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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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As their turn in the competition arrived, Woo Do-hyun was the first to sense something amiss.
‘Hmm?’
Gifted with an innate talent for swordsmanship, he was particularly attuned to killing intent.
A prickling sensation on his skin. An oppressive aura that pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. A cold dread, like a blade held against his throat. Warning signals flashed in his mind, a disorienting cacophony of alarm bells.
“Seok-hyun?”
“Huh? What?”
Woo Do-hyun, sensing something was wrong, turned to Lee Seok-hyun, but his classmate seemed oblivious, his face betraying no hint of awareness.
‘Am I the only one feeling this?’
As his teammates casually walked onto the stage, their expressions calm and collected, he questioned his own perceptions.
If he was the only one sensing this killing intent, what could it mean?
‘This can’t be good.’
Woo Do-hyun cautiously took two steps back, putting some distance between himself and Lee Seok-hyun.
–Thump.
And just like that, the killing intent vanished. Lee Seok-hyun’s back was to him, but he appeared relaxed, his posture normal, the oppressive aura gone.
This could only mean one thing: something was wrong with Lee Seok-hyun.
Controlling one’s killing intent was a fundamental skill, yet he seemed completely unaware of its presence, let alone able to control it.
‘Something definitely happened.’
Lee Seok-hyun had achieved the incredible feat of defeating Raystember, the Archdemon.
His external wounds had been healed, and they’d all assumed he’d recovered from the internal trauma during the week-long break.
They’d all been fooled.
Lulled by Lee Seok-hyun’s usual cheerful demeanor and easygoing nature, they had failed to truly assess his condition. They had underestimated the psychological toll of his recent battles.
‘We shouldn’t have let him compete.’
How could anyone expect him to be ready for another high-stakes competition, just days after a near-death experience? Even if this was a friendly exchange, a competition meant for skill development, not a life-or-death struggle, the pressure was still immense.
After all, it had taken a full month of intensive training under Lee Seok-hyun’s guidance to help the first-year students overcome the trauma of the Death Meteor attack and dispel the fear that had gripped them.
And to think they’d allowed Lee Seok-hyun, who’d faced far greater trauma, a mere week to recover… and then pushed him back into the arena, trusting his assurances that he was fine?
It was a reckless decision, a foolish gamble.
‘This is bad, really bad.’
Woo Do-hyun felt a surge of fear, a chilling premonition of disaster.
He was afraid of what Lee Seok-hyun might become, afraid of the darkness that seemed to be consuming him. He was terrified that the friend he’d come to rely on, the leader he trusted implicitly, might be lost to him.
He’d heard stories of how trauma could change a person, twisting them into something unrecognizable. And he desperately hoped that wouldn’t happen to Lee Seok-hyun.
If it did, he was prepared to do whatever it took to bring him back, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
Steeling his resolve, Woo Do-hyun stepped onto the stage, taking his position beside Lee Seok-hyun. He wouldn’t abandon his friend.
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‘What’s this?’
‘Why is my body so light?’
His muscles, usually stiff and sore after training, felt loose, energized. The closer he got to the arena, the lighter he felt, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
It was as if he was discovering a hidden talent for performing under pressure, a latent ability to thrive in high-stakes situations.
The lightness in his body was a welcome change, a source of renewed energy. He dismissed it as a fortunate coincidence, a welcome boost before the upcoming battle.
“Bow!”
They lined up, bowed to their opponents, and waited for the signal to begin.
“Begin!”
The match started without fanfare, without the usual introductions or pre-match banter. The tight schedule meant there was no time for pleasantries.
“Alright, let’s stick to the plan.”
“Okay!”
The strategy was simple. Lee Seok-hyun would be the initial aggressor, charging into the enemy ranks, creating chaos and drawing their attention. That would give Meiri and Bellos, the team’s mages, the opportunity to unleash their spells, targeting the disorganized opponents.
Meanwhile, Mijuran and Woo Do-hyun would flank the enemy, searching for openings to strike at their leaders.
If necessary, they could also shift to a defensive role, protecting the mages. It was a flexible plan, adapting to the ever-changing dynamics of the battlefield.
The one potential flaw was Lee Seok-hyun’s ability to create enough chaos to draw the enemy’s attention. If he failed, the entire plan would fall apart.
However, judging by his current state, that seemed unlikely.
‘Am I… this fast?’
As he moved, he was surprised by his own speed, his agility. His body felt like a feather, his movements effortless, almost instinctive. He covered ground with impossible speed, his strikes landing before his opponents could even react.
It was a level of physical prowess he hadn’t experienced, even when he’d pushed Infinite Track into overdrive.
‘This is… strange.’
This was a five-on-five match. Such overwhelming dominance, so early in the fight, didn’t make sense. He suspected a trap, a hidden strategy designed to lure him into a false sense of security.
‘Are they deliberately slowing down their attacks? Trying to make me underestimate them?’
Arak’s Main Skill, [Basic Design], granted him a physical boost proportional to his training time. And as an aspiring knight, Arak’s training regimen was notoriously intense. His swordsmanship should have been swift, precise, deadly. Yet… his movements were slow, almost sluggish.
“What are you playing at?”
He struck Arak’s sword, expecting a powerful counter, but the blade offered no resistance, clattering harmlessly to the ground. It felt like a flimsy toy, devoid of any real power.
“Uwaaaah!”
With each blink, the scene shifted, the world around him blurring, his opponents vanishing and reappearing in different locations. Arak, who’d been standing before him just moments ago, now lay on the ground, groaning in pain. Three of his teammates were airborne, their bodies suspended in mid-air as if caught in some invisible web. It was a disorienting, almost hallucinatory, experience.
