2.

To be honest, the two PvP matches weren't particularly thrilling for Kim Buja. The difference between PvE—fighting a single monster or multiple monsters—and PvP—fighting another player—was a chasm so vast you could spend a lifetime explaining it and still not be done. Neither of the two opponents he faced had a complete understanding of PvP. It couldn't be helped.

The only opportunity for players to use their given abilities was against monsters inside dungeons. The chance to fight against humans or fellow players was completely blocked by social norms and laws, so they never had a proper opportunity to try. At best, due to content like the annual international competition, prominent guilds would train PvP specialists; however, even then, practicing in a real-fight scenario was not easy.

The knuckle-wielding player was one thing, but wasn't it obvious in the duel with the debuff-focused mage? Her reflexes. Her ability to react to unexpected situations was practically at a beginner's level. Despite having faced countless monsters and using her wits to overcome their unpredictable patterns, the moment her opponent was a fellow player, she let her guard down—for the simple reason that he was human.

That was an issue of experience, as well as the conviction that she knew her opponent well. 'My opponent will come at me this way, so I will use the move I prepared.' The moment she thought that, her body, already in motion, took time to accept a change in plans. That was why Kim Buja won so easily. It was the same in the semifinals. The pattern wasn't much different.

His opponent was skilled enough that he could feel a difference from the previous two. He never let his guard down, and he was aware that Kim Buja's weapon could change freely, allowing him to respond optimally to each change. He blocked direct attacks and skillfully deflected feints meant as traps. As if to prove how vast the world was, the player from the eighth-ranked guild showed a different side from the players he had faced so far.

But he couldn't overcome him. He couldn't overcome Kim Buja in a space where the wall of levels had been broken. It wasn't a matter of a different level of fighting technique, experience, or talent. Before it even got to that level, the eighth-ranked guild's player crumbled.

"This class difference is just too big, isn't it?"

It was literally a class difference. A Legendary Grade versus, at best, an Epic or Unique-grade class. Attacks and defenses using skills were certainly unpredictable and varied, making them hard to block without skills, but that was all. The overwhelming attack power, defense power, and stats supported by a Legendary-grade class completely crushed a lower-tier class, simply with power.

After awakening, he had met so many famous players—no, so many famous players in the world—that he had grown tired of hearing that Special was the bare minimum and Unique was considered a step down, making him momentarily forget. He had forgotten that Legendary classes were so few you could count them on your fingers, and that even Special classes numbered less than one thousand among the seventy million players. Once the wall of levels, the difference in stats built up over time, disappeared, the most essential power in the event was a single thing: Class. Skill was just an added bonus.

"Everyone was way too complacent about this."

Jeong Cheol knew roughly what Kim Buja's class grade was from Jeong Seora. But that wasn't why he had sent him to the national qualifiers. In any case, Kim Buja, a Legendary-grade class, ended up as the Jeongcheol Guild's representative, while all the other guilds sent out their highest-level players, or those with good PvP skills who were close to it. They were wrong. He now realized it for certain. The people watching would realize it too. And they would lament about the true nature of this event.

* * *

—Hey, isn't this a little weird?

—I felt it too. Kim Buja is winning too easily.

—Honestly, I thought his opponents were just scrubs, but I looked them up, and they're all just over level 60 or former pro gamers who were ranked in the top ten in Korea for PvP.

The viewers' eyes were sharp. Especially those who spent their days in their rooms watching dungeon-related videos; they often knew more about players than the players themselves.

—To be honest, it's not like Kim Buja did anything particularly amazing, right? What did he really do besides cleanly exploit an opening, find a weakness, and kill them by switching weapons with a class skill?

It wasn't a strange thing to say. But when you considered that his opponents weren't rookies—that they were guild representatives who had fought through fierce competition just to get to the national qualifiers—it was a little strange.

—Attacks that should have been blocked, dodged, or withstood were simply broken through.

People quickly identified the discrepancy during the final twelve-hour waiting period following the semifinals.

—I don't know what Kim Buja's class is, but one thing's for sure: his stats are fundamentally different from those of other players.

* * *

There seems to be a bit of an attack power buff, too.

—A bit? Are you kidding? It's not just piercing through his defensive skills; it's going right through his armor. That's at least a 2x buff, isn't it?

His movements were as clean and concise as they were in his videos—truly admirable. His instinct for creating openings and his swift judgment were so sharp you wanted to study him. But that was it.

—In his videos, it looked like he was using his skills to get 200%, even 300% out of his power, but now… it feels like he's just steamrolling them with raw force. Damn, it's like watching a final boss that's just a robot analyzing patterns.

The moment people realized this, speculation exploded.

—With a buff that strong, what the hell is his class?

—I'm guessing it's a support-type class, Special Grade at a minimum.

—Dude, Kim Buja is a noob who hasn't even finished the tutorial. Even if skills are normalized, he can't just get new ones he hasn't learned. But he has stat buffs you can see with your own eyes, plus attack and defense buffs? That's a Legendary Grade, minimum.

