7.

By the time he closed the distance, his hands were fitted with knuckles, just like his opponent's.

The opponent was stunned to see knuckles wrapped around the fists of Kim Buja, who had been bare-handed just a moment ago. He had every reason to be. Just as Buja had information on the tenth-ranked guild's player he'd never met, his opponent had surely come prepared with every last scrap of information on the most promising contender in the individual matches. And that information did not include him using knuckles.

'I only heard he might use a bow!'

In a one-on-one duel, in a wide-open space like this, using a bow would give his knuckle-wielding opponent a huge advantage. He'd thought there was no way Buja would be that foolish. So, he had prepared for his main weapon, the dagger, and practiced ways to close the distance in case a longsword appeared. As he processed this, the unexpected variable threw him off.

In truth, it didn't make much of a difference. Knuckles and daggers. Both had a short enough range that you had to be in close quarters, and if he had just reacted without panicking to Buja's charge, he could have met him in a melee and played to his own strengths. A fleeting gap. Even as he processed his thoughts, realizing it wasn't so different, he wondered how the knuckles would be used, contemplating the unconventional tactic.

'So, he used the fact that my weapon is also knuckles to catch me off guard.' That brief moment of prediction, less than two seconds long, was the opening Kim Buja had been aiming for.

'He's fast!'

The incoming fist flew toward his face at a speed faster than expected. It wasn't that his mind had wandered. Even if this was a battle where he could afford to die, it was a moment where he had to fight for his life more than ever. Besides, while the spectators might see him as some nobody who would finish tenth, he was still a player over level 60!

There was no way a man with his experience wouldn't be paying attention to an attack aimed at his head. It was just fast. No, it had gotten faster. How? He raised his guard, assuming their stats were the same, but he had to twist his body, unable to solve the mystery of how Buja moved faster. It was his only choice to avoid having his skull crushed by the knuckles before his guard was in place.

'Whoosh—'

The studs on the knuckles grazed past his ear. Just a graze sent a sharp pain through him; his skin must have been cut or torn. Still, it was better than being eliminated ten seconds into the match with a shattered skull. He fought against the force of his violent twist and the pull of gravity, correcting his posture. His stance was compromised at the cost of his balance, but after paying the price for his carelessness, he protected his vitals more securely.

'Thigh or waist.'

He would have to allow a follow-up strike. He would overcome this disadvantage by minimizing the damage. It was the best possible choice. Anyone watching who knew a thing or two about fighting would have applauded. But that was assuming his split-second judgment had actually overcome the crisis.

'Pshnk'

The opponent was filled with disbelief. The moment he met Kim Buja's eyes, which he had lost for an instant and vowed not to lose again, a heavy, cold sensation in his side filled him with disbelief. His plan, which assumed he could withstand at least one blow from a knuckled fist due to the stat normalization, was shattered by the sharp edge of a dagger that not only pierced him but twisted inside.

He didn't fall into a near-death state at once. The searing pain in his side made him realize that just as stats were normalized, so was weapon damage.

'I can take it.'

It felt like the time he'd been stabbed with a knife long ago, before he awakened as a player. It was a serious wound, but not enough to make him collapse. As his body began to fall, he felt the dagger pull out and tensed his muscles. He could feel blood pouring from the wound as he put strength into his lower body, and he clutched his side to stanch the bleeding.

'First, I need to make some distance.'

He'd lost the pace of the fight. With that thought, he turned his back to create distance as quickly as possible.

'Pshnk!'

The gruesome stabbing sound came again. This time, it wasn't his side. The sound was right next to his ear, and he felt the cold blade of a dagger.

"Agh."

In that instant, he knew.

'I'm dead.'

His body went limp with despair. The vivid pain in his neck and the dizziness that made his vision spin were omens of death.

'Thud.'

His body collapsed to the floor. At the same time, the instincts of a player over level 60 kicked in.

'Why did I lose?'

He endlessly reviewed his failures, searching for the reason and trying again until he succeeded. It was the greatest blessing for a player who had survived in a world with only one chance. As the relief of knowing he would revive after death washed over him, his thoughts crystallized into a single conclusion.

'His weapon changes.'

How? Weren't all stats supposed to be normalized? He couldn't answer that, but he found his conclusion.

'He's overwhelming.'

He had been outmatched in every respect.

[You have died.]

[You have used a '(Provisional) Life'.]

[You have been expelled from the 'Event (Provisional)'.]

This entire outcome took thirty seconds. The match was over.

* * *

[You are victorious.]

[Moving to the waiting room.]

A simple hologram appeared, and Buja's vision shifted to a massive room equipped with every imaginable convenience. It looked larger than a hotel suite. He threw himself onto a bed and replayed the recent battle in his mind.

"It's nice that this isn't normalized."

It had been a one-sided fight, hardly worth replaying. No, it was embarrassing to even call it a fight; it was more like an assault. He'd closed in, exploited the opening created by his opponent's carelessness, deliberately thrown off his posture to confuse his line of sight, and in that gap, switched the knuckle in his blind spot to a dagger and stabbed him in the side. The moment an opponent who absolutely had to maintain close range failed to block an attack at close range, the game was as good as over. And turning his back was even worse.

