Chapter 6 — This Is Why I Couldn't Quit

Five kills. Six.

I counted them off in my head and threw myself forward.

"Aaaagh?!"

"Seven."

Caught off guard by how fast I'd closed in, the man forgot to swing. I brought the club down on his skull. He flew, limp, slammed into the outer wall of a building, and dissolved into a wash of light almost at once.

"Finally starting to loosen up."

Just as I'd expected, kicking up that much noise drew other players in. I'd only just finished the four who'd arrived one after another.

A thunderous crash rolled through the streets. I went still and listened, and the racket came from every direction at once, the vibration of it crawling over my skin. On their way toward me they'd run into each other, and the whole thing had spilled into a brawl.

"Oh no you don't!"

I wasn't about to let them eat each other. Everyone still out there was a meal, and every one of them was mine.

A low hum rose as I gathered mana and drove it down into my thighs and calves. Then I leapt in a single burst and took the whole area in at a glance.

Four Warriors. Three Archers. One Mage.

I built the map in my head at speed—the cleanest route to sweep every last one of them at once.

"...There."

First up: the two Warriors locked blade to blade.

My body, grown heavy, accelerated without pause and crashed straight down on both of them. The ground shuddered, and a small crater opened where I struck.

"Eight."

One Warrior vanished into light without leaving a trace.

"Wh-what the hell?!"

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

The one who'd noticed me falling and gotten clear in time blinked, stunned.

"Decent instincts. Polish them, and you might even climb as far as Bronze."

"Hyaaah!"

He let out a shout and came in swinging. I'd paid him a compliment, and he answered with a sword. I felt a pang of sorrow for a country growing colder by the day, slipped a quick backstep under the blade, and watched—as if he'd been waiting for exactly that—red energy coil around the steel.

The most common D-rank skill in the Warrior position. Common didn't mean weak. Mana wrapped the blade, and a swift swing cut an enemy in two—the fundamental form of a swordsman.

"Hraaaah!"

He clenched his teeth and slashed with the crimson edge. The plan was obvious enough: bait one dodge, lure me into dropping my guard, then trigger the skill and catch me off-balance.

"Heh."

It might land on someone at his own level. Not on me.

Meeting a skill head-on would have been stupid. I leapt back hard, opened a clean gap, then used the rebound to charge in one burst and swung the club. He panicked and tried to block with the sword.

"Not a chance."

Gear gap or not, he had a blade and I had a blunt weapon. Enough acceleration, enough mass, and the physical stats granted by Strong Bone already backing the force—I could smash through anything.

The impact cracked like splitting timber. Launched as if a dump truck had hit him, the man flew a long way and planted his face in the ground.

"Nine."

I grinned and ran for the next piece of prey.

Just like that, it was over. Survival didn't end until only one player was left. So if I was the one looking at that message—

—every player but me was dead.

I'd swept up everyone around me as they came, and I'd overshot the quest target by a little.

"Stats two matches in a row! And two of them again!"

I let out a silent whoop. Just as I'd thought, Channel was rating my current play highly. Or maybe it wanted to stuff me with stats and shove me into matches that actually matched my level.

Either way, good for me.

It had handed over three thousand credits, too. Roughly a thousand for every ten kills, by the look of it.

"Well... this is plenty tasty on its own."

But the main course still hadn't come out.

Watching the messages flicker, I felt the corner of my mouth curve on its own. Ten thousand credits spoke for themselves, and on top of that I'd picked up a full three stat points. Even counted as plain level-ups, that was three levels' worth.

And this.

A title. An epithet granted for clearing a quest or pulling off some special feat—not a mere nickname, but one piece of the Player System. Equip it, and you could expect extra stat boosts, or effects beyond that.

"They're not easy to come by. Better to grab every one you can."

Good thing I hadn't forgotten a hidden quest was buried here.

Satisfied, I left Channel and pulled my status window up again. All I'd done was play two normal matches.

I'd already grown enough for it to show. The leap from those two matches was bigger than everything I'd gained across my entire stretch as a Sky Epic trainee.

"...Pfft!"

A laugh burst out of me. The fun of growing—I hadn't felt it in a very long ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time. Mana smoldering beneath my sternum, a body still unfinished and frail, stats that fell far short of what I'd had before the regression. All of it was so exhilarating I thought I might go mad.

Anyone else, the moment their mana circuits shattered, would have quit and gone looking for something else to do. I'd fallen and gotten back up until I lost count, and I had never once set the hammer down.

The reason wasn't anything grand.

