Fortunately, the Lione Guild’s Rian recovered after taking a potion and was well enough to participate in the next match. The referee, declaring that a victory in a spar was still a victory, presented Team Noah with a bouquet of flowers. It felt like a premature taste of the championship.

This feels like a fake victory.

Only after the bouquet presentation did the audience finally seem to register Noah’s win, showering them with applause and delayed cheers. But it wasn’t satisfying. A strong sense of “here, take this and get lost” wafted from the spectator seats. Sa-yoon, with a smiling-eyed grin, returned the very words the trembling reporter, who was handing him the microphone, must have been dreading.

“Thank you for the congratulations, but I’ll give my victory speech after we win the Unity Games.”

“…”

The rude and shameless bombshell had been dropped.

A murmur rippled through the crowd; someone cursed in English, and the other teams’ expressions grew tense. Those familiar with Sa-yoon’s true nature, understanding the significance of the name Kwon Sa-yoon, either sighed as if to say, “I expected nothing less,” or showed no reaction at all.

Sa-yoon, who had become the center of the commotion with a single remark, gave the pale, flustered reporter, who was struggling to clean up the mess, a picture-perfect smile, gathered his team, and left the interview. His skill at starting a fire and then escaping was truly top-notch, and the Noah members shook their heads, chiding him.

“You’re going to get seriously hurt one day if you keep running your mouth like that.”

“I’ve already been seriously hurt so many times that threats like that don’t scare me anymore.”

“If only you couldn’t talk.”

“I learned it from you, noona.”

Mi-jeong pressed her fingertips to her brow and muttered, “Who can stop him?” Sa-yoon, who had no intention of listening even if someone tried, just smiled and, to enjoy the break he had been given until the next match, ordered a catered buffet. The two-hour break, which also served as a mealtime for the spectators and players, was more than enough time to eat, rest, and recover their mana.

And so, though Sa-yoon’s provocations had caused quite a stir, the Unity Games, after a break and inspection, finally reached its last event.

The second match of the team battle: the gate clear time attack.

The rules for this match were simple.

First, the entire clear must be filmed with a video stone and released without editing. Second, remember that you are automatically disqualified if you exceed three hours after entering the gate.

Although the gate to be cleared was an S+-rank, which had an average clear time of seven hours, that was assuming a party of two S-ranks. Furthermore, since Sa-yoon’s recent clear in under twenty minutes, it had become something of a trend for high-level Awakeners to challenge time attacks. It was now common knowledge that if three or more S-ranks entered, a clear in under four hours was the norm.

There was no way a team composed entirely of S-ranks would exceed three hours.

Therefore, that rule was just a formality. The only real factor to consider in this match was one thing.

Film everything with a video stone.

Naturally, since it would be released unedited, everyone would be holding back a card or two.

As he listened to the explanation, Sa-yoon tapped Geon-joo’s forearm, and their eyes met.

*No Demigod Body.

The man, understanding his meaning, nodded. Reassured, Sa-yoon looked at the stage.

“We will now begin the gate selection!”

The announcer’s booming voice rang out, and the youngest members of each team came forward. Which team would clear which gate was decided by a spin of the roulette wheel. The gate Han Geon-joo landed on was a newly created S+-rank, ‘The Labyrinth of the Minotaur.’

Good thing they asked for the youngest, not the representative.

It was a well-known fact that Han Geon-joo was Noah’s number one in terms of luck. It seemed there was a point in sending the guy who was blessed by both luck and items. The corners of Sa-yoon’s, Geon-joo’s, and Jaehee’s mouths all curved into a smile.

The Labyrinth of the Minotaur.

It was a gate they had definitely cleared in the Foretold Tower.

The situation was turning in their favor.

Noah had earned a total of 52 points, with 5 from the friendly match, 12 from the duo, 10 from martial arts, and 25 from the team battle victory. This strong lead meant that Noah could easily secure the Unity Games championship title as long as they maintained their advantage in the gate clear portion. If they encountered a gate they had already experienced in the Foretold Tower, it would be almost certain victory.

“Good boy.”

