NexaRealm: Best in the World

The match had devolved into a brutal, methodical hunt. The lone man—this ghost of a player whose every move seemed honed to perfection—had flipped the dynamic entirely. Where once the instructors pushed forward with coordination and control, they now scrambled to react, trying to maintain cohesion as their weaknesses were pried apart and exploited.

It began with Instructor Min-ji. The Roamer, often the foundation of their strategy, had been leading from the front. Her shield shimmered with the weight of repeated impacts as she tried to intercept blows from the clones. Her role demanded unwavering focus—protect the team, buy them time—but the lone man seemed to know exactly how far he could push her before her endurance cracked.

Instructor Min-ji blocked another incoming strike, twisting to cover Instructor Seung-hyun's flank, but at that moment, a clone materialized from behind. Fast—almost too fast. It wasn't an Assassin's typical burst; it felt like something more. The blow landed, catching her off guard, and staggering her.

"Behind me!" Instructor Min-ji shouted, but the precision had already taken its toll. Her shield arm faltered, a split-second delay—and that was all it took. Another clone dove in, a sword piercing through the opening she left.

Her HUD flashed red.

[Min-ji Lee: Eliminated]

"No!" Instructor Ji-woo's voice cut through comms, frustration seeping in as Instructor Min-ji's form disintegrated into data.

Instructor Min-ji, the team's rock, was gone.

The instructors tried to rally, but the lone man was relentless, every move purposeful. With Instructor Min-ji out, Instructor Seung-hyun, the Fighter, had to shoulder the frontline. The burden was heavy, and though he fought with pure grit and muscle, his aggressive nature had always been his double-edged sword.

"Stick to me!" Instructor Seung-hyun grunted, cleaving through a clone as it lunged at him. His breathing grew heavier with each swing.

But that's exactly what the lone man had predicted. Instructor Seung-hyun's strength lay in brute force—his overwhelming offence—but the clones began baiting him, darting just out of reach, forcing him to chase. His stamina bled out with every failed strike, every whiffed attack.

And then the moment came. One clone faltered, pretending to stumble—a deliberate trap. Instructor Seung-hyun lunged for the kill, overextending just slightly, and in that instant, another clone hit him from the side.

A gunshot rang out. A glint from the corner.

A sniper round to the head.

[Seung-hyun Kim: Eliminated]

"Damn it!" Instructor Ji-woo cursed, his composure fracturing. Two down.

From the viewing room, the students watched in stunned silence as the instructors crumbled. Jin-kyong muttered under her breath.

"It's like he's toying with them. Picking them apart…"

But the lone man wasn't toying. He was dissecting.

Instructor Ji-woo, the Marksman, tried to adapt next, falling back to create distance. He perched high, relying on his sniper to track the clones. But they moved unpredictably, splitting off into patterns that defied logic.

Suddenly, Instructor Ji-woo noticed it—a subtle rhythm in the clones' movement. His sniper scope locked onto one clone that had lingered too long. He pulled the trigger.

The bullet passed straight through.

A decoy.

"What?" Instructor Ji-woo's eyes widened as the real clone slipped through the shadows, right up to his perch. A dagger flashed.

[Ji-woo Park: Eliminated]

That left Instructor Dong-soo and the lone man. The Assassin against the shadow who was far more than just an Assassin.

Instructor Dong-soo didn't falter. He was the calmest of them all, perhaps because he had accepted the truth: the man before him wasn't someone you could defeat with brute force or flashy skills. This was a battle of wits, of who could read their opponent better.

"He knows all our moves," Instructor Dong-soo murmured, vanishing into stealth. "But that doesn't mean I can't surprise him."

He weaved through the battlefield, moving silently, calculating his moment to strike. His HUD pinged—a glint up ahead, the real man standing amid the clones.

Instructor Dong-soo struck from behind, his dagger arcing through the air.

But the man turned. As though he had been waiting.

The clones collapsed into data, and Instructor Dong-soo realized too late: they'd been herded, manoeuvred like pieces on a board.

The dagger stopped short as the man's blade pierced through Instructor Dong-soo's chest.

[Dong-soo Pyun: Eliminated]

And with Instructor Hye-won the last one standing, her Mage prowess was not enough. Just as how her other teammates had fallen despite outnumbering this man, she now stood alone at that. And as we can guess, a swift elimination through her was what followed after.

The match ended with an eerie finality. The lone man stood among the scattered data remnants of the instructors, the message flashing across the HUD: VICTORY.

From the viewing room, the students sat frozen, the silence deafening.

