New Technique

The energy coiled within that gaze. Raiga's rank already stood so far beyond the people gathered here that even the simple act of looking at someone registered as a threat.

A powerhouse who had once stood shoulder to shoulder with beings of the Primal age. When he unleashed the full weight of his rank, there had been moments when even the Heavenly Demon could not surpass him. Raiga was a man who rightfully belonged among the strongest in the entire world.

And yet even his threat could not pierce the Heart of the Iron-Blooded Lord. It was a Hidden Trait that quite literally granted its bearer a heart of iron and blood — an absolute safeguard that protected the holder's mind from every form of energy and presence.

"…?"

For a moment, Raiga could only feel bewildered. Those who could withstand his gaze numbered vanishingly few. It was something impossible unless one had consumed a Star and become a Transcendent. And yet the man who had just met his eyes head-on was nowhere near the level of a Transcendent.

Four?

The number floating above the man's head. It meant his level was four. Was that not strange? At that level, receiving Raiga's gaze should have left him unconscious — or dead on the spot. And yet a mere Level 4 was taking his stare full in the face.

The Archangel's information can't be wrong.

The displayed value would not be mistaken. The Archangel of the Death God Religion possessed a power devoted solely to reading and quantifying information. An Archangel was a being capable of working miracles that cut into the truth itself. Therefore, Level 4 had to be correct.

Equipment that protects the mind, a tool, or a Hidden Trait.

He ran through the possibilities, but none of them sat right either. Equipment or tools were out. To perfectly deflect his presence would require gear of at least Unique grade. Handing a national treasure of any kingdom to a mere Level 4 made no sense whatsoever.

That left a Hidden Trait…

The conditions for awakening the Heart of the Iron-Blooded Lord can't be met at Level 4 either.

Even for someone of overwhelming talent, flowering the Heart of the Iron-Blooded Lord was no easy feat. No human was born into the world with their gifts already honed to the absolute limit. Of course, there were exceptions — those who were human and yet not human.

Players.

The beings the Death God Religion called "sinners." They were born with countless talents already in hand. A rare few even appeared in the world with Hidden Traits already awakened. Was that not unfair? That someone, without the slightest effort, could reach a realm others might devote their entire lives to and still never attain?

No matter how much Raiga possessed a talent that mocked the heavens themselves, he had worked for it. The moment he opened his eyes, he swung a sword. He swung a sword while eating. He swung a sword while relieving himself. He even continued strength training in his sleep. Compared to that, how unreasonable were the players?

Talent or not, I have no intention of taking a player as the successor of the Palga.

This tournament had been opened to see every gifted person in the world — but a player was the one thing he would never accept as a disciple. They were not humans of this world to begin with. Even if you burdened them with the sense of duty and obligation befitting a successor, they could simply run, and that would be the end of it.

There are no players here.

And of that, he could be certain. In the end, a player was a possessor — no different from a malevolent spirit parasitizing another body. Such possession created an imbalance across body, soul, and mind. The Archangel was currently identifying those "Imbalanced Ones" whose body, energy, and spirit were unstable, and at least here in the Tower of the War God, not a single person suspected of being a player remained. They had all been carefully filtered out.

Then what was that man? Level 4, and not a player either.

…I'll find out if I watch.

Raiga turned his gaze aside. How extraordinary the man truly was would become clear once the tournament was underway.

The Warrior-rank matches, for participants from Level 1 to Level 5, were held on the second floor. As the lowest bracket of the tournament, the number of entrants was small and expectations were naturally low. Empty spectator ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seats. A shabby arena. Dust even drifted through the air — the place looked as if it had never been maintained at all.

Been a while since I stood somewhere like this.

In the middle of it all, I found myself lost in old memories. The time I had climbed the Tower of the War God as an emperor penguin alongside the bunny-girl elf Auryll. A disguise meant to hide my identity and draw the attention of the administrator Sancha — but in the end, Sancha had died. I had killed him myself, using the Supreme Sword Saint's unique skill, the Supreme Sword.

"Hey. If you don't want to die, forfeit. I can't hold back."

A voice from close range. …Right. Now that I thought about it, the match was already in progress. More than ten seconds had already passed since it started.

The eyes of the axe-wielding man were murderously cold. Anyone of fragile nerves would not have been blamed for wetting themselves on the spot.

His level was five as well — the highest in the Warrior Champ. From the look of it, he had received buffs to raise his stats high enough to put a scratch on a solid Gicheonseok. A buffer nearby was applying real-time enhancements to him.

Isn't that cheating?

Well. Come to think of it, there was no rule against receiving buffs. I clenched my fist and showed it to him.

"If you don't want to die, forfeit. I can't hold back either."

"You lunatic. Are you copying me right now?"

"I'm serious."

"Fine. Don't regret it after you're dead."

Whoosh!

The man raised his axe and brought it down with killing intent.

CRASH!

In the same instant, his body went flying the opposite way and slammed into the wall. The axe shattered. His chest was crushed flat. Instant death.

"W-what?"

"What just happened?"

People blinked and cried out in shock, one after another.

"Hyun of Adrium — victory!"

Hearing the referee's call, I lightly dusted off my hands and left the arena.

Still can't control my strength, huh.

The Celestial Axis Whale Talisman socketed into the Archetypal Armor. Thanks to it, I had gained absurd stats — but there was a separate problem. I genuinely could not hold back. I called up the information on the Celestial Axis Whale Talisman.

…A single talisman raising one stat by thirty points.

