Even while running his mouth, Gi-jun’s mind was working quickly.
‘There’s no way he can’t use it forever. He probably just needs a certain amount of time before he can cast the same spell again.’
“……”
“Right? Gotcha, didn’t I? Huh? You think keeping quiet will fool me? I can see right through you trying to act calm and composed.”
“……Even so, nothing changes.”
Hitoshi admitted it without resistance.
The restriction of his sorcery was simple: Once used, the same spell could not be cast again until a full day had passed.
Originally, Hitoshi had been nothing more than an ordinary office worker who liked video games.
Wake up in the morning, go to work, clock out in the evening, and spend the night playing mobile games—his one and only joy in life.
He was a cog in the machine, living mechanically, but he had no particular complaints about it.
But anomalies always strike without warning.
One night, after falling asleep as usual, he opened his eyes to find himself inside the world of Jujutsu Malevolent Shrine (呪術伏魔殿), the indie mobile game he had been playing most passionately.
A cliché straight out of web novels and anime.
If he had been the protagonist of a story, he would have stumbled upon miraculous encounters and legendary artifacts, effortlessly rising to prominence.
But unfortunately, he was just another nameless NPC.
His only asset was his shallow knowledge of the game.
And it wasn’t even like he was particularly good at it.
He wasn’t a high-ranking player.
He wasn’t a veteran.
He was just your average casual gamer.
At most, he had spent about 300,000 won on the game. *205 USD
That was it.
So he crawled through hell.
Struggled. Fought. Survived.
The world itself was built on despair, meaning every single day was a battle to stay alive.
When he was younger, he had daydreamed about being transported into another world, embarking on grand adventures alongside beautiful companions.
But dreams were just that—dreams.
When his favourite mobile game became his reality, he quickly realized how foolish that fantasy had been.
Reality was cruel.
That was all there was to it.
Hitoshi’s story wasn’t anything special.
He endured for twenty years just to stay alive, and then one day, he was suddenly back in reality. And somehow, he ended up as a Tree administrator.
If a teenager suffering from middle school second year syndrome had made up a half-baked backstory on the spot, it wouldn’t sound any different.
But this was the life Hitoshi had actually lived.
He was simply grateful he had managed to return from that hell alive.
Looking back, it was thanks to all that suffering that he had even been able to join Tree in the first place.
It had also led him to meet good people.
“What? You got trapped in a game world? Damn, that’s one of the worst ones. Must’ve been rough. But in the end, you survived—that’s all that matters.”
When he first heard those words, Hitoshi felt genuinely glad to have joined Tree.
He had started at the lowly Epsilon rank, but through sheer grit, he clawed his way up to Delta.
Because he wanted to grow stronger.
Because he wanted to protect his comrades.
Though his recollection had only lasted about two seconds, it had been more than enough for Gi-jun to focus his mind.
“You done meditating?”
As Gi-jun moved his hand, the debris on the ground simultaneously rose into the air.
Whooosh!
The jagged fragments shot toward Hitoshi’s chest like a storm of shrapnel.
“Summon of the War God.”
A crimson aura enveloped Hitoshi’s body.
Every time his dual blades moved, the incoming projectiles fell harmlessly to the ground.
‘Fucking hell. This is a pain in the ass.’
Gi-jun had already figured out there were limitations to his sorcery, but his abilities showed no signs of stopping.
‘Another enhancement-type spell?’
Before Gi-jun could even process his thoughts, Hitoshi charged in like a hurricane.
His twin swords danced with ruthless speed.
“There’s nowhere left to run.”
“I wasn’t planning to run.”
Gi-jun, who had been stepping back, suddenly stopped.
He grabbed the dagger tucked inside his sleeve, deflected Hitoshi’s blade, and closed the distance in an instant.
“!”
His movements were completely different from before.
Hitoshi reacted slow, barely managing to parry the dagger, but then—
BAM!
Gi-jun’s fist, reinforced with telekinetic force, slammed into Hitoshi’s abdomen.
“The warm-up’s over, bastard.”
BOOM!
A thunderous impact echoed as Hitoshi’s body was hurled backward.
‘…Isn’t he supposed to be specialized in ranged combat?!’
The sheer power was far beyond his expectations.
Flustered, Hitoshi struggled to regain his balance, but Gi-jun was already on him, launching a relentless follow-up attack.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Dagger strikes and fists rained down without pause.
Hitoshi fought desperately to defend himself, but he could only manage to block the deadliest blows—he was losing control of the fight.
‘This is his real strength?!’
He had been confident in his close-combat skills, yet now he was barely keeping up with Gi-jun’s movements.
“See? That’s what happens when you keep running your mouth.”
Gi-jun’s telekinesis, combined with the martial arts he had honed during his military days, formed a deadly combination.
His self-developed combat style—a hybrid of close-quarters dagger techniques and telekinetic reinforcement—was unleashed in full force.
As blood seeped from multiple wounds on Hitoshi’s body, Gi-jun intensified his assault.
But despite everything, none of his attacks had landed a decisive blow.
On the surface, Gi-jun maintained a relaxed, poker-faced demeanor, but inwardly, he was starting to feel impatient.
‘There’s no time. I need to finish this quickly.’
The prolonged use of his telekinesis was starting to take its toll—his head was beginning to throb.
‘If I show any signs of strain now, everything I’ve built up will crumble. I have to endure.’
But Gi-jun wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure.
Hitoshi, too, sensed the urgency of the situation.
Miyuki had already lost her match.
