NexaRealm: Best in the World

The room was steeped in silence, broken only by the soft hiss of the Realm devices as they powered down. One by one, the instructors removed the sleek headsets, their faces flushed, hair clinging to damp skin. None of them spoke at first. They simply sat there, the weight of what had transpired pressing down on their shoulders like an invisible burden.

Instructor Seung-hyun leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his temples as if trying to soothe an ache that ran deeper than his skin.

"That was…" he trailed off, searching for the right word but finding none that could fully encapsulate the chaos they had just endured.

"Unreal," Instructor Min-ji finished for him, her voice unusually quiet. She was usually the calmest of them all, the team's anchor. But now, her hands trembled slightly, and her breaths came uneven as if she'd just sprinted a mile.

Instructor Dong-soo gave a humourless chuckle, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.

"I don't think I've felt this alive in years," he muttered, though there was no humour in his tone. His eyes darted around the room, unfocused, as if replaying the match in his mind.

Instructor Ji-woo, usually the most composed among them, was unusually silent. He stared at the Realm device in his lap, his thumb tracing the smooth surface of the visor. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and strained.

"Who was he?"

None of them had an answer.

"He wasn't normal," Instructor Seung-hyun said, shaking his head as if to clear the lingering disbelief. "No one moves like that. No one fights like that. It was like…"

He hesitated, his words faltering.

"Like he was playing with us," Instructor Hye-won finished, her expression darkening.

That was it. That was exactly what it felt like. Every move the man-made had been calculated, precise, and utterly devastating. He hadn't just been toying with them; he'd been studying them, peeling back their layers until every weakness was laid bare.

Instructor Dong-soo let out a slow breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"You'd think after years in the NexaRealm, we'd seen it all," he said. "But this… this was different."

"It's been a long time since I've felt this kind of pressure," Instructor Ji-woo admitted, his voice quieter now. He glanced at his teammates, his brow furrowed. "The last time was back in the World NexaRealm Championship, remember?"

They all did. That relentless grind, the sleepless nights, the electric rush of stepping into the unknown. But this felt different. This wasn't the thrill of competition; it was something more primal. Something that bordered on fear.

Instructor Min-ji crossed her arms, her expression distant.

"It wasn't just his skill. It was the way he knew us. Every move we made, every strategy we tried… it was like he'd already seen it a hundred times before."

Instructor Ji-woo nodded, his jaw tightening.

"He knew us better than we knew ourselves. And that…" He paused, his voice dropping into a rare tone of vulnerability. "That's terrifying."

Silence settled over the group once more, each of them lost in their thoughts. The adrenaline that had kept them sharp and reactive in the match was beginning to wear off, leaving behind a strange emptiness.

For Instructor Seung-hyun, it was the aching weight of realization: they weren't untouchable. No matter how strong or experienced they were, there would always be someone better, someone who could expose the flaws they thought they'd hidden.

For Instructor Min-ji, it was the quiet dread of knowing that everything she had worked for, every skill she had honed, could be unravelled so easily.

For Instructor Dong-soo, it was the bitter taste of humility, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years.

Instructor Ji-woo looked at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering.

"We're human," he said finally, breaking the silence. "And humans have weaknesses. He found ours. That's all there is to it."

It was a simple truth, but it hit harder than anything else he could have said.

For a moment, none of them spoke, each grappling with their thoughts. Then, slowly, Instructor Hye-won pushed herself to her feet, her movements deliberate.

"We need to learn from this," she said firmly, though there was an edge of exhaustion in her voice. "Because if we don't…"

She didn't finish the sentence, but the unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

The others nodded, though the weight of their defeat still lingered. As they gathered their things and began to leave the room, the silence between them spoke volumes.

Instructor Ji-woo lingered a moment longer, glancing back at the Realm device in his hands. Who are you? He wondered silently. And what are you trying to prove?

Without another word, he followed his team out, leaving the darkened room behind.

The instructors stepped out into the corridor, their breaths visible in soft puffs. The tension from their earlier encounter still clung to them, and their steps were heavy with lingering disappointment. As they rounded the corner, they stopped in their tracks at the sight of Director Hye-su and Hae-won waiting for them near the illuminated walkway.

The two women stood side by side, their postures casual yet commanding. Hye-su's hands were tucked into the pockets of her sleek coat, while Hae-won crossed her arms, her expression neutral but observant. It was clear they had been expecting this meeting.