Sa-yoon smiled and ruffled Geon-joo’s hair. Geon-joo, complaining about him messing up his hair in front of everyone, slipped out of his grasp and straightened it. The scene was being broadcast live, and the domestic public’s reaction was explosive.

• Look how relaxed they are. Not a hint of nervousness.
• Are they really going to pull it off this time?
• I ordered chicken. I’m so hyped right now. The last Unity Games, I didn’t watch because I didn’t want to get pissed off. Is the gate clear video being streamed live?
• Forget that, this stats nerd’s heart is pounding lol.

The domestic media was already pumping out articles as if Noah had won, just based on their current first-place ranking. The online community’s reaction was also intense. The atmosphere, which had at first been critical of those who were getting their hopes up, had now shifted to, Are they really going to do it? Are they really going to get first place?, filling the air with anticipation. And that online reaction was reflected right in front of the gate where the clear was to take place.

“How many people are here?”

The area in front of the gate, teeming with people, looked like a festival ground. A rough estimate put the crowd at over two hundred, all loudly waving slogans and cheering paraphernalia. It was a scale large enough for an accident to happen, and Sa-yoon watched the police trying to control the crowd with a look of disbelief.

Is this some kind of World Cup cheering atmosphere?

Thinking they had too much time on their hands, he clicked his tongue and, with his members, stepped onto the cleared path. The crowd, spotting them, began to stir.

In an instant, the street was flooded with noise.

“KYAAAAAA!”

“Holy shit, Sa-yoon!”

“Don’t come out of the gate unless you win!”

“Go, Noah!”

A myriad of voices, a mix of cheers, threats, and expectations, chanted the names of the Noah members. Mi-jeong and the others flinched.

“We’re always hearing curses. This is a first.”

“It seems our people are really sensitive about rankings.”

“…Weren’t there some people who said, ‘You lost, but you fought well’?”

“Do you really think they said that because we fought well? It was just a consolation.”

It seemed this kind of reaction was a first for them, too. Among the names that echoed like a mantra, his own was the loudest. He was about to get annoyed at the informal address when Geon-joo grabbed his arm, stopping him. Sa-yoon was impressed.

He’s a quick one.

As he looked at him, shaking his head as if to say no, Geon-joo’s expression finally relaxed. For some reason, at that moment, the screams grew even louder.

“Do well in the clear!”

“Come back unhurt!”

“We’re cheering for you!”

“Ah, let’s go for first place, Team Korea!”

“Hmph.”

Still, it’s not bad.

He was used to the booming send-offs of the swarthy men who always called him hyungnim, or going off to clear a gate in silence and solitude. To be cheered on by people of all ages was quite a new experience.

The realization that he had shed his villain title settled in. With a relaxed expression, he stood before the gate as flashes went off, the members being filmed as they prepared. In the midst of it all, reporters tried to get an interview, shoving their microphones forward. But whenever a mic was about to reach him, another member would hastily fill the spot and spew some bland, generic comment. The sight was so amusing that playful laughter erupted here and there.

It was nice that it was peaceful, but because it was peaceful, it was ominous.

Misfortune always strikes when you let your guard down. Sa-yoon, thinking that he would have to firmly get a grip on the Noah members’ minds, which would be more relaxed than usual once they entered the gate, decided he had been filmed enough and had shown his face enough. He reached for the gate entrance.

“Team Noah, beginning the gate clear!”

An Association staff member, who had activated the video stone’s recording function, handed it to Sa-yoon and notified the event officials. The referee blew his whistle, and amidst the cheers, they entered the gate. A characteristic light enveloped them, and a system window popped up.

He waited for the light to fade, listening to the cheerful entry notification.

“…”

…What is this?

He was sure the teleportation was complete. He could feel the wind on his skin, and the air that entered his lungs was distinctly different from outside. And yet, unlike usual, the light wasn’t disappearing. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the blurry form of the gate’s interior, when suddenly, a crack appeared in the blue window.

“Wh-what?”

“What’s going on?”

“…Is it a trap?”

The group, sensing the anomaly, was flustered. The notification window was glitching, changing from green to black and distorting, just like a system error in a game. Sa-yoon’s expression turned serious.

A trap?

No way.

This was not a trap set by another team to keep Noah in check. This was a being of a much higher order.