He knew, with chilling certainty, that this wasn’t Arak’s doing. There was no mention of such abilities in any of the Tanteroi records.
‘Is my information wrong?’
He’d meticulously studied his opponents’ skills and abilities, compiling detailed dossiers on each academy’s representatives. He’d memorized their strengths and weaknesses, their preferred tactics, their Main Skills and sub-skills.
But variables were inevitable. Situations changed, strategies evolved, and sometimes, the most carefully laid plans went awry.
He’d already accepted that he couldn’t anticipate everything. He would adapt, improvise, and overcome. He had no other choice.
Surrounded by enemies, outnumbered and alone, he had to fight. His survival, their survival, depended on it. The more effectively he fought, the less his teammates would suffer.
“Seok-hyun!”
“I’m fine! Stay in formation!”
Mijuran’s worried cry reached him, but he brushed it aside, reassuring her with a confident shout.
‘This is my fault.’
If he hadn’t entered the academy, if he hadn’t become the focal point of their team, they wouldn’t be in this situation. The Death Meteor, the Archdemon’s intrusion, the current chaos—it was all a consequence of his presence. The bad luck enforcer, it seemed, was targeting him specifically.
He had to take responsibility.
He had to protect them.
And as if responding to his resolve, a surge of power coursed through his veins, his body thrumming with newfound energy. A limitless strength, an almost overwhelming sense of control. It felt like an awakening.
“Oof!”
He caught a fist aimed at his face, redirecting its momentum, using his opponent’s strength against him, sending him crashing into another student.
When fighting multiple opponents, the key was to avoid being surrounded. Being trapped meant certain death. He weaved through their ranks, his movements fluid, unpredictable, keeping them off balance, preventing them from coordinating their attacks.
A knight, weighed down by heavy armor, versus a nimble fighter, unburdened and free.
It was a matchup that favored skill and agility, and in his current state, Lee Seok-hyun was unmatched.
“Seok-hyun!”
“I’m fine, I said!”
He snapped at Mijuran, his voice sharper than he’d intended. He was annoyed by her constant worrying, her unnecessary concern. He’d defeated an Archdemon, hadn’t he? This was nothing.
“H-hold on…”
“No.”
–BAM!
He delivered a swift, decisive blow to the Tanteroi student’s abdomen, driving him to the ground. The student crumpled, the air knocked out of his lungs, his body momentarily paralyzed.
Perfect. His weight perfectly centered, his balance impeccable, his strike landing with pinpoint accuracy. He was moving with an almost preternatural precision, his body responding instinctively to his every command.
It was exhilarating.
‘This is what it feels like to be strong.’
When you were powerful, you could dictate the terms of the engagement. You could control the flow of battle. You were untouchable.
He’d been weak for so long, forced to rely on tricks and schemes to survive. Now, he was finally experiencing the thrill of raw power, the intoxicating allure of overwhelming strength.
He’d taken down one; four remained.
In a one-versus-many situation, momentum was everything. Each successful strike, each eliminated opponent, chipped away at their resolve, fueled their fear, and made them question their ability to win. It also sowed seeds of doubt, making them distrust their comrades, their allies. He pressed his advantage, his movements relentless, his attacks precise and brutal.
“Seok-hyun!”
“Seriously, why do you keep…”
He paused mid-sentence, a sudden realization dawning on him.
Why was he fighting alone? Why hadn’t Mijuran and Woo Do-hyun joined the fray? He’d created the diversion, drawn the enemy’s attention—they should have been flanking him, targeting their leaders, exploiting the chaos.
And as if reading his thoughts, his body froze, his movements ceasing abruptly.
–Swish.
In that moment of vulnerability, Woo Do-hyun’s sword appeared at his throat, and Mijuran’s fist stopped inches from his solar plexus.
He was surrounded by his own teammates, their weapons drawn, their expressions grim.
‘…What…?’
Bellos’s magic crackled around his ankles, binding his feet, and Meiri’s Shinbi magic drained his strength, his body suddenly heavy, sluggish.
He was being restrained by his own team, an ironic twist in this chaotic battle.
He suspected some form of mind control, perhaps a hidden Main Skill wielded by one of the Tanteroi students, but that didn’t make sense.
‘It’s possible, but… how could a mere first-year manipulate four of Mirinae Academy’s top students, especially with their diverse skill sets?’
Had Tanteroi deliberately allowed themselves to be decimated in the earlier rounds, just to set up this trap? Was this all an elaborate ruse designed to capture him?
“Seok-hyun, please snap out of it!”
Her fourth desperate plea finally broke through the fog that had clouded his mind.
‘Why should I snap out of it?’
‘You’re the ones being controlled!’
He tried to speak, to explain the situation, but as he opened his mouth, the world shifted, his perception suddenly expanding, the fragmented memories coalescing, the truth flooding his mind.
–Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
The frantic whirring of Infinite Track, previously unnoticed, now resonated through his very being. He saw the Tanteroi students scattered across the arena, their bodies battered and broken. Arak was struggling to stand, his sword serving as a makeshift cane. He saw the devastation he’d wrought, the carnage he’d unleashed.
“…What is this?”
The dented armor, the shattered swords, the unmistakable signs of a brutal, one-sided beatdown. He’d effortlessly defeated five opponents without sustaining any significant injuries. It had happened so quickly, so instinctively, that he hadn’t even registered the fight.
He turned his gaze towards his teammates.
“…Are you… okay?”
“Seok-hyun, you’re so high-maintenance.”
Mijuran’s hair was disheveled, her face pale. Woo Do-hyun’s legs were trembling, his body shaking as if he were on the verge of collapse.
He finally understood.
‘It was me…’
His uncontrolled rampage.
It had all been him.
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what is ts man, why are they nerfing mc