Nangin Cheon-ho (1)
「Time until next duel: 00:00:10.」
Do they think this is New Year's or something? Yun-seok stared at the screen in utter disbelief.
How can it feel so utterly unreal?
It was like they thought they were playing a game.
Watching this, Yun-seok wondered if he was the weird one... but no, that wasn't it. It was just that the chat was dominated by people like this, making him look out of place.
[Current participants: 3,598/10,000]
Chat participants were only about a third of the total capacity. And that included people like Yun-seok who had just left it running in the background. Most first-floor challengers weren't participating in the chat.
So what had they been doing all this time? The answer was obvious without thinking. They'd been grinding through the waiting period just like Yun-seok, desperately trying to survive.
Familiar nicknames would probably start disappearing soon. This wasn't a place for cooperation—it was a world of competition. Survival of the fittest. Those who couldn't adapt would be weeded out.
「Time until next duel: 00:00:00.」
「Prepare yourselves. The duel will begin shortly.」
The 24-hour wait ended, and Yun-seok's vision shifted.
The dim stone chamber vanished, replaced by blinding sunlight pouring down. Yun-seok squinted and looked around.
"Hasn't changed a bit."
The same circular arena where he'd fought a brutal battle 24 hours ago. No monster corpse, no traces of combat—just empty spectator seats as always.
Countdown beginning.
Yun-seok chuckled wryly. Just a day had passed, but the countdown made that frozen moment feel like ancient history.
「3.」
His eyes widened, scanning his opponent thoroughly. Then, a bitter grimace—he'd half-expected it, but his foe was human.
The first match had been killing a monster. Now, it was murder.
Well, technically not murder, as long as the opponent had coins left.
「2.」
Get it together.
His opponent was a man in the standard gray outfit, gripping a longsword. Long, disheveled hair and a full beard gave him an ominous air.
Looks like a master from a wuxia novel.
Yun-seok startled. It wasn't just a joke—one of the four dimensions in the chat had been called Murim.
「1.」
Yun-seok had a vague premonition. This would be far tougher than the monster.
「START!」
The duel began, and the restraints lifted. Yun-seok quickly adjusted his grip on sword and shield.
The man greeted him. "Pleased to meet you. I am the wanderer, Cheon-ho."
The accent resembled Chinese but wasn't. Stunned by the sudden cupped-fist salute, Yun-seok froze—they were about to kill each other.
"Haha, we're not blood enemies. Just exchanging names—no need to freeze up."
He had a point. They were victims thrown here by some entity. Not everyone could stay so composed, though... and this guy seemed used to it.
"Choi Yun-seok."
The man's awkward reply drew a hearty laugh. "Hahaha! Truly from another world. That shield—military background?"
Yun-seok answered reluctantly. "Used to be."
As a healthy Korean guy, he'd served. But not like this man's army—modern infantry didn't use shields outside special suppression units.
"I see. Ours were mostly civilians. Curious about yours. Best of luck."
Time to start? The man raised his sword tip in a unique stance and said calmly, "This is my own style, refined from Cheongryong Sword School techniques for real combat. In pure swordsmanship without internal energy, I fear no famous house."
No way to verify, but Yun-seok felt the shift. From affable uncle to battle-hardened swordsman. The aura was razor-sharp, prickling his skin.
Yun-seok bit his tongue silently to steady himself—or he'd freeze solid.
"Here I come."
Whoosh! No battle cry. Closing distance sword-first, he thrust like lightning. Too fast to parry or deflect.
But Yun-seok had a shield.
Clang!
The sword met shield. Yun-seok countered instantly, swinging as practiced thousands of times. Live or die—no hesitation in this duel.
Yet it failed. Skill gap, not mindset.
Clang!
The man casually flicked Yun-seok's sword away. The rebound disrupted his stance—one-handed versus two.
Not satisfied, the man snaked another thrust. Yun-seok blocked with shield.
"......"
Yun-seok swallowed. Just two exchanges, but his neck prickled. Close call.
Can't freeze. Post-block, he swung reflexively—but hit empty air. The man had retreated two steps.
"Without internal energy, that shield is a real pain. Guess I'll go back to basics."
Yun-seok's shoulders sagged heavier. Strong foe adapting mindset.
No need for that...
Nerves taut, the man attacked fiercely again. Yun-seok blocked, counterattacked—deflected as before.
Then the difference: Thud!
Foot instead of sword. Focused on blade, Yun-seok couldn't dodge the blind-spot kick to his gut.
"Guhk!"
Shock nearly dropped his gear. Organs screamed despite fat padding. Hard to breathe, but no time to daze. He raised shield desperately.
Clang! Force transmitted. Stance crumbling, balance shattered.
No respite—the next thrust came. Yun-seok raised shield, thinking: Block this, but next? Posture worse, harder to defend.
Chance now!
Instinct spot-on. He hurled the shield forward.
The man flinched, unprepared. Yun-seok thrust hard.
Squish!
Blade bit flesh—Yun-seok's first hit. But the twist made it side, not lethal.
Follow-up flurry, but man retreated, creating a brief lull.
Shield! Grab it now!
Before he closes again. Yun-seok bent—instinct screamed.
"......?"
Body reacted pre-thought, leaping back. A flash-line slashed his chest hem.
"Good instincts. Inexperienced, but sharp judgment."
Genuine admiration. But Yun-seok couldn't rejoice—any slower, and it'd be worse than torn clothes. Nearly died fetching shield.
Abandon it.
One-on-one—no picking up dropped gear.
"Throwing the shield was brilliant. Use anything at hand... reminds me of my first days as a wanderer."
Blood streamed from side, yet relaxed. No pain? Yun-seok shook head. He felt it—just battle-hardened nonchalance.
Suddenly, the man loomed gigantic. Yun-seok backed away subconsciously.
No way I can win...
Equal specs, vast skill gap. Shield had kept him alive. Now gone—sword only. Blade looked sharper.
I'm... dead...
Inevitable. Coins meant revival, but the agony of shredded flesh? Terrifying.
"Hm, luring carelessness?"
The man knew better—low odds. Disappointment in his eyes, familiar to Yun-seok—like a nightmare.
—Loser bitch.
Kang Hyung-woo's voice echoed.
Yun-seok froze like a trained dog.
—You had chances to fight me.
True. Opportunities existed—but he hadn't. Thought he'd lose.
"Y-You're taller, boxed, talented!"
—You had talent too. Still don't get it?
"......"
Since arriving, Yun-seok suspected his talent might surpass Hyung-woo's. Just never fought.
But excuses: "B-But my parents..."
—Idiot. Think my dad sways to a kid?
"......"
Couldn't imagine as a kid.
—But you figured it late, so that happened.
High school first year.
—Shocked me. Thought you were broken in.
Yun-seok threatened exposure; Hyung-woo backed off. Thought the nightmare ended.
Then father's factory fire. JC Group aid prevented debt hell... but leash retightened.
—Know what? I torched your factory.
Twitch.
Deep inside, something black and viscous stirred.