Meanwhile, as Go Taemin and Chae Geonuk were holding their modest little celebration, word that someone had achieved an undefeated promotion for the first time in the history of the Japan Amateur League was spreading across the globe like wildfire.

—  — The New York Times

—  — Asahi Shimbun

—  — L’Équipe

—  — Xinhua News Agency

—  — Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung

—  — Bloomberg

—  — Corriere della Sera

—  — Der Spiegel

—  — Daehyun Daily

The reason the entire world was paying attention was simple: Akwi had not signed with any legion yet.

A rare undefeated promotion, an aura of mystery since his identity remained completely unrevealed, and above all, the fact that he was an Open Asset — an unattached free agent — drew eyes from every corner of the earth.

Naturally, major legions around the world took a sudden interest in Akwi’s performance, tuning in to watch his final match with their own eyes to evaluate his skill.

The consensus…

“A mere C-rank…?”

“His fundamentals are atrocious, and his sword technique leaves much to be desired. Still, his stamina and physical conditioning seem reasonably well developed.”

As George Miller murmured while skimming through the data on the tablet screen, Jack Morrison chimed in right on cue beside them.

The two were scouts for Atlas, one of the Big Four legions in the United States.

Atlas was a colossal organization boasting super warriors among its ranks, and they were currently giving serious thought to recruiting Akwi.

“Which is all the more reason we must secure him. For someone with fundamentals this raw to reach pro status undefeated means there is an unquantifiable talent in his play.”

After a brief pause, Jack Morrison spoke again.

“I agree. If he managed this much while failing basic technique, I can hardly imagine what kind of monster he’ll become once he receives structured training and proper conditioning.”

George replayed the final sequence in slow motion.

On the screen, Akwi parried Ninja’s blade by a hair’s breadth, closing the distance.

“Especially this part. The timing where he evades Ninja’s strike and transitions into a counterattack gave even me chills. Like a beast snapping up its prey.”

Even upon second viewing, his sense of distance was exceptional.

That was not something one could pick up through mere drills or repetition.

And… most legions had surely recognized that talent in Akwi as well.

“Have you looked into which legions are trying to contact Demon?”

“Confirmed so far are Korea’s Maengse Legion, and…”

“Hah, forget about them.”

Miller scoffed.

Korea was a backwater with no proper warrior development system to speak of.

There was no way Akwi would join a legion from a country like that.

“Japan’s showing interest, obviously?”

“Of course. Jinen, Makazuki, Shiranui, Fudo, and Kasaneba. All of their Big Five legions have reportedly jumped into the race for Demon.”

“Fierce competition.”

“On top of that, Crownfall, Eisenricht, Robe Noire, and the Heavenly Demon Cult are preparing contract offers for Demon as well.”

Legions from Britain, Germany, France, Canada, China, and other powerhouse nations were mobilizing.

Yet among those names, one made George Miller tilt his head.

“The Heavenly Demon Cult? A Chinese outfit is showing interest? Don’t they refuse to scout anyone outside their own nationality?”

“Rumor has it Demon might be Chinese.”

“Tsk, that would be the worst-case scenario.”

It was nothing new for Chinese players to slip into Japanese, Korean, or Taiwanese servers under burner handles to stir up trouble.

That possibility couldn’t be ruled out here either.

Still, Miller chose not to dwell on it.

Whether Akwi was Chinese or Japanese didn’t matter.

What mattered was that he was a contract-eligible warrior — an OA.

“Doesn’t matter if he’s Chinese or North Korean. Atlas has to land Demon, no matter what. Offer citizenship if that’s what it takes. Throw in a flashy penthouse in Manhattan too.”

“Understood.”

George Miller closed the tablet.

Now only one question remained: Who would reach Demon first, and at how high a price?

And Atlas Legion held a fairly high win rate in that arena.

George Miller curled the corners of his mouth into a broad grin.

“Nova Arena is about to get a whole lot more interesting.”

The following day, the pro license was successfully issued.

I decided to register my handle in Hanja as 惡鬼. It was my senior’s suggestion, meant to leave everyone guessing about my nationality.

Thanks to him shouldering the complicated administrative paperwork for the legion and everything else, I could focus entirely on preparing for the pro league.

The first order of business was studying the pro league itself.

Depending on the rules and format of the matches, the foundational skills I needed to prepare right away would differ.

To come away with victories when thrust into random battlefields, I had to understand how this whole scene operated first.

Fortunately, I knew very well how to study unfamiliar territory to grasp it quickly and accurately.

“Starting in the pro league, things are very different from the amateur circuit. What do you think changes?”

Chae Geonuk, now playing the role of teacher, posed the question. I gave a wide yawn before answering.

“Yeaaah, well, the name’s different, I guess.”

“…First of all, in the pro league, you can only enter a match if you receive an offer. It’s not like the amateur league where you queue up for matchmaking.”

Chae Geonuk tapped on the monitor.

In short, without an offer, a pro license was nothing more than an expensive paperweight.

“And the matches aren’t just simple one-on-one duels either. You receive specific missions to carry out. In Ashmoon Night 189, which just wrapped up, the mission was a siege defense. One thousand participants. And roughly ten thousand invading NPCs.”

