Three-Way Confrontation
In the upper leagues—Division 1, and especially the international leagues—what gets the highest praise as you climb higher? Superpowers? Sure. Mana manipulation? That's right too. But hands down, the most crucial thing is flexibility and capability to handle any situation.
The previous PSG vs. PER match had shown that perfectly. PSG had the superior overall team weight class, but PER snatched victory by dismantling their opponents as usual, utterly unfazed even in a state of chaos.
Future matches wouldn't be any less demanding. Division 1 and international leagues would only amplify that importance—it wouldn't diminish.
Leman knew that bone-deep. Back when he was conquering the Tower himself, even the most seasoned hunters—shaking the earth and thundering the skies with their powers—had been reduced to mere prey in the Hall of Illusions.
'I didn't want to believe it...'
When Leman first watched the PSG vs. PER match, he'd been shocked but downplayed their feat. It was just shooting defenseless enemies with guns, he'd thought. If doppelgangers had swarmed, they probably couldn't have coped.
Yet at the same time, he wanted confirmation. Proof that if doppelgangers really attacked, Lee Chang-hyun wouldn't hold out. That even if he could move, he couldn't overcome the chaos and would crumble.
This was Leman's singular trauma, a defeat etched into his marrow. The incident in the Hall of Illusions—something he'd buried as ancient history. Everyone called it an unavoidable accident. And Leman had agreed, turning away from it all these years.
'An unavoidable accident... a limit of humans affected by it... that's what I thought.'
But it wasn't. In this moment, witnessing it firsthand, Leman realized the truth.
It wasn't "unavoidable"—it was his own powerlessness.
Amid the chaos where no one could move properly, that guy operated not just normally, but more vibrantly than ever.
It hurt. On the first expedition, he'd lost countless comrades in the Hall of Illusions. Then, trying to avoid it, the Tower's whimsy—or fate—forced them back, repeating the tragedy.
Only much later did they develop a route bypassing the Hall of Illusions entirely, and the incident faded into obscurity.
'If we'd failed the first expedition and researched it properly...'
If they'd figured out how to overcome it like that guy was doing now, maybe she wouldn't have died.
Guilt he'd bowed his head against surged back. Everyone said it wasn't his fault. Hunters climbing the Tower accepted death as part of the deal. But in this moment, Leman couldn't forgive himself.
Faces of those who'd conquered with him over the years flashed before his eyes.
Trembling in agony, eyes fixed on the floor, someone tapped his shoulder.
"......"
Was it the lighting of the Hall of Illusions? Backlit by a strong purple halo, Lee Chang-hyun extended a hand to Leman.
It overlapped with that memory: surviving alone amid doppelgangers through petrification, enduring endless time until rescue.
'A Korean hunter back then too, I think...'
Whatever. The guy had wiped out the doppelgangers. And Leman couldn't even stand.
Everything was confirmed. No need to drag out the match.
***
"Leman, where'd she go...?"
After the match ended, Leman was missing from the waiting room.
"......She needed some time alone to think."
'Shocked by how wildly I rampaged in chaos? Nah, it felt deeper than that... some backstory?'
Either way, even if Leman's reckless request had forced this match, it wasn't without gains for me.
Mastery over controlling your own body. No struggle with visualization or embodying movements.
Maybe because I'd barely overcome the chaos sensation in the PSG match and pulled off one acrobatic move. At some point, Full Bloom reacted, giving me a perfect chance to test this new ability.
'To think I could move my body exactly as I envisioned even in that chaos...'
And not just that—normally, even visualizing an action required endless practice to execute smoothly. But with this, even first-time moves or purely theoretical ones came far easier.
"Hey, seriously, how'd you do it? You brushed it off last time too. This was way more intense."
Han Ji-su couldn't hold back her curiosity anymore and asked directly. The other PER members' eyes sparkled—they were dying to know too.
'Not spilling on Full Bloom...'
Best dodge: explain last match's movements. Sure, impossible without regression experience, but a little spin wouldn't hurt.
"You all felt the chaos gimmick—it's not total paralysis. Just wires crossed: try to move your arm, your leg twitches instead."
"We know that much."
Team shot back like, "And? Spill the secret already."
"Huh? Then that's it, right?"
They stared like I'd spouted nonsense.
"Figure out which body part substitutes for which, account for it, and move accordingly?"
"You little..."
Han Ji-su looked exasperated, but Yoon Han-gyeol cut in.
"Sounds impossible for us, but remember? That Takumi match where Chang-hyun-hyung won."
The one where he'd exploited insane variability like he knew every wormhole position. Han Ji-su finally nodded, lost in thought.
'Lucky they're still green—easy to fool.'
But if Leman asked the same? This wouldn't fully cut it. To a veteran, brief focus might explain short bursts, but swapping weapons against hordes of doppelgangers? Zero credibility.
As I mulled that, Leman—composure regained—entered the waiting room, staring at me.
"Could we talk alone for a bit?"
"......Sure."
As we headed to the supervisor room, Leman barged in relentlessly, turning it into a three-way chat.
***
"First off, sorry for dragging you out at night like this. After that match, I just had to confirm it myself..."
Surprisingly, he knew it was rude. But he'd seen the match—why "confirm"?
"Simple moves or twitches are possible even in chaos. So I figured you beat PSG but couldn't handle doppelgangers."
Ah, testing that.
"And you aced it perfectly. Emptiness and bitterness hit at once... So, how'd you do it?"
"Beating the doppelgangers in chaos?"
Leman stared piercingly, but I stayed zipped.
"Our team's aiming for Korea's Division 1, then international leagues. That means competing with America too."
Leman chuckled.
"Interviews dodge skill details already—can't spill secrets to rivals, right?"
Leman sighed, unprepared for that. Made sense—he'd never seen us as rivals.
But I wasn't wrong. Hunters shared abilities sometimes, but hid key parts. Asking outsiders was taboo etiquette.
Then, a bombshell.
"Hmm... Fair point. So if you joined my Division 1 team in America, I could ask?"
No Korean players in US leagues, yet this offer? I blinked in disbelief—not just me.
"Leman!!!"
Leman glared, eyes bulging with intimidating presence—hard to believe he wasn't awakened.
But Leman ignored him, pressing on.
"Whatever you want, US leagues promise more. Wealth, fame, power—anything. That's America."
I knew. America and China dominated global Hunter Leagues.
"Business runs on profit, not loyalty. No need to feel bad for Leman or mind him."
This guy—saying that to Leman's face?
Hunters must hold real sway in America.
"You might not know, but Hunter Leagues aren't just sports. International leagues prove it. Tower's no threat now, but unknowns remain. America's still pioneering it—supporting leagues to cultivate hunters. Think bigger."
......All true. Leman grimaced unusually, knowing the offer's weight.
Finally snapping,
"You know how much I've sunk into this team betting on you?"
Face beet-red, anxious. But my mind was set from the start.
"I'm flattered, but I'm not here just for money or fame."
'My team. One I pick players for, strategize, and build my way—that's why I chose this path.'
Plus, Leman's team was famous, but US leagues were brutal—few international runs.
"Still, can't ignore such sincerity."
I moved my hand toward Leman's head.
"What're you—"
As it touched, Dream Commander flared with radiant light.
Sharing perfect combat visions with allies.