Gold Sun's Cannon Instinct
The dome stadium right in the heart of London, Wembley Diamond.
Its front entrance was currently swarming with crowds thick as clouds.
Especially the number of Brits—it was staggering.
With the tournament happening on home soil, and their team being hailed as the golden generation, British baseball fans' expectations were piercing the heavens.
They'd harbored hopes of climbing high in the brackets, only to draw Korea in the very first round of 16 matchup.
Europe's baseball fans united in roasting Britain.
Especially the British fans' antics, spilling over from real life to the internet, had nations grinding their teeth—France, Italy, Spain, Germany, no one held back in piling on the UK side.
Britain wasn't about to take it lying down.
Now they were claiming this:
British fans started insisting they could beat Korea!
Their stacked roster was one reason, but there were others.
The infamous Wembley Diamond, with its deep fences and towering 8-meter walls, was notorious as a pitcher-friendly park where home runs were a rarity.
Brits were infamous for their over-the-top sports fanaticism across generations.
It held true in baseball stadiums too. Their deafening jeers could rattle even seasoned pros, impacting performance.
Other European fans nodded reluctantly in agreement.
'Playing the Brits drains you.'
'Damn hooligans...'
Felix's solid rep as the starter played a big role.
Brits were convinced a fireballing lefty like him wouldn't be easy pickings for Korea.
And so the game curtain rose.
Both teams' players took the Wembley Diamond field.
"Hoo, Wembley's air..."
Kingsley Felix climbed the mound, drawing a deep breath.
He swept back his flowing blond hair and glared at the Korean players.
"I'll send you monkeys straight back to your country...!"
He went into his windup, firing sharp pitches home.
Crack!
"Out...!"
Thwack-!
"Strike three...!!"
Leadoff Je Yun-chan and No. 2 Choi Hyeok-su both went down on tame outs.
Stepping up next was this guy.
"Seong-muk, I believe in you."
Olivia, British by birth but cheering for Geum Seong-muk today.
A middle-aged man smoothly took the seat beside her in the VIP box, watching the game.
"Father, you're here."
"...Yeah. Never thought my first chat with my runaway daughter in ages would be at a ballpark."
He was Gordon Ramsay.
Known as 'Mr. Ramsay,' the chef hailed as the pinnacle of world cuisine.
He'd come to Wembley Diamond at his daughter's summons. He glanced slyly at the field and asked,
"That guy's the one? The man you've fallen for?"
"...Yes, that's him."
"I see..."
Gordon Ramsay pondered.
His daughter's cooking had soared to new heights.
Just watch her current TV show—she could now make the 'cooking for someone special' he'd always preached about.
'Felix was supposed to be the one, but some fringe Easterner pulls it off...'
Olivia's standards were sky-high already.
Pair her with a handsome, athletic sportsman her age? Seemed perfect—until she bolted.
Gordon had reflected in her absence.
He cleared his throat and said to her,
"Why not tell that guy to follow you to Britain? We've got solid baseball teams too."
Britain had a pro league big enough for billion-won contracts.
With Olivia thriving as a chef in Europe, it seemed ideal for her and Seong-muk. But she shook her head firmly.
"No, Seong-muk's too good to be stuck in Britain."
"...What?"
Gordon furrowed his brow.
He watched British baseball religiously on off days—it was his joy, a point of pride. Her words stung a bit.
But Olivia wouldn't retract them.
She told her father flatly,
"Just watch. You'll see what he's capable of."
"Hmph, that confident, huh..."
Gordon crossed his arms.
He snorted, then leaned back.
"Fine, let's see what he's got."
At the same time.
Felix glanced toward the stands.
'He's here, Mr. Ramsay...!'
Rumors checked out—he'd shown up in person.
Felix half-convinced himself it was to see his fiancée.
'If I dominate today, he'll surely pry that monkey off Olivia...!'
Felix smirked with certainty.
As Seong-muk entered the box, tugging on his batting gloves, their eyes met.
'Geum Seong-muk, you especially...!!'
Felix's eyes blazed.
He steeled himself to crush him.
"Jeez, he's glaring daggers."