If he fell here as well, he wouldn’t be able to face his teammates.
‘I didn’t want to use this… but there’s no way I’m losing to some damn Koreans.’
The reason for his intense hostility—
Part of it was due to his attachment to his team.
But at the root of it all, Hitoshi despised South Korea.
Because in the past, a Korean administrator named Taesan had utterly crushed the mentor he had once revered.
“Never look down on South Korea again.”
He still couldn’t forget the sight of the senior he had so admired foaming at the mouth and wetting his pants.
Because of that—He absolutely could not lose.
“Deal with the Evil God.”
Mustering the last of his strength to create distance from Gi-jun, Hitoshi plunged one of his swords into the ground. Then, with the other, he slashed his own hand, letting his blood drip down.
“The price is…”
Hitoshi activated the most powerful sorcery he had—Deal with the Evil God.
Its ability was simple.
Just as the name suggested, it was a transaction with an evil god, where the user could offer something in exchange for an equivalent reward.
The offering could be anything related to the user.
It didn’t have to be physical—he could sacrifice his lifespan, his memories, or even a part of his body.
“My lif—”
But just as he was about to name the price, Hitoshi abruptly fell silent.
His body froze at the sight unfolding before him.
The air was filled with weapons of all shapes and sizes.
“Are you done with your little performance?”
Every blade Gi-jun had on him, from the daggers in his coat to the various training weapons prepared for sparring—
Even the shattered fragments created by their battle—
Every single one floated in perfect formation, densely packed, as if forming a storm of blades ready to be unleashed.
A smirk crept across Gi-jun’s face as blood trickled from his nose.
He ignored it and continued.
“You dumbass. That sorcery of yours obviously looks dangerous as hell—who the hell would just stand there and let you use it?”
“……”
“Goodbye.”
Just as Hitoshi resigned himself to his fate and whispered the final price, the weapons rained down.
KWAGAGAGANG!
A deafening roar filled the space. The relentless downpour of blades lasted about a full minute before finally coming to a stop.
When the dust settled, Hitoshi’s figure emerged from the wreckage.
His body was filled with different weapons, though miraculously, his head remained intact.
“Tch. Ungrateful bastard. I even let you keep your damn life.”
Slumping onto the ground, Gi-jun wiped the blood from his face before glancing toward the transparent barrier where Taeseong’s group was watching.
Then, just like Oh Haeyoung had done earlier, he casually flashed a peace sign.
“Haah… Seriously, that was a pain in the ass.”
Collapsing onto his back, Gi-jun tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.
With a final thought—that he really needed to train his psychokinesis to avoid nosebleeds next time—he lost consciousness.
The first to speak was Xiao Yun.
Clapping his hands in approval, he remarked,
“Wow. He’s got a more interesting way of using psychokinesis than I expected. That kid might actually be worth training.”
When Ito remained silent, Xiao Yun turned to him.
“Ito. You should respond.”
“Y-yeah.”
This time, Xiao Yun turned his gaze to Taeseong.
“Hmm. What did you think, Taeseong?”
“I found it entertaining.”
“Right? What’s that kid’s name?”
“Yu Gi-jun.”
“Yu Gi-jun… Did you expected him to win?”
Taeseong nodded without hesitation.
Not just expected—he had been certain.
“Yes.”
And then—
The door burst open.
Yato, her face twisted in fury, strode in and roared,
“Ito! How many times have I told you not to cause trouble?! I was gone for just a moment to make my report, and you couldn’t even wait that long before stirring up another mess? That’s it. This time, I’m really going to—”
Then, belatedly noticing Xiao Yun, Yato’s face stiffened in shock.
“Xiao Yun… Administrator?”
“Hey there, Yato. Still as pretty as ever.”
Her demeanor shifted in an instant.
From a woman fuming with rage to someone treading carefully, as if walking on thin ice.
“T-thank you… But why are you here?”
“Me? I came to see cute little Ito. What, am I not allowed?”
Yato’s face darkened visibly.
“…No, of course not.”
“Don’t look so grim. I really did just come to watch.”
“…Understood.”
Internally, though, Yato was screaming.
She had already been at her wit’s end dealing with her brother’s reckless actions, and now, of all things, there was a monster here whom she couldn’t afford to offend.
‘There’s nothing to gain from provoking this guy. I need to get out of here.’
Making up her mind, Yato turned to Ito and ordered,
“Ito. We’ll talk about this later. For now… just end this ridiculous match, gather the team, and clean up the mess. Understood?”
“……”
“Answer me.”
“…Understood.”
Just as the situation seemed to be settling, Xiao Yun cut in.
“Wait a second. Ito.”
“Uh… yeah?”
“Who’s up next?”
“Me… and that Joseon bastard.”
Hearing that, Xiao Yun’s lips curled into a smirk.
“You and Lee Taeseong, huh?”
Ito nodded hesitantly.
Xiao Yun’s eyes flicked to Yato.
“Yato.”
“Yes, Administrator Xiao Yun?”
“Sorry, but I have to stay and watch this one.”
“……”
A heavy silence filled the room.
In that moment—one second stretching into eternity—Yato’s mind raced frantically.
After a long pause, she carefully chose her words, speaking as politely as possible.
“Administrator Xiao Yun… Lee Taeseong is still only at the Delta rank. If he were to get seriously injured in this match, we’d have no face to show the Korean branch. Wouldn’t it be better if we…”
But before she could finish, Taeseong interrupted.
“I don’t mind. This works out well. Both of you—come at me together.”
