Episode 20: Heavenly Demon Divine Arts (2)
“Lies…! That’s… nonsense!”
The trembling voice lacked strength. Considering Don King’s current state, it was a miracle he could speak at all.
His so-called “school uniform”-tier armor—crafted from leather renowned for shock absorption—lay in tatters as if ravaged by a typhoon. As for his right hand…
Drip. Drip.
Blood fell like droplets from a stalactite. The mangled ruin of his hand wasn’t even worth describing. It had vanished entirely, as though a grenade had detonated in his bare grip.
Chat:
—Holy shit!
—What the hell was that?!
—Screen glitched out—couldn’t see anything!
—I’ve seen that move before! That’s the fist technique Don King used when I was grinding to Diamond!
—Bullshit. Don King’s stats are too low for techniques. How’d he use one in the Abyss?
—Then he must’ve used items or traits! Can any of you explain what just happened?!
The blazing chatlog briefly confirmed Don King’s survival before—
Thud.
—the stream cut off as its host collapsed.
[First Blood Achieved.]
[Clear rewards for this arena have increased.]
‘Ugh. Executing even basic techniques is still exhausting.’
Shi-Moon shook his head slightly, his body slumped as if weighed down by flu-like fatigue.
[The Heavenly Demon Constellation expresses immense satisfaction with your tyrannical actions.]
[The Heavenly Demon has sponsored you with 500 Achievement Points.]
“First missions, now this? You’re too generous.”
The fatigue evaporated instantly—though that was largely due to his elixir-boosted stamina and overwhelming synthesis recovery rate. Still, the mental refresh couldn’t be ignored.
“I’ll strive to fulfill your missions satisfactorily, Heavenly Demon.”
[The Heavenly Demon nods in approval.]
Shi-Moon smiled faintly. ‘High-ranking constellations sure are lavish.’
Before he could savor the moment:
[Galaxy Arena commends you for receiving sponsorships from three high-ranking constellations.]
[+1,000 Achievement Points obtained.]
[Title “The Kings’ Pick” acquired.]
‘Huh? There was an achievement like this?’
He immediately checked his status:
[The Kings’ Pick] - Scaling Title
A favorite of the celestial elite:
All stats +3
Title effects update with each new constellation sponsorship
Current sponsors: Zeus, Black Goat, Heavenly Demon
“Holy hell…”
The curse slipped out. A scaling title—one that could grow stronger or weaker based on sponsor loyalty. Unlike growth-type titles, which only improved, this one demanded constant maintenance.
His stat window now read:
Level: 7
Affiliation: South Korea
Strength: 6 (+3)
Agility: 6 (+3)
Stamina: 7 (+3)
Synthesis Power: 17 (+3)
- Magi: 10
Remaining Stats: 0
“Tch. Magi doesn’t get the bonus.” Though it had risen from 8 to 10 (half his Synthesis Power), the title’s +3 hadn’t applied. “Still, at least it improved.”
The title effectively granted +12 levels’ worth of stats. ‘High risk, high reward. I’ll need to milk every constellation mission now.’
As he steadied his resolve:
“D-Don King… lost?!”
“Y-You’re lying!”
Terrified voices echoed. ‘Right. His passengers.’ Shi-Moon clenched his fists and approached.
“Eeek! D-Don’t come closer! I’ll stab you!”
Pathetic threats from trembling hands clutching swords and bows. ‘Did these clowns even finish the tutorial?’ At Level 1, Shi-Moon had entered with max stats (10 Magi pre-regression, 10 Synthesis post), making his experience incomparable to ordinary players—but this was absurd.
“I-I’ll shoot! Really!”
Their quivering blades and nocked arrows only deepened his disgust. ‘Trash like you ruins proper arenas for competent players…’
Without even activating [Ogre’s Tissue], he channeled Magi into his fist and swung.
Thud! Crack!
The two collapsed instantly. With his current stats, crushing these carried weaklings required no effort.
Yet Shi-Moon didn’t stop. One passenger remained—a middle-aged man observing calmly with folded arms.
“You’re strong. Exceptionally so.” The man scrutinized him like merchandise. “Superior innate stats, zero mercy for the weak… Admirable.”
“You’re mistaken.” Shi-Moon’s reply was ice. “This is an arena. Mercy doesn’t exist here.”
The man laughed heartily. “Precisely why I approve! So many waste their potential fearing the ‘realism’ of virtual death.”
When Shi-Moon stepped forward, the man hesitated. “Ah—you’re streaming, yes? Could you disable that?”
A glance at his chat confirmed only three viewers—all constellations. “Unnecessary. No one’s watching.”
The man produced a business card:
[HR Manager Hoo Yeon-ryong]
+86 [Number] • [Email]
“+86… A Chinese prefix.” Realization struck. “You’re a talent scout.”
Hoo’s grin widened. “Originally for Don King—wasting his skills as a carry-service driver. But since he’s indisposed…” He extended the card confidently.
Shi-Moon recognized the characters at the top: Continental Star. China’s top guild, rising under Guildmaster Zhong Lichu. ‘So their poaching starts this early.’
Hoo misread his silence as interest and conjured terms midair with an artifact:
—5 million yuan upfront (~9.2 billion won)
—5 billion won in weapons
—100 million won per armor piece
—3-year renewable contract (keep all gear post-term)
—Naturalization bonus: 50 million yuan (~92 billion won) + performance incentives
“An offer no Korean guild can match,” Hoo boasted, citing a 90% acceptance rate.
Shi-Moon knew better. ‘They trap recruits through media smears, contract scams, even drugs or mind control.’ Worse, Galaxy Arena locked affiliation to one’s nation at awakening—naturalization papers meant nothing here. These fools traded long-term security for short-term greed.
As Hoo smugly awaited acceptance, Shi-Moon seized his hand.
“Manager Hoo.” His smile turned lethal. “You should’ve sharpened your eye for real talent.”
CRACK!
A fist wreathed in black energy buried itself in Hoo’s solar plexus. The man crumpled, choking silently.
“The offer was lacking,” Shi-Moon murmured, driving a second strike into the man’s ribs. “And I know exactly what your kind does—personally.”
Step.
He vanished into the mine’s shadows, leaving the wheezing scout behind.