Reluctantly, the instructors approached, their heads slightly bowed. Instructor Dong-soo, usually the most outspoken of the group, was the first to break the silence.

"Director Hye-su, Secretary Hae-won…" he began, his voice firm but tinged with regret. "We apologize for our poor display today. To lose like that—not just in front of the students, but in front of you both—is unacceptable."

Instructor Ji-woo nodded, adding.

"It was careless of us. We underestimated the opponent, and for that, we'll learn and improve."

Instructor Min-ji, ever the professional, spoke next.

"We let you down, and for that, we take full responsibility. But we'll recover from this. We won't let it happen again."

The dejection in their voices was palpable. It wasn't just about losing; it was the sting of failing in front of the two women they respected most.

Director Hye-su, however, looked anything but disappointed. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she waved a dismissive hand.

"Let me make one thing clear," she said, her tone calm yet firm. "I didn't expect—or even hope—for you to win."

The words struck the instructors like a slap. They exchanged glances, a mixture of confusion and hurt flashing across their faces. For a moment, no one spoke.

Finally, Instructor Seung-hyun couldn't hold back.

"Director," he said cautiously. "With all due respect… what do you mean by that?"

"I mean exactly what I said. You were never meant to win. That was never the point," Hye-su's smile didn't waver.

The sting deepened, but her words carried an undeniable weight. Before they could press further, Instructor Hye-won spoke up.

"Then… who was that man?"

"That's what I'd like to know too," Instructor Ji-woo added, his brows furrowed. "We thought he might be some advanced AI—some sort of training bot. But no AI moves like that. He was human. I'm sure of it."

Hae-won smirked slightly at that, her eyes flicking to Hye-su. But before the Director could answer, a figure appeared in the distance, walking toward them with an easy, confident stride.

"Ah, so I've been found out," the man said, raising a hand in a casual wave as he approached.

The instructors turned to face him, their curiosity immediately piqued. He was tall, with a lean, athletic build. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his sharp features were softened by an easygoing smile.

"I guess introductions are in order," he said, stopping a few steps away from them. "The name's Jin-ho Lee. Or, well… that's the name I go by now."

The instructors stared, their eyes wide. None of them spoke, their minds scrambling to piece together who this man was. Though they didn't recognize his name, there was something undeniably striking about him.

"It's him," Instructor Dong-soo muttered under his breath, unable to take his eyes off the man who had bested them so thoroughly. "The one who…"

Instructor Jin-ho chuckled, clearly amused by their reactions.

"The one who beat you, yeah," he said with a shrug. "Don't take it too hard. It's been a while since I've had this much fun."

Director Hye-su's voice cut through the tension.

"Jin-ho," she said sharply, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation. "You weren't supposed to reveal yourself. This was meant to stay confidential."

Jin-ho turned to her with a grin, unbothered by her reprimand.

"Come on, Hye-su. You know me better than that. I couldn't resist. Besides…" He gestured toward the instructors. "They deserve to know who handed them their defeat."

Director Hye-su sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"You're impossible."

"He hasn't changed a bit," Hae-won chuckled softly, shaking her head.

The instructors, meanwhile, were reeling. It wasn't just the casual banter between Jin-ho and Hye-su that threw them off—it was the familiarity, the lack of formality.

"They're on a first-name basis?" Instructor Min-ji murmured, her brow furrowing.

"What's their connection?" Instructor Ji-woo wondered aloud, his gaze flicking between the three of them.

Instructor Dong-soo's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Hye-su and Hae-won… they're the ones who created NexaRealm, right? Could he…?"

None of them could finish the thought, but the idea was already taking root in their minds. Jin-ho wasn't just some prodigy or secret weapon. He was something more. Something deeper.

Jin-ho caught their speculative looks and smirked.

"Looks like I've got you all thinking," he said, his tone light but edged with mischief. "Well, don't lose too much sleep over it. You'll figure it out eventually. Or maybe you won't."

Director Hye-su shot him a sharp look.

"That's enough, Jin-ho."

He held up his hands in mock surrender, but the grin never left his face.

As the group stood there, the weight of what had transpired began to settle over them. Jin-ho wasn't just a man who had defeated them. He was part of something bigger—something they couldn't yet comprehend. And though none of them said it aloud, they all knew one thing for certain: the game had just changed.