Chapter 13: The Great battle of illusion(3)
Three days passed in a flash.
Yoo Soha looked at Eclipse with a calm demeanor.
“Eclipse.”
“What is it?”
“Today’s an important day.”
“I know.”
“Do your best.”
“…Alright.”
The Hwanryeong Grand Tournament had begun.
The venue was Hwanryeong Island, a private island owned by the Hwanryeong Guild.
They had developed an entire massive island, building a colosseum safe for awakeners to battle.
Broadcasters and reporters swarmed Hwanryeong Island, desperate to capture even one more photo.
It wasn’t just the reporters.
Fans who’d do anything to see famous awakeners started flocking to catch a glimpse.
The enormous island was packed with people in no time.
Thankfully, the colosseum wasn’t the only thing on the island.
For the tourists who came to see the awakeners, various facilities were prepared.
From a training center to a video hall showcasing iconic moments of Hwanryeong’s top awakeners.
The time Yoo Hyuk saved countless lives.
The moments Hwanryeong’s awakeners risked their lives to stop an S-rank gate.
Tributes to the awakeners who perished in those battles.
The video hall stretched on, with countless people watching those moments again.
So that those who were gradually being forgotten would not fade entirely.
The early videos were, naturally, heavy—tales of awakeners’ noble sacrifices and interviews with those they saved.
But as time went on, the tone of the videos lightened.
That was only natural.
Thanks to the awakeners’ sacrifices, Korean society had normalized quickly.
Scenes of awakeners joking with each other.
Sparring matches.
The first-ever Hwanryeong Grand Tournament.
All sorts of videos captivated the tourists’ eyes.
And, of course, that footage was there too.
Videos from last year’s Hwanryeong Grand Tournament.
Including the one where Yoo Soha was utterly defeated by Yoo Danha.
Online communities buzzed with posts certifying arrivals at Hwanryeong Island.
And just as many videos were being archived.
Posts claiming new footage had surfaced, ones people hadn’t seen before, racked up countless likes.
Everyone who arrived at Hwanryeong Island was eagerly awaiting the tournament.
Yoo Danha stood at the top of a massive hotel complex on Hwanryeong Island, reserved exclusively for Hwanryeong’s direct lineage, looking down at the island below.
[Is something troubling you?]
“…Yes.”
[Is it about Soha?]
“Of course. Most of my worries are about her.”
[Are you concerned because you might overwhelmingly win again?]
“Yes. If that happens, it’ll hurt her pride even more. She might stop treating me like her sister altogether.”
[Soha isn’t that narrow-minded. You know that.]
“I know. I know, but… inferiority, or the sting of defeat, is such a dangerous and intense feeling. And this time, with the Fragment of Knowledge Soha brought back to Hwanryeong… you and I have grown stronger because of it.”
Exactly.
Thanks to the Fragment of Knowledge Yoo Soha had retrieved, Yoo Danha had managed to restore one of Hidelixus’s lost memories.
Guardian Stars, when crossing into this world, often face restrictions on their power or knowledge.
Some face both, some neither, but Hidelixus had been restricted by knowledge.
With the Fragment of Knowledge, he recalled fragments of his forgotten, destroyed past, and Yoo Danha’s strength grew significantly.
Because the knowledge Hidelixus recovered meant he no longer had to limit himself to shield techniques.
In his forgotten memories, Hidelixus wasn’t just a shield-bearer.
He was a warrior—a fighter who stood at the forefront, taking enemy attacks while crushing them.
His massive frame wasn’t just for protecting.
The true potential of Hidelixus that Yoo Danha witnessed was astounding.
Even the Guardian Stars of most A-rank awakeners fell before Hidelixus’s combat techniques.
Without his shield, he was far stronger than when he wielded it.
That was exactly what Yoo Danha was worried about.
Hidelixus, now able to fluidly switch between offense and defense, was far stronger than before, and Yoo Soha wouldn’t be able to withstand his onslaught.
Yoo Danha specialized in all types of firearms.
She was a firearms expert, and her mana had the property of explosion.
Able to detonate her mana instantly, her long-range attacks could deal critical damage with every shot.
In other words, Yoo Soha, who needed time to prepare her long-range attacks, would be helpless against Hidelixus’s relentless assault, followed by explosive gunfire.
What would happen in that situation?
Her sister’s pride would likely be crushed even more than last year.
That was what Yoo Danha feared.
