Battle Maniac
“And the champion is once again Kang Hyunwoo!!”
In the center of the brightly lit octagon, I raised both arms high with the championship belt draped over my shoulders.
The cheers pounded my ears, flashes exploding from every direction.
“Hyunwoo! Look over here just once!”
“Oppa, I love you!”
“Hyunwoo, quick interview!”
It was a familiar scene.
World MMA middleweight champion.
Sixth title defense successful.
Record: 24 fights, 24 wins, 21 by KO.
Alias: Human Weapon.
Height 189cm, reach 198cm, shoulders broad as a doorframe.
Even I had to sigh at my proportions in the mirror.
The kind of look where if you squeezed out liquid testosterone, my body would pour out.
The textbook definition of a testosterone-fueled stud.
That was me, Kang Hyunwoo.
Men idolized me, women lined up.
──The Perfect Man.
That's what the media called me.
Not wrong, really.
But even a guy like me had one secret no one knew.
Back home, I tossed the belt into the display case and sank deep into the sofa.
With trembling hands, I grabbed the game controller.
The familiar logo lit up the screen.
Fight Queen's.
Yeah.
The world champion's secret was an adult game.
“Ahem…”
Of course, I wasn't just some dude playing random porn games.
I'm an MMA champion, after all.
What I played was a fight porn game.
Beat opponents in fights, conquer the heroines as rewards—a genre packed with that satisfying vibe.
“It's got this weirdly addictive feel to it…”
It started casually enough.
With my job, why not try a fighting game?
But.
“……Something's off here?”
This game had some seriously messed-up lore.
Gender-reversed world.
In this world, women were the strong ones.
The top fighters were always women.
And the men?
“……Pathetic.”
Like chicks.
Skinny anchovies without a single muscle fiber.
Whenever an event popped up, male characters got one-sidedly pummeled by female fighters.
Resistance? No such thing.
One hit, and they'd crawl on the floor.
Two hits, cornered and trembling.
And the guys dragged to the underground arena?
“……This is too much.”
They bawled like babies in front of the victorious female fighters.
How the winners disposed of the losers? No need to spell it out.
It's a porn game, after all.
“Haah……”
I sighed.
“What kind of bullshit game is this.”
As a man.
As an MMA champion.
I couldn't wrap my head around this worldview.
But.
“……It pisses me off.”
And that strangely fueled my competitive fire.
Why should all men be weak?
Just like in real life, I'd claim the championship as a male char in this game too.
Shatter this shitty woman-dominated world with pure fighting skill.
At some point, that became my goal.
Long story short.
“……No dice.”
Impossible.
Stats were the issue.
Male chars had abysmal base stats.
Strength D, Durability F, Speed C.
Female chars?
Strength S, Durability A, Speed S.
“This balanced?”
Even Souls games had more mercy.
This was no-damage clear or bust.
One hit landed?
“……Dead.”
Health bar evaporated.
Dodge, parry, counter.
I poured in every ounce of my fighting knowledge.
Still, one shot.
Graze me, instant death.
Not even playing a Souls game here.
“Haah……”
Curses slipped out.
Dozens of attempts.
Hundreds of deaths.
The more pissed I got, the less progress I made.
“Screw it…”
I set the controller down and muttered.
“……Might as well jump in and fight myself.”
Pure rage.
I stormed the dev's official homepage.
Slammed a post into the suggestion board.
Title: If You Let Me Enter the Game Myself, I'll Beat Everyone
Hello. I'm a real-life MMA champion. This game's balance is total shit—zero hope as a male char. Just let me jump in personally and fight. Female champs? Whatever. I'll flatten them all. Dead serious.
“Sigh.”
Exactly as expected.
People dismissed it as a troll, laughed it off.
What could I do? No proof.
And tonight.
“……Lost again.”
I got wrecked by the game's female champion.
Fight Queen's main title heroine, Yoon Arin.
Biracial beauty—Korean dad, American mom.
Bright blonde hair, deep blue eyes, skin pale as untouched snow.
Doll-like perfection.
But inside that innocent face lurked a fight-obsessed monster.
Yoon Arin was a vicious battle maniac.
She went wild for strong opponents, eyes gleaming brighter in bloody bone-crushers.
A woman living for that moment of toppling someone— that was the game's main title heroine.
And she had the creds for that madness.
Undefeated since debut, flawless record.
The game's final boss, strongest fighter.
The absolute peak of this gender-reversed world: Yoon Arin.
Her strategy rate?
──0%.
No player worldwide had beaten her.
Official stats:
“……Insane.”
Nineteen million fights, nineteen million wins.
Not a single blemish, perfect record.
No one had conquered her, the main title heroine.
No after-story unlocked by any player.
“This a game? Total trash fest.”
More curses.
But still.
“……I'll play tomorrow anyway.”
I set the controller down.
Weird habit.
Hating it, yet always firing it up.
I stared at the ceiling.
Her moves replayed in my head.
That unreal counter.
Impossible reaction speed.
……Just one tiny gap.
Fill that, and I'd win.
“Haah……”
Thoughts faded, eyelids heavy.
If I could jump in for real.
I'd crush her.
With that dumb thought, I drifted off.
That was my last night in my world.
I opened my eyes.
No familiar ceiling.
Just blinding white lights pouring down.
“……Huh?”
Soft underfoot.
Canvas give, ropes all around.
Dark stands, distant camera whirring.
The Underground Arena's boxing ring—from the game.
“……Ah.”
A chuckle escaped.
Dream, huh.
A brutally familiar one.
Clinging to that game nightly, now invading my dreams.
“Figures, after grinding so hard.”
Not shocked.
Controller in hand till lights out.
Maybe inevitable.
Then, across the ring, someone stood.
Pale skin.
Blonde hair to her shoulders.
Blue eyes gleaming under the lights.
Doll-pretty face glaring straight at me.
“……Yoon Arin.”
Even in dreams, huh?
The game's main heroine.
Nineteen-million-win undefeated champ.
Unbeatable by anyone.
The woman wrecking me nightly.
Dream, so whatever. Nice.
No tension.
Dream—painless hits, no stakes in loss.
Actually perfect.
Finally face this screen-only chick up close.
Beat her ass for real.
That resolve hit.
Shwick—
Her jab flew first.
I snapped my head aside on reflex.
Fist grazed my hair, wind whistling past my ear.
“……Whoa.”
Too vivid for a dream.
The chars I controlled lagged, input delay hell.
Not now.
My real body, real reactions—alive.
No reason to just dodge.
Her next jab extended; I twisted my torso, parried.
Dove inside, slammed a short hook into her side.
Thud!
“Kuh……!”
Dull impact—her torso buckled.
Her face twisted for the first time.
But champion for a reason.
She clenched teeth, countered instantly.
Right straight incoming.
Guard up on reflex—but shock rippled arm to shoulder.
……Heavy.
Then the slugfest erupted.
Jabs, straights, hooks.
Exchanging fists faster.
She pressed, I slipped; I advanced, she countered.
Guard-breakers grazed cheeks; my hook clipped her mouth.
Smack!
Her lip split.
Red blood trickled down her pale jaw.
“……”
I froze a beat.
Yoon Arin bleeding.
Unseen in-game.
Nineteen million fights unscathed—now lip busted by my punch.
But she?
“……Heh.”
Wiped blood with her wrist, grinning.
Blue eyes mad with glee.
More?
Then I felt it too.
Blood trickling from my cheek, my lip.
Fists stung on impact, body throbbed on hits.
……Some dream.
Hurt too much.
Real bone-rattling pain.
But that made it.
……Fun.
Grin crept up.
Our blood splattered the canvas.
Yet we both laughed.