Chapter 124– The Illusion of Control
Truthfully, Han never took this match seriously from the start.
His opponent, Ranz, was barely at the peak of human potential—no special enhancents, no overwhelming strength. Han knew with certainty that a single well-placed punch could end the fight instantly. The only reason Ranz had made it this far in the tournant was because of his skill—one described by the analyzer eye as a brutal ntal attack. That intrigued Han.
Curious, Han decided to test it.
However, the mont he read the vague skill description, he dismissed the idea of dragging the match out. Sothing didn’t sit right. Ever since he had awakened his mysterious Creation skill, ntal attacks had simply stopped working on him. Monsters with terrifying psychic abilities had tried—so succeeded in causing him montary discomfort, but their effects never lasted longer than a few seconds before being neutralized.
Still, when Ranz suddenly declared, "I give up," Han chuckled internally.
Who do you think you’re fooling? he thought. A foolish child trying to bluff his way in.
Han knew exactly what Ranz was attempting. It wasn’t surrender—it was strategy. A ploy to lower his guard and get close enough to unleash his skill. So Han played along.
Then it happened.
Ranz’s finger touched Han’s forehead—and the pain struck.
A searing, soul-twisting scream surged into Han’s mind, like a flood of a thousand voices wailing in agony. He flinched, montarily stunned. For the first ti in ages, he actually felt a ntal attack. Not just a prick or headache—an actual wave of psychic pain.
But it didn’t last.
He blinked once, and within seconds, a familiar chi echoed in his head:
System Notification: Mind attack has been nullified. ntal state returned to peak condition.
Han remained kneeling, unmoving, head bowed as if still writhing in pain. In truth, he was just bored.
This is it? he thought with disappointnt.
That was when Ranz made his final mistake—he raised a clenched fist and aid to finish Han off.
Before the punch could land, Han’s hand shot up and caught it mid-air.
Ranz’s eyes widened in horror as he felt bones creak and grind under the crushing grip. It was as though a massive clamp had seized his hand, rendering it completely immobile.
"Your ntal attack," Han said flatly, without even lifting his head, "is far too weak."
Ranz’s mind reeled.
Impossible... Impossible... Impossible!
His skill wasn’t just effective—it was devastating. Those caught in it rarely recovered fully, many losing their sanity altogether. But here stood Han, not only unaffected but entirely unfazed. Even the thin trail of blood that had dripped from his forehead had already sealed.
And worst of all... Han was smiling.
Pure dread washed over Ranz.
"Let show you," Han whispered coldly, lifting his eyes at last. "What a real ntal attack feels like."
"Eye of Defiance—activated."
Han’s calm blue eyes warped, shifting into a terrifying crimson. They glowed, seething like molten fire, locking onto Ranz’s gaze.
And then—reality shattered.
The mont Han’s crimson eyes locked with his, Ranz’s world crumbled.
Reality twisted violently, and in an instant, he found himself subrged in a river of molten lava. His skin didn’t burn—but his mind did. A surreal tornt swept through him, a sensation of being incinerated from within without the rcy of death. His thoughts scread, yet no sound ca out. His brain—no, his very soul—felt like it was on fire, endlessly smoldering but never consud.
Then the lava vanished.
Now he was chained in a vast, endless world of lightning. Thunder echoed all around him, and jagged bolts crashed from every direction. Faceless n—dozens of them—tightened the chains that bound him and increased the current flowing into his body. Every bolt didn’t just shock his nerves—it ravaged his consciousness. His mind convulsed with every pulse, every spark, over and over again in an unending cycle. He tried to scream, but the chains gripped even his thoughts.
Just as the pain reached a peak, the world shifted again.
He stood in a desolate land covered with corpses—his corpses. Hundreds, maybe thousands of dead versions of himself littered the earth. One by one, they began to rise.
Their blank, soulless eyes locked onto him.
Panic overtook him.
He turned and ran, heart thundering, but there was no escape. The horde surrounded him. They pounced, tearing into him—biting, ripping, clawing. Not at his flesh—but at his mind. It felt like his psyche was being peeled apart layer by layer, shredded by invisible blades of agony.
It was pure madness.
A nightmare not even death could release him from.
It was suffering made eternal. No matter how much pain he endured, it never ended. He was burned but not consud, electrocuted but not killed, torn apart yet sohow still whole. Ranz was trapped in an illusion of endless tornt.
And then—nothing.
The pain vanished.
The world collapsed into silence.
No light. No sound. No thoughts. Only void.
Ranz didn’t pass out.
His mind simply... shut down.
