'Damn it all.'

Fine. Wang Gi-neung had let his guard down. Frankly, it had been hard not to. The relief of having subdued Ryu Gang-cheol completely, the joy of knowing he could save his family, and his thoughts about what came next had left him too elated to stay alert. That was why he'd exposed his back to an attacker who had appeared out of nowhere.

'If I hadn't faltered then, I wouldn't be in this mess.'

Wang had reacted like the master-level expert he was, instinctively twisting around to counterattack just before the blade struck his back. There had been only one problem: the attacker looked exactly like the Ryu Gang-cheol he'd subdued. The sight of another Ryu had made him hesitate for an instant. That was his mistake. His shock had given Ryu Gang-cheol Number Three, Number Four, Number Five, and the others that followed the chance to ambush him.

This was the result: a nightmare in which more than half a dozen Ryu Gang-cheol corpses already lay piled up, while eight more threatened his life.

'I'm a damn fool for letting my guard down.'

He wasn't some novice who had only just learned to fight. A master-level expert had stood before an enemy, let his guard down, and prattled on until he was ambushed. He would have had no grounds to complain if he'd died on the spot. But instead of raging at his humiliation, Wang asked quietly:

"I'm genuinely curious... What kind of trick is this?"

"What trick?"

"Just believe what you're seeing."

"Haven't you heard what happens to unbelievers?"

Ryu Gang-cheol Numbers Ten, Eleven, and Twelve grinned as they took turns answering. Their manner, more than their words, confirmed for Wang that this was no hallucination or other mind-affecting skill. He narrowed his eyes.

"So it's a cloning skill?"

"Something like that."

"It is more or less a cloning skill."

The Ryus admitted it readily, as though they saw no reason to hide it anymore. Wang's eyes narrowed further.

"I've never heard of a player who could do this, even among the archdukes."

Half-Baked Clone, Clone Technique, and the like—skills that created clones weren't particularly rare. Most, however, produced either convincing-looking illusions or punching bags weaker than the original. A skill that could produce several clones, each with the original's fighting strength? There was only one answer.

"Of course you haven't. It's my unique skill."

"Just as I thought."

Wang frowned at the answer he'd expected but hadn't wanted to hear. Unlike a Common Skill or a Rare Skill, a unique skill belonged to one person alone. A player who possessed one was dangerous even at a low level. All the more so if that player was one of the Liberation Brigade's ghosts.

"Why is a count-class player with a unique skill doing this sort of thing?"

"Don't say that. Don't you know there's no shame in any profession?"

"I don't believe 'murderer' is a profession."

"Soldiers and mercenaries make a living killing people too, don't they?"

All eight Ryu Gang-cheols grinned at once. Watching them, Wang understood perfectly: Liberation Brigade ghost or not, Ryu was a murderer who would have gone around killing people somewhere anyway.

'The Sword Lord was right after all.'

Limon had been right about something else, too. Forget interrogating Ryu; they should have simply killed him. The Ryu whom Wang had captured and tortured had probably been just one of the expendable clones to begin with. To think he'd gone behind Limon's back to get hold of one, only to lose it and bring his family to the brink of ruin. It was enough to drive him into a fatal backlash.

But Ryu had no intention of letting Wang die so easily.

"Well, let's get started."

"Where should we cut first?"

"I'll give you special treatment, comrade. I'll stab you a hundred times before I kill you."

Like hyenas circling a wounded lion, the eight Ryus twisted their lips in delight and adjusted their grips on their knives. Wang ground his teeth at the sight.

He was certainly stronger than Ryu. But that held true only when there was one Ryu and Wang was uninjured. Eight count-class players who fought in perfect coordination, had no fear of death, and replenished their numbers even when killed? Against them, the only question was how long he could last. Unless he got lucky and killed the original, his defeat was all but certain.

"Don't get cocky just yet."

POP! POP-POP!

Even so, Wang drew up his psionics, forcing the knives from his body and stopping the bleeding. A martial artist who gave up fighting over a setback like this wasn't worthy of the name. More importantly, he still had good reason to believe he could win.

"The emergency alert has already gone out. I only need to hold on until help arrives, and I win."

His eyes flashed. Before coming out to investigate the presence he'd sensed, he had pressed the emergency button hidden in his desk. Black Dragon Construction wasn't enrolled in the Guardian System, so he could hardly expect support from Leviathan. But if the Wang family of Shanghai's combat units came—or even if enough other help arrived—he could escape.

At that, all eight Ryus burst out laughing.

"Hahahaha!"

"You're expecting reinforcements?"

"Now there's a fine idea."

"How many of your comrades do you think can spare the time to come running when you call?"

"What do you...?"

