Checkmate in the Arena
“Damn it!”
Thanks to that freshman causing a ruckus in the sparring arena, all eyes were starting to turn our way.
I'd figured this was a chance to boost our club's standing by taking on his challenge, but...
He's dangerous.
Yeah, it was a seriously dangerous situation. I'd never imagined the guy would hold his own this well against our club members.
He's a freshman, for crying out loud! One of the new first-years!
So how the hell did a monster like that pop out of nowhere?
If you don't want your lungs punched out, get in here right now, you punk.
His voice boomed from the speakers connected to the arena—a blatant shot at our Fund Investment Club.
He's openly provoking us!
The bastard was dragging us into a mudslinging brawl, no doubt about it.
How the hell did things spiral this far?
Our blueprint to take down the International Trade Club had been flawless. Bribe the recruits they'd scouted, bait them into striking first for the optics and justification, then counterattack with our prepared forces! Subordinate the International Trade Club under us and monopolize academy distribution with our funding power!
It would've been smooth sailing for our club.
But that freshman punk ruined everything.
What? Claiming he's the head of the International Trade Club? And dragging in a huge crowd of spectators?
This was us walking straight into a trap!
And worse...
“Whoa, even for a non-combat club, losing to one first-year?”
“Fund Investment Club's recruitment is doomed this year.”
“Today's got some real entertaining shows.”
Of all days, it had to be the day we were scouting other clubs.
Damn it, stop looking at me like that! Don't you dare pity me!
Their stares said it all: Wait, these guys aren't all that? Maybe we could take 'em. Greed and mockery in their eyes.
At this rate, forget the International Trade Club—we'd be the ones getting carved up first.
Priority one: flip this atmosphere somehow.
I casually brushed back my hair to wipe the sweat, forcing my lips into a smile. Keeping my cool as best I could—
“—Are you the head of the Fund Investment Club, senpai?”
“Hm?”
Turning at the voice, I saw a bespectacled guy with a blank expression. His nameplate color marked him as a first-year.
“What's up, first-year? Sorry, but we're not recruiting right now.”
“...That's not it. Our club head asked me to pass this to you.”
“What?”
The glasses-wearing kid handed me a document envelope.
“And if you don't come into the arena right now, he'll make it public to everyone here.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I've passed on everything the head said. See you.”
“Hey? Wait!”
He said his piece and just walked off.
Wondering who the hell he was, I opened the envelope. A sheet of paper inside.
“Huh?”
I checked the contents and slammed it shut.
Wait, why the hell is this here?
“Head? W-what's wrong all of a sudden?”
“......”
“What the hell did that guy give you?”
The other members yammered, but none of it registered.
How could I explain that the envelope held proof we'd been skimming investor funds bit by bit?
How... how the hell...?
Then it all clicked in my head.
Why so many students had gathered here.
Why that kid called the freshman in the arena “club head.”
Why that bastard was staring at us so smugly now.
“Son of a bitch...! You damn chick!”
He'd orchestrated this from the start.
A situation where our corruption could spill out in front of everyone.
Forcing us all to pile on him!
But it wasn't over yet. His move was just check—not checkmate.
First, neutralize the check.
“...Instructor. Can the entire Fund Investment Club enter now?”
“Now? Well... the challenge targeted your club, so academy rules are fine with it.”
No holds barred—we had to shut his mouth.
* * *
...Or so they probably thought.
They say chess noobs don't realize they're done until checkmate's called. These guys were exactly that.
Just look at their bloodthirsty faces. Were they villain wannabes or hero hopefuls?
But I couldn't exactly call them out on it. It was all fallout from the academy system's rot, after all.
Hence scenarios like this.
As they charged in, red aura coiled around me.
My Bloodline: Calione reacting to every one of them as enemies.
A rush on a whole new level from before. I steadied my breathing to resist the euphoria and glared at the onrushing pack.
Spears, axes, gauntlets, swords. All sorts of signature weapons, charging at one guy with killing intent.
But.
“Too late.”
If they were gonna swarm, they should've done it before my skills peaked.
A hand axe swung at my shoulder. Judging it wouldn't hurt much, I took it and lunged at the wielder.
Break the encirclement with a single thrust.
He gawked at me charging despite his swing, but my fist was already inches from his face.
Bang—!
With a thunderous crack, his body flew back like it'd taken a bomb.
I spun into a backspin blow. The guy behind flinched up a guard, but crunch—it shattered, my fist slamming his jaw.
He crumpled like he'd been dosed with sedative.
“You worthless shits! Don't block—dodge!”
“How the hell do you dodge that kinda attack?! Fuck, he's tanking hits just to punch us!”
Their complaints were spot-on. The trade-off didn't compute.
Their blows just itched or stung at worst. Mine? One-shots bordering on lethal.
