CHAPTER 108: UNPREDICTABLE

Chapter 108

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the arena as all eyes shifted to the massive tab of the Red Portal Zone. Names of contestants began disappearing one after another—each marked with a glowing red X. The rate of eliminations was staggering, far beyond anything seen in recent years.

In the VIP section, a low chuckle escaped from a brown haired man seated in one of the front rows. His sharp teetg glinted beneath a sly grin.

"Impressive," he muttered, tapping his clawed fingers against the armrest. "This year’s batch... might actually be worth something."

His gaze didn’t stop at the red zone. He noticed the same phenomenon spreading across the Blue, Pink, and even the Gold portal zones—contestants dropping out at a stunning pace.

This match was supposed to span four to six days, but with the current momentum, it might not last more than two.

So many promising talents, he thought.

Just then, the Undying Flame, seated beside him, turned his head. Their eyes met—and without a word exchanged, both knew what the other was thinking:

They wanted to recruit these monsters. The best of them... into their Hero Guilds.

---

Inside the Red Portal Zone

The battlefield was chaotic, but in one particular sector, four elite contestants were engaged in a desperate struggle against a single figure.

He stood tall, his hair a striking contrast of white and black, his blue eyes calm—almost bored.

Han.

Despite being outnumbered, he wasn’t using elemental skills. He relied solely on basic Jungle Art techniques—yet he held his ground against one A-rank and three high B-rankers.

With a powerful kick, Han launched himself toward the A-rank contestant, aiming directly at him. The man’s heart skipped. He knew of Han’s absurd physical strength and instinctively activated his defensive skill. Thick black metal erupted from the ground like a wall, intercepting Han’s trajectory.

But Han was already smiling.

He had no intention of landing a direct hit.

From the very beginning, he was playing them.

Compared to Han, their battle experience was shallow. He exploited every gap, every hesitation. Instead of clashing with the defense, Han landed lightly on the black metal surface and used it as a springboard—launching himself high into the air.

As he spun mid-air, he muttered calmly:

"Tenth Jungle Art: Falcon Dive."

He became a blur, descending at terrifying speed toward a different opponent—the one who had foolishly stepped in to protect the supposed target.

Realizing too late that he was the true prey, the B-ranker tried to defend himself. But panic set in. With no time to form a proper defense, he hastily crossed his arms in front of his face.

Too late.

Han’s attack crashed down.

A deafening CRACK echoed across the zone as the man’s arms absorbed the brunt of the blow—but only barely. He was launched backward like a ragdoll, crashing through thick underbrush and smashing into a tree. The sound of his body hitting the bark was followed by eerie silence.

He didn’t get back up.

The remaining three stared, stunned.

Han didn’t give them a second to breathe.

"Fourth Jungle Art: Cheetah Stride."

He blurred forward, targeting another B-ranker, who quickly raised a round shield in front of him.

It didn’t matter.

"Fourteenth Jungle Art: Tiger Punch."

Han’s fist snapped forward like a coiled spring. The impact was explosive. His hand punched through the shield, striking the man’s face with sickening force.

A wet crunch. Blood sprayed. The sound of a nose breaking echoed louder than the screams.

**The remaining two—**the A-ranker and the dark-metal user—stood frozen, struggling to catch their breath.

Moments ago, they’d had the upper hand. For several minutes, they’d even managed to push Han back, forcing him to dodge and retreat.

But with just one slip-up...

He took out two of them—without mercy.

"We still have the numbers on our side!" the A-ranker shouted, trying to rally what little morale was left. He glanced at his shaken comrade, whose expression screamed doubt. If we couldn’t win with four... how can we with just two?

Regardless, they charged. And Han met them head-on.

He weaved between their attacks, fast and elusive—but something was off. His movements, while still precise, lacked the overwhelming speed from before. His strikes, once bone-shattering, now felt duller.

The A-ranker narrowed his eyes.

That punch... The one he used to shatter Aero’s shield—it must’ve drained him. That level of force couldn’t come cheap.

Their fight intensified. Blow for blow. Dodge for dodge.

Eventually, Han managed to take out the final B-ranker with a sweeping kick that sent him crashing into the ground, unconscious.

