Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Combat Interview Rampage (1)
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Superhumans gradually acquire bodies suited for survival as they grow stronger. Ideally, they grow taller and their frames thicken. Most undergo changes in appearance during this process. That's why high-level superhumans tend to be handsome and beautiful. The cadets gathered here were no exception.
However, among them all, Yeoreum stood out the most.
"Wow... that redhead. She's gorgeous."
"No, seriously, what's with her? She's insanely hot."
"Everyone around her looks like total squids."
'Where? Where?' Exclamations rippled like waves. Yoo Ji-tae could even hear the foreign guardians nearby.
It felt like light was emanating from her. An intense glow that drew the eyes but felt burdensome to stare at for too long, as if it could darken everything around it.
"Snap out of it, man. We're not here to gawk at the kids' faces."
"Ah, yeah. Right."
Yoo Ji-tae, who had planned to just catch a glimpse of Wei Lian's face after so long and head out, had no choice but to settle into his seat.
He was getting curious about what they were even here for, anyway. He was a guardian, nominally speaking.
"Please begin."
Wei Lian waved his hand, and the interviewers moved to their positions in unison.
Soon, the interviews started.
The interviews seemed to consist of practical combat followed by verbal questioning. A cadet's individual skill was a key evaluation factor.
The content varied by field. Yeoreum had applied for 'hand-to-hand combat.' In front of the two octagon rings at the center of the auditorium, around sixty cadets including Yeoreum sat waiting for their turns.
"Number 124. Number 7. Enter."
After a few matches. The instructor serving as referee called out. 124 was Yeoreum. She climbed into the ring and was handed a wooden practice sword. Her opponent was a mestizo boy gripping a practice staff.
"Ready. Begin."
The gong rang, and Yeoreum charged. In the blink of an eye, her diagonal slash knocked his staff aside and smashed into his head. He flew back, slamming into the cage wall.
It was a strike utterly devoid of mercy.
Whoa— voices rose up.
"Oof. That landed clean."
"Who is that redhead? Her level's insane."
The interviews continued. With no fixed bracket, the interviewers just called numbers to fight. At first, it seemed random, but before long, Yeoreum's number was coming up noticeably often.
In combat, Yeoreum showed no mercy. There was none of that sizing each other up or trading stares to psych out the opponent. The gong rang, she charged, and her foes either dropped in one or two hits or futilely blocked before being relentlessly pushed back.
"Who the hell is that girl? What's with her?"
"Ah, I have the applicant profiles. Let me check... Yoo Yeoreum. Korean nationality. Eighteen years old."
"Eighteen? How's she doing that? She's not even a graduated cadet yet, hasn't even enrolled."
By the rules, no skills or magic—just pure physical ability and combat technique decided victory in that octagon. And Yeoreum dominated.
It was only natural, in his view. He watched the scene impassively. But those around him were in an uproar. Before he knew it, several more cameras on stands had been set up behind Yoo Ji-tae. Eyes were increasingly drawn to Yeoreum's outrageous performances.
After she defeated her fourth opponent, the fifth stepped up—a French girl on a three-win streak.
"Hey, that one's face looks familiar. Who is she?"
"One of France's minor league rookies. NDT black belt. Don't know the details."
"She might give some resistance. Feels like it. We might actually see a real fight this time."
The match began. Her opponent was definitely better than the others.
The wooden swords clashed several times in midair. Unlike the previous fights that ended in at most three exchanges, this one lasted longer. But not by much. A kick to the gut dropped her to one knee, then Yeoreum's sword stabbed her sternum, and she hammered the exposed head several more times. Lightning-fast combos.
The referee called a halt, and the opponent collapsed clutching her stomach in agony. Soon, a French guardian rushed in, checking the girl with a shocked face. Red blood trickled down from her forehead where she'd been hit.
"Hey, you. That cadet. Isn't that a bit much?"
As Yeoreum tried to leave the ring, a young French attendant scowled and spoke to her.
"What?"
"It's a practice match, but still—did you have to go that far? Especially girl on girl."
"What's it to you? What do you want me to do about it?"
"You should know to show some manners. Didn't your guardian teach you that?"
"Why ask me? If you're so curious, go find my guardian and ask them! Want their number?"
Yoo Ji-tae, who had amplified his hearing to listen in, let out a hearty chuckle.
"You, you..."
"And I went as hard as a practice match calls for. If it were real combat, your girl would've died by my hand right there. Got it?"
'What the fuck.' Yeoreum spat a curse and exited. The opposing guardian trembled but said no more.
Her blunt words and tone drew murmurs of disapproval around Yoo Ji-tae too.
"Did you hear how she talks?"
"She's not wrong, but saying it to their face... even I'm getting pissed."
"Why? I like her honesty. She's not wrong."
"No manners at all. Thinks she's hot shit. Her guardian didn't show?"
"Nah, profile says no attendant or guardian. Came alone, I guess. Personally, I like her mentality."
Yoo Ji-tae heard it all but showed no reaction. Whether Yeoreum's broken personality drew hate or not didn't matter much to him. If that was her true self, he had no intention of changing it.
By then, Wei Lian, who had been watching the entire interview from afar, started taking interest in the combat section. He grabbed a chair with his assistant secretary and wedged himself between the combat interviewers, issuing some instructions.
Soon, the next match was set.
"Number 124. Number 39. Enter."
'Oh, finally, they're matching up.' Someone's voice rang out.
Yeoreum climbed into the ring, followed by a white girl with flowing light brown hair. Wooden sword again.
