Chapter 55: Arena Tournament(4)

I defeated my opponent and advanced to the Round of 64.

To be honest, it wasn’t anything special.

I had thoroughly analyzed my opponent, while they had failed to do the same.

Of course, even if they had known my playstyle, the result wouldn’t have changed. My talent was simply superior.

But it seemed that others didn’t see it that way.

Guild chat and world chat erupted in flames.

My nickname and guild name were being mentioned repeatedly.

Honestly, it felt a little good, but the title that followed—Blood Demon—was far too embarrassing.

Closing my eyes, I slowly replayed the match in my head.

What if I had swung my sword in a different direction?

Not to the right, but to the left—or used a different skill in that moment?

In the scenes playing out in my mind, I was already engaging in a new battle.

My opponent remained the same pro player, still using the nickname Kiki.

But no matter how I fought him, the outcome never changed.

He could never defeat me.

Lost in my own thoughts, time passed by.

The Round of 128 had ended.

A total of 50 minutes had been allocated for the matches, followed by a 10-minute break.

As soon as the break ended, the Round of 64 began.

Like the other competitors, I stood up and unsheathed my sword.

The arena matchmaking began, and with a small flash of light, I was teleported.

The wide, flat battlefield carried the same strange tension as always.

I ran my toes lightly across the arena floor.

The solid ground beneath me felt unnervingly realistic.

From across the battlefield, I felt an intense gaze.

A male character, seemingly around 180 cm tall, was glaring at me, gripping a sword and shield.

He was clad in full plate armor, faint light radiating from his body.

That meant he had chosen Paladin as his second- and third-rank class.

His first-rank class didn’t matter much.

Considering class synergies, he had likely started as a Knight, and for his fourth-rank class, he had chosen Paladin, the advanced form of a Holy Knight.

An extreme endurance build with formidable defense.

His class choice revealed his cautious personality.

After a brief countdown, the match began.

My opponent advanced slowly, keeping his body hidden behind his shield.

He looked just like a moving fortress.

[Storm-inzk]

Another pro player.

Even in the world of VRS, he had always fought with a massive shield and heavy armor, prioritizing extreme safety.

His personality hadn’t changed here either.

He remained bound to his old playstyle.

As soon as we closed the distance, I swung my sword without hesitation.

There was no need for a probing exchange to gauge his skill.

I planned to go all out from the start.

Swiiish!

My blade shot forward at high speed.

He reacted immediately.

His massive leg stepped forward, raising his shield.

A movement meant to push my sword away.

An incomprehensible choice.

Why had he moved his shield forward?

At that moment—

Clang!

A crisp sound rang out as my sword struck his shield, and my body shook violently.

I was forced a step back.

But so was he.

His helmet completely concealed his expression, but for a brief moment, his breathing faltered.

He was flustered.

From that single clash, he had felt confusion.

—Why?

My mind began racing.

I analyzed his reaction, searching for the reason behind his hesitation.

My eyes moved relentlessly, tracking every slight movement.

His body, which had retreated backward, subtly rotated, straightening his posture.

The leg that had stepped back now served to stabilize his upper body.

Swish—!

His sword extended in a precise, razor-sharp trajectory, barely grazing the top of my head.

His aim was perfect.

I was simply faster.

Using my lowered stance, I swiftly closed the distance and thrust my sword.

Whoosh!

As my white blade cut through the air, he quickly raised his shield.

Clang—!

The tip of my sword scraped against his shield, creating a burst of sparks.

His entire body was pushed back.

And in that instant—his breathing faltered again.

Something felt off.

Then, I understood.

“This… This is…!”

Hearing his voice, tinged with frustration, I stopped moving.

He had hurriedly backed away, shifting into a defensive stance with his sword and shield, but his expression showed confusion.

This guy…

He didn’t understand the game system.

In Deron’s Arena, all stats were standardized.

A character’s appearance had no effect on their stats.

While factors like arm and leg length could influence reach, the strength we possessed was identical.

“You.”

“”

“Fight properly. Don’t underestimate me just because I’m small.”

It would have been easy to end this fight instantly, to slice through his defenses and take his head.

But I didn’t want to.

I wanted to drag out his full strength and completely crush him.

This guy, too, had rejected my goodwill, refunded all of my sponsorship, and humiliated me by calling me a kid.

“This is strange.”

“What is?”

“If this were VRS, you wouldn’t even be able to play with a character like that.”

“Hey…”

“I know. This isn’t VRS, it’s Deron.”

As he spoke, he casually swung his sword and shield back and forth, as if they were mere toys.

“It’s too light. Way too light. It doesn’t feel real at all.”

“We’re in a tournament. Focus.”

