Semifinals (5)

CLANG! CLANG!

Lund never stopped.

Just as Baek Jinwoo never rested from his training, the dwarf hadn't taken a single break from hammering since the day he'd been summoned.

Lund's crafting priorities went something like this: Baek Jinwoo first, then SKY Guild, then the major domestic guilds, with overseas commissions bringing up the rear.

Overseas clients ordered runes through all manner of channels, which meant Lund could grind his proficiency at virtually no cost—and as a bonus, he even collected extra crafting materials on the side.

"Heheh, so ye've come, Master." The old dwarf, hammer still raised from his last strike, wiped the sweat from his brow and looked up at Baek Jinwoo.

He'd been working on the runes Baek Jinwoo had ordered since a month back.

"They done?"

"Course they are! Wrapped up the last one just this very mornin'."

"Phew."

Baek Jinwoo let out a long breath of relief. Talk about perfect timing. He'd been dreading what he'd do if they weren't finished before the World League ended.

"Have a look-see here. Six Destruction Runes and six Fire Dragon Runes. This batch has let me pile up a tidy heap of masterwork crafting proficiency."

Destruction. And Fire Dragon.

To explain once more: Destruction was Doldori's temporary Rare rune set.

One glance at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stats and you could tell—these were tailor-made for Doldori. A PvP-exclusive rune set!

The set effect alone was enough to make your jaw hit the floor. Critical damage +500%, but only inside the battle halls. Which meant—multi-summon matches, player duels... every single format got that number applied.

And what if you gathered three of these Destruction Runes and handed them over to Lund? Out came Annihilation, a unique rune so absurdly overpowered it ought to be banned.

Annihilation would be Doldori's true graduation rune.

He'd explain the details ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠once the thing was actually forged.

And the Fire Dragon Rune?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Pokryongi's temporary set. A rune so good for fire-attribute summons that it would have suited Hong Ari just as well as Pokryongi.

This one, too. The description alone was enough to make you shudder—a proper Rare set through and through.

"Whew. It's finally done."

Their Pokryongi and Doldori. Hadn't the two of them suffered long enough fighting with whatever junk runes he'd slapped on them? Time to dress them in the good ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stuff, no?

"Thanks, Lund."

"Heheh, think nothin' of it. If anything, I'm the one in yer debt. For givin' me the chance to forge runes this fine."

That was their Lund for you. The dwarf's mindset simply operated on another plane entirely.

Baek Jinwoo moved with purpose. He presented his national team credentials, stepped into the London Player Zone, and made straight for the Reinforcement Center.

London was identical to South Korea. Only the building's shell differed; the machinery inside ran on exactly the same mechanism.

He stripped off every junk rune Pokryongi and Doldori had been wearing, then dumped the entire stockpile he'd hoarded from the weekday dungeons into leveling the new sets. All the way to the cap—level 10.

Watching the stats climb and climb felt wonderful.

He had forty-nine Universal Polishing Agents, but he didn't touch a single one. These aren't graduation runes, after all.

Even so, they were now more than good enough to hold their own at the World League.

Baek Jinwoo could field Rare runes only because he had Lund. Your average ranker struggled to get their hands on even one unique rune. Not because they lacked the money—because there was simply nothing on the market to buy.

"Krrk... krrruk!"

"Hehe, thank you so much, Jinwoo."

His summons looked downright chipper with their new runes equipped.

Good. Preparations for the USA match: complete.

"Clean and tidy."

Shwooo!

Baek Jinwoo stretched himself out long and slow, then headed back to the hotel. A little breathing practice in his private room, a good long rest—that ought to do it.

The next day. South Korea.

With the semifinal at hand, the country had poured into the streets dressed in red since the crack of dawn. The elderly, children, expectant mothers—everyone, without exception, shouted with one heart and one voice.

"Dae~han~min~guk!"

Clap-clap-clap~clap-clap!

All fifty million of them, not a single soul excluded, fired off the same wish: let South Korea win.

"6 PM tonight—that's 10 in the morning, London time! The day of the semifinal has finally arrived!"

"Just reaching the semifinals is a miracle already, but since the miracle's happened anyway! Why not ride it all the way to the finals? Hahaha!"

"Quite right. With the hope that our Baek Jinwoo works his magic once more, the nation has been staying up all night cheering since yesterday."

The broadcast team kept up a steady stream of commentary as the country waited for the match to begin.

Cheer performances from famous idol groups and singers. Even street vendors pledging free food for everyone if the team made the finals.

South Korea was a festival, plain and simple.

And then—

"The players are entering the arena!"

The moment the players came into view, walking side by side into the battle hall, the crowd erupted in welcome.

"WAAAAAAAH!"

And the instant they spotted Baek Jinwoo striding at the very front of the line—

"UWAAAAAAAH!"

"Baek Jinwoo! Baek Jinwoo!"

"Win it, Baek Jinwoooo!"

"Tear Genos apart!"

The crowd screamed themselves into a frenzy. And sure enough, the moment Baek Jinwoo waved at the camera, the cheering swelled even louder.

It felt good.

South Korea's young player, standing on the world stage and waving with such easy confidence—the sight was so endearing it threatened to drive the whole nation out of its mind with affection.

