Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Tournament
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◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Do-yoon withdrew all the feelings he had held toward Torn.
To Do-yoon, who had rolled through battlefields for over 200 years, Torn held no meaning as an enemy.
Do-yoon was too busy, and compared to his grand schemes, the squabbles of a green chick like that were utterly insignificant.
A brave warrior race that pursued strength. Excellent physical talent. A fledgling to be raised. To Do-yoon, Torn had been such an existence.
But now, he had withdrawn even those positive feelings.
He had thought he was just a dumb, hot-tempered friend. Some races had that kind of temperament due to their nature. Trolls and werewolves were prime examples.
But they were a warrior clan. Their stupidity was bravery, and though willful, they were straightforward and transparent inside and out. In his previous life, Do-yoon had shared much camaraderie with such folk.
'I thought you were the same.'
When he showed jealousy over the performance in the mana test, Do-yoon figured a strength-worshipping guy like him had just developed a rivalry.
Even harassing Sophie was distasteful but understandable. Tribes where the strong males claimed the best females were a dime a dozen.
But that wasn't it.
The bastard was just selfish, using violence and despicable methods to fill his own pockets. A worthless piece of trash.
Even in his previous life, the alliance had scum like that.
The war with the Demon King. The alliance’s survival. World peace. They ignored it all, grabbing for themselves in despicable, selfish ways. Vermin-like pests.
Enoch himself had suffered endlessly from such trash until he reached a level of force where no one could suppress him. He had even died for it. He tried reforming them as a so-called hero, but the result was always a knife in the back.
Do-yoon wasn’t a bodhisattva. On this issue, he was closer to an extremist.
People weren’t for fixing; they were for filtering. It was Do-yoon’s creed, forged from two hundred years of every trial imaginable.
When he encountered those repulsive pests—ones who gnawed at the alliance even on the eve of the bloody battle with the Demon King—he stuck to one simple solution.
Assassination.
In his 14th regression, when Enoch had killed off his emotions and pursued only efficiency, his nickname from executing rotten allied kings had been "Executioner" or "Tyrant."
To Do-yoon, an "opponent without any emotions" meant a straw dummy whose neck he could slice off.
Even a passerby on the street deserved respect as a member of the alliance. All alliance members were comrades fighting the Demon King.
But now, Torn had lost even that value.
And for someone who braved death and killing solely to exterminate the Demon King, losing that "respect"...
Was a terrifying calamity for Torn.
"...Both cadets, step forward."
Do-yoon and Torn stepped forward.
Torn was still grinning foolishly, while the onlookers grimaced in Do-yoon's stead.
"Attacks after surrender, attacks after one side is incapacitated, and killing are strictly prohibited."
"Pfft."
"Yes."
"...Then, prepare."
The instructor raised his hand toward the sky.
"Begin!"
And swung it down, exiting the ring.
"Ummmoooooaaargh!"
Torn struck first. He charged forward with his massive body, swinging the hammer sideways.
A powerful attack that made the watching cadets flinch. But the hammer didn't touch Do-yoon's body.
Whoosh—
"Hmph!"
The hammer swept through empty air, and Torn let out a baffled grunt at the empty sensation.
He was sure it had hit. Right before impact, he had clearly seen the guy in his sights.
Yet when he swung, the bastard wasn't there. He stood calmly just a half-step away. It felt like Do-yoon had stood still and Torn had whiffed.
Torn recovered his weapon and swung sideways again. Same result. Do-yoon wasn't there. No matter how many times he attacked, it was the same.
"Eeek...!"
Enraged, Torn flailed the hammer wildly. Each time, Do-yoon dodged by a paper-thin margin, and the hammer struck only empty air. It was a mystical movement, like a mirage—almost graspable, yet not.
The cadets watched the bizarre scene, unable to comprehend even with their own eyes.
"What the hell... is that...?"
"What’s Milk Cow doing? Dancing?"
"No, it's that Han Do-yoon guy who's..."
The Enoch of his previous life, a dullard, hadn't been quick like other geniuses or sturdy like other races.
For him, efficient footwork was a desperately clung-to skill for survival—like an extra life.
The instructors let out admiring groans at Do-yoon's movements.
'That's no ordinary proficiency. He's got a massive amount of real combat experience.'
'Is that really the movement of a 25-year-old...? What kind of life did he live in his home dimension?'
The referee instructor felt the same. Admiring Do-yoon's moves, he still focused intently for accurate judgment. Yet even so, he occasionally lost track of Do-yoon.
