"By being dead."
"Excuse me? What do you mean by that?" I asked, caught off guard by his words.
"Yeah." His crimson eyes locked onto me, cold and unwavering. "It'd be better if you die, rather than making others worried."
I frowned. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
He wasn't this hotheaded in the game—unless it had something to do with his crush.
Wei Lian was what you'd call a possessive boyfriend.
That was why the fandom adored him—soft and protective with the people he cared about, but fierce, almost savage, toward everyone else.
Ranks, prestige, recognition—none of it mattered to him. Most of the time, he didn't even give his best effort, treating competitions and lessons like background noise.
But the moment something involved the one he loved, everything changed. His eyes sharpened, his movements grew precise, his instincts terrifying. It was like a switch flipped inside him. Suddenly, he wasn't just strong—he was brilliant.
And that was one of the reasons he became a hero in the first place.
"Do you have some problem with me, bruv? I swear I've never done anything to you. At ALL."
"You might not have a problem with me," he growled, "but you made Victoria Astermont worry about you."
"Wha—" My words stuck halfway out of my throat, realization smacking me in the face.
Oh wait. Is he…?
"You've got feelings for her?"
"Shut up." His hand shot out, grabbing my collar, and before I could blink he was dragging me toward the stage.
"W-Wait, I don't consent to ANY of this, you fuck!"
"How's my gift?" he asked flatly, eyes forward as if hauling me like a garbage bag was nothing.
"What gift?" I struggled against his grip, fingers digging into his wrist, but it was like iron.
How the hell is this guy so strong? I've got thirty levels in Strength!
He didn't answer. He just walked up to the platform and hurled me to the opposite side like tossing out the trash.
"You'll learn what she's feeling," he said, stepping onto the stage.
"FUCK!"
The commentator raised her mic.
[We've got a new cadet stepping onto the stage!]
She pointed to Wei Lian's side.
[On the right, a strong opponent—ranked 6th overall among cadets… WEI LIAN!!!]
The hall erupted, cheers rattling the air as cadets shouted his name.
[And on the left side we have…]
The commentator hesitated, mic suddenly cutting off. But not before her muttered words leaked through the speakers.
[…No, no… I've never seen that guy before. Who is he?]
She coughed awkwardly, flicking the mic back on.
[Um… on the left, we have an unknown student. A normal looking cadet… but with, uh, a long bang covering his eyes.]
I twitched.
What kind of nickname is that?
Instead of cheers, I got laughter. A whole wave of it.
"SHUT UP! I WAS FORCED INTO THIS!" I shouted, my voice cracking as I tried to drown out the cadets' laughter.
How humiliating.
Wei Lian's crimson eyes didn't waver. "This suits you better. Getting laughed at instead of making others worried."
The commentator's voice boomed across the hall:
[Get ready!]
"W–wait! I'm not ready for any of this!!!" I barked back, panic slipping into my tone.
I don't even have a weapon. Fuck!
[3!]
Wei Lian sank into his stance, the casual arrogance in his movements making my stomach sink.
[2!]
He rolled his neck, stretched his shoulders, like this was just another warm-up.
[1]
[GO!]
Then he exploded forward. His body blurred, and before I could brace, an axe kick crashed down toward me.
The commentators voice crackles.
[Wei Lian started the fight with a kick.]
Instinct screamed, and I threw up my arm. The impact rattled through my bones, sharp pain flaring so hard I almost dropped to my knees.
Damn—this guy kicks like a monster.
Wei Lian didn't press. Instead, he flipped back to his original position, landing light as a cat. His eyes narrowed, scanning me.
"You bastard…" he muttered. "Don't tell me that left arm of yours is mechanical."
I blinked, realization clicking.
Oh. So that's why he jumped back. He must've hurt himself hitting me.
My lips twitched despite the throbbing pain.
Maybe this wasn't completely hopeless.
I pulled my sleeve up, revealing the gleaming metal of my mechanical arm.
"Yes," I said flatly. "Is there a problem?"
"Go to hell!" he snarled.
Before I could blink, he vanished. My eyes darted around the arena, searching for any sign of him—nothing.
Then—bam!—an attack slammed into my right side, launching me across the arena and straight into the wall. The impact rattled my bones.
It didn't stop there. In an instant he was right in front of me, his shadow falling over me as a flurry of kicks rained down on my face like a storm.
[Pain Resistance leveled up]
Thank God I have Pain Resistance. I thought, jaw clenched as the blows kept coming.
