Chapter 120. Ability vs. Ability (3)
Jang Han-Il had lived a smooth, untroubled life. He was the only son of a moderately well-off and affectionate family.
When he was a boy, he dreamed of becoming an athlete. Thanks to a practical father who accepted that dream, he had received unwavering support from his elementary school years onward.
Though his stubbornness and fierce competitiveness often made adults click their tongues in disbelief, no one truly criticized him. Everyone simply saw it as the youthful pride of a boy destined to go far.
“Ha... That bastard, Eun-Ho, broke another record,” someone said lightly.
“What?! You mean the 200 meters? Did he beat that again?”
“No, not just that. He broke the records for 100, 200, and 400 meters. Damn it... Is he even human?”
No one could’ve known what it felt like, running behind an arrogant bastard, seeing nothing but the back of Eun-Ho’s head on the red track. Under the blazing sun, even his shadow stretched long and relentless, tauntingly so.
“Are you slacking off because your records are too good?”
“You’re such a pain.”
Han-Il hated him. He hated Eun-Ho’s talent, hated that he could never surpass him, and hated himself for being tormented by that fact. Therefore, when he heard the news about Eun-Ho’s leg, he had been shocked, unsettled even.
“Hey! Did you hear? Eun-Ho busted his leg!”
“What?!”
“That arrogant guy’s retiring!”
Yet, deep within, a flicker of dark satisfaction stirred. The mere thought of that usually unshakable, arrogant face contorted by defeat—of witnessing even a crack in that mask—sent a cruel thrill through him.
However, when he finally came face to face with Eun-Ho again, nothing had changed. Run-Ho wasn't broken nor was he diminished. He stood there with the same effortless poise, quiet arrogance, as if the world still bowed at his feet.
“As long as I’m alive,” Eun-Ho said calmly. “I can always come back.”
How... How can he be like this? Han-Il wondered.
At first, he thought Eun-Ho had been lucky because the restructuring had helped fix his leg. However, no, he was wrong. Even if Eun-Ho had never been able to walk again, he wouldn’t have surrendered.
Neither others nor the world ever decide his sense of worth. It was entirely his own. That was when Jang Han-Il finally admitted the truth behind all his black, tangled emotions.
I want to be like Eun-Ho and I want him to recognize me.
It had taken ten years for him to realize it, but the understanding didn’t shake him. It felt like quietly opening an old drawer of emotions that had long since been put away.
When Jang Han-Il finished wiping away the last traces of bitterness from his face, the announcement echoed.
[The final round, the 400-Meter Relay, will begin at exactly 2:00 PM.]
[Each of the four runners will cover 400 meters. After the first runner, overtaking will be allowed on the open course.]
The 4 by 400 relay isn’t my main one, but still...
[Based on the final runner’s placement, first place earns 100 Training Points, second place 80 Training Points, and third place 50 Training Points.]
[Fourth, fifth, and sixth places receive 40, 30, and 20 Training Points respectively.]
“Hyung, you’re running, right?” a younger teammate, who’d come up with him from Taereung, asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Huh?”
“Ah, it’s too bad there’s no short-track relay! If there were, we’d take gold. I mean, first place for sure!”
[Team representatives, please submit the names of your runners in order of position.]
“Who knows,” Jang Han-Il muttered.
Unless Eun-Ho had lost his mind, there was no way he would choose Han-Il. After all, Han-Il had gone out of his way to provoke him, shown too much hostility for too long, and even jumped into the capsule to steal something from him.
“What? But your ankle’s healed now, right? You got that fixed as a reward.”
Whether Han-Il had regained his old form or not didn’t matter, because the choice was entirely up to Eun-Ho.
Hence, suppressing the fluttering in his chest, Han-Il replied flatly with forced composure, “It’s not my decision.”
“Oh... Right.”
Therefore, Han-Il pressed down the fluttering in his chest and answered with forced composure.
Then, he heard someone with an all-too-familiar voice calling his name, “Jang Han-Il.”
Thump.
The moment those three syllables hit his ears, his heart dropped like a stone.
No way... The thought filled his mind before he could stop it.
“You can run first, right?” It was Eun-Ho. “I heard your leg’s completely healed.”
“Still... You’re really putting me in?” Han-Il asked in disbelief.
“Well, your start and cornering aren’t bad,” Eun-Ho said casually.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Han-Il’s heart pounded hard, sweat pooling in his palms. Something hot welled up from deep inside.
D-did he just acknowledge me?
“I don’t know exactly what skills the other teams are planning to use,” Eun-Ho went on, “but they won’t use items right from the first runner, so you don’t need to worry—”
“I’m not.”
“Not what?”
“I mean... I’m not worried.”
Eun-Ho frowned at him, then quickly smoothed his expression and turned away.