Because it was fun.

Growing, pushing forward, fighting—that was the joy of it. Only when I logged into Channel did I feel truly alive. And from here on, it would be even better. The battlefields where I could actually shine had multiplied.

The thought lifted my chest until I couldn't sit still.

"Next match. Now!"

I was just hurrying to queue into my third normal match when the lock chirped—beep-beep-beep, a bright little chime—and someone opened the door and came in.

"Hmm-hmm-hmm~."

A loosened tie. A coat slung over one shoulder. A little over six feet tall.

"Hmm-hmm... Holy—! You scared me!"

Suhyeok had been humming his way in. The moment he saw me, he flinched.

"What? Why are you here right now? Isn't this prime practice time?"

He settled his surprise and looked at me, flustered. Unlike the future, he hadn't put on weight—decent muscle where a gut would someday sit, jawline still sharp. And... and...

"His hair is so thick!"

Black, coarse hair that hadn't fallen out yet! Seeing hyung in his prime for the first time in ages, tears of pure emotion welled up on their own.

"Waaaaah! Let me touch it! This isn't a wig, is it?!"

"You show up out of nowhere spouting nonsense—ow ow ow ow! Let go! Let go, Shin Jaeha! Aaaagh!"

Only after I'd confirmed every single strand was properly rooted in his scalp did I release his head.

"Are you going through something lately?!"

Hyung, smoothing the hair I'd left standing on end, shouted, voice thick with outrage.

"No... I was just so happy. That you're not bald."

"Why are we suddenly talking about going bald?"

"Hair loss in your thirties is all the rage these days. You should get ahead of it."

"Please. Baldness is the disease furthest from me, you idiot."

"......"

Not from where I'm standing.

Of course, his hair loss had been from stress. Earth kept losing the Dimension Cup, and even the players who'd looked like a shred of hope had all transferred out to other dimensions. He wasn't a player himself, but as an active coach in the league, there was no way the anger hadn't reached him.

"Why are you off so early?"

"Half day. I've been pushing it lately, so I'm taking a break."

"Ah."

Come to think of it, the league had only just ended. This was the stretch for resting a little and getting ready for the next season.

Perfect timing.

Deep in a season, sliding in midway would have been awkward. Right now, there was time to spare.

"Anyway, why are you suddenly here at this hour?"

I was sketching the plan out in my head when hyung pulled a can of cola from the fridge, cracked it, and asked.

"Heh heh heh. Did you actually terminate your contract with Sky Epic this time?"

"Yeah."

"Right, like that would ever—huh?"

"I did. Contract's over."

"...For real?"

I turned my head without a word and looked at the box. The one holding the personal things I'd used at Sky Epic.

"Uh... um..."

He hadn't expected the joke to come back true, and the rest of the sentence wouldn't come.

"Want to rip out more of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my hair...?"

He seemed to have decided my earlier behavior was some kind of breakdown brought on by the termination. I sighed and shook my head.

"It's fine. If we're being precise, I walked out on my own."

"Good, Jaeha. You thought this through. That place was a complete dump."

He patted my shoulder.

"What good is a big team if they manage their players like garbage? They never saw what my Jaeha was worth. Day in, day out, nothing but meaningless drills!"

"......"

"That's it. Chicken and beer, on me tonight. We eat, we drink, and you forget the whole damn thing!"

The effort to lift my mood was obvious. A short laugh slipped out before I knew it.

Right. This is the kind of brother he was.

No roots in Seoul, no friends—and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he'd treated me like his own little brother anyway. Before the regression, whenever Suhyeok cried, I couldn't begin to say how much it had eaten at me. Back then I'd had no way to stop those tears.

Not anymore.

At least as much as he'd given me. No—a chance to give him more than that had finally come.

"Hyung."

"Half plain, half sweet-and-spicy. Same as always, right?"

"Ever think about being my manager?"

"From the usual place... what?"

A question mark practically rose over his face as he worked the delivery app.

"Manager? Out of nowhere, what are you..."

"I'm not saying right this second. As I am now, I'm nothing but an Under-rank nobody."

I raised my right hand and held up two fingers.

"Two years. I'll ask you again in exactly two years. Answer me then. By that point, the weight of what I'm offering is going to be a completely different thing."

By my calculations, two years would be enough. Enough for me to become one of the best players in the KPL.

"...Did this kid eat something weird?"

Dumbfounded, he tilted his head and went ahead and ordered the chicken.

Meanwhile.

In a corner of the player community, a rumor about someone had begun to creep up like smoke.