Quarrel (2)
Hey, what was that bitch's name again? I spotted the name tag and finally remembered.
"Who the hell are… oh, right. Park Jeong-pal."
At that moment, Park Jeong-pal's face turned beet red, like a pimple on the verge of bursting. What the fuck? Why's this asshole acting like that?
"You… you didn't even know my name?"
He looked utterly shocked, his face trembling like a puddle in the wind.
"Could happen."
"You crazy fuck!"
He swung wildly in a rage, no warning whatsoever—just straight for a punch.
Look at this guy. The distance was too close to dodge properly, but I slipped past his fist like it was nothing.
That near miss only pissed him off more, and he came at me with a flurry of punches, foaming at the mouth.
"You little shit! Take it! Take the hit!"
But I'm not the type to stand there and eat punches. I dodged, kicked his shin, then slapped his cheek like swatting a fly with a swatter.
Pop!
Instead of a dull thud, there was an explosive sound. Blood sprayed, and his head snapped back to its limit.
"…Huh."
While he was out cold for a split second, I pieced it together.
"Oh, got it now. Night Mushroom, Big Guy, and Mullet Head—they're your buddies, huh."
"……."
"Damn, it all connects like that?"
I clicked my tongue in disbelief, and Park Jeong-pal spat blood-mixed saliva before finally drawing his weapon. A spear.
"You're dead, you primitive fuck. Know your place, you dare…"
"Dare what?"
Park Jeong-pal lunged forward with his left foot, slashing down like he was stabbing the ground. The air whistled sharply—he had some real talent with that spear.
I sidestepped half a pace, evaded, and as the spear sliced empty air and slammed into the floor, I pinned it down with my foot.
Thud.
With my weight centered on one foot atop the shaft, his spear was glued to the ground, immobile.
"Let go! Get off it, you fucking prick!"
Cadets gonna cadet. At a time like this, you ditch the spear, switch weapons, and attack. But this idiot just clung to the shaft like a moron. Hell, even a punch would've been smarter.
"You're pathetically lame."
This wasn't about stats or talent. It was combat experience. Park Jeong-pal, ranked 9th among cadets, absolutely couldn't touch Choi Ji-seong, Han Cheol-woo, Yoo Seong-won, Ha Yeon-si, Woo Yu-na, Go Su-young… or a few others. But he had solid skills.
That's why you stay calm in a fight. Tsk.
I lifted my foot off the shaft.
Whoosh.
The rebound from his pull whipped the shaft right into his nose.
Crack!
A breaking sound echoed, and blood gushed from both nostrils. Double nosebleed.
"Gaaah!"
Glancing around, three cadets who hadn't left the training room yet stared at us. Park Jeong-pal, suddenly aware of their eyes, overreacted with exaggerated fury.
"You're fucking dead today. I… I'm gonna…"
He twisted his face like crumpled paper, threatening me, but I caught the tremor in his voice. Inexperienced fighters often panic like that. In real combat, it's win or die—no room for escape fantasies first.
He'd probably freaked himself out without realizing it.
"Butterfly effect is wild…"
I approached the guy standing there awkwardly, too scared to charge. Should I let him off easy or beat him down? I decided on a verdict.
Thwack.
Like a judge's gavel, I smashed my fist into his crown. No resistance—just a weird yelp.
"Gurk!"
Thud thud. Death sentence.
Park Jeong-pal crumpled and didn't get up. Just to check, I felt under his nose—still breathing. Better make sure, though. I turned to the three watching cadets.
"Self-defense. He threw the first punch. You all saw, right?"
They nodded dumbly.
"Uh, y-yeah."
"Y-yeah, we saw."
"Uh-huh."
I rummaged through his pockets while I was at it. Pulled out a wallet—fat with cash.
"What kind of student carries this much dough?"
Then it hit me: the extortion racket. Oh, right—this fucker's been shaking down other cadets. No point holding back now. I emptied the cash, then handed a fifth to the three cadets.
