Let's End It

"Do you even realize what you've done?!"

"I simply straightened out an unpleasant bastard. A little."

At my perfectly composed answer, the coach's face contorted.

"You still don't grasp how serious this is? If Gyubo hadn't gone easy on you, this would be grounds for severe disciplinary action!"

"He didn't go easy. He papered over it. A starting player on the first team, beaten one-sided by someone from the third team—a trainee, at that—would find it humiliating himself."

Park Gyubo hadn't tried to hold me accountable for a single thing I'd done. It wasn't for my sake, of course. It was purely to protect his own dignity. If word got out that he'd been beaten by me of all people—the trainee he used to keep tucked under his arm and torment—nothing good would come of it. Sure enough, he'd been running his mouth to everyone around, claiming he'd only pretended to be hurt.

"Hah. Foaming at the mouth and passed out cold, and he still talks."

"Shin Jaeha!"

The coach slammed his palm down on the table.

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden? This isn't like you. Have you been drinking since noon?"

"People can change overnight. That's simply how it is."

If I told him the truth—that I had already watched the end of the world and come back—he would have me committed without a second thought. For now, I decided that fact would stay mine alone.

I spun the chair around and looked out through the glass at the great emblem beyond it. An eagle and a bank of cloud, rendered in sharp, clean lines.

A major club in the first division of the Korea Player League—the K.P.L. They had never won a championship, but they were promising enough to finish a season in the upper ranks now and then.

When they first scouted me, I was so happy I could have jumped out of my skin.

In this professional market, even a trainee offer from an upper-tier second- or third-division team was an enormous opportunity. And in the middle of all that, a giant like Sky Epic came for me? Refusing would have been the strange choice.

But.

In the end, coming to this team was the worst mistake of my life. Blatant discrimination and neglect, inside the club and out. Curses, insults, and beatings whenever they found an opening. A growth path forced on me until my stats were wasted. Honestly, I could have endured all of it. To become a pro—to become a starter in the first division—that much pain and effort was something I could stomach.

They did the one thing that should never have been done.

"...So."

I crossed my legs and looked at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠coach with dead eyes.

"You have more to say than this, don't you?"

"What?"

"I doubt you called me all the way here just to deliver a lecture."

This was the same coach who had openly ignored me even when I wanted counsel on my training or the direction of my growth, insisting that a head coach spending time on the third team was a waste.

"Please. Go ahead."

"...At least you have a minimum of sense."

He cleared his throat and held out the sheet of paper in his hand.

The title was exactly the one I remembered. The thicket of technical terms and references beneath it wasn't worth a glance.

"It came out of a facility we sponsor privately. Just as it says—research findings that mana circuits can be artificially expanded, and mana stats raised along with them."

"......"

"I'll be direct. Shin Jaeha. You're taking this surgery."

Not a single syllable differed from the words in my memory. It was almost enough to make me laugh.

"Honestly, your constitution and your skill pull in completely opposite directions, don't they? You'd only be of any use if your mana stat were high, and all that ever grows is your physical stats. It's a considerable headache for the team."

He scratched his head, putting on a show of concern. Now that I knew the whole performance was meant to rattle me, it only looked vile.

"Undergo this procedure and your mana stat will climb at least twice as fast... no, three times. Then getting out of the eternal-trainee rut isn't just a dream, is it?"

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Of course. Starter might be too much to ask, but as a substitute you could make yourself quite useful."

As he said it, the corner of his mouth lifted, just a little. A smile like a snake's.

"Well? Will you take it? Of course you will."

"Of course—"

I answered that smile with the very same one.

Riiip!

I tore the paper clean in half.

"I won't be taking it, you fuck."

He was dressing it up in pretty words, but the conclusion was simple: he meant to perform an unverified, illegal procedure on me. The first time around they had lied that it was already fully proven, a perfectly safe treatment with not a shred of risk. Only after the procedure failed did I learn that every last part of it was illegal.

The old me was painfully naive.

Naive enough to hand over his own body because of sweet talk like that.

"Wh... what did you say...?"

The words must have landed harder than he expected. The coach's eyes twitched.

"I said I won't take it. Some unverified surgery like that."

"Do you have any idea what an incredible opportunity this is?! We're doing this to save an incompetent brat like you!"

"Then you should have cut me and ended the contract ages ago. Why keep me all this time? Ah. Let me guess."

I met his eyes straight on and put weight behind every word.

"Because I have a constitution, isn't it? Too good to hand to anyone else, too awkward for you to make use of yourselves—a chicken rib. So you figure you'll at least taste the liver with some surgery like that. If it works, wonderful. If it fails and I come out a cripple, nothing to regret."

"...!"

Among those who awakened as players, a very few also awakened something called a constitution. Not a skill. Not a stat. An innate ability granted to that player alone. Nearly every high-ranking player was born with one. That didn't mean everyone who possessed a constitution was strong. The proof was standing right here.

"Sorry, but I'm not devoted enough to this team to offer my body up for an experiment like that. So I'll decline. Politely."

"You think you can? It's already decided. If you don't take this surgery, there will be no contract renewal—"

"Fine."

"...What?"