Looking at it again, it's insane.

I had never once, in all my time playing Pangenia, seen an item that boosted a single stat this much. The random additional strike of up to 1.5 times was the same. Of all the rewards from Main Quest 11, this was the talisman that provided the most practical help — the stat gains it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠granted were enormous.

Can you even call these Level 4 stats?

I checked the numbers listed under Stats on my status window and clicked my tongue.

Total stats: 354…

That rivaled most Level 9s. Strength and Magic were in a different digit class entirely.

So a random additional strike of up to 135 Strength can trigger.

That was the option on the Celestial Axis Whale Talisman. Anywhere from a minimum of 1 to a maximum of 135, a random strike was added on top — calculated solely from the Strength stat. Even if I failed to land a proper hit, the moment the system recognized it as a "strike," it would activate.

If it had fired at maximum, that guy would have been reduced to powder.

A bit cruel, perhaps — but this was a tournament that permitted killing. A place where holding back meant you were the one who died. I quietly left the arena.

Three days later, the shape of the tournament began to emerge. Talk of who would take the championships grew lively, and two divisions in particular drew every eye: the Knight Champ and the King Champ. Higher levels meant better spectacle, and every contender regarded as a favorite was, without exception, someone famous.

"…Is this the entire report?"

Raiga took the document and asked his knights. They nodded and continued.

"Yes. Aron, son of Cardinal Johansen of the Goddess Sect, and Husta, disciple of the Mercenary King, are currently the leading favorites in the Knight-bracket tournament."

"In the King-bracket tournament, Hugh of the Dersian family, Arkan the survivor of the Darkhan family, and Hanches the Knight of the Sun are locked in a close race."

"Beyond that…"

Thud.

Raiga set the report down. Formidable figures had gathered from every corner of the world, and more than a few names were ones anyone would recognize. But not one of them fully satisfied him.

"How is the Warrior tournament progressing?"

"That… there's nothing much to speak of."

The knights looked flustered. The Warrior tournament was, frankly, a gathering of nobodies. There were people being mentioned as favorites, but compared to the names already listed, they hardly amounted to anything.

"Speak. It seems to have been left out of the report as well."

"A man called Hyun of Adrium is being discussed as the sole championship contender."

"Hyun?"

"Yes. This man here. However…"

They handed over a report that had deliberately not been shown. Hyun's record was written there. Ten wins, zero draws, zero losses. A perfect record, even under a system that automatically eliminated anyone with three losses. So why had he not been mentioned?

"Seven of those ten wins were obtained by forfeit."

"Seven people forfeited?"

"Yes. The opponents who did not forfeit were all killed brutally… We believe the rest forfeited out of fear."

That was what the record said. One-hit kills, and the aftermath described as truly horrific. Terrified by the sight, people had forfeited one after another. The Warrior tournament was full of people with little fighting spirit to begin with, given the low levels involved. That made it awkward to seriously call him a championship contender.

But Raiga saw it differently.

That one.

The man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who had met his gaze head-on. Someone who knew how to dominate a room with certainty. The best way to avoid unnecessary fights was to deliver the most decisive threat possible. Had he not reduced the first three opponents to pulp so savagely that seven forfeits followed? And none of those three had been the kind of people who should have died in a single blow.

…There's something there.

Something even he had not yet grasped. Having ordered his thoughts, Raiga spoke.

"Send every participant who has reached ten wins up to the tenth floor."

"Every one of them, sir?"

"Every one."

"Understood."

The knight nodded and left the room. This tournament was not one that measured raw force alone. It was a tournament that gave everyone an equal chance.

They will all start from zero.

A trial to see how well they could navigate a situation in which everything they had learned until now became completely useless. How many would truly make it through? No — he wondered whether even a single person would properly grasp the lesson. Perhaps not one of them would pass. This trial was of such extreme difficulty that even he could not be certain of the outcome.

When we stepped onto the tenth floor of the tower, what lay before us was a single book.

"Read this and master it."

One of the knights of the Palga Knights spoke. Roughly a thousand people had gathered on the tenth floor. All of them turned their eyes to the book at once.

The Sutra of Life and Death.

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

The boundary between life and death. An odd title for a text. And that was not the only strange thing. Beside the knights sat an enormous magic crystal, so large it was almost absurd. I had no idea why it was there.

"We just have to master it?"

"That's right."

A knight confirmed a man's question. Simply master it. A strange order in its own right — but looking and learning seemed easy enough. Then every face in the room twisted.

"What is this?"

"There's no content."

"What exactly are we supposed to learn?"

Flipping through the pages revealed not a single character written anywhere. Naturally, there was nothing to look at or master. But the knights remained silent.

Are there hidden characters?

Is there a special way to read the book?

Every method anyone could think of was tried, to the same result. Not a single letter appeared. Even the renowned among them were thrown into confusion. Accusations of fraud rose as far as the back of their throats.

Hmm.

What kind of content is this supposed to be?

Only a bare handful seemed to have discovered something and were reading on — and even they were struggling. Not a single person managed to turn past the first page.

Thud.

Until one man alone closed the book and rose from his seat. It had been less than ten minutes since they started.

"…Hyun of Adrium."

"Standing up without mastering it means elimination."

Was he volunteering to be eliminated?

Step. Step.

Under every gaze present, I walked slowly toward the center of the knights. Then I placed my hand on the magic crystal beside them.

And then—

Whoooosh!

The magic crystal's mana was sucked into my fingertips.