Chapter 101

Chapter 101
## Chapter 101

### Title: The Basis of My Disdain for the Tournament

—

There are a handful of specific reasons why these competitive festivals don’t sit well with me.

One primary issue is that the more a tradition ages, the more convoluted and corrupt the management becomes.

This is especially true when a singular faction or nation wields an uneven amount of power over the proceedings.

“Grease the palms just enough, and ensure your friends receive their due share of favors.”

It’s all about nurturing growing networks through subtle manipulation and back-room deals.

We are literally going to draw steel and collide on the field anyway—what is the point of all this bribery or the frantic tugging of social strings?

In a legitimate competition, contenders aren’t supposed to have a clue who their opponents are until the moment of the draw. However, if you have the right “family” ties and a deep enough wallet, you can unearth secrets that are meant to stay buried.

This behavior is most prevalent among Korean hunters.

It makes sense, considering the majority of hunter corporations are headquartered in Korea, and the organizing country for this event is always Korea as well.

—To be fair, the prowess of Hunter Yoo Chan-seok is already legendary, but we must remember this is a global stage for the world’s elite prospects. Wouldn’t it be wiser to secure a bit of predictability in these brackets?

“I’ve heard you. I’ll weigh my options and contact you later.”

This is the exact reason my phone is a constant barrage of notifications and ringtones.

—If you stall for too long, the window of opportunity might slam shut. A chance to dictate your own path like this is a rare gift.

“I already told you, I’ll think it over and call you back.”

Why are these people so relentless? It’s beyond irritating. I can practically hear the man on the other side of the device gearing up for another round of pointless persuasion.

“Listen here, you piece of trash, you’re fully aware of what I’m saying, so why are you still running your mouth? Shut the hell up and get lost.”

I ended the call immediately after the outburst.

It feels like we’ve entered a period of history where civil discourse is no longer a viable currency for getting what you want.

I tossed my device onto the cushions of the couch and shifted my attention toward the window. Han Sang-ah was standing there, her gaze fixed vacantly on the world outside.

“What are you looking at?”

“A bird is sitting on the ledge of the window.”

“I have eyes, I can see that.”

Han Sang-ah gave a slight nod in response to my remark.

“I never suggested you were lacking sight.”

Is this what qualifies as a conversation these days? As I began preparing a cup of coffee using the machine in our quarters, I asked,

“Regardless, what is the official word from the association?”

“They claimed they would launch an inquiry, but three days have passed with zero progress. It appears they have no real motivation to act.”

I took a pull of my coffee and nodded slowly. That was the response I anticipated. The information I had channeled to the association through Han Sang-ah was straightforward.

It concerned the So-hwi incident from a while back.

There is absolutely no promise that a similar catastrophe won’t break out during this competition.

Securing a legitimate loan from a bank involves mountains of paperwork and scrutiny, but taking money from back-alley lenders is effortless. And anything that comes that easily is riddled with hidden dangers.

“I didn’t have Han Sang-ah deliver that message to the president with the hope that they would actually lift a finger.”

I have been betrayed so many times throughout my existence that I no longer possess high expectations for humanity.

Their lack of movement stems from one of two realities.

“Either the association views this as a trivial matter, or they are deeply entangled in the corruption themselves.”

“It’s bizarre they would see it as trivial. So-hwi caused significant destruction even within the heart of Seoul. People die in various accidents every day, but a monster-linked disaster of that scale hasn’t occurred in years.”

The association is likely in bed with the Korean government to a significant degree anyway.

“Who actually holds the leash between the state and the association is anyone’s guess, but one is clearly acting as the mouthpiece for the other.”

Han Sang-ah tilted her head slightly to the side and countered,

“Perhaps they are simply equal partners in business.”

“That concept might look good on paper, but it doesn’t exist in the real world.”

Business partners, please. In the actual world, people offer smiles and handshakes while secretly waiting for the perfect moment to swallow their counterpart whole.

A partnership where everyone wins? The very millisecond your ally falters, you consume them to maximize your own profits. Who in their right mind would ignore that chance just to keep playing nice?

The dynamic between the association and the government is undoubtedly the same.

“Even if one hasn’t completely turned the other into a puppet yet, a clear pecking order definitely exists.”

“So, what does that change for us?”

“It means we can’t confirm yet if Dangun’s heirs are acting as the association’s attack dogs or the government’s.”

Are they being steered by the Hunter Association, or are they tools of the state?

“It isn’t a pressing concern at this moment.”

Han Sang-ah’s read on the situation is accurate. But just because the house isn’t on fire right now doesn’t mean we should stop watching the matches.

It’s a puzzle piece to keep stored in the back of my mind.

“Pick up your blade.”

“Understood.”

Han Sang-ah tightened her grip on her sword at my command. I grabbed the spear I had acquired from Daebak Scrap Dealers and took my position across from her.

“You’ve reached a level where you can actually make the rankings.”

“I know.”

Han Sang-ah gave a confident nod. Her natural gifts had matured into genuine expertise, reinforced by a wealth of actual life-or-death combat.

Jeong Oh-hoon was in the same boat. I couldn’t be entirely sure of the final numbers, but I suspected both of them had the potential to break into the top 20.

“You were the one boasting about neutralizing Rank-1 Erosion Cores.”

To make the optics work in our favor, all three of us need to secure a spot in that top 20.

“We have to prove the rumors are true.”

Our small group under the banner of Headhunter was currently at the height of its fame. We were constantly batting away endless solicitations of every variety.

