The Giant’s Arms
The gate was the Dungeon of the Fallen Dead Knight.
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MVP: Park Su-bin (Rating: 9.9)
[MVP Interview — Park Su-bin]
Q. Congratulations on earning MVP for Round 40. That was a spectacular victory.
“Th-thank you.”
Q. With this, Mir Guild has taken first place in every raid this season. How do you feel?
“I’m glad we won the final raid of the season. Ah, the others told me to say they’re happy too. The captain as well.”
Q. That final combination against the rampaging Death Knight was truly incredible. Was that the plan from the start?
“It wasn’t some grand strategy. We’ve never avoided rampage or berserk patterns before. After doing it this way for years, everyone actually gets excited when those patterns appear because it means the fight ends faster.”
Q. Especially in those last five minutes, you displayed a monstrous performance. I’d also like to hear about the newly added ‘arm.’
“Haha, I just followed orders, so I don’t really know. The team members who created the situation are the ones who worked hard. And the arm… it’s thanks to the representative.”
·
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The screen froze.
“It’s all thanks to the representative! It’s all thanks to the representative!! Can you believe that was an MVP interview?”
Im Cho-rong, the star analyst of Guild Section, was practically vibrating with excitement.
Today’s broadcast was meant to review Round 40, the legendary final raid. But the moment she watched the match, she had already decided on the opening herself.
The boy currently frozen on the screen behind her—the one who had bloomed from the bottom of League 4 and now shone brighter than anyone—Park Su-bin came first.
“He’s eighteen. Only eighteen! At an age when most kids want to show off, Park Su-bin Hunter is using his own MVP interview to praise his teammates first. He says it’s all thanks to Sanwang-nim and the representative. Can you believe that?”
“Everyone, realizing the value of devotion at eighteen is never easy. Yet this boy also possesses ranker-level talent. I’ve never seen a miracle like him before. He’s… truly lovable.”
Well, it might just be pure fangirling…
The host quickly stepped in.
“Haha, Cho-rong-ssi, please calm down for a moment. Park Su-bin Hunter’s character is interesting, but the viewers are curious about something else, aren’t they? Let’s talk about that now.”
“Right. Save the testimony show for your personal stream.”
“At this rate it’s going to be a Park Su-bin worship hour instead of a match review.”
“…I got a little carried away. My apologies.”
Once the other panelists joined in to settle the mood, the broadcast finally returned to its original track.
“What I believe everyone is most curious about is this ‘arm.’ The single giant arm that used to float alone has finally found its pair.”
A photo appeared on screen.
Park Su-bin hovering above the light sphere, his black mink coat fluttering like wings in the swirling mana currents. On either side of him floated a pair of milky-white giant arms.
“The Death Knight is considered the highest-combat-power boss among Level 6 bosses. Most guilds usually choose to dodge or defend until its rampage ends rather than confront it head-on.”
Yet Park Su-bin had not only bound the rampaging Death Knight with both arms—he had crushed it beneath them.
Incidentally, even his teammates hadn’t expected this level of power. Yu Ri-ra’s shocked expression had already become the “Shocked Squirrel” meme, making countless people laugh.
While the panel continued breaking down the fight, one of them suddenly raised a hand.
“Cho-rong-ssi.”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“I’ll admit it was impressive—extremely impressive, even. But I have a question. Was it really that amazing? It’s not like he awakened a brand-new ability. It’s just one extra arm. If anything, he simply duplicated what already existed. There’s nothing new about—”
“…What’s with that look?”
“I just feel sorry for you.”
Sorry that you don’t understand how incredible those arms are.
“Let’s keep it simple. First, two arms means attack power doubles. Defense doubles as well, right?”
“Well, yes, because there are two now.”
“Second, it enables multitasking. Just like scratching your head with one hand while flipping through a script with the other, he can attack with one arm and defend with the second.”
“Ahem.”
“Lastly, it diversifies his patterns.”
“??”
