Chapter 107

Chapter 107
## Chapter 107: Championship Showdown and the Bold Defiance

—

The final match of the tournament brought me face-to-face with Han Sang-ah.

“The stadium is practically unanimous in favoring Hunter Yoo Chan-seok for the victory. Both the broadcast commentators and the statistical experts are singing the same tune.”

“The real mystery everyone is focused on is just how long Hunter Han Sang-ah can withstand his assault.”

“It truly is a setback that Hunter Jeong No-hun was forced out by disqualification. The pundits are arguing that his showing in the opening round was dominant enough that he would be the one standing across from Hunter Yoo Chan-seok right now if things had gone differently, and nobody would have questioned it.”

They were mistaken. Regardless of the circumstances, Han Sang-ah possessed a level of mastery that stood firmly above Jeong No-hun’s.

While it was true that Jeong No-hun might secure a win under a specific set of perfect variables, the mere fact that he relied on such conditions proved that Han Sang-ah was the superior combatant.

“Do you want me to hold back a little?”

“If it makes you feel better, go ahead. But don’t do it for my sake. It isn’t necessary.”

The energy radiating from the spectators was starkly different from my earlier bouts—it was a heavy mix of pure adrenaline and high-strung nerves. That collective breath-holding carried many layers of meaning.

“What’s your take on this?”

“Looking at it purely on paper, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok holds the advantage. However, they are comrades who have bled on the same battlefields. Plus, those persistent rumors are starting to swirl again.”

That was the primary irritation. Exactly that.

No matter how many times we dismissed the idea, the public clung to it with a feverish intensity, desperate to fabricate a romantic connection between Han Sang-ah and myself.

It was reaching a point of genuine annoyance. People simply perceive what fits their narrative and listen only to the stories they want to believe.

The chime signaling the start of the duel rang out. Without a single indicator of who initiated the movement, Han Sang-ah and I both vanished from the sight of the crowd.

When we materialized again, her blade was locked against my polearm. A thunderous boom echoed as the atmospheric pressure between us detonated.

The resulting kinetic wave slammed into the audience members in the front rows with such force that snacks were knocked clean out of their grip.

“Let’s drop the act and fight for real. Unleash every bit of power you have. That’s the only way you won’t walk away from this with regrets.”

“That was always the plan.”

Han Sang-ah executed a series of quick slashes to force a gap between us, retreating a few paces before launching herself forward with renewed momentum. She twisted her frame into a wide, sweeping arc as she lunged.

Such a massive telegraph leaves a glaring opening for a counter-thrust, I noted, shifting my spear to capitalize on the mistake—but then I paused, blinking in genuine interest.

“Well, look at that.”

Several ethereal blue streaks shimmered into existence around Han Sang-ah, nearly identical to the trajectories of my Shadow Spears. The underlying mechanics were distinct, and the ultimate effect differed as well.

My spectral trails persist until I choose to extinguish them. Hers were ephemeral—vanishing the moment they delivered their strike.

“Incredible! Is Hunter Han Sang-ah attempting to replicate Hunter Yoo Chan-seok’s trademark technique right now?”

“A daring strategy! I initially feared she was being far too careless, but those phantom strikes are compensating for her openings perfectly!”

The announcer’s read on the situation was accurate. She had intentionally baited me with a heavy, slow attack to create a lure, then masked the vulnerability with an imitation of my own style.

“Impressive. How many times did you watch me perform that to learn it?”

“Was it five?”

Han Sang-ah replied to my inquiry, and I felt a smirk tug at my lips.

“You’ve certainly sharpened your eyes since we last trained. But the actual number is seven.”

“Damn.”

With that brief exchange over, she let loose a relentless storm of sword paths. Blades infused with mana shimmered like a deluge of falling silver. I deflected every single strike with calculated precision, steadily closing the distance.

“This has escalated into a world-class exchange. The sheer technical depth of this combat is staggering.”

“It’s breathtaking. This far exceeds the intensity of any match we’ve witnessed in the earlier brackets.”