Wang frowned, then felt a chill run down his spine. The moment he saw the same cold sneer on all eight faces, a thought struck him like lightning.

"... It can't be."

He rejected it. It couldn't possibly be true. Even a unique skill had limits. What he was imagining couldn't actually be possible. As if mocking everything Wang thought he knew, Ryu smiled knowingly.

"Did you think this was the only place I was attacking?"

* * *

CRASH!

"Guh!"

A one-eyed young man in martial robes bounced from one thing to another like a ping-pong ball before crashing into a row of mannequins. As they toppled around him, Xue Rong instinctively rolled aside.

CLANG!

A knife struck the floor where he had just been. A moment's delay, and it would have pierced his skull and killed him. But Xue Rong felt no relief at escaping death. He forced himself unsteadily to his feet, gripped his spear firmly with both hands, and leveled it at his enemy.

"Well, that's a surprise."

His attacker came strolling after him. Ryu Gang-cheol, the young man with narrow eyes, calmly bent down in front of Xue Rong and pulled the knife from the floor. Twirling it in his hand, he said, "I figured losing one eye would make you so afraid of losing the other that you'd tuck your tail and run. Why keep fighting?"

"You think a warrior of the Black Dragon Clan would flee from a villain like you?"

"There sure are a lot of empty posts for such brave warriors."

"Hmph! I got rid of the deadweight before they could get in my way," Xue Rong snapped.

The moment he'd confirmed that Ryu was attacking Heavenly Flower Department Store again, his first move had been to let the warriors on night watch flee, ostensibly to summon help. Most of the guards still on duty were the same ones who had run during Ryu's previous attack. Forcing them to fight would only have left him with deadweight underfoot. With the clan in such turmoil, he could only regret not having recruited new warriors sooner.

"Didn't I tell you not to count on help? This isn't the only place in trouble."

"I know that!"

"Hm? Then are you doing this because you want to die here?"

At that, a vein stood out on Xue Rong's forehead.

The truth was, he had his reasons. If a security chief fled without even fighting, he could kiss his career as a warrior goodbye. Xue Rong was determined to rise through the ranks and get his revenge on Wei Ling, so he couldn't do that, even if it killed him. Instead, he'd chosen to fight a delaying action: flee, but only within the department store, dragging things out. That was also why he'd sent all the warriors away. As their chief, he couldn't let them see him disgrace himself by doing nothing but run.

At first, the plan had worked reasonably well. He was, after all, one of the Black Dragon Clan's elite. Since the previous attack, they'd reinforced the store's security facilities and defensive formations, and by concentrating on evasion, he'd managed to buy some time.

There was just one problem: no matter how long he waited, help never came. Only after hearing Ryu talk did he learn why. The realization was miserable.

'All by himself, attacking every subsidiary at once? These crazy bastards!'

Wang and Xue Rong weren't the only ones fighting Ryu Gang-cheol. From major subsidiaries like Black Dragon Construction and Heavenly Flower Department Store to smaller ones, every Black Dragon Clan subsidiary in the capital region was under simultaneous attack by dozens of Ryu's clones.

'How the hell is that even possible...?'

Ryu was a count-class player, dangerous enough on his own. During his last attack on Heavenly Flower Department Store, he had single-handedly swept aside Xue Rong and the security force. Now dozens of him were tearing through the subsidiaries. Xue Rong had intended to make a show of fighting for political reasons; instead, he faced the prospect of dying in a real fight, like a proper warrior. It was absurd. And now Ryu was mocking him on top of it. Finally pushed past his limit, Xue Rong roared:

"Yeah, I'm doing it because I want to die! So what?"

"I wasn't asking for any particular reason."

"Then don't fucking ask, you bastard!"

"... Comrade, why have you suddenly gotten so foul-mouthed?"

"I'm about to fucking die! You expect me to speak politely, you stupid bastard?"

Ryu looked taken aback for a moment as Xue Rong shouted at him, beside himself with rage. Then he let out a short laugh.

"Fair enough. Since you're feeling so hard done by, comrade, I'll stop playing and send you off quickly and painlessly."

As if playtime were over, Ryu approached with his knife held in a reverse grip. Xue Rong gritted his teeth. Cornered, he had nowhere left to run, no strength to spare, and no hope.

'Damn it. I never should've trusted that Guardian System.'

If he'd known it would come to this, he would have refused to the end and at least kept his pride. Instead, as insurance against the unexpected, he'd swallowed his humiliation and signed the contract Wei Ling had offered. Remembering it, he ground his teeth.

'I curse you, Sword Lord! Chao Wei Ling!'

Unaware of those thoughts, Ryu admired the fighting spirit in Xue Rong's eyes and swung his knife.

"Farewell, comrade."