“Focus? There’s no way I can. The difference from VRS is too extreme—it’s disorienting.”

Seeing me frown, he let out a small laugh.

Then, swinging randomly into the air, he recklessly unleashed several skills before turning to me.

“If you want to win, I’ll just let you. Honestly, I don’t care about this game.”

“…You’ll let me win?”

“Yeah. It’s boring. I can’t do this anymore.”

Boring.

This game? Deron?

He really meant it.

He spread his arms wide, as if completely unbothered.

As if telling me to hurry up and finish this.

My grip on the sword tightened.

His insulting words made my head burn with rage.

But it wasn’t the kind of pain that came from burning out.

The more the heat rose to my head, the calmer my mind became.

“What are you doing? Hurry up and finish it already.”

Dozens of images flashed through my overheated mind.

My body began to move.

I was replicating the movements of a swordsman I had seen before.

The dull pain in my head grew sharper.

A searing white pain spread through my burning mind.

“That stance…”

My left hand clenched into a fist, positioned forward as if holding a shield.

My right hand gripped the sword in a reverse grip, with the blade extending behind me.

My legs were shoulder-width apart, slightly bent.

It should look familiar.

It had to be.

Because the stance I was showing him was the same one he had taken during the most critical moments in VRS.

The Storm team’s players had slight variations, but their sword forms were all similar.

“Raise your sword.”

“You… No, wait. Are you from our team…?”

“Raise your sword. Before I cut you down.”

He had been holding his weapon in an awkward stance, but at my words, he hesitated for a moment before adjusting his form to match mine.

A strange silence settled between us.

“I’ll fight the way you like.”

“The way I like…?”

“Like VRS. I won’t use any skills.”

It wouldn’t be exactly the same.

But I could recreate something similar.

Realizing that I was serious, he let out a dry chuckle and began raising his fighting spirit.

“If this is just a half-baked imitation, I’m forfeiting immediately.”

“If you have the time for that, go ahead and try.”

And with that—

There was no hesitation.

Neither of us waited.

Our swords clashed in midair, creating a crisp, ringing sound.

Clang!

Even though we were using the same sword techniques, there was one crucial difference—I had no shield.

He knew it as well.

I couldn’t perfectly replicate his fighting style.

But that was fine.

So I recreated it in my own way—a mixture of all the techniques I had studied, opponents I had fought, and countless battle clips ingrained into my mind.

The fight started with my footwork.

A small twist of my ankle triggered a subtle rotation.

That force flowed through my calf and thigh, prompting my opponent to react.

His shield moved forward.

It was the best possible choice—to block my movement while simultaneously cutting off my attack.

But my reversed sword swayed through the air like a gust of wind.

I didn’t need to follow his stance perfectly.

Because this wasn’t VRS. This was Deron.

And unlike VRS, Deron had stat balancing—movements that were impossible in reality became possible here.

Clang!

A strike that felt as if I had thrown my entire body into it crashed onto his shield.

The sheer force sent him staggering backward.

I didn’t miss the opportunity.

Using the remaining rotational force in my body, I kicked off the ground and leaped.

With my upper body thrust forward, my body began to spin in the air.

The moment I soared above my opponent, I swung my reversed sword once more.

Swish!

The tip of my blade targeted the gap in his helmet’s joint, slicing through his neck.

A direct hit to a fatal weak point.

But I didn’t stop.

As I landed behind him, I immediately twisted my body and slashed again.

Clang!

My sword struck his waist with a powerful swing.

His thick armor prevented the blade from sinking in, but the impact was enough to make his body stagger.

His health was dropping fast.

If he didn’t use the paladin’s healing skill, the continuous bleeding damage would surely kill him.

But he didn’t heal himself.

Instead, his body turned gray and collapsed.

Winner.
[Yeon]
1 win, 0 losses.

Loser.
[Storm-inzk]
0 wins, 1 loss.

As the match result appeared, both our bodies were engulfed in a faint light and returned to our original places.

He stared at me silently.

There was no forfeit.

After a brief waiting time, he resumed his stance and charged at me again.

Every moment was precise.

Every attack was sharp.

But the outcome didn’t change.

Of course, it didn’t.

My talent surpassed his.

Winner.
[Yeon]
2 wins, 0 losses.

Loser.
[Storm-inzk]
0 wins, 2 losses.

The opponent, now covered in a murky gray hue, removed his helmet and looked at me.

His expression was filled with disbelief.

“You… Which team are you from?”

A team?

Well, if I had to say, I was somewhat affiliated with one.

“Malleable Chewy Cow.”

“W-What kind of team name is that…?”

That was the last conversation we had before I was ejected from the arena in a faint glow.

[Yeon advances to the Round of 32.]