---
In the real world, the stadium was dead silent—every spectator frozen in horror.
Ranz’s body lay limp on the stage. His chest had been heaving minutes earlier, but now it didn’t even twitch. Before he went still, he had let out a scream—so raw, so agonizing, that it shook even the hearts of the most hardened warriors in the crowd. A scream that clawed its way from his soul and then died, leaving him empty.
Han stood over the body and sighed in disappointnt.
"For soone who relied so much on ntal attacks," he muttered, "he never bothered to fortify his own mind."
There were known thods to strengthen ntal resistance—rare herbs found within portals, used to brew Mind Fortification Pills. Costly for the average citizen, sure, but well within reach for high-ranking awakened individuals like Ranz. Yet the fool never bothered.
"He must’ve believed he’d always be the predator," Han thought, "and never the prey."
If Han had used the full power of the Eye of Defiance, Ranz’s mind would’ve been annihilated on the spot—left a hollow shell of a person. As it stood, the man was lucky. Barely.
Still... it was justice, Han thought. He only tasted what he’s done to others.
Karma. That’s what it was.
Han tried to shake the faint flicker of guilt building in his chest, but it lingered. Ranz wasn’t dead—but his mind had taken a brutal blow. With imdiate care and healing, he might recover in four months. Without it? A year—maybe longer.
Han’s gaze darkened.
Karma... but what if one day it turns on ?
The thought slithered into his mind like a serpent.
What if the mysterious skill that shielded his mind suddenly failed? What if, soday, he entrusted the Eye of Defiance to an ally—and that very ally turned it against him?
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
The smile on Han’s face faded slightly.
He didn’t like thinking about it.
But the thought refused to go away.
He gulped.
He didn’t need to think hard to imagine who might do it without hesitation.
1. Aiden.
2. Clara.
3. Ron.
4. Rin.
5. Laura—especially when offended.
Even Ronan... and the list went on.
There were just too many unpredictable wild cards around him. If the Eye of Defiance ever ended up in their hands, he wouldn’t be safe—not even close.
"Navi," he said quietly, his voice firm. "Under no circumstance is the Eye of Defiance to be gifted."
Navi: Acknowledged.
"Good."
---
Han’s eyes slowly drifted toward the announcer, who flinched the mont he t Han’s calm gaze. But the announcer knew better—behind those calm eyes was soone capable of breaking another’s mind without lifting a finger. The illusion of serenity was paper-thin.
Then the announcer realized why Han was staring.
He hadn’t announced the winner.
Clearing his throat quickly and slipping back into his over-the-top tone, the announcer declared, "And the winner of the fifth match—Han Trystan, the Fire God!"
The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, their earlier shock forgotten. It helped that Ranz wasn’t exactly well-liked; his reputation for cruelty had earned him few sympathizers. Most of the spectators believed he’d simply reaped what he sowed. Karma had done its job.
As Han walked off the stage, the announcer couldn’t help but glance back at him a few more tis, unease lingering in his chest.
Why are all the kids from Tryst Guild so damn ruthless? he thought.
Han and Ronan looked like harmless boys at first glance, but anyone who had seen them fight knew better. Monsters in children’s skin. The announcer, a high A-ranker himself, could tell their battle instincts far surpassed his own. Especially Ronan—Han’s match was hardly even a battle. It was psychological warfare.
Childlike... but ruthless. Monstrous, he thought with a bitter chuckle.
Still, a strange feeling stirred in him. Despite their brutality, sothing deep down told him that these "child-monsters" weren’t truly bad people.
---
Ranz’s limp body had already been carried away—likely to start the slow road to recovery. Thankfully, aside from the dent his body made upon collapsing, there was no damage to the arena.
Both the fourth and fifth matches had ended swiftly. Elexa and Han had completely overwheld their opponents with terrifying ease, leaving the crowd both stunned and thrilled.
With no delay, the sixth match was ready to begin.
Han returned to his seat, casually patting Aiden on the shoulder.
"Good luck, buddy," Han said with a grin.
Aiden returned it with his usual mischievous smile, unbothered as always. "I got this."
He stepped forward, scanning the arena with a glint of excitent in his eye.
His opponent: Almighty.
---
Elsewhere, Almighty stood in front of a sink, his head subrged in cold water for several long minutes. He looked up, droplets trailing down his tense face, the headache pounding in his skull refusing to ease.
"There’s no turning back now," he muttered grimly.
His match with that psychopath was next.
He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and whispered one last thought—maybe a prayer.
"...Hope I survive."
---
To be continued...
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