"Humans…" Director Hye-su's voice broke through, soft but carrying weight. "Are imperfect. You can practice. You can plan. But weaknesses always exist. And once someone finds them…"

Her gaze turned toward the stunned students, lingering briefly on Kyu, who remained locked on the screen, his eyes shadowed.

"You lose."

The lesson was clear. To win wasn't about perfection—it was about uncovering your opponent's flaws first.

Director Hye-su stood in front of the stunned crowd of students, her sharp gaze sweeping over each one of them as the final moments of the match faded from the screens. The room, which had been buzzing with tension moments ago, now sat in near silence, only the quiet hum of the display monitors filling the space.

"Well," she began, her voice smooth yet commanding, "I hope today has been enlightening for all of you." She paused, allowing her words to settle. "You've seen it now—the limits of skill, the cracks that form under pressure. Even the strongest falter when their weaknesses are laid bare. Remember this feeling. Remember what you saw."

The students remained quiet, some exchanging nervous glances, others still fixated on the blank display as if the lone man might materialize again. Director Hye-su clasped her hands behind her back.

"That's enough for today. You'll need rest," her tone brooked no argument. "Tomorrow, we continue sharpening your skills. Dismissed."

Slowly, the students rose, murmuring softly among themselves as they began filing out of the presentation hall. Among the sea of weary faces, Joon-ho lagged behind, his steps slower than the rest. His eyes lingered on the darkened screen where the silhouette of the lone man had stood victorious just minutes ago.

That figure. It gnawed at him.

Where have I seen him before?

Joon-ho frowned, his brows knitting together as he turned the image over in his mind. The posture, the way the man moved with such uncanny fluidity… it felt familiar, like something just out of reach. A name danced at the edge of his thoughts.

"Jin-ho…?" he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for his ears to hear.

Jin-ho. The friend of Director Hye-su and Hae-won. One of the three brilliant minds who had built NexaRealm from the ground up. The man was somewhat of a myth among the students—a shadow from the past, rarely spoken of but impossible to ignore. If Jin-ho was involved, then everything they'd just witnessed made sense. He was the original architect, after all. The one who understood NexaRealm's systems better than anyone else.

But something didn't sit right. Joon-ho had no clue what had happened between Jin-ho and the two women in charge—what kind of fracture or resolution they had gone through. For all he knew, the lone man wasn't Jin-ho at all. Maybe it was just a trick. A coincidence.

No… it couldn't be.

Shaking the thoughts away, Joon-ho stuffed his hands into his pockets and followed the rest of his friends out of the room, their chatter growing fainter as they disappeared down the hall. Yet a lingering unease stuck with him, as though some hidden truth lay just beyond his reach.

Elsewhere, in a quiet, dimly lit room, a man sat alone, removing the sleek Realm device from his head. Jin-ho. His name was etched across NexaRealm's history, but few would have recognized him now—older, sharper, his once youthful features carrying the weight of years spent in both triumph and isolation.

With a grin that split his face wide, Jin-ho leaned back in his chair, setting the device carefully aside as though it were some treasured relic.

"Ah… it's been a while," he said to no one but himself, his voice carrying a note of pure satisfaction. "It's been far too long since I could let loose without restrictions."

His fingers drummed rhythmically on the table, still feeling the lingering thrill of the match—of outplaying the so-called immovable instructors with a precision only he could achieve. They thought they had a chance.

For Jin-ho, this wasn't just play. It was art.

He chuckled softly, his smile lingering as his thoughts shifted.

"Hye-su and Hae-won…" His voice softened with a note of nostalgia. "Those two never stop scheming, do they?"

Jin-ho's expression sobered for a moment as he thought about the past—about the days when he'd pushed NexaRealm to its limits, jailbreaking its systems and moulding it into something beyond its original scope. It had been dangerous, reckless even, but it had been worth it. Of course, it hadn't ended without consequence. He'd been found out, confronted, and for a time, cast out of the very project he helped create.

But now? Now he was back.

Hye-su and Hae-won had sought him out, and after long conversations, reconciliations, and a shared understanding of what NexaRealm could become, they had offered him a role once again. Not in the open, of course.

No, Jin-ho was a secret now—Director Hye-su's hidden card in her grand plan. A brilliant scheme, perfectly orchestrated, with him at its centre.

Still grinning to himself, Jin-ho rose to his feet, stretching lazily as though he'd just come back from a pleasant stroll rather than dismantling a team of elite instructors.

"I wonder how long it'll take for them to figure it out…"

With one final look at the Realm device on the table, Jin-ho turned away, his voice trailing softly through the stillness.

"Let's see if they're ready for what's coming."