"Our hope, Baek Jinwoo, is waving right now! You can hear the screams from the female fans all the way up here in the booth!"

"He really is handsome, isn't he? A national hero, in fantastic shape, and good-looking on top of it... What is there left to feel wistful about?"

"Even if there were something, it wouldn't matter. Please! All of it's fine—our one desperate wish is that he beats America."

At the same moment, the players' rankings began rolling across the screen.

First, the South Korean roster scrolled past in full. Then came the American roster.

"Whoa."

"They're no joke either."

"Honestly, on paper the US is even better than Japan."

That much was true. Where Japan was a one-man Hikaru show, America carried the scent of something closer to Britain—a genuine all-rounder squad.

Take a look at the list:

Eight players—eight—were world rankers, the kind people called giants of the scene. And even the remaining two were famous as monsters-in-waiting, one step from breaking out themselves.

"Gah."

"That's just absurd."

"Isn't that practically on Britain's level?"

"And we're supposed to beat THAT?"

Set against that, South Korea looked downright humble. Not one world ranker among them. Two of their players had never even been domestic rankers to begin with. One of those two happened to be Baek Jinwoo, granted.

"Well, there's nothing to be done about it now."

"It's a daunting lineup, to be sure—but was Britain any different? What matters is a heart that won't break!"

"Exactly. And should we lose? Then we simply come home having learned that much more!"

The match began immediately. The feed cut to the London broadcast center.

Spinnnn!

The dice of fate rolled.

America's first player: World Rank 90, Donovan Tatum. South Korea's first: Ahn Gijeong.

Ahn Gijeong dealt in poison. The Poison King (A-rank) that Baek Jinwoo had recently gifted him maximized the damage output of every poison-attribute summon he owned.

The fight between Tatum and Ahn Gijeong was a proper, grinding slugfest. And that alone was enough to send South Korea into raptures.

"Astonishing! Simply astonishing! To think non-ranker Ahn Gijeong could go toe-to-toe with a world-class giant like Donovan Tatum!"

And what was more astonishing still?

He'd beaten Tatum with a single summon left standing!

"WAAAAAAAH!"

"Ahn Gijeong! Ahn Gijeong! Ahn Gijeong!"

"Ilwol's old guard isn't going anywhere!"

Only one summon remained at his side, yes—but a win was a win, and that was what mattered.

"America's next player is Sofia Plum—World Rank 56, no less!"

America's next batter stepped up to the plate. The outcome, of course, was a foregone conclusion.

"And there goes Ahn Gijeong—eliminated!"

"Nothing to be done about that one. He only had the single summon left!"

"So who's our next player?"

"Kang Jiho! Kang Jiho of the Mad Demon!"

By and large, the exchange rate between Korea and the US held steady at one-for-one. When this side took a match, the other side knocked off the victor, and a fresh, even duel began all over again. That was how far the level of Korea's national team had climbed.

But then—

"Fifth up is Clint Jones! World Rank 10! One of the ten most monstrous players on the planet!"

With Clint Jones's entrance, South Korea began to be pushed steadily back. Hong Ari, Ki Jaehyeok, Oh Seon-young... Their skills had improved by leaps and bounds, but none of them were yet at the level to stand against a monster like him.

The losses piled up, one after another.

"Eighth! At long last, Baek Jinwoo steps forward!"

"Baek Jinwoooo! Our hope! The nation's hero marches out to conquer America!"

"WAAAAAAAH!"

"UWAAAAAAAH!"

At last—

Fwoosh!

Baek Jinwoo appeared upon the stage.

Sorry, but...

Step. Step.

Baek Jinwoo's eyes were cold as he took the stage.

Against America, I open with Hungyo, and I close with Hungyo.

No Doldori. No Pokryongi. Summons like them would not be deployed. Not under any circumstances.

Baek Jinwoo intended to smash the United States to pieces on Hungyo's controls alone. Clint Jones before his eyes, Kobe Pochettino after... and last of all, Genos of the Five Emperors—none of them would be exceptions.

If he couldn't take them down on control alone, with Hungyo kitted out in graduation runes—no, extreme-tier graduation unique runes—then what was the point of anything? At that level, even facing Rachel would be hopeless. Rachel ran two S-ranks, after all.

Swoosh.

The summon that appeared before Baek Jinwoo's outstretched hand numbered exactly one: an armored training instructor.

"AAAAAAH!"

"What is this?!"

"Don't tell me he's sending Hungyo out alone against World Rank 10—again?!"

"This is... arrogant, even by Baek Jinwoo's standards!"

"What's the deal?"

"What's he playing at?"

"I know Hungyo's strong, but... that's Jones he's up against."

Baek Jinwoo could already picture South Korea's reaction inside his own head. They would all be doubting. Asking themselves whether he could truly bring down that man with nothing but Hungyo.

"You looking down on me, is that it?"

His opponent felt much the same. Clint Jones scrunched his face up in open displeasure.

"The Five Emperors prop you up, and you actually start believing you're something special."

Baek Jinwoo didn't bother to answer.

Shring!

He simply let Hungyo draw his sword.

A hundred days of explanation is wasted on those who doubt you. Showing them is best.