The instructors stood ready in the virtual arena, their avatars glowing faintly in the dim light of the battlefield. The figure of their opponent loomed ahead, unassuming yet undeniably intimidating. Instructor Ji-woo's voice broke through the comms, crisp and focused.
"Stick to standard formation. Dong-soo, stay in the shadows for now. Min-ji set up the perimeter. Seung-hyun, you're on the front line with me. Hye-won, keep mobile and support as needed. Let's take this seriously."
"Understood," Instructor Dong-soo replied, his tone calm as he melted into the digital shadows, his figure becoming a wraith-like blur.
Instructor Min-ji, as Roamer, began establishing fortified zones with precision, her actions methodical and deliberate.
"Barrier fields set. I'll rotate support for both sides," she said, her focus unwavering.
Instructor Seung-hyun cracked his knuckles, the Fighter's broad form standing tall and ready.
"Let's see how long he can keep up," he muttered, his voice carrying a faint edge of determination.
Instructor Hye-won chimed in, her tone light but focused.
"Eyes sharp, everyone. This isn't just about winning—it's about proving we're still the best."
The match began with a burst of movement. Instructor Ji-woo took point, his rifle sending out precision shots to test the opponent's defences. The man didn't react in a panic; instead, he sidestepped each shot effortlessly, his movements fluid and practised.
"Analysis?" Instructor Ji-woo asked over the comms.
"He's not rushing," Instructor Min-ji observed. "He's probing us just as much as we're probing him. Don't overextend."
"Copy that," Instructor Ji-woo replied, shifting his positioning slightly to avoid becoming an easy target.
Instructor Dong-soo's voice cut in, low and quiet.
"I've got his flank. Waiting for the opening."
"Hold until we're ready to engage as one," Instructor Ji-woo instructed.
The mysterious figure finally made his move, closing the distance between himself and Instructor Seung-hyun with alarming speed. The Fighter reacted instantly, meeting the charge with a devastating strike. But the man pivoted mid-motion, evading the blow with inhuman precision and countering with a calculated attack that forced Instructor Seung-hyun to retreat.
"Defensive stance, Seung-hyun! Min-ji, reinforce!" Instructor Ji-woo barked.
"Already on it," Instructor Min-ji responded, deploying a shield barrier just in time to intercept another strike.
"This guy is reading us," Instructor Hye-won said, her voice tinged with concern as she moved to provide covering fire.
"Stick to the plan," Instructor Ji-woo replied firmly. "We'll force him to show his hand."
Their synergy was impeccable, each instructor moving as a cog in a well-oiled machine. They communicated fluidly, each piece of information flowing seamlessly from one to the next. Yet, despite their precision, the mysterious man remained a step ahead, deflecting their strategies with almost supernatural ease.
"Dong-soo, now!" Instructor Ji-woo commanded.
From the shadows, Instructor Dong-soo struck, his daggers unleashing a flurry of attacks aimed at the opponent's blind spots. But instead of faltering, the man parried the attacks with calculated movements, forcing Instructor Dong-soo to retreat.
"He knew I was there," Instructor Dong-soo reported, frustration creeping into his voice.
"Adjustments needed," Instructor Min-ji said, deploying additional barriers. "We can't underestimate him for a second."
"Underestimating him isn't the issue," Instructor Seung-hyun grunted, barely deflecting another attack. "It's like he knows our every move before we make it."
"Keep your focus," Instructor Ji-woo reminded them. "No one's unbeatable."
As the match continued, the instructors tightened their coordination, pushing their skills to the limit. But the realization began to settle in: this wasn't just a formidable opponent. This was someone testing them in ways they hadn't anticipated, forcing them to adapt and evolve with every passing second.
The tide of the match shifted with an unsettling inevitability. The instructors, veterans of countless battles in NexaRealm, found themselves falling into a rhythm they hadn't felt in over a year—a rhythm of desperation.
"This isn't working!" Instructor Hye-won's voice broke through the comms, frustration seeping into her usually calm tone. She darted between positions, her spells struggling to find an opening that wouldn't expose her to a counterattack.
Instructor Ji-woo's jaw clenched. His precision shots were no longer probing for weaknesses; they were an act of survival.
"Hold formation. Don't break!" he ordered, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.
Their opponent moved like a ghost, never in one place for too long. He dismantled their strategies piece by piece, forcing them to adapt on the fly. Every barrier Instructor Min-ji erected was rendered useless within moments, bypassed with a precision that made her grit her teeth.
"This is impossible," Instructor Dong-soo muttered from the shadows, his blade unable to find the opening he needed to strike effectively. "I've never seen anyone move like this."
