The moment Instructor Dong-soo's voice cut off, declaring the hunt officially begun, Tae-young wasted no time. With barely a glance at Joon-ho and Hyun-ae, he vanished into the shadows, his movements so swift they left only the faintest ripple in the air.
"Tae-young!" Joon-ho shouted after him, his voice tinged with frustration. "Wait! We should work together!"
For a brief moment, there was silence. Then Tae-young's voice crackled over the comms, calm and indifferent.
"This isn't a group project, Joon-ho. The prize is personal—one winner, one trade. Why would I split it?"
Joon-ho grit his teeth, clenching his fists.
"Because it's smarter to work as a team!"
"Maybe for you," Tae-young retorted, his voice growing faint as he sprinted further away. "But I'm not weak enough to need help. If I win with someone else's assistance, what's the point? I'd rather lose on my terms than share a win."
And just like that, the comm line cut off with a soft click, leaving an empty static in its place.
Joon-ho let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair as he turned to Hyun-ae.
"That guy… I swear, he's impossible to deal with."
Hyun-ae smirked, folding her arms casually.
"He's always been like that. You know how it is. Lone wolf, top of the rankings, ego through the roof," she paused, tilting her head slightly. "But honestly? Let him have his solo mission. It makes things easier for us."
Joon-ho arched an eyebrow.
"How so?"
She shrugged.
"Less competition. Plus, I'm fine working together. Doesn't matter who gets the hit on Instructor Dong-soo—we can share the food, right?"
Her words carried a certain nonchalance, but Joon-ho could hear the sincerity beneath. He let out a small laugh, his earlier tension easing.
"You're too nice, Hyun-ae. If it were me, I'd keep it all for myself."
"Sure, you would," she teased, nudging him lightly.
The two exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. Unlike Tae-young, they had no qualms about teamwork. Their bond, forged through long hours of shared classes and mutual respect, was enough to bridge any gaps in ambition.
"Alright," Joon-ho said, his tone firm now. "Let's move. We've got a smug instructor to track down."
Hyun-ae nodded, her sharp gaze already scanning the terrain around them. Together, they began moving through the hilly expanse, their steps quiet and deliberate. The landscape felt vast, almost infinite, with rocky outcrops and sparse trees providing minimal cover. The artificial sunlight of the Realm device cast long shadows, adding an eerie stillness to the air.
As they moved, Joon-ho couldn't help but mutter under his breath.
"I don't get him. Tae-young's good, yeah, but does he have to act like he's better than everyone else?"
Hyun-ae chuckled softly.
"He's got his reasons, I guess. Probably doesn't trust anyone to keep up with him. Or maybe he just likes being alone. Either way, let's focus. Instructor Dong-soo isn't going to wait around for us to chat."
Joon-ho smirked, nodding.
"Fair point."
Their pace quickened as they fell into an easy rhythm, scanning for any signs of Instructor Dong-soo. Every shadow, every faint sound, felt like a potential clue. Yet, there was no sign of the instructor.
Hyun-ae's voice broke the silence.
"You think Tae-young has a chance?"
Joon-ho thought for a moment, his expression serious.
"Maybe. But Instructor Dong-soo's not going down easily. Did you see how fast he used Body Double earlier? The guy's on another level. If Tae-young thinks he can just brute force his way through, he's in for a rude awakening."
Hyun-ae hummed in agreement.
"Well, lucky for us, we're not exactly 'brute force' types."
The two shared a small grin before falling silent again, their focus sharpening. Somewhere out there, Tae-young was likely running full tilt, relying on his speed and instinct. But Joon-ho and Hyun-ae had something he didn't: trust in each other.
The hunt was on, and while the lone wolf charged ahead, the pack moved with calculated precision.
Tae-young darted through the rocky terrain, his feet barely making a sound against the artificial ground. The simulated environment felt as vivid as the real world, each blade of grass swaying in the faint breeze and every shadow stretching across the uneven land. Yet, despite its realism, it was still a game—a battlefield designed with rules, patterns, and logic. Tae-young knew better than to rely solely on his instincts; finding Instructor Dong-soo would take cunning and an understanding of the game's mechanics.
Without a tracker or guide, the task seemed daunting, but Tae-young wasn't the top-ranked Assassin in Korea for nothing. He paused briefly atop a jagged boulder, his sharp eyes scanning the expanse. His mind ran through possible strategies, drawing parallels to how he approached stealth and tracking in MOBA-like scenarios.