The arena floor was beginning to buckle under the weight of our power. Fissures spread like spiderwebs across the stone, with fragments of the stage being ripped away in the crossfire.

The structure hadn’t been engineered to withstand this level of force. I shifted into an aggressive offensive, forcing Han Sang-ah to pull her blade into a defensive guard.

The screech of grinding metal filled the air as sparks cascaded between us. I leaned into the strike with my full weight, pinning her weapon against my spear and driving her backward.

Her boots skidded across the ruined floor until her spine collided violently with the perimeter wall.

“Ngh.”

“Stings, doesn’t it? That’s the benefit of being young. You can take it.”

Han Sang-ah released her grip on her sword and dropped into a low crouch, lunging for my ankles with both hands. I shifted my weight to step out of her reach, then snapped a quick, vertical kick toward her jaw.

There was a heavy thud as her head was whipped back by the impact. Gritting her teeth against the shock, she snatched her fallen blade and swung it in a low horizontal arc at my shins.

I vaulted into the air to clear the blade, only to see a kick aimed squarely at my midsection. I slammed my elbow down onto her rising shin to intercept it.

Naturally, I held back enough power to ensure I didn’t actually shatter the bone. There was no point in that. She wasn’t a traitor or an enemy, after all.

“Ahk!”

She cried out in pain but refused to let it slow her down, swinging the very leg I had just struck in a high, descending overhead smash toward my shoulder.

Fine, I’ll concede this exchange.

A sharp crack echoed as her heel connected solidly with my shoulder.

I seized her ankle the moment the strike landed, as if I had been anticipating the contact, and slung her across the arena. Her body cut through the air, tumbling across the stone before she rolled and pivoted back to her feet.

“Good grief, who taught you to be this stubborn?”

She had an incredible capacity for absorbing punishment. Perhaps I had been too relentless during our training sessions? This level of physical trauma didn’t seem to shake her resolve at all.

“They are trading incredibly heavy blows.”

“It appears Hunter Han Sang-ah is bearing the brunt of the physical toll.”

Though we were both wielding weapons, neither of us was restricted by them. We discarded them the moment they became a hindrance, utilizing unorthodox strikes to find gaps in each other’s armor.

The reality was clear: I was slowly but surely taking total command of the fight. The stage itself was now a demolished ruin.

“…That’s enough.”

Finally, Han Sang-ah faltered, falling to her knees while gasping for air. She let her weapon clatter to the ground and held up both hands in surrender.

“Well fought.”

The contest was over. I walked over and extended a hand to her. She grasped it and pulled herself up.

“Everything in my body is screaming.”

“You should be relieved it’s over.”

A roar of applause filled the stadium as the qualifying rounds of the tournament reached their conclusion. The final phase was now at hand: selecting a Hunter from the Hope’s List and initiating a challenge.

Following the trophy presentation and a brief round of media questions, all the finalists were brought together.

“Beginning with our champion, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok, please announce the name of the challenger you wish to face.”

The room was thick with hushed speculation. Not every individual on the Hope’s List was currently present in Seoul, so the choice of opponent would dictate the timeline of the upcoming battle.

The most pragmatic strategy for securing a spot on the Hope’s List was to challenge the individual ranked at 100.

But that had never been my intention.

“Hunter Yoo Chan-seok, please identify the Hunter you are officially challenging.”

I pulled the microphone close and spoke with total clarity.

“I nominate Hunter Choi Yeoreum.”

A heavy, stunned silence blanketed the room—the fellow Hunters, the television audience, and the event staff were all frozen.

“One moment… Hunter Choi Yeoreum? The actual Hunter Choi Yeoreum?”

I gave the host a firm nod of confirmation.

“The individual I am challenging is indeed Choi Yeoreum, who holds the third rank on the Hope’s List.”

Once the words were verified, the entire event seemed to grind to a halt. Online forums and live viewers exploded into a chaotic frenzy of speculation.

The Association officials and event coordinators were likely suffering from collective migraines at that very moment. The nomination process was briefly suspended as the President of the Korea Hunter Association and the event chairman hurried toward me.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Would I pull a ‘just kidding’ prank in front of a live audience of millions?”