"Keep at it!" Instructor Seung-hyun growled, though even his resolve wavered. His armour stood as the frontline, taking blow after blow. His health bar, usually a reassuring bulk of green, was now dangerously close to the red. "We're the best team in this region. We don't back down!"
But the cracks were showing. Instructor Ji-woo's sharp eyes flicked to the objective plastered on their HUD: Survive.
"That's not exactly inspiring," Instructor Min-ji muttered bitterly, noticing how vague the goal was.
"It's more than that," Instructor Hye-won added, her breathing audible through the comms. "If this is about survival, then the system already knows we're at a disadvantage."
Instructor Seung-hyun's frustration boiled over.
"Who is this guy? How is he doing this?"
"I'm starting to think he's not real," Instructor Dong-soo admitted. His voice, usually calm and controlled, betrayed an edge of disbelief. "What if it's an advanced AI or something?"
"That's wishful thinking," Instructor Ji-woo replied tightly, his focus unwavering. "This isn't an algorithm. This is someone who knows the game better than any of us. Whoever he is, he's beyond anything we've ever faced."
Instructor Min-ji's voice softened, laced with unease.
"If he is real… he's a monster. No normal person could do this."
The instructors' collective pride, honed from years of dominance in NexaRealm, was beginning to crumble under the weight of their opponent's sheer skill. It wasn't just his movements or his tactics—it was the way he anticipated them, as though he had seen every play they could make long before they made it.
"What's his level?" Instructor Hye-won asked though none of them could provide an answer. Their HUD refused to display any stats beyond the enigmatic question marks floating above his avatar.
"He's on a different tier altogether," Instructor Dong-soo said, his voice low.
"And we're supposed to survive this?" Instructor Seung-hyun barked a bitter laugh.
They moved as a unit, falling back to a more defensive stance, but it wasn't enough. The man's relentless assault continued, exploiting gaps they didn't even realize they'd left open. Every moment stretched into an eternity as the pressure mounted.
Instructor Ji-woo's voice was grim but determined.
"If this is what the Director wanted to show us, then it's clear: we're not at the top anymore. This guy… whoever he is… he's here to remind us of that."
Silence settled briefly over the comms as the realization sank in. For the first time in years, the instructors felt truly outclassed, their confidence shattered by an opponent who was nothing short of extraordinary.
In the viewing room, the students sat in stunned silence, their eyes glued to the massive screen. The instructors, once untouchable paragons of skill and teamwork, were being systematically dismantled before their very eyes.
Tae-young leaned forward, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of his chair.
"What the hell is this…?" he muttered, barely audible.
"It's unreal," Chin-hwa added, his usual calm demeanour shaken. "They're the best. We've seen them dominate every match, every scenario. But now… they look—"
"Human," Kyu muttered to himself as he finished the sentence, his gaze never leaving the screen.
For the students, the instructors had always been the immovable object, the apex of NexaRealm prowess. They had spent months training under them, enduring their unyielding critiques and marvelling at their flawless strategies. To see them struggling, faltering, was like watching gods bleed.
Hana crossed her arms, her brow furrowed.
"It doesn't make sense. How can one person do this? Even if they're stronger, the instructors have synergy. That alone should give them the edge."
"Synergy doesn't matter if the other side knows how to break it apart," Jin-kyong said, her voice steady but tinged with unease. "Whoever this guy is, he's not just better. He's on a completely different level."
Baek-hyeon tapped nervously at his chair's armrest, his Mage instincts kicking in as he analyzed the gameplay.
"It's not just skill. It's knowledge. Look at how he counters them—he knows what they're going to do before they do it."
Sang-hee tilted her head, her eyes narrowing.
"He's not even sweating it. Look at his movements. He's barely reacting to their attacks—it's like he's playing a different game."
From their vantage point, the students could see every detail: the precise timing of the solo attacker's abilities, the way he manipulated the terrain, and his uncanny ability to bait the instructors into traps. What stood out most, however, was the sheer fluidity of his play. He didn't hesitate. Every action seemed premeditated as if he were executing a plan he had crafted long before the match began.
"If he's doing this to them, what chance do we even have?" Even Tae-young, with his pride and bravado, felt a chill run down his spine.
"It's not about us," Joon-ho said softly, his voice carrying an almost reverent tone. "This is about showing us… that no matter how good you think you are, there's always someone better. Someone untouchable."
The room fell silent again, the only sound the hum of the display as the match continued to unfold. For the first time, the students saw the instructors not as mentors or champions, but as fallible players caught in the grasp of something far greater.