Once upon a time in God's playground-Chapter 96 - 95 : Beatings

Roger didn’t even need ten minutes. He darted between rooftops like a caffeine-drunk owl, wings snapping open and closed with sharp beats of air.

His silhouette flitted across the moonlight like ink strokes on paper—sharp, fleeting, precise. Then, without warning, he froze mid-perch, talons scraping concrete. His golden eyes narrowed into slits.

He creached, voice like gravel, pointing east with a casual flick of his wing.

Han Ji-a blinked. For a second, her face went blank—then her brows furrowed hard enough to cut stone.

"...Already? What do you mean you found her already? I’ve been combing every street, every alley for days. Nothing. And now you—" She cut herself off, jaw tightening, frustration slipping through her usually measured voice.

I lifted a hand, scratching my neck, fighting the urge to smirk. "Yeah, uh... about that. Not to crush your hard work, but it’s not exactly Roger being an overachiever. It’s more like... Owl King’s cheat perk. Remember? I’m his champion. Official title:Owl King’s Spy.Comes with GPS mode, apparently."

Her lips parted, then pressed shut, eyes flickering with something heavier than annoyance. Thought. Worry. "That explains it then... Su-Bin chose the Scorpion. He killed the Ant champion before the game even properly started."

The words hung in the air like smoke from a gun barrel.

My chest tightened. Champion.The word always tasted metallic.

A reminder of blood on my hands, even if I didn’t want to think about it.

I saw it hit her too—the way her shoulders tensed, her eyes shadowed. Then, without warning, she reached out.

Her fingers slipped into mine, trembling at first, then squeezing with such force my bones popped. No words, no hesitation. Just—support.

I stared at her, honestly thrown off. Ji-a wasn’t the type to wear her feelings like this. And now she was crushing my hand like I was her last anchor.

"...Careful, Ji-a," I muttered, forcing my tone light, though something stirred uncomfortably warm in my chest. "You’ll cut off circulation. And then when I swing this bat, I’ll really look like a corpse."

Her grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. Typical.

I cleared my throat, trying to distract myself. "So... about Su-Bin. Any idea how his little freak-show ability works?"

She shook her head slowly, strands of hair veiling her eyes. "I don’t know the exact details. Only rumors."

I was about to press further when—her hand slipped from mine. Her outline shimmered, blurring like heat on asphalt. And then—she was gone.

"Ji-a?"

Something tugged at my ankle. I looked down. My shadow rippled like tar under a torch, and her pale face surfaced in it—faint, glowing, ghostly.

"This is how I survived," her voice whispered through the dark. "Su-Bin’s men... they may already know of me. So I hide."

And just like that, she melted away, vanishing into the black.

Great. Perfect. I was officially talking to the floor.

Before I could complain, something scrambled up my back. Junior. The little menace climbed like a mountain goat, claws pricking through my hoodie.

"Warn me when you do that!" Ji-a’s muffled voice yelped faintly from the shadows, startled.

Junior chirped smugly, wedged himself against my neck like a furry parasite, and tugged at my collar with his tiny claws—like a GPS pointing me onward.

I sighed. "Fine. Lead the way, fuzzball. But if you get us lost, you’re dinner."

The trail led us to the underground metro. Not the cosmic kind with glowing rails and divine hums.

This was... dead. Dust caked the floors. Rust gnawed through the steel beams. The air smelled of mildew and iron. A tomb built of concrete and old echoes.

I stepped inside, boots scuffing against cracked tiles. The air shifted immediately.

Eight silhouettes peeled off the walls like carrion birds. Eyes sharp, hungry. Weapons glinted in their hands—knives, chains, pipes, sharpened steel.

Roger shimmered once and disappeared, blending with the shadows. Junior burrowed deeper into my hoodie, a warm, vibrating weight pressed against my spine.

One of them stepped forward, tall and broad, face lined with old scars. His voice was low and hostile. "You’re not allowed here. Who are you?"

I raised a brow. "Relax. I’m not from Seoul. I’m looking for a friend. Thought she might be here."

They exchanged looks—sharp, measuring, like wolves circling. Their leader scoffed. "Not our problem. Leave."

"...Yeah, about that? No."

The tension snapped. They surged forward as one.

I sighed and summoned my wooden sword. The grain twisted mid-swing, reshaping into a heavy baseball bat that fit snug in my hands.

The first thug rushed me with a pipe. I met him halfway.

Crack.The bat smashed his ribs. The sound echoed like a rifle shot. He screamed, dropping instantly.

"Strike one."

Another came with a knife. I pivoted, bat arcing up into his chin. His head snapped back, teeth scattering across the tiles like dice. He hit the floor before he realized he was dead weight.

"Strike two."

The third and fourth came together. One grabbed my arm, the other swung wide with his chain. Bad move. I yanked the first forward, slamming the bat down onto his spine. He folded like paper. The chain wielder barely had time to register before I spun, driving the bat full force across his jaw. Blood sprayed the wall. He collapsed, twitching.

The rest circled, hesitation bleeding into their steps. One tried to flank me.

"Cute," I muttered, ducking his swing. My bat came down on his kneecap. *Crack.* His scream pierced the air as he dropped, clutching his ruined leg.

Two more lunged. One ate an elbow to the jaw, the other caught the bat across his temple so hard he spun midair before crashing unconscious.

By now the station reeked of iron. Groans echoed. Weapons clattered to the ground.

Ji-a’s faint voice trembled from my shadow. "...Ye-jun. You’re... brutal."

"Correction," I grunted, stepping over a writhing body and slamming the bat into another thug’s stomach, folding him in half, "I’m efficient."

The last thug stood frozen, eyes wide, chain dangling uselessly from his grip. His hands trembled. He snapped, swinging wild.

I caught the chain mid-swing, yanked him forward, and slammed my forehead into his nose. *Crack.* Cartilage shattered. Blood gushed down his face as he crumpled.

I exhaled, bat resting casually against my shoulder. Around me, bodies littered the floor—groaning, twitching, unconscious. A battlefield won without breaking a sweat.

One man, face swollen, body shaking, crawled forward on his knees. His voice cracked, desperate.

"W-Wait! Please! Stop! I’ll... I’ll take you to Su-Bin!"

I tilted my head, lips curling into a grin.

"See? Now that’s customer service."