"You saw nothing today. Got it?"
Best to bury this quietly. Long-term, it could screw with point gains.
"Y-yeah."
"Uh-huh."
"N-no need for the money, though…"
"Nah, take it. Here."
I got their nods and stood—when suddenly, glowing text floated before my eyes.
‘Fighter 1’ Achieved!
Achievement Reward: Additional stats obtained.
Additional stat: Strength +2
"Hm."
Didn't know about this random achievement. Thought it'd be something like conquering the delinquent for that hidden punk quest 2, but nope. Butterfly effect? Or just the situation? Still, free stats—not bad.
Park Jeong-pal. The second son of a mid-tier guild among Korea's top 10—the Dawn Lion Guild—he'd always looked down on Imir.
At first, he'd mocked him in front of his friends, and up to recently, never saw him as a real threat. Best case, barely worth his pinky toe.
'Primitive fuck who can't even use a weapon.'
Even hearing the rumor that Imir handled that surprise monster during dungeon practice? Same shit—probably exaggerated gossip, like everyone else thought. Made perfect sense.
Sudden rank jump from 280th to 120th on enrollment, then soloing a practice boss? Bullshit. Did he chug a barrel of level-up candy or what? Zero plausibility.
'Lucky break with some hype, and this nobody's strutting around?'
But for all his twisted personality, Park Jeong-pal had legit skills. Talented people love comparing themselves to others. If someone weaker pulls more popularity, it grates. If they get more recognition? Infuriating. They nitpick and drag 'em down—basic human envy. Even strangers—if they seem inferior but climb, you wanna yank 'em back.
Especially Park Jeong-pal, solid 9th on enrollment but riddled with inferiority. Everyone around him was freakishly overpowered: Choi Ji-seong, Han Cheol-woo, Yoo Seong-won, Ha Yeon-si, Woo Yu-na… even special ability user Mo Ye-ji, who's shit in straight fights, was supposedly stronger. And the academy AI claimed sleepyhead Go Su-young beat him in combat power. Insane.
Then this Imir climbs from the bottom? Unbearable. Eye-sores of eye-sores.
'Know your place to be happy. Cocky fuck overstepping.'
The world was vast—better ones could pop up anytime—but he was too young to accept that. Plus, massive hypocrite.
So despite his friends' warnings, instinct took over.
"Hey, primitive."
Imir reacted as he headed out.
"Heard you shook down my friends, you punk."
Imir turned. Their eyes met.
Imir glanced at his tag and said, "Who the hell are… oh, right. Park Jeong-pal."
That lit Park Jeong-pal's fuse for real. The bastard didn't even know his name!
'What a crazy fuck.'
This wouldn't do. He was 9th-ranked freshman. Not Choi Ji-seong or Han Cheol-woo level, sure, but no way disrespected by 120th—or that ex-280th trash. Ranks like that should grovel at his sight.
Imir was challenging his authority.
"You crazy fuck!"
He threw a punch on impulse. Anger-fueled, it packed heat.
But Imir dodged easily. Then counterattacked.
"……."
After the first slap, memory blurred. Drew his spear, tried to attack—but couldn't land shit, just got pummeled. Final crown hit, lights out.
"……."
Opening his eyes, three cadets stared.
"……Wha-what… uh…"
Memories flooded back. Humiliation choked him—tears welled.
'…Wanna die.'
He staggered up; the cadets backed off with "uh"s. He knew they were herbivores. He was the carnivore. Or had been.
A carnivore beaten by prey? The mockery if word spread…
"…Spread this, and you're dead."
He barked at them and fled the training room. Felt like snickers trailed him.
Finished dinner and back at the dorm by 7 p.m. Normally, I'd squeeze in training ground time, but today had other plans.
Reading circle OT was locked in—time to prep. Perfect timing: I had that 30 million won bounty prize Hunter Association forge voucher.
I booted the computer and logged into the Hero Association's forge marketplace site.