"First," he muttered, crouching low to avoid being silhouetted against the horizon. "Always think like your target."
If Tae-young were Instructor Dong-soo, where would he hide? Not in the open, obviously. Instructor Dong-soo would likely choose a spot with high visibility but plenty of escape routes—a classic Assassin tactic. That ruled out the narrow gullies and tight corridors scattered across the terrain. Instead, Tae-young's eyes shifted to elevated positions, ridges, and overlooks.
"Second," he continued under his breath. "Pay attention to the environment."
While there was no obvious tracker, subtle clues could reveal a hidden player's location. Disturbed foliage, misplaced footsteps, even the faint shimmer of an Assassin's cloak if they weren't perfectly still—all were signs Tae-young had trained himself to spot.
He leapt down from the boulder, rolling to absorb the impact before moving stealthily along the ridge. His keen gaze swept the area, and his ears strained for the faintest sound of movement. Despite the simulated nature of the Realm, its realism extended to auditory cues—every rustle, snap, or crunch could betray a hidden foe.
"Third," Tae-young whispered, his lips curling into a confident smirk. "Force them to reveal themselves."
This part required strategy. Skilled players often baited their opponents into exposing their positions. Tae-young activated one of his Assassin abilities: Phantom Decoy. A shimmering clone of himself appeared a few meters away, mimicking his movements as it darted toward a nearby thicket. The decoy's job wasn't to attack but to act as a tempting target, drawing out any lurking threats.
Tae-young stayed hidden, crouching low as the decoy moved into the open. His hand hovered over the hilt of his blade, ready to strike if Instructor Dong-soo made a move. But the decoy passed through the area unscathed, and the system didn't register any attacks.
"Nothing," he muttered, his tone a mix of annoyance and admiration. "Smart guy. Not taking the bait."
He moved again, this time relying on his fourth principle: control the vision. The vision was everything—controlling what you could see while denying the enemy the same advantage often made or broke a match. He equipped a passive skill, Shadow Mark, which heightened his sensory perception, allowing him to catch faint outlines of movement in his immediate vicinity.
He crept closer to a cluster of rocks, his eyes narrowing as he caught a fleeting shimmer—a faint distortion in the air, like heat waves rising from a summer road. It was subtle, but it was enough to confirm what he suspected: Instructor Dong-soo was nearby.
"Gotcha," he whispered, his grip tightening on his blade.
But as he prepared to strike, a realization hit him. The distortion wasn't moving. It was stationary, too obvious for someone like Instructor Dong-soo to be careless. Tae-young hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to think twice. Instead of attacking, he circled, keeping his distance as he scanned for additional signs.
Suddenly, the faint shimmer dissipated, and a message flashed across his interface: Decoy Deactivated.
"Body Double again?" Tae-young's eyes widened. High-level skills require higher mana. So to use the same skill twice is not a good expense.
"You're good, Tae-young. But not good enough. Keep looking," a laugh echoed through his comms, deep and smug.
The sound of Instructor Dong-soo's voice sent a chill down Tae-young's spine. The instructor wasn't just hiding—he was toying with them, using every trick in his arsenal to stay steps ahead.
"Fine," Tae-young growled, determination burning in his chest. "Let's play, then."
With a renewed focus, Tae-young shifted tactics. If Instructor Dong-soo wanted to play cat-and-mouse, he'd make himself the cat. Every step, every movement, was calculated, designed to pressure the instructor into revealing his location. Tae-young knew the hunt was only beginning, but he was ready for the challenge.
Tae-young took a deep breath, steadying the rush of adrenaline that threatened to cloud his judgment. The thrill of the hunt was intoxicating, but it required precision, not recklessness. He shifted his approach, blending into the environment with practised ease, his form almost invisible against the terrain.
This time, his focus was razor-sharp, his senses attuned to every detail. He moved like a shadow, calculating not just where Instructor Dong-soo might be but where he wanted Tae-young to look. The instructor's tactics weren't just evasive—they were manipulative, designed to frustrate and mislead. Tae-young smirked to himself as he crept through the underbrush, his movements silent and deliberate.
"You can try to outsmart me," he whispered under his breath. "But I'll make you regret underestimating me."