Chapter 29: The Invisible Strike

The two mentors stood side by side in the waiting line. This time, mentors had to stay inside the tent with the supervising teacher who acted as referee.

“Mentors may not intervene in any way until the match is over. Mentor Sung Ji-woo has already requested to use his buff beforehand. Mentor Kim Yu-cheol, not yet, right?”

“Heh, already? No, I’ll use mine later.”

Kim Yu-cheol stared at Sung Ji-woo with a disdainful expression. He thought Sung Ji-woo’s choice lacked strategic value.

And he wasn’t entirely wrong. Most mentors saved their decisive move for Round 3. Unlike the standardized format of Rounds 1 and 2, Round 3 varied by team in terms of arena and rules, introducing many variables. Naturally, mentor support during Round 3 had become the unofficial norm.

But Sung Ji-woo didn’t care at all. Right before parting with Yoo Hee-ro, he cast the buff Hee-ro requested. Even he had never attempted this method before, so he wasn’t sure it would work.

He would only know once the match began—whether the buff succeeded or failed. It had been a while since he felt this nervous. His palms were damp with cold sweat.

‘Well… even if it fails this time, we can do well next time… No, honestly, he’s already done more than enough.’

Sung Ji-woo quietly watched Yoo Hee-ro standing in the distance. Maybe because of the distance, Hee-ro’s figure and aura looked unfamiliar.

“Stand by!”

The announcement boomed loudly from the speakers. The once noisy arena fell silent in an instant. All eyes were focused on the two contestants.

Both stared straight at the expected spawn point of the target. On the scoreboard, “READY” switched into a countdown.

‘3, 2, 1—’

Beep!

The whistle signaled the start of the second match.

“…….”

“……What the hell?”

The hologram target flashed into existence midair. The problem was—neither contestant attacked. Murmurs spread across the audience. Even Kim Yu-cheol, relaxing with his arms crossed, sat up and scoffed.

“Do they not know the match started?”

His tone dismissed both contestants as incompetent. But Sung Ji-woo said nothing. He simply tracked the flickering hologram with his eyes. His body was still—his mind overflowing with possibilities.

If even after the whistle, nothing appeared to Hee-ro’s eyes, then—

‘It worked…?’

Lee Su-hyun was confused. The whistle had blown. The scoreboard clearly flashed “START.” Unlike Round 1, there was no need to test pacing or feel things out. The target wasn’t attacking. All he needed was speed and precision.

Yet Yoo Hee-ro showed no intention to move. No attempt to strike. Su-hyun wiped the sweat dripping down his cheek. His skin prickled where the sweat dried.

‘What is he thinking?’

Because he was too conscious of Hee-ro, Su-hyun kept missing the right timing. He knew he had to gain points this round. But his focus only scattered further.

Flash.

The target appeared close this time before vanishing again. But Hee-ro still only stared at it quietly.

“…What are you doing?”

Unable to endure the confusion, Su-hyun muttered aloud. Hee-ro slowly turned his head toward him—then curved one corner of his mouth upward.

The gentle face he always showed beside Sung Ji-woo vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, cynical air. Su-hyun felt his scalp tighten, goosebumps racing down his spine.

His instincts screamed danger.

He looked up at the scoreboard—and froze. Yoo Hee-ro’s score kept climbing.

“What the—look! Look at that!”

Someone in the audience pointed at the scoreboard. Others quickly chimed in with confused voices.

“Is it broken?”

“Why is his score going up? He’s not even doing anything…”

“Su-hyun’s score isn’t moving at all!”

At the mention of his name, Su-hyun jolted as if struck by lightning. He looked around desperately. The target kept appearing and disappearing like it was mocking him. He didn’t need to look at the scoreboard anymore—Hee-ro’s points were still rising.

Panic made his knees tremble. The harder he tried to focus, the worse his concentration became.

‘Wait—whatever’s happening, I need at least one point…’

Three minutes had already passed.

‘Where… where is it…’

Just moments ago the target’s movement had been perfectly clear. Now he could only barely track the afterimage.

‘Please… please…!’