“Don't fight, you idiots! It's a challenge! Lose and we sign consent forms for clueless punks!”
Hating to hand over those golden tickets, the head bellowed at his mercenaries.
“Fall back! Ranged from behind!”
“Protect the mages and archers!”
At the merc captain's order, they retreated, reforming ranks.
The front line parted, revealing four: two archers, one mage, by their gear.
Wear me down at range, then close? Textbook.
I eyed them approvingly.
“Fire!”
Arrows and fireballs launched on command.
Captain's call was solid. Textbook even under pressure—worthy of praise.
But textbook only works within reason.
I ignored the first arrows, trusting my durability, then thrust my right hand at the fireball—crushing it barehanded.
The blast backlash whipped up winds, snuffing the spell. Scattered arrows flew wild.
“He... crushed magic barehanded without a scratch?”
The captain gaped in disbelief.
Thanks to my Midas Gloves, but he didn't need to know that.
“I yielded one turn. Now it's my go.”
I stomped forward, shifting my weight—
“Front line! Block him!!”
They clustered, thrusting weapons like a phalanx against cavalry.
But I wasn't cavalry.
I leaped high from in front of them.
“Huh?”
Too late to gawk.
Dropping with a rolling thunder kick straight at the head, shielded by mercs and clubbies.
Gravity and spin amplified the physics. My heel cratered his skull.
Kwang!
“Guhk!”
Was that really a head-crack sound? He thudded down, out cold.
Confirming him down, I scanned the room.
“Your client's out. What's your play?”
The merc captain shoved through the crowd.
“...Watching the enemy charge and just standing there? Dumbass.”
Tsking at the fallen head, he turned.
“Fortune Soldier Club taps out. Client's toast—what more can we do?”
He strolled toward the exit. His mercs followed—
“What nonsense is that, senpai?”
They froze at my voice.
“What?”
The captain glanced back. I smirked.
“I just asked if you'd take it lying down or resist a bit.”
I'm cleaning house.
“...You little shit.”
His face twisted. I beckoned as he gripped his weapon tighter.
“Lunch soon. Let's wrap this quick.”
Getting hungry.
* * *
“How does a guy sweep that many without breaking a sweat?”
Jinwoo stared, dumbfounded, offering a towel as I exited.
“Office clubs are like that. You could've done it.”
“Huh? Nah. And those downed dudes were mercs, right?”
He shivered at the sprawled bodies.
“Judging by skill, bottom-tier mercs from some club. Figured they didn't need big bucks for me.”
“...Total miscalculation on their part?”
“Yeah.”
Passing Jinwoo, I eyed the male instructor at the arena booth.
“I won the challenge, right? Gold consent form time?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. They handed it to me before entering. Here.”
“Thanks.”
With the Fund Investment Club's gold consent form, Ji Suhyun's demands were met.
“Instructor, that's all your conditions. Next step?”
“Ha, you madman. Half-doubted you'd pull it off.”
She took the forms, fanning herself with a grin.
“Fine, you kept your end. I'll handle student council. Grab lunch.”
She sauntered out, waving the precious forms.
Relief washing over me—finally done—when
——Vrrr
——Vrrr.
My pocket phone buzzed wildly.
“...This?”
[One Night Club]
You've become the first in academy history to found a club in a single day. This record will live forever in academy annals.
Reward: Smart Lens
“Figures a stunt like this triggers a hidden quest. Smart Lens, though?”
A sharp sting hit my eyes, like saline flush.
I squeezed them shut, enduring ~10 seconds. The corneal burn faded; opening them revealed a new vista.
You've stirred new winds in the academy! Founding a club has let you forge your own history. Lead it to success and promote to Silver Club!
📍 Achievement Condition: Complete 5 club requests!
🎁 Requests Completed:0 / 5
*Rewards may vary by results.
“Boss? You okay?”
“...No big deal.”
Like stepping into a VR game, notifications I'd only seen on my phone floated translucent in the air.
Interface panels and numbers in my periphery. Perfect replica, like a hovering smartphone.
No more weird looks for staring at my phone. This was way better.
Best part: new Main Story unlocked.
Worried since the uninhabited island, but I'd stayed on track.
“How do I turn this off?”
Eye flicks later, thinking of closing my phone screen—they vanished.
Good, on/off at will. No combat vision clutter.
“We're done for real! We can make the club now, right?”
Sea-a and Youngje approached from the stands, having watched the fight.
“Yeah. Instructor's handling the rest—just wait.”
That Main Quest window all but confirmed it.
All left: Inomiya Haru crushing Fund Investment Club at the club wars.
Post this beatdown, their rep and value tanked—Haru'd handle it easy.
——♬
The academy bell tolled, signaling end of club tours and lunch.
It felt like the finale to our long, grueling consent form war.