Legal Sniping Arena (8)
The person who appeared as Myeong-yun’s opponent in the 99th match was someone incredibly famous in For Honor.
To some, a figure of terror. To others, an object of envy.
He was the representative veteran of For Honor. A dopamine addict who might as well live inside the unlimited combat mode. The descendant of Vikings who had sent countless opponents to Valhalla, and the man who held the world record for consecutive wins until Myeong-yun appeared.
He was also the leader of For Honor’s veteran cartel.
“KHAHAHAHAHA—!! At last! At last we meet, Demon of the East—!!”
“Everyone I keep running into calls me that. It is you westerners who should be more careful with your words.”
Myeong-yun stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the barbarian.
“This Seat shall grant you the opportunity to reveal your name.”
“Heavenly Demon, it seems you are under a misunderstanding, so let me correct you! The challenger is not me—it is you! I am the King of Honor!”
All he had done was ask for a name, yet the barbarian flew into a rage, shouting that he was the true king of For Honor.
“Do you not even know the saying ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’? Show proper respect and greet your king!”
“Hah.”
How could he teach this one proper manners?
Since the man had been sending cute little gifts until now, it was only right to repay the leader of their little group in full.
After a brief moment of thought, Myeong-yun pointed at him with one finger.
“It seems you have no intention of introducing yourself. You look like you’d be excellent at tending fields, so from now on this Seat shall call you Dolsoe.”
Having instantly bestowed a new nickname upon the barbarian, Myeong-yun continued.
“Now then, Dolsoe. Show me what you have prepared. You did not devise such a scheme merely to exchange pointless chatter, did you?”
“…You bastard! You dare look down on a great warrior like this?!”
“You are not so different from the ones who came before. I do not see why this Seat should regard you highly.”
Myeong-yun let out a small sigh.
Still, before he arrived, this man had reigned like a king with a world record of thirty-four consecutive victories. His personality was disappointing, but perhaps his skill had made it possible.
The barbarian—no, Dolsoe—roared.
“I am the Giant Slayer! The exalted guide of Valhalla! A demon like you is not worthy of looking down on me! My name is the great warrior, Tyr—!! For Honoorrrrrr—!!”
The man with three names—Barbarian, Dolsoe, and Tyr—brandished the pair of axes in his hands threateningly as he advanced.
“Accept this sacred duel upon which I stake my honor! Swear it! If you lose, you will never set foot on this land again!”
“If the same condition applies to you, then I accept.”
Myeong-yun remained with his hands behind his back and lightly leaped backward, dodging Tyr’s axe.
Tyr grinned fiercely.
The moment he confirmed the direction Myeong-yun moved, he hurled the axe in his left hand.
“Receive Odin’s wrath—!!”
The axe flew toward Myeong-yun at terrifying speed. Despite its considerable size, it moved far faster than the throwing knives Dang So-cheong had used.
Myeong-yun caught the handle of the incoming axe, spun once, and deflected the second axe that Tyr swung right after.
Clang!
The two axes collided, sending a metallic ring that stung the eardrums across the arena.
The thrown axe had been caught. The swung axe had been parried. On top of that, he had been pushed back. Tyr could not hide his shock.
“How?!”
“Your intentions were obvious from the start. Your head may be large, but there is not much inside it.”
Had he truly achieved a thirty-four-win streak with only this level of skill?
Myeong-yun briefly entertained the thought, then shook his head.
If he had been an ordinary person instead of himself, even this much would have been a difficult fight. If it had been Sang-hyun, he would not have been able to react to that last axe and his skull would have been split in two.
Myeong-yun tossed the axe back to Tyr.
Unlike the foolish Rudolph who had let it stab his own thigh, Tyr caught both axes again and hardened his expression into something savage. He had now clearly realized through this exchange that Myeong-yun was a monster.
Tyr was as cunning as the cartel he had formed; he was not as stupid as Rudolph. He was not fool enough to be unable to gauge his opponent’s strength.
When their axes met, rather than pushing Myeong-yun back, it had felt like striking a massive boulder with an axe.