"Let's end the contract. I don't want to stay on a team this nauseating for one more second."

I pulled off the Sky Epic jacket I was wearing and set it down on the torn paper.

The second thing I did after regressing was refuse to repeat the worst mistake of my life.

"Hah. Lived the trainee life a good long while, and every last bit of it fits in this one box."

After the contract was terminated, one way or another, I came back to the dorm to pack. A small place, where the third-team trainees—myself included—had been living.

"This ought to about do it."

Once it was all neatly sorted, it didn't even fill the box. Half, if that. It stung a little, but I shook the feeling off quickly. I gathered my things in earnest and stepped outside, and a familiar face was waiting for me.

"Keuh~ Finally getting lost?"

Park Gyubo. For a self-proclaimed superhuman, the place I'd stomped so thoroughly still hadn't burst.

"Smartest I've ever seen you, Jaeha. Finally know your place, walking out of here on your own two feet."

I gave him about half an ear, and still that mouth wouldn't quit. A diligent bastard, in every sense of the word.

"Heading back to the orphanage? Kahaha!"

"Yeah. Your parents just opened a new one and invited me."

"What...?!"

His face flushed red, then went pale. I asked him, perfectly calm.

"It's over anyway, so let me ask you one thing. Why did you hate me that much?"

He was rude to plenty of people, but he had singled me out and me alone, steadily, from the day I joined until now. Back then I'd been too beaten down to even ask why. Not anymore.

"Why do I hate you?"

Park Gyubo twisted his mouth as if the question were absurd.

"Showing up here with no skill and nothing else, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠banking on one constitution—that's shitty enough. And then you squirm around trying to do something with it. Disgusting to watch."

"...That so?"

Hearing it out loud, the reason was so empty that I was more surprised than anything.

"Then pretty soon you're going to have a new reason to hate me."

"What are you—"

"Before long ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'll be the one crushing you. I'll be stronger."

"You? Puhahat!"

Park Gyubo clutched his stomach and laughed in my face.

"Dream real fucking big, you little shit. I'll cheer you on! Work hard."

"Yeah. I plan to. When I lift the league championship later, I'll be sure to say your name in the interview."

"How precious."

He didn't seem to realize there wasn't a shred of a lie in what I'd said.

"I'm going."

I walked straight past him toward the door. I was about to pass the main gate when I noticed her.

"......"

A silver-haired woman stood quietly watching me. No question about it—Sky Epic's starting Archer.

"Baek Heeyeon?"

"......"

Baek Heeyeon stared straight at me. Then and now, a woman whose thoughts I couldn't read. When everyone else ignored me and set me apart in the open, she was the only one who treated me as if none of it mattered. That didn't make her especially kind. Baek Heeyeon treated everyone with that same dry flatness.

Well. She was the one person who spoke to me first.

Beyond that, we didn't really have much of a connection.

"What is it? Something to say?"

"That thing you said... is it true?"

"That thing? Oh—me leaving the team?"

Word had already spread, by the look of it. I'd half expected as much the moment I saw that Gyubo knew.

"Well, that's how it went. It's for the best anyway. I wasn't doing anything on this team."

"......"

"Still, thanks. I got more help from you than I ever did from the coach."

Now and then, when I was training alone, she would drift over to my side.

"That's not how you do that..."

Advice of about that caliber. Honestly, it hadn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠helped all that much. It was still better than a coach who wouldn't even give me that.

"Anyway. Today's the last day."

"What you said earlier... is it true?"

"What now?"

"What you said to Park Gyubo. That you'd get stronger soon, and win the league."

That was a question I hadn't seen coming. I'd assumed, of course, that it was sarcasm.

"......"

Baek Heeyeon's eyes were serious. So I answered her seriously.

"Yeah."

"...I see."

With that, she turned her back.

"I'll be rooting for you."

She tossed the words out as if they weighed nothing. I watched the small back of her head, grinned, and answered.

"Thanks."

And with that, my long, long life as a trainee came to an end.

"Hoo..."

The moment I stepped outside, it finally sank in. I really had crossed years of time and come back to the past.

The streets are whole. And there isn't a madman in sight!

Set against the brink of the apocalypse, the world in front of me was beautiful beyond words. Players running the Channel played across the giant screens, and the street billboards carried ads shot by athletes from the teams on top.

Even now, players sit at the center of society. That hasn't changed.

The phenomenon would only deepen from here. All the more once Earth officially entered the Dimension Cup.

"First thing is to sort out the situation. And my head."

I followed my memory to the house where Suhyeok, my hyung, used to live. Even during my trainee days I had dropped by often, to vent or to drink with him. This time I had come for a simpler reason. I had nowhere to stay in Seoul.

"Can't use the team dorm anymore."

I'd be imposing here for a while.

"Hyung, I'm here... right. He's not home."

By now he would be at work. Meeting the hyung of the past could wait a little longer.

"...I should check, first."

I swallowed dryly and activated it. A sharp pulse of light flared—my status window. And I couldn't help the groan that tore out of me, thick with elation.

"It worked...! It worked!"

A clear number, written beside the mana stat. I was no longer a body that couldn't use mana.

I finally got it back.

My potential.