The Heavenly Demon Reads the Bullet's Path
Heh. This guy really is carrying an impressive stash of gear. Top-tier armor, a full load of recovery items, and plenty of support tools to boot. The man is basically a walking treasure vault. When he first ambushed me I wondered what kind of fool would try something so reckless, but seeing all this loot has completely improved my mood.
“I had a general idea. The killing intent was simply too thick to miss.”
Someone who aims to take another’s life from afar should at least know how to conceal their murderous aura. The fundamentals are completely lacking. When killing intent leaks into your gaze like that, the target notices it far too easily. On top of that, he hadn’t even tried to hide his presence. It was practically a sign begging to be noticed.
“It really does seem to be the beginner zone.”
Judging by how clumsy these opponents are. They did mention that this game has ranks, so perhaps once I climb higher I’ll encounter people with actual skill.
“By pure luck? Of course not. I saw it coming and dodged.”
I had already known he was aiming for me from the start, so avoiding his attack wasn’t difficult at all. The direction the muzzle was pointing. The spot the enemy was staring at. The finger pulling the trigger. The flow of energy forming around the firearm. There were countless ways to predict the bullet’s path. No matter how fast a bullet might be, what meaning could it have when the intent behind the attack was already completely readable?
Even though I kindly explained it to them, I have no idea why they’re reacting like this. It isn’t that difficult, is it? It’s simply that none of you are accustomed to this kind of struggle. If you were thrown into the middle of a life-or-death fight, you would naturally pick it up.
“Since you all seem to doubt me, I’ll give you another example. Right now, someone is aiming at me from the southeast. He’s hiding behind a rock, waiting for an opportunity, completely unaware that I’ve already spotted him.”
The best move would have been to strike from behind while I was picking up a weapon, but he didn’t do that. Even though I deliberately left my back exposed, he still hasn’t attacked and is only watching. He must be quite the coward.
I pulled the pin on the grenade I had taken from the opponent I defeated earlier and tossed it toward where he was hiding. There was a soft thud as it landed, and moments later—
“Hieeeeek?!”
A scream rang out alongside the explosion. There had been more than enough time between the grenade landing and detonating for him to react, yet he did nothing. It seems he was quite inexperienced with this game. Even Enri would have responded to that.
“Now do you believe me?”
While I was chatting with the viewers, a message urging me forward appeared before my eyes. Epic Legend has a sector system. It forces all surviving participants into an increasingly smaller area, compelling them to fight. If you stay outside the safe zone, your health continuously drains until you die. Looking at how quickly the sector was shrinking, it seemed I would have to run quite a distance to reach the center.
“Time to start moving again. Let’s see if there’s anyone among the remaining enemies capable of posing a threat to me.”
Every single person I met on the way to the center had their life cut short. The chat window began to condemn me, asking if it wasn’t too merciless when most of the players were probably new to the game themselves. From my perspective, it was utterly unfair. What was wrong with killing others to become the last survivor? Isn’t that how the game was designed in the first place?
“Well… you see, I need to try various things to adapt to the game, don’t I?”
I’ve watched Enri play it often, but this is my first time doing it myself. I need to figure out what’s allowed and what isn’t. That way I can attempt even more varied approaches next time. It’s not like I took them down in those ways out of malice. After all, I am not the sort of person who enjoys tormenting the weak.
Even after I explained it like this, no one believed me. They called me a vicious woman, said it was typical Heavenly Demon behavior, claimed they knew what I was like ever since I tormented others under the guise of training. It seems they have no intention of listening to me at all. I knew all too well that once they caught a rhythm they wouldn’t stop, so I left them to their chatter and looked down below.
Thanks to having reduced their numbers considerably on the way here, not many remained. The system window showed four survivors left. Looking down from above, I could see figures running in from the distance. I suppose I should welcome the first one to arrive.
Without the slightest hesitation, I stepped off the high ground into empty air. I couldn’t use Void Walking, but it didn’t matter. Strangely enough, this game inflicted no fall damage from great heights. My movement slowed slightly, but it was far too light a price to call it a penalty for falling. Perhaps it was because I had landed openly, as if inviting them to watch.
The first to arrive frantically raised his firearm and pulled the trigger. Now then, let’s see. The direction of the muzzle. That fellow’s eyes. The finger squeezing the trigger. The energy moving around the gun. I could see exactly how I needed to move.
Even though I couldn’t use internal energy, I could still employ footwork. It wouldn’t display the same power as when used with a martial artist’s body, but the principles engraved when the steps were created still remained. Once I used the Heavenly Palace Shadowless Steps that contained the profound principles of illusion and mystery, the opponent would think I was where I wasn’t and that I wasn’t where I was. No matter how many bullets he fired, they would only pierce empty air.
“What the?! What is this?!”
When you fire wildly, the magazine eventually runs dry. The moment the opponent panicked at the clicking of his empty gun, I drew my own firearm.
Prey. You need to move. If you stay still, how can my bullet avoid piercing your skull?
Several gunshots rang out. The instant his body collapsed to the ground, gunfire erupted from behind me. Since I had already known he was aiming for me, dodging the bullets was not difficult. I rolled sideways to take cover behind an obstacle, discarded the rifle in my hands, and drew a pistol instead. It was harder to aim but possessed the highest single-shot damage. From my earlier tests, three shots to the head were enough to bring an opponent down.
Humming a little tune, I committed the sound of the enemy’s footsteps to memory. He wasn’t charging in recklessly but was trying to circle around. However, since he didn’t know how to silence his steps, his efforts amounted to nothing more than buying time. The moment he peeked his face past the obstacle, my muzzle was already waiting there.
After dealing with those two and stepping out from cover to face the last one, he threw away the weapon in his hands and raised both arms.
“Will you please kill me nicely?!”
“Hmm. Very well.”
The ending was a bit anticlimactic, but I had successfully become the sole survivor out of sixty players. When I watched Enri’s streams, winning was always followed by a flood of praise, but when I turned my gaze to the chat window with slight anticipation, the reaction was utterly dry. As if my victory was the most obvious thing in the world. Tsk. Of course it hadn’t been particularly difficult, but at this rate the game simply wasn’t fun.
“Not bad. However, the real fun will probably only come once I face the people higher up.”
Right now they’re all so clumsy that fighting them feels like bullying the weak. Your reactions show the same thing. It would be nice if someone who could actually give me some tension would appear.
“Is the amount supposed to accumulate every time I take first place?”
“I have no intention of stopping someone who wants to give me money, but I wasn’t planning to play this game for long.”
I had only intended to play three or four matches today and then stop. Leaving after playing moderately probably wasn’t what you wanted. I’ll have to decline for today. After I said that, several more people made offers, asking if it was because I didn’t have enough money. Before I knew it the amount had risen to 200,000 won per first-place finish, yet I still felt reluctant. As I had said many times before, I am not the sort of person who is swayed by money.
The moment I tried to refuse again, another sponsorship flew in.
I am not foolish enough to miss that this is an obvious provocation anyone could see through. No matter what they say, my skill will not change. There is no reason for me to fall for such a taunt. However… yes, however. If I refuse again here, it is obvious they will make a fuss and find fault with it. I suppose I should establish some discipline.
“Even if your bank account becomes completely empty, do not resent me. That will be your own karma.”
Then shall I extract a few months’ worth of food expenses?