Chapter 51…
The Heavenly Demon’s eyes were, quite literally, black orbs holding the depths of an abyss.
At times, it seemed like flashes of red light streaked across them, but that was nothing more than an illusion.
Yet, it was not something that could be dismissed as just an illusion.
A manifestation of killing intent.
The dangerous, primal, sticky hostility radiating from someone intent on killing him seemed to take shape as that crimson glow.
Crack!
A powerful blow struck straight into his abdomen.
And this wasn’t even using an unauthorized program like Killing Target.
“Urgh!?”
It felt like an actual impact had slammed into him—like a real fist had sunk into his stomach.
“Blegh!”
His insides twisted, and nausea welled up.
“Haa… haa… s-stop!”
It was torture.
Five minutes per round.
Short if short, long if long.
In this endless map, there were only two ways to determine victory or defeat.
Thud!
“Gah!”
First, when either his or his opponent’s HP gauge reached zero.
Smack!
“Ugh!?”
Second, when the timer hit zero.
At that moment, whoever had more health remaining would win.
Bam-bam-bam!
Even though he wanted to surrender each time those fists drove into him—
Surrender was impossible.
Systemically impossible.
I… I have to disconnect…!
In reality, the blows weren’t delivering real pain.
It was pressure, fear—
And the phantom pain he felt, heightened by extreme concentration while running an unauthorized program.
Goktonggae knew that much.
But still, he couldn’t help but tremble from this unreasonable torment.
Crack!
“Guh!”
A punch crashed into his face, snapping his head to the side.
His whole body staggered.
It stung.
If I can just disconnect somehow…!
Then he’d be free.
He could escape.
Goktonggae’s thoughts raced as he groped for the emergency stop button on his capsule.
Wait a second.
But he was using an unauthorized program.
If the system suddenly cut his connection now…?
“—Recently, VR capsule-related deaths have been occurring one after another…”
“—During a power outage while using unauthorized programs…”
“—Unauthorized programs spreading underground without even passing safety tests. Can this be allowed to continue?”
The voices of current-affairs programs and news reports he had once scoffed at suddenly flashed through his head.
He didn’t want to die.
That much was only natural.
Goktonggae just wanted to mess with arrogant streamers.
By chance, he got his hands on an unauthorized program. Using it, he crushed opponents in tournaments one after another.
And in the end, he planned to quietly disappear as though nothing had happened.
Of course, there had been some greed involved.
What if he gained fame for his “physical ability”—though it was thanks to the program?
Like that rookie, Lee Ji-han, famous for his Zombress plays, maybe he could also rise to fame overnight.
Greed any human could naturally harbor.
Though just that much.
Malice? Honestly, he had a little of that too.
But still, this… this isn’t worth dying for!
He cried out inwardly, his eyes following Lee Ji-han’s flying fists.
Even if the program allowed him to parry them all,
The longer the match dragged on, the worse it became for him.
The dissonance between body and vision.
The dizzying spinning of his sight.
It was literal motion sickness, one wave after another.
Add the phantom pain to that, and his body rapidly began breaking down.
“K–Killing Target, shut down! End program!”
Goktonggae screamed desperately, even as he was beaten bloody by Lee Ji-han.
A forfeit loss? His nickname plastered all over Pretzel?
He didn’t care anymore.
Even if someone doxxed him, he would accept it.
The bizarre pain racking his body had already gone beyond his limits.
Bzzzt!
As the program ended, the slowed-down time returned to normal perception.
Bam-bam-bam-bam!
Lee Ji-han’s barrage of fists filled his vision.
Now he couldn’t keep up at all.
Ha… but this is better.
No more dizziness.
No more strange phantom pain.
That alone satisfied Goktonggae.
But…
Even as he was beaten like a dog, one question popped into his mind.
How the hell is he keeping up with a program on his own? Is he using one too? If not…
Is he just a monster?
Crack!
He never got his answer.
All he felt was one final, aura-laced punch.
Thud!
His vision faded to black.
* * *
After the first match ended, Geum Dae-hyeop suspended the tournament.
The reasoning was clear.
The cheater himself admitted to using the unauthorized program “Killing Target.”
From there, everything moved quickly.
His record was wiped.
Tens of thousands of viewers clipped and archived the match.
But there were no requests for a rematch.
How could there be, when the one who had crushed a program-cheater with pure physical skill was right in front of them?
None of the other competitors wanted to face Lee Ji-han again.
Naturally so.
This was only a rookie tournament.
These were newbies who had only just entered the martial world.
Who would dare challenge the Heavenly Demon who had already slain the Blood Sect’s leader?
“Mr. Ji-han! Could I please have a match with you?”
“M–Mr. Ji-han! Just one round! Please!”
In fact, more people from the mentor side were asking to spar with him.
Ji-han was a little exhausted.