“And...” Eun-Ho scanned the crowd with a spark of interest in his eyes. Then he pointed at someone. “Please join us.”
“Huh? Me?”
The person he indicated seemed completely unrelated to track and field so much so that the room went silent for a beat.
“You’ve done track before, haven’t you? Your face looks familiar,” Eun-Ho said.
“Uh... Well, yes, but...”
Then, just like that, he rattled off a haphazard, lightning-fast plan. “Then let’s do it together. We don’t have time to practice, so let’s keep the baton pass simple, using an overhand handoff.”
“Hey, didn’t you say that guy used to be a track athlete?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I mean, it was one thing with that lady goalie earlier, but this time he’s definitely making a mistake.”
The sudden lineup announcement caused a small uproar, but Han-Il knew better that it couldn’t be a mistake.
“That guy’s IQ is over 150,” Han-Il said quietly.
“What?”
“He doesn’t make mistakes.”
Eun-Ho’s brain was annoyingly sharp that people often joked that if he had chosen academics over athletics, he would probably be living a much easier life.
“For real? So, what, he’s in Mensa or something?” another teammate asked, jaw dropping.
“No way... What kind of person is he?!”
Eun-Ho frowned again at the chatter and cleanly cut them off. “Save the gossip for later.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
[All first runners, please take your positions on the starting line!]
Eun-Ho tilted his chin toward the track.
“First runner. You’re up.”
“Uh... Right! Got it!”
“Second and third, start warming up.”
“Yes sir!”
“Got it.”
Even with that infuriatingly arrogant attitude, the way people looked at him had already changed, especially the women.
You’re such a pain.
Han-Il couldn’t help but think, with a bitter twist of his mouth,
***
Six red lanes stretched out before them. Six athletes, who had survived to the final round, stood poised in their respective lanes.
“From lane one, we have Korea, China, and the United States... What are the other ones?” Ji-Eun asked.
“Russia, France, and Argentina,” Eun-Ho replied.
As Ji-Eun nodded with a quiet “Ah, I see,” Eun-Ho’s sharp gaze swept across the other five competitors. He examined each of them as if he could tear them apart with his eyes.
“China’s fielding some bodyguards by the looks of it and... The American is a new face. I think the Russian guy’s the same one who competed in the soccer match earlier.”
“You already memorized all their faces, Eun-Ho?” Ji-Eun asked.
“Only the ones I’ve seen before. But that French athlete...”
Both Ji-Eun and Eun-Ho turned to look at the same person.
“That’s quite an outfit,” Ji-Eun murmured.
The French runner had short brown hair and was wearing tight, form-fitting shorts.
“Isn’t that swimwear?”
“No, that’s—”
The uneasy thought flashed through Eun-Ho’s mind just as the French athlete shouted, “Summon!”
Something the size of him materialized.
Fwoosh—!
Light burst from the man’s outstretched palm, coalescing into a distinct shape. It was a slim horizontal frame supported by two circular wheels. The design was minimal, with no wasted lines or mass.
Oh, come on...
Clack!
“A bike?!” Ji-Eun exclaimed.
The Frenchman swung a leg over the summoned bike and mounted it in one smooth motion.
“Oh my god! That guy’s the Tour de France champion!” someone shouted.
“The Tour de what?” the cleaning lady asked.
“The Tour de France! It’s the biggest cycling race in the world!”
Damn it. If he’s the champion of the Tour de France... Eun-Ho thought.
Cycling wasn’t as popular as track, but it was one of the most physically demanding sports out there. It was a test of endurance, muscle, and explosive strength.
Besides, the Tour de France wasn’t just any race; it spanned the entire country of France. To win that meant the man was a monster of obsession and ability, strong enough to have unlocked skills beyond imagination.
“But why’s he wearing sunglasses and a mask to ride a bike?” the cleaning lady asked.
“To block sunlight and bugs! At that speed, they’d hit your face like bullets!” Jae-Hyuk explained.
“Huh? Bikes go that fast?”
“Of course! At his level, he can hit fifty kilometers per hour without even breaking a sweat!”
Hearing that, Ji-Eun’s face drained of color.
“That’s ridiculous! That’s not even running anymore!” she cried.
“They must be counting it as a skill,” Eun-Ho said calmly.
Ji-Eun bit down hard on her lower lip. Then, as she lifted her hand, perhaps about to bite her nail in frustration, Eun-Ho caught her hand.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Our abilities are much better than his.”
“But...”
“You trust me, right?”
Ji-Eun froze, wide-eyed. In her large, dark pupils, Eun-Ho saw his own reflection.
“... Yes,” she said softly, but firmly. “I trust you.”
With that, she turned and walked away with a determined stride.
[The relay will now begin!]