I retrieved an ion drink from the nearby lounge refrigerator and continued.

“This isn’t some impulsive whim. I’m well aware of the crown currently sitting in the Association’s vault.”

“You don’t mean…”

I popped the tab on the can and offered a faint grin.

“Leaving a treasure of that caliber to collect dust in a storage room? What was the logic there?”

The President sighed before responding.

“If the necessary criteria are met, the Korea Hunter Association is bound to honor our prior agreements. However, an artifact of that power attracts a dangerous amount of attention.”

“Which is exactly why I’m calling out Hunter Choi Yeoreum.”

One cannot simply walk away with a prize like that without consequences. If I took possession of the crown, a line of predatory Hunters would form to take it from me.

“If I were to just barely meet the requirements and take it, then yes, every greedy Hunter out there would try their luck. But what happens if I take it after defeating Hunter Choi Yeoreum?”

The number of people brave—or foolish—enough to try and steal it would vanish instantly. The reputation attached to Choi Yeoreum’s name is that formidable.

“That logic only holds up if you actually win, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok,” the chairman cautioned.

“If I fail, then that’s simply where my journey ends…”

Before I could finish my thought, the ceiling above us detonated in a shower of debris, and a figure touched down directly in front of me. Her specialized riding gear was unmistakable.

“Hunter Choi Yeoreum. It’s been a while.”

She stood there with her arms folded, burning a hole through me with her gaze.

“You’ve finally snapped, brat.”

“Hunter Choi Yeoreum—”

The President cleared his throat to intervene, but she raised a sharp hand to silence him. He went quiet immediately.

“Save it, President. I didn’t come here to trade pleasantries with you.”

Her cold authority effectively muzzled both the President and the chairman. She stepped forward until she was looming over me. I had a slight advantage in height, forcing her to look up, yet the sheer aura she projected was suffocating.

“I’ve disliked you since the moment we met.”

“Is that so? Personally, I found our first encounter to be quite significant.”

Waves of mana began to roll off her, exerting a heavy pressure on my shoulders. I stood my ground, refusing to flinch. Around us, the lounge furniture began to creak and groan under the weight of her intent.

“This is your final opportunity to retract that challenge.”

“We’re far past that point.”

She turned her attention away from me briefly.

“President. Chairman. I am officially accepting Yoo Chan-seok’s nomination. However, this duel will be conducted under the pre-Daegu Accord regulations.”

The President’s throat tightened as he swallowed hard.

“Hunter Choi Yeoreum, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok is a vital prospect for our future. In the interest of the Daegu Accord’s principles—”

“No Accord rules, or there is no fight.”

I had been listening to the back-and-forth, so I finally raised a hand.

“Someone want to fill me in on the details?”

“Prior to the Daegu Accord, duels between Hunters were exceptionally high-stakes and dangerous,” the President explained succinctly. The Accord had been established to ban the use of certain lethal abilities in sanctioned duels and prohibited any strikes intended to cause permanent disability.

“To put it bluntly: as long as the heart was still beating at the end, anything was legal.”

Choi Yeoreum’s eyes flashed with a predatory, lethal light as she stared me down.

“That sounds perfectly fine to me.”

Everything I had participated in up until now felt more like a regulated sport than a genuine life-or-death struggle.

“You little punk. Let’s see if that arrogance remains after I’ve scorched the skin from your bones.”

It was obvious that my composure was grating on her nerves.

“I accept Hunter Choi Yeoreum’s terms. The organizing committee probably wants a high-tension atmosphere for the finale anyway, don’t they?”

“Even so… if either of you sustains a career-ending injury, it would be a catastrophic loss for the nation’s strength.”

I understood the chairman’s perspective, but it didn’t change my mind.

“This is a private matter between Hunter Choi Yeoreum and myself. The Association and the committee are officially absolved of all liability.”

I gave my full consent to her conditions. When the two combatants are in total agreement on the stakes, there’s no need for anyone else to weigh in.