Chapter 4
[Participant ‘825’ defeated.]
[Victory!]
Watching my opponent scatter into dust, I let out a long sigh.
Over the years, I had bounced between countless battlefields, taking on every kind of job under the sun.
VIP assassinations, infiltration and sabotage, hostage rescues, escorts and VIP protection, intelligence gathering, reconnaissance, even supply seizures.
Every assignment had its own flavor, its own methods, and its own brutality.
Naturally, I had to pick up an arsenal of skills just to stay breathing.
Knife combat, urban warfare, counter-sniping in elevated terrain, close-quarters battle, psychology, and the list went on.
Survival demanded answers to every conceivable variable, so I learned and studied anything I could get my hands on.
Yetā¦
Even with all that under my belt, handling my recent opponents had become exhausting.
The ordinary-level combatants from my first few days were long gone. Now, every single person I matched with boasted a record of at least a thousand fights.
The caliber of competition hadn’t just climbed; it had skyrocketed.
With this trend sharpening lately, the moment I stepped out of the capsule, I went straight to my senior with a question.
“Didn’t you say the amateur league was strictly random matchmaking? What gives? The people I’ve been running into lately are ridiculous.”
Instead of an answer, Chae Geonuk merely held out an open palm.
“What’s with the hand?”
“What does it look like? You want intel from an information broker, you pay up.”
A greasy smirk spread across Geonuk’s face.
My gaze dropped to his open palm with a dead, icy stare.
“How much?”
“Hmm, let’s see. For a valued customer like you? That’ll be about a hundred million won.”
“A hundred million?”
A dry laugh slipped past my lips at the sheer absurdity, and my hand drifted toward the scabbard resting at my hip.
The blade eased out just an inch, singing with a cold, metallic hiss.
Geonuk flailed both arms and scrambled backward on instinct.
“Whoa, whoa, hey! That’s a crime! Criminal Code Article 284, aggravated intimidation! Article 350, attempted extortion! Article 324, coercion! You’re checking every single box here!”
“To think my hyung’s life is only worth a hundred million wonā¦ you’re hurting my feelings.”
“Hey, you punk, you want to rot behind bars eating prison beans for the rest of your life?”
“The law is far away, but fists are right here. If your mouth doesn’t open by the count of three, I’m putting a fresh hole in you.”
The moment I took a step forward, Geonuk squeezed his eyes shut.
“Fine, I’ll talk! I’ll tell you, damn it!”
After grumbling and complaining under his breath for a good while, Geonuk finally spilled the high-grade intel.
To obtain a pro license, a contender had to rack up at least one hundred matches while maintaining a win rate above 70%.
Because of those parameters, an undefeated promotion occasionally surfaced in other amateur leagues.
True to its name, it meant securing a pro license without suffering a single defeat across all one hundred matches.
“If you pull off an undefeated promotion like that, you start receiving upper-numbering match offers the second you step into the pro league.”
“Upper numbering? What’s that?”
Geonuk clicked his tongue at my question.
“You can’t just swing a sword whenever you feel like it in the pro league. Events are held only once a week, and a day’s card is strictly capped at ten matches. That means there’s a pecking order even among those ten.”
“Ah, so they’re arranged by drawing power?”
Geonuk nodded.
Folding his fingers down one by one, he continued his breakdown.
“Matches one through five are the lower numbering. Six through eight are the upper numbering. Nine is the co-main event, and number ten is the grand main event. Four distinct tiers in total.”
“Ooh.”
“From the co-main event onward, the participating warriors are called contenders. Deliver solid results there, and you earn the right to enter a World League promotion match. Starting to see why an undefeated promotion matters so much?”
Securing a pro license undefeated meant skipping matches one through five entirely ā the entire undercard.
Hearing that, the corners of my mouth twitched upward despite myself.
“I assume the pay jumps accordingly?”
“You even have to ask? As that numbering ticks up, the number of zeroes deposited in your account enters a whole different dimension.”
Geonuk drew circles in the air right before my eyes.
Before I realized it, a broad grin had stretched across my face.
Geonuk spoke up again.
“Here’s the rub, though: the Japan Amateur League has never seen an undefeated promotion. Not once in its history. That’s why your matchmaking has been an absolute circus lately. Everyone’s blood is boiling to shatter your shiny record. It’s an open record hunt.”
“Hmm. So you’re saying I’ve turned into a golden goblin?”
With the picture finally clear, I sank deep into the sofa.
The puzzle pieces fell into place.
It was random matchmaking on paper, but the heavy hitters had clearly coordinated to flood the queue whenever I logged on.
According to Geonuk, Named contenders were deliberately hitting the matchmaking button to coincide with my login times.
Conversely, casual participants guarding their win rates were dodging me entirely by shifting their hours.
I had felt a flicker of doubt, wondering if the pro wall was truly this steep, but knowing it was just an artificial reverse sniper queue brought genuine relief.
It wasn’t that my skills fell short; I was simply getting swarmed by design.
That asideā¦
My current record stood at ninety-one bouts.
Nine more victories, and the pro license was mine.
I would definitely need to steel myself.