In short, he charged, stabbed, and stabbed again to end it. The reason he could finish it in an astonishing thirty seconds was his MVP: the Gold Ring.

"Does it see the built-in skill as a class-exclusive skill because it's a Gold Maker-exclusive weapon?"

Frankly, he was more curious about this than about how his opponent had been so dazed before dying. He could understand the slight increase in base attack power, as there was a considerable difference between a 1-star and a 7-star weapon. He could even accept that the reinforcement effect had allowed it to pierce through the opponent's normalized armor. Enhancement was a unique skill of the Gold Maker class.

But what about the Gold Ring's transformation skill, which had been the biggest contributor to this victory? If skills embedded in weapons were also usable despite normalization, he would have understood and started thinking about how to utilize them going forward. But the skill embedded in the Legendary-grade earring he got from Sergei was restricted and unusable.

"What a strange set of rules."

Whatever the case, the conditions were favorable for him. And it wasn't like they would suddenly release an emergency patch to block it just because it was too advantageous. Backlash from the spectators? Who would dare complain if he said it was a class skill? Besides, this too was an ability of a national representative. Would a loophole usable here be unusable in the main event?

Ultimately, it was an advantage. Reminding himself of this once more, he stroked the Gold Ring.

"You're the first treasure of my life."

From the Gold Mission to the National Team Selection Match, he was grateful for the item that always gave him strength.

"As soon as I level up, you're the first thing I'm upgrading."

He made a grand promise. Then, while waiting, he opened the spectator view to watch the ongoing matches.

"Looks like Shin Hyeseong's match is over, too."

He had come to the waiting room, rolled around on the bed for about five minutes, and then turned it on to find that the match had also ended. The other matches were also starting to show a clear winner. It was an example of how one-on-one fights rarely last long unless the opponents are on perfectly equal footing. This was especially true for players who lacked PvP practice.

When they fought an equal opponent without the crutch of items or stats, countless variables and weaknesses were exposed. The gap created by superior control and adaptation was not easily closed. And so, after about ten more minutes, the matches concluded. Would the next round start right away? Just as he thought that, a hologram appeared.

[The 'Group Draw' will take place in 12 hours. The matches will begin immediately after the 'Group Draw,' and the 5 participants will be assigned to Groups A, B, and C, respectively. The participant assigned to Group C will advance directly to the 'Finals.' The 'Finals' will begin 12 hours after the preceding match.]

A helpful explanation. A flaw in the tournament format is from the fact that there are ten participants. Along with the decision to determine a bye by sheer luck, a rest period was given. It was likely time to recover stamina and formulate strategies.

"Can't I just go out and rest?"

With nothing much to do, Kim Buja rewatched the match footage of the players who had advanced. The videos weren't long, so it wasn't a huge burden. He'd do a quick analysis and then get some deep sleep.

"As expected."

The short videos confirmed his low expectations. Even Shin Hyeseong, the one opponent he needed to be wary of, just showed a string of one-sided attacks, making it difficult to identify any weaknesses or key skills. It seemed he would have to figure it out by facing him directly. Before closing his eyes, he spent some time searching for any loopholes that might have survived the system's restrictions, then fell asleep.

"If possible, let's get that Group C bye and take it easy."

He dreamed of getting a free lunch.

* * *

Waking up to the event alarm he'd set for thirty minutes prior, Kim Buja's lips curled into a smile.

"Wow, why do I have such a good feeling about this?"

He didn't dream often. Especially not a dream so relevant to the situation!

"It wasn't exactly a prophetic dream, but it felt like one."

A dream about finding and eating a sweet rice cake off the street could only be seen as a good omen, especially in a situation like this. The odds weren't bad either. One out of five. A twenty percent chance.

"Please."

The five who had made it through the fifty percent elimination of ten contestants were no pushovers. No matter how good Kim Buja's control was, it wasn't enough to completely overturn a fundamental class difference. Besides, his opponents would start revealing the cards they had been saving as they advanced. With flashy skills exploding and opponents clinging to him in a "let's die together" fashion, Kim Buja, who had nothing but the passive stat boosts from his class, would inevitably have a hard time.

The penalty of normalizing all player stats wasn't omnipotent, after all. There were bound to be other players who, like him, found and exploited loopholes. Most importantly, reducing the number of matches in a tournament by even one was a definite advantage and a blessing.

[The 'Group Draw' will now begin.]

When the time came, five cards began to shuffle. A, B, C. They spun around the five prepared slots before settling one by one. He didn't care about the others. Kim Buja's eyes were fixed on the single C slot.

"It's me, right?"

He wanted to check immediately, but the cards were revealed starting with A.

He was too stunned to speak.

His vain hope was shattered from the start. Row A, Number 1: Kim Buja. And the lucky winner was... Row C, Number 1, the bye: Shin Hyeseong.

"Justice is fucking dead."

What a luck-based game. Before he could even finish venting his frustration, his vision flashed.

* * *

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