Grinding his teeth, Tyr pointed and shouted.
“Confess! What kind of hack are you using!”
Tyr seemed convinced that Myeong-yun was using hacks. If not, he was trying to frame him as a hacker to at least turn public opinion in his favor.
However.
Myeong-yun grew more and more disappointed in Tyr.
Not once did he consider that his own skill and training were lacking. How could he be so foolish?
Did he only feel satisfied by dragging others down to lift himself up?
From what he had seen in chat, the warriors of Northern Europe were supposed to be valiant and fearless of death, yet this Tyr only displayed reckless bravado and fear of defeat.
“It seems this Seat expected too much from you.”
He had not even hoped for outstanding skill. If the man had simply believed in his own martial prowess and charged with true courage, his evaluation would not have plummeted so vertically.
Even so, Myeong-yun was a merciful Heavenly Demon. He gave Tyr a second chance—something he had not given Dang So-cheong.
“This Seat shall give you one final opportunity. Will you fight for honor?”
The name of the game was For Honor.
On this arena, only honor mattered.
Tyr, who had been streaming ‘Heavenly Demon Hunt,’ glanced at his chat, realized the public opinion was not in his favor, and ground his teeth once more.
Seeing the flood of messages, Tyr simply turned off the chat window entirely.
Then he squeezed his eyes shut.
It’s over.
He had touched the wrong opponent.
The tower of honor he had built up until now was crumbling to dust.
There was only one way to reverse this situation.
He had to defeat the Heavenly Demon.
When he opened his eyes again, he poured every ounce of strength into the hands gripping his axes.
Myeong-yun watched him, then finally lowered his hands from behind his back and beckoned with one finger.
“Come.”
“For Honoorrrrrr—!!”
Tyr charged at Myeong-yun with a thunderous roar.
He threw one of the dual axes, then immediately followed up by gripping the second with both hands and swinging it.
Myeong-yun lightly leaned back to avoid the flying axe, then stepped forward into the consecutive strikes that followed.
The instant Tyr’s powerfully swung axe was about to reach his forehead, Myeong-yun’s figure vanished like a phantom.
The axe that had lost its target cut through empty air. At the same time, Myeong-yun reappeared on Tyr’s left side.
Tyr tried to block the incoming fist with his axe, but he was endlessly slow.
Myeong-yun was incomparably fast.
It was like an unavoidable shotgun blast going off right before his eyes.
Tyr even imagined the buckshot bursting from the barrel and shattering his skull.
Myeong-yun’s fist shot forward. Tyr’s horned helmet shattered and flew away.
The tremendous impact that smashed the helmet lifted Tyr’s massive body into the air for a brief moment. In that instant, Myeong-yun moved even faster.
For a split second the high-end New World processor usage spiked to its absolute limit. The moment Myeong-yun returned to his hands-behind-back posture—
Every part of Tyr’s body twisted and bent at unnatural angles, turning him into a mangled wreck.
No one could clearly count how many punches had landed in that single instant.
Decided!
Winner: Heavenly Demon Myeong-yun
This match, too, had ended in an instant.
Just as he had done with the others, Myeong-yun had not allowed even a single attack. He had created a completely one-sided picture.
“Still, that last charge was valiant.”
Myeong-yun looked down at the miserable Tyr and spoke.
It had seemed like a desperate final struggle, but a man should at least possess that much spirit. It was far better than pathetically begging for his life.
The viewers were utterly bewildered as incomprehensible scenes continued to unfold one after another.
Yet among them, those who had watched Myeong-yun from the very beginning remained perfectly calm.
…Or perhaps not.
The moment he achieved the world-first ninety-nine-win streak, donations poured in like a flood.
Only one victory remained.
Every single donation was cheering for Myeong-yun. They were the hearts of his believers, wishing for him to achieve the world-first one-hundred-win streak.
And the final challenger who appeared before Myeong-yun, having received all those hearts, was—
“Nok— Amataaaaaaaa—!!”
A single phoenix from Thailand that refused to stay dead.