I spat blood to the side and grinned up at him through the kicks.
"Sheesh. You're awfully energetic for someone playing hero, Young Lord."
He froze for a fraction of a second, eyes narrowing.
"Should I lose now so you can go meet your crush, Young Lord?" I added, voice dripping with fake politeness.
"Shut up!" he barked, another kick smashing into my ribs.
I coughed, still smirking. "Oh right, I forgot. You could just tell your father and I'd probably disappear overnight, huh? That's how these Young Lord things work, right?"
Veins stood out on his temple. "Keep talking."
I raised my hands lazily in mock surrender. "Wow, scary. Don't glare at me like that. I might fall in love with you instead of Victoria."
His next kick came like a bullet. I tilted my head just enough for it to whistle past my ear, my mechanical arm snapping up to block the follow-up strike. Sparks jumped from the impact.
"Careful," I said cheerfully. "If you rough up your hands, your future wife might be disappointed."
His crimson eyes burned hotter. "You think this is a joke?!"
"Aren't you the one making it dramatic? You dragged me here, remember."
I flicked the dust off my uniform with my mechanical fingers, acting like this was a mild inconvenience rather than a duel.
The commentator's voice crackled again:
[Both fighters are clashing at close range! Wei Lian's relentless kicks versus… uh… some unknown student's sarcastic mouth?!]
Laughter from the stands overlapped with shouts of encouragement.
"Young Lord is predictable," I said lightly, leveling my arm toward him like a pistol.
His brows furrowed. "What—"
I grinned. "Bang."
He ducked instantly, convinced a bullet would fire from my mechanical fingers.
But I hadn't installed anything into the arm yet—I was too broke for that.
"Hahahah… You think my arm has some hidden weapon, Young Lord? I didn't even bring a weapon. You dragged me here without any preparation."
"SHUT UP!" Wei Lian roared, frustration spiking.
[Wei Lian looks furious! The unknown cadet is… mocking him?!] the commentator cried, her voice caught between disbelief and laughter.
Wei Lian vanished again. A heartbeat later, a kick slammed into the back of my head, sending me tumbling.
The arena spun. My vision blurred.
And then—a wave of memories crashed into me.
I was standing in a training ground, fists pounding against a wooden dummy with techniques I had never seen before. The pain in my hands stacked with every strike, numbing my focus.
Whack!
A stick cracked across my arm, correcting my stance.
An old man stood by my side. His face was a blur, but his presence felt close—intimately familiar.
"Jake! You don't have much time. You need to master this martial art in just a month." His tone was strict, urgent.
"But why do I have to learn this? I'm not even an Awakener!" I complained.
Whack! The stick struck my head this time, silencing me.
"Just remember—your father made this martial art for you, and only you. No matter who you become, you will always remember it."
I swallowed, frustration bubbling. "You haven't even told me the name of the martial art."
The old man's voice softened, almost reverent. "Including the Secret Art of the Spider, this is called—"
The memory cut short.
And suddenly I was back, lying on the arena floor, Wei Lian's shadow looming over me.
"Prepare to die," he growled.
His foot came down.
This time, I raised my leg and parried the strike, the shock snapping through my body. I twisted, countering with a kick of my own. It wasn't enough to send him flying, but it shoved him back, creating space between us.
Breath ragged, I smirked. "Huh. Guess I'm not all talk after all."
[WHAT?! The unknown cadet actually blocked Wei Lian's attack! The arena is going wild!!!]
The cheers, the gasps, the laughter—it all blended into one storm as the duel truly began.
"How the hell did you counter my attack?"
I straightened slowly, dusting off my uniform with exaggerated calm. A grin tugged at my lips, sharp and mocking, as if everything he had thrown at me so far was just child's play.
The entire hall went quiet for a beat, waiting for my answer.
Then I spread my arms wide, chin tilted like I was unveiling some grand secret.
"It's none other than… my very powerful martial art…"
I let the tension stretch, cadets leaning forward, Wei Lian's glare burning hotter.
"The Jack of All Trades."
The commentator choked into her mic.
[…W-what?! Did he just say Jack of All Trades? Is that… a real martial art?!]
Laughter rippled through the crowd again, louder this time, some cadets clutching their stomachs, others banging the floor with their fists.
Wei Lian's jaw clenched, his fury boiling over.
I only grinned wider.
"Well then, Young Lord," I said, lifting my mechanical arm like it weighed nothing, "shall I give you a free demonstration?"
His crimson eyes locked onto mine, the fury in them promising hell.
To be continued…