“Do you remember Soha crying last year?”
[…Yes.]
“It was the first time I saw her cry like that. She hadn’t cried since she was ten.”
[…]
“I don’t want to make her cry, but if I hold back, she’ll hate me. That’s just how she is.”
[Yes.]
“So I’ll give it my all. That’s the respect I owe her.”
[A good choice.]
Facing the breeze blowing at the hotel’s rooftop, Yoo Danha organized her thoughts.
Unnecessary distractions weren’t needed.
Giving her all in everything—that was Yoo Danha’s way of thinking.
The vast colosseum was packed with countless spectators.
Shin Sungmin smiled warmly at the sight of the colosseum, which he hadn’t seen in a while.
“I wonder how much Danha and Soha have grown.”
[You’re still worried about those kids?]
Adein grumbled at his muttering.
“Of course. They’re like my little sisters. What, jealous?”
[Am I crazy?]
Shin Sungmin only gave an awkward smile at her sulky tone.
[Let’s finish this quick and go home. Fighting weaklings is boring.]
“Maybe by your standards… but I still learn from them. And—”
As Shin Sungmin and Adein talked, the opening ceremony began.
Grand music played, followed by various performances.
They were boring to Shin Sungmin and Adein, but the crowd’s response was electric.
As the dazzling performances ended, a massive shadow loomed over the center of the colosseum.
Its enormous body, so large it could hardly be exaggerated, floated in the air, casting a shadow on the ground.
[Ugh.]
Adein’s expression soured at the sight.
“It’s the tiger form today.”
Shin Sungmin looked at it with respect.
Cheolryeong Lumern.
The Guardian Star of Yoo Hyuk, known to all of South Korea.
The crowd’s reaction was no different—cheers erupted.
Wooo!!
The response was intense.
It couldn’t be otherwise.
Below Lumern, a somewhat robust middle-aged man began walking to the center of the colosseum.
Despite being over seventy, he had the face of someone just entering their fifties.
His sturdy body, defying the passage of time, drew gasps of admiration from the crowd.
South Korea’s greatest awakener.
A figure always among the world’s top awakeners.
The hero who saved a nation single-handedly.
Yoo Hyuk.
He spoke, looking out at the audience.
“Greetings.”
His voice was noble, dignified.
Everyone in the stands leaned in to catch every word.
The online communities? No need to mention.
Even in places where awakeners were torn apart, Yoo Hyuk was an object of worship, a living god.
Effusive praise flooded the live broadcast chats.
“Today, the Hwanryeong Grand Tournament begins again. Our guild’s finest awakeners are here, and I’m confident they’ll delight your eyes.”
His words were brief but filled with immense pride.
Even the awakeners in the waiting rooms listened intently, some beaming with pride.
Yoo Hyuk continued.
“This time, we’ve put in extra effort. Many awakeners you know, even those active overseas, have gathered for today.”
Ooh!!
The anticipation soared.
Fueled by that excitement, Yoo Hyuk smiled and spoke again.
“We also have a special guest this time.”
The words “special guest” sparked a name in everyone’s minds.
“You’re probably guessing correctly. Shin Sungmin is joining this Hwanryeong Grand Tournament.”
At the mention of Shin Sungmin’s name, the crowd erupted in cheers again.
“And my proud granddaughters, last year’s champion and runner-up, are back as well. I’m personally very excited to see how different they’ll be this year.”
Yoo Danha’s name echoed through the crowd.
Of course, there were some quietly cheering for Yoo Soha too.
“So today, enjoy freely and criticize freely. The shortcomings of awakeners are directly tied to your safety, so don’t hold back.”
“Yes!!!”
It was a familiar refrain of the Hwanryeong Grand Tournament—a polite request for criticism of their flaws.
At this moment, most critiques of awakeners were permitted, though outright insults might land you a lawsuit.
As he turned to leave, the crowd’s reluctant voices followed.
Yoo Soha watched from her private waiting room and smiled.
“Eclipse.”
[Yes.]
“Let’s go wild. Let’s mess up Shin Sungmin’s smug face. And while we’re at it, get revenge on unnie for last year.”
With Eclipse, it was possible.
Not baseless faith, but a conviction.
[Understood. Until then, I wish you luck, Soha.]
“Who do you think I am? It’s a given.”
Answering with a confident voice, Yoo Soha stepped out of her private waiting room.
It was time to begin.