But the victory came at a cost.

The A-ranker’s blade pierced Han’s chest.

Blood spurted from Han’s mouth as he staggered. His bright blue eyes locked with his attacker’s—no hatred, no pain. Just... serenity.

The A-ranker’s face twisted with regret. He hadn’t meant to kill him—not someone like this. Han had the makings of a legend. And now he’d ended it.

But then—

Han smiled.

"If I were you," Han said calmly, "I wouldn’t worry so much."

Before the A-ranker could respond, Han’s body began to dissolve into glowing white particles, fading into the air like dust in the wind.

His heart dropped.

A... clone?

His brain stalled, unable to process it. A clone had done all that? Taken out three elite fighters and still fought him to a standstill?

Behind him, soft footsteps approached.

Too slow to react, he turned—and everything went black as another Han struck him down with a sharp blow to the neck.

The second clone stood above him, smirking. "Tch. He broke faster than I thought," he muttered. Casually, he reached down, crushed the red shards left behind by the team, and turned away.

High above, nestled among the canopy of a jungle-like plateau, the real Han overlooked the battlefield with crossed arms.

A faint glow pulsed from his system screen.

(2000/1000) Opponents Defeated

Reward Available. Claim Now?

[Would you like to claim your reward?]

[Would you like to claim your reward?]

[Would you—]

Han dismissed the prompt with a flick of his eyes.

Not now.

He wasn’t done. The thrill of combat was still coursing through his veins.

After all, his clones only had 35% of his true strength. And with his current Ifrit Fusion, his attack power was something even seasoned veterans would tremble before.

He extended a hand.

"Inferno Vortex."

Ten small flaming vortexes formed around him, swirling like miniature suns. They hovered in place for a moment—then began to grow... and grow...

Each one swelled to nearly twelve times its original size.

And then, they descended.

Explosions shook the jungle floor. The ground trembled as firestorms erupted. Han had suppressed their intensity just enough to avoid killing—he wasn’t interested in mass slaughter. No, he wanted them weakened.

Easy pickings for his clones.

From the treetops, he watched the chaos below, eyes glinting with amusement.

"You’re becoming more and more of a lunatic as time goes by, Hero," Navi commented dryly.

Han’s smile twitched.

Of all beings to call him wicked... his own AI, Navi, was the last he ever expected. If wickedness were a scale, Navi would have broken it long ago. If that AI ever got a physical body, Han was certain the world would descend into chaos before he’d even finish a cup of tea.

Navi, as usual, wasn’t done.

"You know, back in the day, I would’ve been worshiped for this level of cunning," it added, voice proud and completely unapologetic.

Han kept silent. He’d learned long ago that arguing with Navi was a losing battle. The AI had access to a literal universe of knowledge—and an even more insufferable amount of smugness to go with it.

He still considered creating Navi one of the worst mistakes of his life.

"Stop thinking that," Navi grumbled in his mind, clearly offended. "I’ve saved your life more times than you can count."

"And when exactly was that?" Han muttered flatly.

There was a pause. A long one.

"...I can’t recall the exact number," Navi finally said, "but the feeling of saving you lingers. That should count for something."

Han’s eye twitched again. The only lingering feeling he had was the burning memory of Navi sabotaging more situations than it ever solved—and then feeling smugly satisfied afterward.

Still, Han said nothing more.

Navi was his responsibility—his mistake—and he’d carry that burden. No matter how irritating it was.

With a sigh, Han turned and walked away from the scorched jungle. He’d done enough here.

---

A few hundred meters away, a figure stood silently atop the leaves of a tree—without bending a single branch.

Null.

He had been watching Han ever since the Selection Match began, trying to gauge the young man’s strength.

And what he saw... left him conflicted.

Destruction. Fire. Chaos. Laughter.

Han wasn’t fighting like someone proving a point. He was fighting like someone who enjoyed the chaos.

Null exhaled softly.

Still can’t get a proper read on his full power...

But one thing was certain.

Han, for all his calm and deadpan expressions, was still just a kid inside.

Too childish, Null thought.

And yet... perhaps that was the most dangerous thing of all.

To be continued...