashed head.
“Bad manners interrupting elders.”
“……?”
Head flew. But others mocked.
No blood fountain. Headless Roman staggered, glowing brightly.
“N-no way!?”
“Run!”
Spectators fled surging mana. Then……
[BOOM!]
Roman exploded. Narrow radius—barely 2 meters. But pinpoint potency, like the finger.
“……Close call.”
Faint cracks riddled armor. Without Ignis’s curse blocking regen, Roman fight would shatter it.
Sung-tae shelved underestimating “old man.”
“Martial arts saying: beware kids and elders.”
“Don’t get it, but yeah—watch elders.”
One exploded, yet Romans doubled.
“Afterimages? I’m no amateur. All are me—illusions.”
“Ninja much? Illusions—plagiarize much?”
Easy words, but Sung-tae tensed. Explosions meant destroying meant armor doom. Numbers regrew fast—low mana cost. Armor breaks first.
Damn Ignis. Tougher armor. Heroes, gramps—punching bag.
His fault too—watched too long.
No more. Legs tensed.
Multiplies? One way: wipe all.
Kicked off, soaring near clouds, fist clenched. Too close risky? Attack afar.
Don’t know real? Blast everything.
“Blow ‘em all at once.”
Spectators fled—control blast to Roman zone.
Glared, punched. Or tried.
“Senior!”
“!?”
Senior? Only one here called him that.
Attack halted, fell to ground. Roman consolidated to one; both turned.
“Leo?”
“Miss Leo!?”
Silver-haired woman. Few deep ties here—Sung-tae remembered her voice.
“Ah! It really is you, Senior!”
“L-Leo?”
Sung-tae gaped at unbelievable sight. Silver hair, red eyes, “Senior”—matched. But……
“Yes! Senior! What brings you here!? Ah! Lord Roman too!”
“……You know her?”
“The senior I always mentioned!”
Boyish short hair now waist-long. Height adult-woman now. Wind carried her scent—sweet, pleasant, tickling his nose.
“Senior! So happy to see you again!”
“You……”
Leo beamed, grasping his cooled gauntlet. Stunned, Sung-tae asked:
“Were a girl?”