Shadows of the Death Match
Mu-hyuk instinctively twisted his body.
“Hup!”
If his Agility had been any lower, he would've taken a massive chunk of HP from that attack, no doubt about it.
Wind Step
He darted away swiftly to gain distance, then turned his gaze toward the dilapidated building. Two users lurked nearby, their eyes gleaming as they fixed on him.
Two of them.
They could've teamed up after their first clash revealed neither was overwhelmingly strong—or maybe they were old partners from the start.
No way to know their deal, but one thing was clear: they were working together.
Mu-hyuk berated his own arrogance for stepping out unprepared and summoned his skeletons.
“Skeleton Archer Summon.”
Their weapons: a dagger and a longsword.
Better to drop them before they closed in. Magic would've been too noisy, though—might draw a crowd.
Bows it was.
He drew his sword from its scabbard.
Attack Power +5%
Duration: 10 minutes
The Scabbard of Endless Training effect kicked in.
Transformation.
He morphed it into a bow and nocked an arrow.
Armor Archer, Power Shot.
Bone Bow, Rapid Fire.
Armor Archer, Rapid Fire.
The two users lunging at Mu-hyuk froze, faces paling.
“Wh-what? A Necromancer?”
“Block it—now!”
They had skills, sure—but 12 Armor Archers and 7 Bone Bows?
Bone arrows rained down like a storm, engulfing them.
Storm, Storm, Multi Shot.
Storm, Powerful Arrow Shot.
Wind Step
With Mu-hyuk piling on, they were done for.
Paaang!
Shields blocked some, but damage seeped through regardless.
They bolted for cover behind the building, but Mu-hyuk was already there like a gale, sword flashing up close.
Storm, Cross Slash.
One user dropped in seconds.
Over before it began.
“W-wait just a...!”
The survivor flailed his hands—no need to humor it. Standard beg-for-life or alliance ploy.
Storm.
Sword blazing with Storm, he swung.
Kwaang!
The blast hurled the user back; Mu-hyuk pounced, unleashing a barrage.
“Alliance—alliance...!”
Predictable.
The guy thrashed desperately even tumbling.
Then don't start shit.
Mu-hyuk ignored him and went for the kill.
Wind Step → Storm → Cross Slash
This time, no reaction at all.
Kwaaang!
Dead.
Remaining Users: 491
While he'd culled two, others had thinned the herd too.
Won't be that big an area.
Battle over, Mu-hyuk sheathed his sword and scaled the building's rooftop for a scan. He'd been careless, cocky even.
Idiot.
Five hundred players.
Got complacent, thinking survival was guaranteed.
That's why no summons.
If those two were top rankers?
Ambush hits home, game over. Humiliating prelim boot.
Could happen again anytime.
No luck bailout next time.
Max caution.
Max vigilance.
“Hydra Summon.”
Hydra out, Skull Snakes deployed.
Coated some with confusion potions for standby just in case; sent the rest wide for recon.
Through their eyes, Mu-hyuk mapped terrain, caught glimpses of skirmishes everywhere.
Something tiny watched him from above, unseen.
The 500-man Death Match.
Prelims with killer bait, live-streamed nationwide.
Office drones peeked mid-work.
Kids snuck views in breaks—or class.
Lunch hit: cheers erupted as they mobbed friends' screens.
“Yo, fire it up!”
“On it.”
Broadcasters split groups by channel—zapping added variety, amped the thrill.
“Damn, epic. Straight fire.”
Zone-wide cam tracked every player, raw immersion cranking hype.
Mu-hyuk got footage, but no airtime.
Focus locked on fave winner picks.
“Dark's busted, right?”
“Holy Knight, dude.”
“Solo heals and wrecks—nuts.”
“But hot as hell.”
“Facts.”
“Others?”
“Channel surf.”
“Cool.”
“Yo, ranker!”
“Top dog. Winner lock.”
Mutu the martial artist.
Fights erupted like volcanoes—mesmerizing, dominant, brutal.
But quick finishes.
“Savage! More?”
Flipping channels, froze on one.
“Whoa, check the body count.”
Dozens tangled in bloodbath.
“F1 group? Chaos central?”
“Nonstop brawl?”
“Melee's gold! Pure clusterfuck.”
“Ugh, Illusion cravings!”
“Same!”
Screen expanded.
Center: frenzy held.
But zoomed corners: lone hiders.
One lurker.
Another spectator.
Melee voyeurs in sequence.
“Wait, know that guy.”
“Who?”
“The one they just showed.”
“Spill.”
“Y'know... Gangster Necromancer Mu-hyuk?”
“Ooh, him?”
“Nah, his buddy!”
“Ah...!”
“Ring a bell?”
“Nah.”
“...”
Awkward hush.
Same moment.
Viewers be damned—Sung Min-woo eyed the melee from cover.
Why the hell?
Unlucky as sin. Nearby players hit the clearing same time.
One psycho sparked it with taunts; suckers bit, swung.
Range snowballed—splashed watchers, ally losses fueled the firestorm.
Bounce?
Glanced back: shadows creeping eerie.
Ugh, bad vibes.
Front again.
Remaining Users: 372
Mass wipeout.
Still dropping.
Ah, shit.
Sung Min-woo's plays: spectate, dip to dark rear, crash the party.
Mulled it, stuck to watch. Spot was sneaky.
But spiraled worse—noise lured fresh meat, inferno raged.
Some sniffed out hiders for picks.
“Heh, cowards tucked away.”
“Filthy rats.”
“Death match? Hide-'n'-seek bullshit.”
“Yo, this punk first!”
Relentless.
Hmm.
Stay put, get made.
Move now?
Miss the vibe?
Haah, crap.
Can't freeze. Lure a few more real.
Dark back: stealth heaven.
Stood—
“Hey! There!”
Spotted.
Bolted blind into black.
“After him!”
Three tails.
Peeked: faint grin.
That'll do...
Follow nice.
Deep dark: zero viz.
Senses screamed tree—reached, snagged branch, up.
Waited: footfalls neared.
“Light.”
One lit it up.
Sung Min-woo chuckled despite himself.
Morons?
Pathetic.
“Spot anything?”
“Eh, sorta.”
Light gift-wrapped positions.
Spirit Summon.
Eleven minus Fire—fanned out.
“Hm?”
“Issue?”
“Movement... maybe.”
“Where?”
Missed spirits.
Dark clung despite glow.
“Ugh, brighter? Pitch here.”
“Bubble of light, lame.”
“Blind two steps out.”
Spirits ghosted free.
Go!
Attack order.
Kwaaaang!
Blitz—three crouched, shields up.
“Nngh!”
“Fuck—where?!”
Dark strikes terrified; roars masked panic.
Scraped by waves.
Finally, lull.
They sprayed wild.
Kwagwang!
Sung Min-woo perched, smirking down.
Spirits fell back.
Chaos baited.
“No pushback?”
“Tripping balls.”
Mulled, shifted—
Swish.
Strike again.
“Bastard...!”
“Where?!”
Silent Sung Min-woo.
Grind 'em down.
Slow, sure.
“Urk...!”
One vanished.
Nice.
Two ragged.
Sent spirits in for CQC.
“Raaagh, shit!”
Clean sweep.
“Fuuu...”
Sigh, unsummoned.
Dark reclaimed.
Silence vast as void.
Black absolute.
Ominous chills.
Shake it.
Eyes shut better.
Perched, endured.
Victory grind time.
Mu-hyuk flashed mind.
That guy's crushing.
Can't slack solo.
Storm eased.