Yoo Yeoreum: 5 wins, undefeated in Ring 1.
The other girl: 7 wins, undefeated in Ring 2.
This match was between those two.
"Ah, 39 is Sophia Borcova!"
"Jackpot. Sophia just broke her opponent's leg in her last match. This'll be good."
"Sophia Borcova vs. the redhead. Who you got?"
"Sophia, obviously. She was already with RIL before cadet training."
RIL.
Yoo Ji-tae remembered the name. Russia's hunter airborne special forces unit. They'd been active during the Great War and were considered top-tier within Russia, infamous for their brutal training methods.
Like burning themselves to build pain tolerance, or repeatedly slicing and healing their flesh with blades.
"Still, she was just a publicity prelim member. Pretty face but no talent—they slapped an armband on her for a photo op, right?"
"Come on, RIL is RIL. The recognition alone. Who here doesn't know Sophia? You don't build that on looks. My bet's on the redhead losing this one."
"Hmm, maybe."
Sophia entered bare-handed, wearing only practice long gloves.
The gong rang, and both closed the distance at once. Exchanges happened in a flash. Sophia calmly deflected sword paths with her forearms and fists, firing straight punches. For the first time, Yeoreum, who had bulldozed straight ahead relentlessly, stood her ground and traded blows.
"Hey, hey, see that? What'd I tell you?"
"You're wrong. It's even."
To Yoo Ji-tae, it was one-sided. Yeoreum moved with plenty of leisure, while Sophia was desperate. It might look like an even exchange at a glance, but he could tell Yeoreum was toying with her—like a fearless kid tormenting a small animal.
After a few more clashes, the tide turned. Thwack—the wooden sword whipped Sophia's ribs. But Sophia spun and kicked Yeoreum back. Yeoreum didn't budge. The sword thrust at Sophia's chest next. Sophia couldn't dodge the accelerating strikes.
Sophia stumbled back a few steps, clenched her fists, and charged again, eyes blazing. From there, it was like pounding a sandbag—Yeoreum's sword pressed her relentlessly, and Sophia endured the pressure through sheer stubbornness.
"Wha, what? Why's she suddenly getting pushed back? Isn't she taking too many hits?"
"No surrender? Looks painful."
"Did Russia raise zombies or what?"
A powerful lateral slash hammered Sophia's abdomen again. She couldn't block properly and tumbled far away. But as if the hit never happened, she stood right back up and raised her guard in fighting stance.
Yoo Ji-tae found it odd. The impacts were excessive. Her ribs were already cracked in at least five or six places. The pain should be immense, yet she showed no sign of it—not even collapsing.
As far as he knew, there were two types like that. Ones who forgot pain in the heat of excitement. Or ones who got so hyped they overrode it.
Madness glinted in Sophia's eyes. The latter, probably.
At this point, it warranted stopping, but Sophia didn't surrender, and her guardian stayed silent. Yeoreum's downward chop struck Sophia's collarbone. To Yoo Ji-tae's eyes, something definitely shattered. Her small frame rolled across the mat.
But even then. Sophia didn't blink.
'Match stop.' The referee quickly stepped between them, ending the fight.
Everyone thought that was it, but Sophia stood again, fists clenched. Her guardian tried to intervene this time, but she ignored him, approaching the referee to argue.
"Who decided to stop it? It's not even three minutes."
"The hits were serious. Doesn't it feel like something's broken?"
"Nothing like that. Come on. Don't waste time."
"Sophia. We should stop this."
"No, I didn't fall, didn't surrender, body's fine—why stop? Come on."
Yoo Ji-tae watched Yeoreum's expression.
He expected delight, but her face was its usual pouty scowl. As if bored.
As the referee and Sophia bickered, Yeoreum chimed in.
"Sis. Give it up. Keep charging and you might die."
"...You talking to me?"
"You're already smashed up. All over."
"Bullshit. Just a little sore. Ah! Move! I didn't surrender!"
The referee glanced at Wei Lian, who responded with a relaxed smile and gesture. The referee stepped aside, and Sophia assumed stance, fists shaking with rage.
Crack.
One strike. Sophia took another gut shot and crumpled. The referee rushed in to block Yeoreum. 'Match stop!' This call was louder. Blood seeped from her mangled wounds.
Sophia tried to rise again, but her guardian held her back this time.
"Let go! I haven't lost yet!"
"Snap out of it. The match is over, Sophia!"
"I said I haven't lost!"
But she couldn't break free from her guardian.
Sophia finally dropped her shoulders, grimacing in pain as she was led away.
The storm passed. Yeoreum exited the ring with a bored look. Victory was, naturally, hers.
As the referee announced the result echoing through the hall, Sophia, trudging after her guardian with a sullen face, drew a defensive dagger from his belt. In a frenzy, she spun and bolted. She vaulted the cage wall, charging straight at Yeoreum.
By the time everyone went '? Huh?'—it had happened.
Yeoreum dodged the surprise thrust half a beat late; her eyebrow was slashed, blood spurting.
"Die, you bitch!"
Mana infused that strike. A blatant murder attempt.
"Ah, you crazy bitch! Wanna die for real?!"
Yoo Yeoreum's eyes flipped too. No panic—just vicious irritation as she grabbed Sophia's throat and hurled her into the wall. The force shattered the entire octagon cage. Yeoreum didn't stop, pouncing on the downed Sophia and raining indiscriminate punches.
"Hey! What the hell! Stop her!"
"Calm down! Get the knife first!"
It was like a bomb went off. Referees, interviewers, guardians—everyone rushed in en masse to pry Yeoreum off.