Outside the ring, the referee's junior assistant instructor—a newbie—muttered.
"Whoa... so that's the Earthling race...!"
"..."
His ridiculous misconception briefly disrupted his focus, but the instructor quickly refocused on Do-yoon.
"You! Rat! Bastard! Die!"
The exchange continued. Torn, fully excited, swung his hammer wildly, but Do-yoon didn't meet the clumsy attacks.
In truth, Do-yoon was toying with Torn like a ball on his palm, but the instructors analyzed differently.
'Skill proficiency is incomparable, but Torn keeps using mana. Do-yoon has the mana handicap. No mana use.'
'Output gap is too wide. Can't even dream of breaking through, let alone a fatal blow.'
'To reach that level, he must've shed rivers of blood and sweat. But innate limits can't be overcome...'
Do-yoon wasn't without a sliver of hope. Fortunately, Torn was too stupid. If he just kept dodging until Torn's stamina drained, he could land a fatal blow.
'But if he slips even once in that process...'
Do-yoon's fragile Earthling body couldn't even protect itself with mana. The match would end in an instant. Far too disadvantageous.
If Do-yoon truly couldn't use mana, that would've been the case.
"Don't dodge, youuuu bastard!"
Torn bellowed like a scream, slamming the hammer down from above. A brutal strike that made spectators step back.
The instructors expected Do-yoon to dodge again. Strangely, he stood still even as the hammer's shadow loomed.
"Th-this...!"
Do-yoon was a beat late. He had finally slipped.
'This one's gonna hit...!'
They thought so.
Do-yoon pulled back half a beat late. But the hammer was already descending right above his forehead.
The cadets squeezed their eyes shut. A gruesome crunch, blood and flesh spraying. Everyone was certain of Do-yoon's defeat.
But then, the upset occurred.
Clang—!
"Kkep!"
The sharp clash of metal on metal, followed by Torn's panicked yelp, and the hammer flew sideways.
Torn's hammer side bore a clear palm print, while Do-yoon stood with his arm extended, as if slapping someone's cheek.
"G-gahaaak...!"
Torn clutched his right hand—torn open from gripping the hammer—and curled up on the ground.
The cadets, who had closed their eyes, were dumbfounded.
"Wha...?"
"What just... happened...?"
"H-he deflected the hammer with his palm!"
A cadet who had watched it clearly shouted.
Do-yoon hadn't even moved his legs. He had truly slapped the hammer away.
No waist, no shoulder—just a simple arm swing, with his palm. That massive hammer had gone flying.
But the cadets' shock paled compared to the instructors'.
They had already shot to their feet, faces full of astonishment.
"Ma-mana! He used mana!"
"What! How can that guy use mana?!"
They had felt it clearly. In the moment of crisis, mana emanated from Han Do-yoon's body.
And the output was incomprehensible. That level alone could claim top spot in the Cradle.
"He didn't have a mana handicap!?"
"Hey! You personally checked that cadet's meridians on test day! What the hell?!"
"N-no! It was really a mana handicap! His channels were completely blocked, I swear!"
The arena turned to chaos in an instant. Torn was busy sobbing while clutching his hand, and the instructors panicked over the unprecedented phenomenon.
Among them, someone was quickly tapping a calculator.
"J-jackpot! A talent who bent steel plates without mana, and now he uses mana?!"
At those words, all instructors realized.
Why had Han Do-yoon Cadet been undervalued until now? The mana handicap.
But now, whatever the reason, he had overcome it. He used mana.
A comet-like rookie had burst into the talent market, obsessed with Boss Monster Killers.
The arena grew even noisier. Everyone buzzed with excitement over the sudden event and its fallout.
"Wait a minute."
But a heavy silence fell at someone's remark.
"Then... if Han Do-yoon Cadet really knows how to wield a sword too... the Boss Monster Killer..."
"...!"
The instructors froze as if hammered in the head.
Why had Han Do-yoon suddenly picked up a sword?
A talent who topped entry without mana, now using mana too?
If proceeding with the rusty sword wasn't bravado?
"..."
Finally, they reached a thrillingly terrifying hypothesis.
'If Han Do-yoon...'
Really knew how to wield a sword?
'The Boss Monster Killer...'
All stared, entranced, at Do-yoon standing loftily in the ring.
He raised the sword he had been dragging limply.
"Hey."
Shing—
Despite being rusty, despite lacking a sheath. The blade scraped the air, resounding like a draw from a scabbard.
"Get up."
Do-yoon walked toward Torn.