When there was only one arm, Park Su-bin’s movements had been extremely simple—smashing down or grabbing. It was closer to summoning a structure than wielding an actual limb. But now that the arm had found its match, the movements had become far more varied.
It was almost as if…
“It can now perform movements that feel much more human.”
Yes—human. Spreading, sweeping, seizing.
At first glance it might seem like an exaggeration, but it wasn’t. Because these were arms.
“Then, Cho-rong-ssi, after listening to your analysis, it almost sounds like Mir Guild’s championship is already guaranteed. Is that correct?”
“Not quite. We’re still talking about raids here. Dynasty was never assembled as a raid-focused squad in the first place.”
“Pardon? Could you explain that more simply?”
“I’d like to keep every guild’s chances open, but let’s be honest. Right now, League 2 is a two-horse race between Mir Guild and Dynasty. We can all agree on that, correct?”
The host and the other panelists nodded.
“Then let’s look at Dynasty Guild’s roster.”
“You’re not seriously going to analyze every single member, are you?”
“We’d never finish the broadcast if she did!”
“Please be quiet… This is embarrassing.”
Images of Hwarang, Ssaurabi, Electro, and the rest filled the screen. Im Cho-rong asked,
“Host-nim, what comes to mind when you see this squad?”
“…They’re strong? Every single one of them was in League 1 last year. Seeing them lined up like this, their combined power is genuinely surprising.”
“That’s true, but let’s go deeper.”
Im Cho-rong grabbed a whiteboard and wrote three large characters.
Wide-Area Skills.
The panelists flinched as if struck by lightning.
“Ah…?”
“Huh?”
“You’re right…?”
“Now do you see? Every single one of them specializes in single-target concentrated attacks. In other words—”
The panelists finally understood.
“They’re stronger in PvP than against swarming monsters.”
“They’re built for canyon battles.”
“Exactly.”
She was right.
Dynasty’s current roster had been assembled for head-to-head combat against humans rather than raids against monsters. In a way, it was the physical manifestation of Lee Myeong-hwan’s desire to crush Lee Shin.
And that also proved Dynasty’s current situation wasn’t entirely bad.
“Either way, they finished the raid with the smallest possible gap. The players’ pride might be a little bruised, but their analysis team is probably celebrating. The result doesn’t interfere with the head-to-head matches. Therefore—”
Unless the Bureau collectively lost its mind, the head-to-head between Mir Guild and Dynasty would be the season finale—the long-awaited climax.
“Assuming both teams remain undefeated until then with no sets dropped, in the end…”
She pointed at Round 50.
“Everything will be decided in the final Round 50.”
* * *
Crunch—
Kang Han-bi smashed his laptop with bloodshot eyes. The article had been the culprit.
Even though Dynasty had failed to break through Mir’s wall even once this season, the piece claimed that as long as they defended second place and won the head-to-head matches, they could still take the championship…
The article had actually been relatively favorable, yet it only made Kang Han-bi angrier.
“A reasonable defeat? What the hell does ‘reasonable’ mean when you lose? Shit.”
The weak lose. The losers get mocked.
And the loser was him. That damn, son of a—
Just like the saying “victory and defeat are part of the game,” it was natural to lose sometimes when there were wins.
Experiencing defeat in this brutal league wasn’t anything special.
Yet even though he knew that fact better than anyone, Kang Han-bi couldn’t control his rage.
Because the opponent was that opponent.
“I lost to a bunch of League 4 scrubs? Me?”
Defeat was one thing. But this defeat was different.
Who was he? Kang Han-bi. The ranker who bore the title Ssaurabi, standing at the very peak of Korea’s hunters—something only the top twenty were allowed to claim.
And that Kang Han-bi had been beaten by bottom-feeders who had started in League 4.
He clutched his face and bowed his head.
The shame was so great he couldn’t lift it.
How would the other rankers look at him now? They were definitely laughing. A ranker getting thrashed by League 4 trash with no pedigree. If the situation were reversed, he would have mocked them mercilessly too.
When shame and fury crossed the critical point, Kang Han-bi’s defense mechanism activated on its own.