[On your marks!]
Beeeeep—
The sound blared across the stadium like a foghorn.
Beeeeep—
Beeeeep—
Bang!
The gunshot cracked through the air, signaling the start.
Whoosh!
Six figures shot forward like bullets, streaking down the red lanes.
“W-what the hell?! Han-Il’s that fast?!”
“No way... That’s impossible...”
The speed was unreal, so fast their eyes couldn’t even follow the runners’ feet. Even the Olympics had never seen anything like it.
“Holy crap, what’s Han-Il’s Agility stat again?”
“Thirty-two! He’s insanely fast!”
The world’s fastest athletes were now pushing beyond human limits, fueled by powers that seemed almost alien. Amid that staggering motion, the best road racer in France shot forward like lightning.
Fwoosh!
[FRA overtakes ROK!]
[FRA overtakes CN!]
[FRA overtakes RUS!]
“Wait, Han-Il’s really fast too, but those guys are—”
“How the hell do you beat that?!”
France led the pack, Russia and Argentina close behind. Korea, the U.S., and China trailed a few meters back.
[FRA reaches the 200 meters mark!]
The gaps between runners widened rapidly, not just between the leader and the rest, but even among the trailing group.
[RUS reaches the 200 meters mark!]
[ARG reaches the 200 meters mark!]
[ROK reaches the 200 meters mark!]
[CN reaches the 200 meters mark!]
[USA reaches the 200 meters mark!]
The updates came over the speakers in quick succession.
“The bike! He’s already at the relay zone?!” the cleaning lady shouted.
“No way! The next runner’s on a bike too! What’s with that team?!”
The French athlete was already entering the passing zone, the area where baton handoffs were allowed. Their second runner stood ready with one foot on the bike, one on the ground, reaching out for the baton.
“We can’t beat them!”
“Damn it... Maybe humans really can’t beat machines!”
“Machines? You mean that bike?”
Just then, as the French runner slowed and extended the blue baton, the first item had been unleashed.
[RUS activates Water Fly!]
[The target in front will be trapped inside a water bubble!]
A huge, translucent shape appeared above the French runner’s head.
Is that a fly?
“What the—aaaargh!”
The creature’s massive, bulbous eyes rotated with a sickening sound. Then it lunged straight for the runner.
Bzzzzz!
“Aaaah! Help me!”
“S-Stephen! Nooo!”
The monstrous fly enveloped him completely in its transparent, gelatinous form.
Glop. Glop. Glop.
The man and his bike writhed as one, suspended in midair like they were trapped in a giant water bubble.
“Holy...”
Against the deep blue sky, the two of them seemed like they were drowning inside something bluer still. The man’s limbs flailed helplessly, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish’s.
Then, the entire mass plummeted to the ground.
“Look out!”
Whoosh—!
Both the Fly and its victim came crashing down.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
“The wheel! The disc brake! Aaaagh!”
The first and second French runners collided almost perfectly, tumbling together in a tangled mess of limbs and metal.
“So that’s what the Water Fly does?” someone gasped.
The crowd stood frozen in disbelief at the absurd crash. Meanwhile, Russia had taken advantage of the chaos.
[RUS overtakes FRA!]
[RUS passes baton!]
“Run! Just run!” shouted the French first runner, pinned under his own bicycle.
While he and his teammate struggled to free the baton wedged between the wheels, the other teams were already switching runners one after another.
[ROK passes baton!]
[ARG passes baton!]
[CN passes baton!]
[USA passes baton!]
Thanks to that disaster, Korea rounded the first zone in second place, right behind Russia.
“Han-Il!”
“Nice work!”
Han-Il’s face was tight with frustration. Second place wasn’t good enough. For someone who had been so confident, he clearly wasn’t satisfied.
“It’s fine,” Eun-Ho said calmly. “We just have to cross the finish line first.”
“Haah... Are you trying to comfort me?”
“No. I’m just stating facts.”
No one really expected much from Han-Il. Sure, he was an Asian Games medalist, but this wasn’t a normal race. This was chaos, a contest where powers and items changed everything.
[ARG activates Banana Peel!]
[A trap is placed in front of the target!]
[CN activates Dark Clouds!]
[All runners except the user lose visibility!]
Yup, I thought so, Eun-Ho thought.
“Phew... The third runner’s stats are worse than mine. You think you can beat them all by yourself?” Han-Il asked.
“Hm? I don’t plan on doing it alone,” Eun-Ho said.
“What?!”
The next runner was someone who couldn’t care less about dark clouds or bananas.
Fwooosh—!
“W-who is that woman?!” Han-Il exclaimed.
Eun-Ho clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry.g”
“W-who is she?!”
“You know what they say? There’s always someone better out there, flying man over a running man.”