“We have many enemies.”

It’s more accurate to call them potential adversaries. Dangun’s heirs were the only ones being loud about their grudge, but plenty of other factions could turn on us depending on the direction of the wind.

Our reputation and raw power are the only things preventing those potential threats from becoming active ones.

“Victory is the only option.”

As I spoke, Han Sang-ah shifted her sword into a ready stance and asked,

“Do you truly believe you can take down Choi Yeo-reum?”

“I’ll have a definitive answer once we cross blades.”

The moment I finished my sentence, Han Sang-ah’s feet seemed to lose contact with the floor. She had generated a localized magnetic field beneath her.

“Your technique is improving. All those hours of training are showing results.”

Moving that way provided incredible velocity. However, it necessitated the placement of magnetic tracks on the ground, leaving a choice: let the rival read your movement path, or waste energy covering the entire floor in fields.

The former was too dangerous; the latter was a drain on mana reserves.

“I have dedicated the necessary effort.”

But Han Sang-ah had reached a point of exquisite mana regulation. With her energy under such tight discipline, she could establish her tracks without signaling her intent to the opponent.

“So, are you going to show me where you’re headed?”

“I am the exception to your rules.”

I traced a path through the air with the tip of my spear. It lined up perfectly with the invisible magnetic rail she had secretly deployed.

Han Sang-ah’s face immediately twisted into a scowl.

“Keep practicing.”

Rather than offering a verbal retort, she landed back on the floor with a heavy thud. There was no benefit to utilizing the track if the enemy already knew the destination—it was a waste of mana.

She pushed off the floor with explosive force, sword extended, and lunged at me with a flurry of strikes. The lightning woven into her steel hissed and crackled around my position with every swing.

“Even so, none of the rookies you’re going to face will be able to detect those magnetic rails in advance.”

“But you did.”

As I parried her fierce assault, I caught her in the midsection with the butt of the spear, sending her tumbling back.

“If you’re just going to swing blindly because you’re frustrated, go take a nap instead.”

After skidding across the floor and pushing herself back up, Han Sang-ah took a moment to steady her breathing. We continued our duel for another half hour before calling it a day.

“I can keep going.”

“Keep your stamina in check.”

The event was rapidly approaching. This wasn’t some random street fight—it was a controlled environment. We needed to prepare what we could and ensure our physical forms were at their peak.

“This isn’t a slaughter or a war.”

It was a sporting event. Fatalities were outliers, and the objective was to win points, not to end lives.

The idea of judging warriors who stare down monsters by using a game like this?

“Where has Jeong Oh-hoon disappeared to?”

“I’m not sure, he likely went to the range late last night.”

Last night? I should probably go drag him back here.

Both Han Sang-ah and Jeong Oh-hoon were bursting with ambition. Seeing young people so focused and determined before a major milestone was respectable, but they needed someone to pull the reins.

As I made my way to the shooting range, the sight of discarded brass casings rolling across the floor was the first thing to meet me.

“Good grief.”

How many rounds had he burned through? I stood back and observed Jeong Oh-hoon’s shooting form for a moment before speaking up.

“Jeong, that’s enough for today. Go get some rest.”

He lowered his firearm at the sound of my voice. I kicked a few of the casings with my boot and noticed the deep, dark shadows beneath his eyes.

“Did I go a little overboard?”

“A little? Don’t make me knock you unconscious. Get a grip on yourself.”

These were the same people who stayed perfectly composed when we headed into the depths of Jaun Valley, yet they were falling apart over a single tournament.

“Chan-seok, this isn’t some minor league game. Getting onto Hope’s List is massive. Even the act of being considered for it changes the way the entire world perceives you.”

Jeong Oh-hoon sat down heavily, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, checking his hands, and wrapping a fresh bandage over a raw cut.

“Hell, it would be weirder if I wasn’t feeling the pressure.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

He snapped back at my comment with a sharp edge to his voice.

“Forgive me, but I don’t have the luxury of sharing your perspective.”

He didn’t need to. I understood why they felt the weight of the moment.

The sheer gravity of the upcoming competition seemed to be crushing Han Sang-ah and Jeong Oh-hoon.

“I understand being nervous, but destroying your physical health over it is just plain dumb.”

Jeong Oh-hoon muttered in response,

“I can’t close my eyes. This damn insomnia is killing me.”

He was wound even tighter than Han Sang-ah. I clicked my tongue in disapproval, then utilized the Paradox Flame to incinerate his exhaustion and clear his mind.

“Go find something to eat. Even if you aren’t hungry, force yourself.”

With the tournament so close, a collapse in performance due to a nervous stomach would only make his anxiety worse.

“Do you want to know why I’m this tense?”

I gave him a blunt answer as he stood up.

“I have no idea. And honestly, I don’t care.”

Why he felt the pressure. Why he was so desperate for the prize money. It really wasn’t my concern. Countless individuals are driven by their own personal demons and goals.

I wasn’t interested in the ‘why’. We weren’t going to truly understand one another anyway. Only one thing was relevant.

“Our motivations are different, but for this moment, we are traveling the same path.”

We are running the same race for now. What happens later is anyone’s guess.

Not every passenger on a train from Seoul to Busan is actually going to Busan. Some get off at Gwangju, while others depart at Daejeon.

We move as a unit until the tracks diverge.

“You mentioned you need the cash? Reach your target, then quit whenever you like. I won’t hold it against you.”

We aren’t bound together for a lifetime.

I gave a casual wave to Jeong Oh-hoon as I exited the range.