I’m still amazing. There’s nothing wrong with me. So if I lost, the problem must be them.
“Those brain-dead idiots…”
The arrow of his anger naturally turned toward his teammates.
The idiots who couldn’t even support him properly and had embarrassed him.
Crack—
The laptop parts in his hands were turning to dust when someone placed a hand on his shoulder.
Who the hell was touching him?!
Kang Han-bi spun around with murderous eyes, only to swallow the curse that had risen to his throat the moment he saw who it was.
“Yu-shin.”
“Calm down and dial back the killing intent.”
“……?”
Confused, Kang Han-bi looked around. The training room was a wreck.
The weight machines were covered in sharp, sword-like scratches. The shattered wall mirrors reflected multiple fractured images of him looking pathetic.
His mana, reacting to his rage, had clawed the entire facility apart.
Kang Han-bi grabbed his head.
He wasn’t ashamed because he’d damaged the training room. He was ashamed because he had failed to control himself.
“Haa… Shit. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’m angry enough myself. I’m only telling you to calm down because this is a public space with too many eyes.”
Kim Yu-shin glanced sideways. Teammates who had been sneaking looks quickly averted their gazes.
“There are still ten head-to-head matches left. The season isn’t over. No point in ruining the team atmosphere for nothing.”
“What the hell? Team?!”
Kim Yu-shin’s attempt at comfort had the opposite effect.
To Kang Han-bi, who was already furious at his “brain-dead” teammates, the word “team” was a trigger.
“You call a bunch of idiots who can’t even coordinate support and drag me down a team?!”
“…Kang Han-bi. That’s going too far.”
“They were League 4! All of them were pathetic League 4 rejects! Because of this damn team, my career is ruined! I’ve become a laughingstock!!”
“This is League 2. And Sanwang-nim is here. Their strength isn’t something we can ignore—”
“Shut the hell up! When the hell was Sanwang relevant?!”
They might receive legendary treatment and be excluded from the rankings, but everyone knew their prime had long since passed.
“You’re fine getting beaten by some old men who only talk big? Oh right, you were close with that old man, weren’t you? What a beautiful friendship that transcends age, huh?”
“…I’ll say it twice. You’re going too far.”
“Don’t you dare order me around!!”
Kang Han-bi pressed his face right up against Kim Yu-shin’s, as if he might bite him.
Yet Kim Yu-shin met his gaze with the exact same calm eyes as before.
“Don’t attach too much meaning to a single loss. Our score is actually better than before. In the end—”
“Don’t talk like it’s easy. You were planning to run back to Baekgeom from the start anyway, but I have to return there. If I look pathetic here—!”
“Kang Han-bi. This is the last time I’ll say it.”
In that instant, mana radiating from Kim Yu-shin erased Kang Han-bi’s killing intent.
“You. Are. Going. Too. Far.”
Rankings weren’t an absolute measure of strength.
But one thing was certain.
The 16th-ranked Hwarang standing here was stronger than the 20th-ranked Ssaurabi.
Under the crushing pressure, Kang Han-bi gritted his teeth, shoved Kim Yu-shin aside, and stormed out.
Once Kang Han-bi left, Kim Yu-shin looked around the ruined training room—his teammates watching nervously from a distance, and Jeon Jin-woong leaning against the wall with cold eyes.
“……”
Kim Yu-shin let out a quiet sigh that no one heard.
He’s just venting.
Pride? Ranker?
Who did he think he was saying those words in front of?
Skill was skill. Ranking was ranking. The one who should be angriest here was none other than himself.
He moved to the break room, closed the door, and—
Thud—!
—punched the wall, leaving a fist-shaped dent.
“Haa…”
The final rankings would be decided after the league ended.
It wasn’t over yet. What decided their final standing was—
“Me.”
With a cigarette in his mouth, Kim Yu-shin left the break room.
The crumpled poster still stuck to the dented wall read:
50 Round
VS
* * *
And at the same time, in front of the cameras, Lee Shin stood grinning.
“Puhahahaha! You guys suck!!”