Seong-muk chuckled at the pitcher's fiery stare. As he settled into his stance, Felix fired the first pitch.
Thwack-!!
"Striike...!!"
A straight fastball jammed inside, clocking 153 km/h.
Seong-muk watched it go by, revising his initial assessment.
'Canceling the "lucky Im Tae-yul" label.'
Name: Kingsley Felix
Nationality: Britain
Age: 19
Height: 186 cm
Skill: Royal Road (A)
Windup stance boosts velocity moderately.
Pitching (*Potential) / LHP Three-Quarter
Stamina: A (*A)
Control: A (*A)
Fastball: A (*A)
Stuff: B+
Offspeed: A+ (*A+)
├ Curve: A
├ Slider: A
└ Changeup: A+
No pushover pitcher.
The lefty arm was trouble enough, and his aristocratic form hid a wild delivery—timing him wouldn't be simple.
Easy in the game, but this was half-real life. Seong-muk knew it wasn't identical.
Crack!
"Foul...!"
Seong-muk's bat sent it into the screen.
The pitch had jammed him a bit.
Felix grinned, cornering him.
'Heh, his face after a three-pitch whiff will be priceless.'
Felix wound up again.
Count 0-2.
Dire spot, but Seong-muk stayed relaxed.
'No fear of this guy—I've got my aces.'
He glanced at his stat screen.
One major change in his power stat.
Flash back to yesterday.
"Hoo, haa...!!"
"Okay, two more! Last set!"
Korea's national team gym, booked solid.
Lifters everywhere, but the sluggers stood out.
"Hng...!"
Bang!
"Groooah...!"
Bang!
Clanging iron and grunts echoed.
Three stood tallest.
'Choi Seok-ho 630kg, Park Tae-je 620kg, Macho-won 605kg...!'
Trainer coach Jin Yu-jun measured the big three: squat, bench, deadlift.
Choi Seok-ho, 'Asan Black Tiger'—or 'Black Pig' for his bulk—topped with monstrous lower-body power, followed by Park and Macho-won.
Most surprising? Geum Seong-muk.
'Seong-muk's first big three total: around 460kg...'
The guy chucking 160km/h fastballs and leading the nation in homers as a hitter.
193cm ripped frame, yet his totals lagged peers.
Not inexplicable—big three don't directly translate to game power; other training builds muscle too.
So 'fair enough,' but Seong-muk surged ahead frighteningly fast.
"Hoo, haa...!!"
Clang!
"...!"
"That guy's at it again...!?"
Seong-muk shattered his PR again today.
In short order with the team, he'd rocketed from 460kg to 570kg. Unreal growth.
Seong-muk figured it was natural.
'Top nutrition, elite recovery, ace PT trainers, rivals everywhere for motivation.'
Plus pro experience from his past life—weight savvy beyond high schoolers.
His body remembered: this builds explosive power, faster growth than rivals.
Gulp!
"..."
"..."
Teammates tensed at Seong-muk's explosion.
They buckled down harder.
Thud!
"Okay, good work, Seong-muk!"
Seong-muk wrapped deadlifts, ending the session.
He grinned at the popup.
User's Power Stat: A → A+
"...Sweet!"
Finally, raw power to strut as a true cannon.
He was sure: tomorrow vs. Britain, at least one homer.
Crack!
"............!!"
Seong-muk's bat whipped through cleanly.
Felix's eyes bulged.
He dreaded turning—instinct screamed the result, but confirming terrified him.
"Oh...?"
Seong-muk froze mid-follow-through, tracking the ball. Monster park, so even he half-doubted, but it came quick.
Thwomp!
The 'London Monster' fence—even pros struggled—cleared by Seong-muk's towering leadoff blast.
"Whew...!"
Seong-muk lofted his bat skyward and trotted.
He locked eyes with wide-eyed Felix.
Wink!
Casual wink as he raised his right arm, circling bases leisurely.
"That, that bastard...!!"
Felix felt blood rush reverse.
Hands trembling, he clenched fists.
"Geum Seong-muk. Next time, I'll break that nose of yours...!"
Felix reignited.
Solo homer gave up the lead run, but top of the first.
Plenty of game left.
The duel between two men over one woman had just begun.