Suddenly, the target appeared right in front of him. The moment Su-hyun concentrated and swung—

Whoosh—!

Something sliced through the air. His hair and clothes whipped violently, as if something invisible rushed past.

‘I… couldn’t see it?’

Realization dawned on him—slow, dawning horror.

Yoo Hee-ro’s ability was invisible. Just like transparency. He wasn’t missing anything—Hee-ro’s attack itself couldn’t be seen. He felt it pass him. A sharp sting grazed his cheekbone—a thin line like a cut from a blade.

At that moment, the scoreboard lit up:

[GAME OVER]

He couldn’t even defend. The match ended before he could respond.

‘What the hell are you… How did Yoo Hee-ro become like this? Just from a few months of mentoring? No teacher has ever managed to make him improve before.’

Su-hyun stared at him, pale as a ghost. He thought he had a chance this round. Now he realized how foolishly arrogant that had been.

He had planned to steal points while Hee-ro wasn’t paying attention.

And Hee-ro had beaten him using the exact same tactic—only flawlessly.

“In Round 1, you weren’t like this. How… how did you do it?”

For the first time, Su-hyun raised his voice. Hee-ro turned his head. After a brief pause, he answered flatly:

“Because my senior… is light.”

He spoke in riddles, squinted at the scoreboard, then lowered his head again—as if everything made perfect sense.

His gaze immediately found Sung Ji-woo at the referee’s tent.

As he walked past Su-hyun, he yawned. It wasn’t mocking—just the relaxed yawn of someone mildly bored on a warm afternoon.

“……”

Su-hyun felt utterly crushed. None of Kim Yu-cheol’s harsh words had ever humiliated him this deeply. But one small relief remained:

Nobody here could possibly beat Yoo Hee-ro right now.

***********************

Yoo Hee-ro approached Sung Ji-woo with light, excited steps—the complete opposite of how he had looked in the arena.

“Did you see that? Senior, your buff worked!”

“…So it did? It worked, right?”

Sung Ji-woo answered a beat late. Not being the one in the match, he hadn’t been certain whether their tactic worked. He had worried so much that he didn’t even notice Hee-ro’s strange choice of words—though the strategy was his, though Hee-ro used the ability, Hee-ro credited everything to Ji-woo alone.

Ji-woo felt a rush of dopamine—his brightest expression yet. He ruffled Hee-ro’s hair enthusiastically. Hee-ro beamed within his arms.

Meanwhile, Kim Yu-cheol’s face soured further. Su-hyun didn’t even come over—he stood frozen on the field, staring blankly at nothing.

“Shit—hey! Get over here already!”

Yu-cheol snapped toward his defeated mentee. Rage and humiliation boiled in him.

“How did you even come up with putting a light buff on an ability like his?”

Ji-woo finally asked the question burning in his mind. How did Hee-ro think of such a strategy?

“…Actually, I’ve been thinking about our combination for a while,” Hee-ro replied.

“With me?” Ji-woo blinked.

“Yes. I really think we go well together.”

His firm tone held a strange glint in his eyes. Ji-woo, too excited to notice the shift, simply laughed it off.

“Yeah… can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

The trick had been this:

Yoo Hee-ro asked Ji-woo not to buff him, but to buff his shadow.

Normally, buffs were placed directly on the person so all abilities activated under the buff’s effect.

But Hee-ro wanted his shadow ability buffed. He predicted that balancing light and shadow perfectly would make his power close to invisible.

And he was right.

Adjusting the balance precisely indoors should’ve been impossible—small outlines or traces should still be visible. But combined with Hee-ro’s speed, it became practically undetectable. A perfect surprise attack.

“I have no choice but to give strategy points for that,” the referee said.

Yu-cheol looked defeated, while Ji-woo and Hee-ro shared a satisfied smile.

“In the next round, I’ll use my ability,” Yu-cheol said through gritted teeth. “Ji-woo already used his, so he can’t use it again, right?”

He had to salvage Round 3 somehow. His ability was physical enhancement—temporarily boosting his body’s capabilities to the extreme.

Sung Ji-woo began reorganizing strategies in his head. They would have to prepare for anything in the final round.