—Sounds legit. I'm sold. I knew he was different from the moment I first saw him.

—Whoa, that's crazy. So he soloed a Legendary dungeon with a support-type class? Insane.

At the same time, they swallowed hard as they watched the clock.

—Okay, let's say Kim Buja has a Legendary-grade class. What happens in the finals?

For a few seconds, the chat, which had been scrolling at a hundred lines per second, came to a halt. Everyone deleted what they were typing and started over, trying to organize their thoughts. In the end, they all reached the same conclusion.

—We'll find out when they fight, won't we?

Seeing is believing.

—We'll finally see if rankers are really all about their levels, and if the saying that you can succeed just by working hard regardless of class is actually true.

Some, however, were worried.

—Isn't there too much on the line?

A player's rank was a measure of the player's skill. The absolute truth that had held for five years might be shattered by the rules of this first-ever event and the unique way they were being applied. The thought kept people from sleeping.

—I'm pulling an all-nighter for this.

The long-awaited finals. The stage, fitting for such a momentous occasion, was much larger.

* * *

"Wow, he's handsome."

The final stage was a wide martial arts arena, embroidered with brilliant engravings straight out of a martial arts film. It was so vast that the distance between opponents at opposite ends felt immense. Standing in the center of that stage, facing his final opponent in the national qualifiers, Kim Buja's first thought about Shin Hyeseong was that he was ridiculously good-looking.

The absurd rumors about him having female fans all over the world—a fandom that could rival Fly's—weren't for nothing. He was just that handsome. It made you wonder if he could have just become a celebrity instead of risking his life in dungeons.

That handsome face, combined with his overwhelming titles of Level 65 and Korea's rank 1, made you admit it. His fans weren't wrong about a thing. Looks, skill, level, even a Special-grade class. There was no need to even mention money. A level 65 ranker was practically a walking global corporation.

"What a lucky bastard."

It was the highest compliment one could pay to someone so perfect. The sight of him holding a massive greatsword slung over his shoulder with one hand was nothing short of majestic.

Unintimidated, Kim Buja summoned his own weapon. This time, he didn't prepare a surprise attack to catch his opponent off guard. On such an important stage, with tens of millions of people watching—and just as many of Shin Hyeseong's fans hoping he'd trip and fall—scoring points with cheap tricks could earn him a lifetime of hate in an instant. Of course, the bigger reason he refrained was the thought that it wouldn't work anyway.

"I'll fight fair and square in this match." He spread his arms and shouted loudly as the hologram signaling the start of the match appeared.

In the arena where only he and Shin Hyeseong stood, his words seemed directed at his opponent, but his upward gaze hinted that they were for the spectators. As if to prove it, he summoned his weapon without waiting for a reply.

Hyeseong's eyes wavered. It wasn't fear or dread. Like Buja, he hadn't entered the high-stakes qualifiers feeling any particular sense of crisis. Many people said the era of SJ being number one was over, that they were just maintaining a hollow title with the honor and fame they'd built up, but he was confident.

He would prove once more that SJ was still number one in Korea and that Shin Hyeseong was the pillar leading them. He had entered with that level of confidence. But the opponent before him, a rookie who had just appeared and was gaining attention, pulled out a weapon.

'Whoosh—'

A giant greatsword. It was slightly larger than the one Hyeseong himself was holding, which was made from the ground bones of a hatchling he had hunted in a 7-star dungeon.

It was a clear provocation. Hyeseong knew. Having watched the previous three matches, he recognized this as Buja's opening pattern. He used the advantage of being able to switch weapons to create an opening. This, too, must be part of his plan. Provoke him to create a gap, then dive in deep.

Knowing this, he charged. He wasn't falling for it. He was dismantling it.

The speed at which he ran while shouldering the greatsword's weight was unbelievably fast, and the reach of the swinging blade felt much longer than it appeared. At the same time, he swung to cut off any empty space, preventing his opponent from switching weapons and closing in. This was the difference. 'I'll show you I'm in a different league than the last three.' The wind shrieked, as if a single blow from that swinging greatsword could slice a man in two.

'He'll obviously dodge it.' Smirking, Shin Hyeseong felt it.

'BAM!'

Hyeseong was too stunned to speak.

'Slice.' Even though he had used a skill to increase his attack power, the moment his greatsword—which should have sliced through armor and tender flesh alike—was blocked by a rough wall, the impact shot right back up his arms.

One corner of Buja's mouth curled up, and his narrowed eyes showed clear intent. 'I told you. I'm going to fight fair and square.'

The perfectly blocked attack, coupled with the provocation that struck him deep in the chest, sent a flush of heat through his body. But that wasn't the end. Under the simultaneous pressure of a downward strike, Hyeseong had no choice but to take one, then two steps back.

"Let me show you the difference between classes." The softly spoken words announced the true start of the battle.

* * *

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