He had just been forced to match the speed of a program with his own reflexes, through extreme concentration.
Even so, he smiled faintly.
For one reason.
If I don’t step forward, won’t that streamer who mentored Goktonggae end up getting blamed?
That was how the streaming world worked.
Even if it was impossible to know whether someone used an unauthorized program or not, just being associated with them could ruin you.
If it ended as nothing more than a traffic-grabbing incident, that would be one thing.
But this industry wasn’t so forgiving.
Ji-han didn’t know the streamer scene deeply, but—
Even back when I trained, I got flak just for being around people suspected of doping, even though I didn’t use anything myself.
It was just experience talking.
So, Ji-han decided to deflect the arrows toward himself to protect Goktonggae’s mentor.
Drip.
Suddenly, his nose started bleeding.
[???]
[He’s bleeding again?]
[Ji-han, take a break. No need for another match.]
[Just end the stream, seriously.]
[You fought a cheater program. You deserve rest. No one will complain. Just log off.]
[Please, just rest already!]
The chat exploded in panic.
But Ji-han knew what would happen if he rested now.
Sensational tabloid stories.
Sports journalists tearing people apart.
He had seen colleagues crash and burn overnight.
Some had actually doped, but others had merely shown concern for the wrong person—and still went down with them.
Just being “associated” was enough to ruin lives.
So Ji-han wiped his bloody nose casually and said,
“Then why don’t we play a few exhibition matches?”
As if he were inviting people out for a walk.
[LOL what the hell!]
[Guess he really enjoyed Kanghogyeomrok.]
[At least stop the nosebleed before continuing. Don’t overdo it.]
“Haha, thanks for the concern. But it hasn’t even been four hours yet, and I’m still feeling fine.”
He smiled faintly at the chat.
“Well then, who wants to go first?”
At that lighthearted declaration—
“Me first!”
“No, me!”
“Move aside, I said I’m first!”
“No way, I called dibs already!”
The tournament Discord erupted into chaos.
[LOL what is this]
[All the big names are lining up!]
[Ji-han’s insane]
[Truly worthy of the Heavenly Demon title!]
[Early-payment privilege in action, lol]
[That was real discipline—true education!]
[Honestly, it felt great. Nice work, Ji-han!]
[Cheaters deserve to be wiped out, lol]
[But what happens now? His avatar and nickname are already exposed…]
[Ji-han’s stepping up to control the firestorm, so let’s just stay quiet for now.]
[Wait and see. Don’t jump ahead.]
Even the chat atmosphere grew lighter.
Ji-han smirked and stepped into the training arena, while Geum Dae-hyeop let out a sigh of relief.
Ji-han was a lifeline.
The atmosphere could have rotted instantly, but he had revived it with ease.
Geum Dae-hyeop silently thanked him over and over.
Outwardly, he expressed it as—
Besides the prize money, I’ll have to send him a nice dining voucher or something. Thank you, Mr. Ji-han.
Gratitude, expressed in tangible form.
And so, the exhibition matches began.
* * *
The matches were overwhelming.
Not one-sided, but dazzling.
Ji-han gave everything, focusing to the extreme, trying to crush opponents with sheer physical skill.
His opponents, in turn, fought back with their built-up experience and relentless reflexes.
The spectacle naturally reminded people of the Great War with the Heavenly Demon.
The Heavenly Demon had once invaded the central plains.
Alone, he had crushed every martial hero.
Thus, one by one, reclusive masters emerged to challenge him.
“Argh! I lost!”
“I surrender!”
But they too met death after fierce life-and-death battles.
Who could stop the Heavenly Demon?
“Disciple, looks like I’m the last one left.”
Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
The disciple who became the Heavenly Demon.
And the master who raised him.
It was the perfect narrative, electrifying viewers’ dopamine.
Whish!
Namgung Hyung’s divine strike shot forth.
Clang!
Ji-han parried it.
A perfect exchange.
Where would this clash lead?
Strike after strike, they shaved away at each other without rest.
The health gauges barely moved.
With well-timed dodges and guards,
Two matches even stretched to five minutes, decided only by points.
And after what felt like ten eternal minutes, only one last match remained.
“Disciple, you’re truly strong.”
“Master, you’re stronger. I’m nearly at my limit.”
The Heavenly Demon acknowledged his limit.
In a wuxia novel, he might have vomited blood.
But Ji-han merely wiped at his nosebleed and grinned.
Whish!
At the same time, Ji-han’s avatar shot forward—
Swift as an arrow, slicing the air, streaking toward Namgung Hyung.
One strike.
Everything riding on a single, killing blow.
Namgung Hyung smiled, calmly readying his stance.
“Come, disciple.”
Clash!
The two collided head-on.
The battle between these two monsters—destined to be remembered forever on Pretzel—
“Hahaha! I’ll win this time, disciple!”
“Master, are you sure about that?”
Thus began.
