The Genius mage who uses His Fists - Chapter 1 (1/201)
Chapter 1: The Champion
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening!"
The stands were packed to the brim, not a single seat empty.
In the center, the spotlight shone on the ring.
The arena announcer picked up the microphone.
With skillful commentary and crowd engagement, the octagon’s energy surged.
"Kim Jin-ho’s 17th title defense match is about to begin!"
"Whoaaa!"
Grand music soon filled the air.
A challenger in a red robe strode confidently into the ring.
"Woooo!"
"You pathetic loser! Ready to die?!"
"You think you can take him? First-round knockout incoming!"
Despite the crowd’s taunts, the challenger didn’t flinch.
Facing Kim Jin-ho was a trial every challenger had to endure.
He removed his robe, revealing lean, glistening muscles under the lights.
Yet the jeers only grew louder.
Boom!
Then it happened.
"Whoa! It’s Kim Jin-ho! The Champion!"
"We’ve waited so long!"
"Defend that title!"
His entrance music—now a cultural phenomenon.
37 matches, 37 wins, 100% knockout rate.
South Korea’s world champion, nicknamed The Unrivaled, set the crowd ablaze.
"Give us a show, Champion!"
"I traveled from Busan just for you!"
"End it in one round!"
Cheers in Korean and other languages erupted as Kim Jin-ho waved calmly, his poise unshaken.
"—Do you see it, folks?! The world champion enters the ring!"
"—Typical Kim Jin-ho! Not a hint of nerves!"
Commentators’ voices buzzed across global broadcasts.
UFS, the league crowning the world’s strongest fighter, owed its fame to this man.
On fight nights, streets emptied. Noise complaints vanished. Overtime rates plummeted.
No opponent had survived a full round against Kim Jin-ho. None had even grazed him.
He was South Korea’s pride—the undisputed strongest.
"—Kim Jin-ho faces Patrick now!"
"—Can you feel the tension?!"
Today’s match drew unprecedented attention due to Patrick’s pre-fight interview:
"Kim Jin-ho hasn’t used his legs lately. Likely a training injury. I’ll exploit that."
The statement went viral. Headlines declared the champion vulnerable. Rumors spread: a car accident, torn ligaments. Maybe Patrick could win.
"—How will today’s match unfold?"
"—No denying Kim Jin-ho’s skill, but Patrick’s no pushover."
"—His feints and light hooks are lethal. Even the Champion should be wary."
At 40, Kim Jin-ho faced whispers of decline. Patrick, in his prime, was a dark horse.
"—The match begins now! Witness Kim Jin-ho’s 17th defense!"
Ding!
The fighters met at the ring’s center.
Patrick’s plan to strike first crumbled—he stood frozen, coaches screaming behind him.
‘This pressure…’
Kim Jin-ho’s icy stare locked onto him. Patrick’s body trembled.
The champion’s guard was impenetrable, muscles coiled like springs.
A primal fear warned Patrick: One wrong move, and I’m done.
"Target his legs! That’s the weak point!"
"Stick to the plan! Move!"
Patrick steadied himself. Even Kim Jin-ho can’t hide an injury. I’ve trained for this.
Years of repetition. Perfect timing. Hard work pays off.
He charged—
"Wha…?!"
The crowd fell silent. A half-eaten hot dog dropped. Beer soaked someone’s pants.
One strike.
"——"
"——"
"—Patrick’s down! A flawless spinning back kick from Kim Jin-ho!"
"—The challenger’s out cold! Match over!"
"—Kim Jin-ho defends his title for the 17th time!"
"Whooooa!!!"
13 seconds. The octagon shook with deafening cheers.
Amid the chaos, Kim Jin-ho muttered coolly:
"This is why I don’t use my legs."
"Kim Jin-ho! Where are you going? The press conference—"
"Handle it."
"Hey! Your fans deserve—"
"Schedule the next fight."
The head coach massaged his temples.
Jin-ho had once been disciplined—never missed training. Now, he did as he pleased.
But how do you criticize perfection?
"Take the car. It’s pouring out."
"Traffic’s hell. I’ll run."
"……"
The coach glared as Jin-ho left in a hoodie.
"Run? To his damn house—30 kilometers away?!"
Reporters swarmed before he could chase.
"Where’s Kim Jin-ho?!"
"Comment on the leg injury rumors!"
The coach bit back curses. Jin-ho’s "attitude" was already a scandal.
‘Kid, I get it. You’re bored.’
No rivals left. Winning required no effort. Why train?
The coach forced a smile for the cameras:
"A leg injury? Please. Kim Jin-ho handicaps himself to give challengers a chance. That’s all."
Rain lashed the city as Jin-ho entered his penthouse.
Fan letters piled at his door. He kicked them aside.
Inside, he showered and headed to a dim room—a shrine to Last Savior, a brutally hard game even Koreans had abandoned.
For a decade, he’d played daily, not to win, but to fight.
"Still can’t beat me, can you?"
The final boss, Demon King Izar, drew its sword.
Jin-ho’s heartbeat quickened. This was the thrill he craved.
But today felt different. Moves flowed naturally. Izar’s health plummeted.
Panic set in. What if I win? What’s left?
He grinned, fingers flying.
"Come on. Fight harder."
Outside, thunder roared. Inside, a champion became a challenger again.
[Congratulations! You have defeated the Demon King, 'Izar'!]
"Ha... fuck."
Kim Jin-ho muttered under his breath. The ending scene he’d both longed for and dreaded was now playing.
His grip on the mouse slackened, and a crushing emptiness surged through him.
"Seriously, you couldn’t stop it at the last moment?"
Even after the ending message faded from the black screen, Kim Jin-ho couldn’t look away from the monitor.
This couldn’t be the end. There had to be a hidden story or something, right?
But it felt like even the faintest thread of hope was being severed.
"......"
[Thank you for using Last Saver.]
"Ugh—!"
A sigh forced its way out. His life’s sole purpose had vanished before his eyes.
Who was left to fight now?
Should he go chop off a bull’s horns like that movie character Choi Bae-dal?
Nah, maybe wrestle a grizzly bear instead?
Drifting through absurd thoughts in his despair, his gaze naturally shifted from the monitor to the window.
Removing his headphones amplified the violent drumming of rain. What shitty weather.
Exactly like his mood.
Rumble, CRACK—!
"...!"
A flash erupted, followed by a thunderous roar as a lightning bolt split the sky.
It struck Kim Jin-ho’s penthouse.
—Fssshhh...
The world darkened again as the lightning vanished, leaving no trace. Only the monitor’s faint glow illuminated a corner of the empty room.