Chae Geonuk worked the keyboard and brought up a video.

The frozen screen gradually brightened, revealing the silhouette of massive stone ramparts.

“…Whoa.”

Past the sturdy parapets built of gray stone, nearly a thousand people were bustling about in distinct gear.

Clad in all sorts of armor and brandishing varied weaponry, they shouted commands and formed battle lines, while thick plumes of smoke rose from enormous cauldrons boiling oil inside the walls.

The camera moved past the smoke, panning down below the ramparts.

Soldiers blanketed the earth as far as the horizon, marching forward with ground-shaking force.

A living hell unfolded moments later.

Catapults in the rear boomed, launching boulders the size of houses, followed by a sky-blotting rain of arrows pouring over the ramparts.

My jaw dropped as I watched the footage.

“This is insane.”

I understood in an instant why people went wild for Nova Arena.

Soccer? Baseball? Mixed martial arts?

No traditional sport could ever replicate this scale.

An overwhelming spectacle of tens of thousands of combatants clashing was something only Nova Arena could offer.

“Well? Pretty wild, isn’t it?”

Chae Geonuk paused the video and asked casually.

I nodded, utterly transfixed.

At the same time, my heart was already pounding.

The spectator count for this match was an astounding five hundred thousand.

Before long, I would be standing on a stage like that myself. Or, depending on how things played out, I might even become the centerpiece of it.

For someone like me, who had lived in the shadows my whole life, it was a picture I could hardly fathom.

“All right, want to see the next one? Match 7 was… monster subjugation, looks like.”

“Monsters?”

The sudden word brought my imagination screeching to a halt.

“Yeah. Goblins, orcs, ogres, that sort of thing. Ever heard of them?”

“I know what they are, but… they have those things in here too?”

“Hey, why do you think it’s called Nova Arena? Assume anything that can be rendered as digital data will show up. If it were only about fighting other humans, they wouldn’t have slapped a fantasy tag on it in the first place.”

Chae Geonuk retorted as if it were obvious, his fingers clicking across the keys again.

Soon, the screen traded the fortress walls for a dense, humid jungle.

“Here’s the footage from Match 7.”

The moment playback started, an ear-splitting shriek burst from the speakers.

Hundreds of orcs with forearms as thick as a grown man’s thigh surged forth in hordes.

Behind them, a beast the size of a two-story house swept a gigantic wooden club, obliterating the surrounding trees.

Carrying out varied battles and missions set within familiar fantasy worlds — that seemed to be how matches were structured once you reached the pro league.

Watching people tangle in life-or-death struggles against monsters drew an incredulous laugh from me.

“Ha. Give me a break. Next you’ll tell me people cast magic or something.”

It was meant as a joke, of course.

His answer went completely against my expectations.

“They do.”

“…Wait, seriously?”

At my disbelief, Chae Geonuk gave a nonchalant nod.

“Yeah. There’s an energy called mana. If you channel and mold it through chants or magic circles, that’s magic. If you condense it inside your body and coat your weapon, that becomes aura.”

“How are we supposed to fight against people like that? That’s totally unfair!”

While I wasn’t an expert on fantasy lore, I knew the basics.

Magic in movies or games yielded supernatural destruction, and swordsmen clad in aura broke past human limits to move at superhuman speeds.

There was no way ordinary people could handle threats like that.

Chae Geonuk, however, scoffed at my worries and continued.

“You can use it too.”

“Wait, we can? For real?”

“It’s an explicit, tangible concept in that world. Naturally, any living being operating within that world system is subject to the same rules. The catch is that just because anyone has the capacity to use it doesn’t mean just anyone can actually sense it.”

Chae Geonuk tapped the screen as he explained.

“For the record, wielding mana is standard baseline starting from the World League. People who fail to sense mana eventually hit a wall in the pro league and can’t climb any higher.”

“What about me, then? Do you think I’ll be able to sense it?”

At my question, Chae Geonuk pulled his eyes away from the monitor and stared straight at me.

A smirk spread across his face, and he gave a firm nod.

“From what I’ve seen of you so far, you’ll sense it easily. Your sensory awareness has always been off the charts.”

“Right?”

“If a guy who can parry incoming attacks by a paper’s margin can’t sense it, who could? That’s not something you gain through hard work — it takes an innate sixth sense.”

His confidence made me scratch the back of my head.

To be honest, that wasn’t down to incredible reflexes or heightened senses like he thought.

I had merely moved my body along the red thread visible only to my eyes.

Just as unease began creeping in, a flash of insight crossed my mind.

Wait a second.

He had said mana was an energy that genuinely existed within that world.

A power that became magic when chanted, and aura when condensed.

Mulling over those words, I slowly raised my head and looked around the room.

In truth, my vision held far more than just that single red line.

Unlike the red thread, which clearly marked incoming attack trajectories, these countless other strands merely drifted like ghosts through the air, so I had intentionally ignored them.

Tens of thousands of filaments, near transparent yet tinged with uncanny hues.

Even at this very moment, those white threads brushed past my fingertips, drifted over Chae Geonuk’s shoulder, and filled the very air of the room.