I immediately tried to activate Earing’s shield skill. But it didn’t trigger. What’s going on—Chatterbox?!

Shocked screams tore the air as bullets whizzed past my arm. So many eyes were on us, and I hesitated, wondering if I owed him this favor.

Crack!

A bullet struck Chatterbox’s white mask, spider-webbing cracks across it before it shattered and fell away. Blood seeped from the edge of his eye as he tilted his head upward. The camera was still rolling. I could all too easily imagine how the crowd would see him: blood-stained, unmasked, protecting me.

Kiii—

From all around the stands, shields bloomed—hunters on standby had deployed barrier skills. This was a gathering of high-ranked hunters; the excuse was ample. Three helicopters now hovered overhead, spraying gunfire at the shields. Through the cacophony, Chatterbox turned to me, his lips stained red by blood forming a smile.

The ground cracked and lights exploded. Chatterbox held a bow in his hand. Was he about to be hailed a hero for taking down the helicopters himself?

“Please help me,” he whispered as the weapon slid into my hand. My jaw clenched.

“Aim the bow,” he murmured, half-embracing me.

Under countless gazes, I had no choice but to obey. If I hesitated now, everything so far would be for nothing. I raised the bow toward the helicopters. Unlike a mana-powered gun, this weapon required its user’s stats.

“My mana stat is low,” I admitted. Even with Earing’s supplement, it barely reached high-level C. Maybe just scraping B.

“It’s enough to tear a helicopter apart,” Chatterbox said. “But that wouldn’t look impressive.”

He steadied me by the nape as my mana sigil flared hot.

“…!”

The air sharpened. I blinked and the world went slightly blurry, yet every detail around me grew clearer. The ambient mana concentration was thin—but I could trace its currents.

Three thousand seven hundred seventy-nine. Every spectator, staff member, musician, even those inside the helicopters—I felt them converging on me.

My stomach churned. Nausea rose. Chatterbox guided the bow upright with his other hand. I had to end this fast to be free.

I focused on the bow, the helicopters, and the incoming bullets. Mana imprinted itself on the weapon: it could fire regular arrows or condense mana into projectiles. The number of mana arrows released depended on the wielder’s mana pool and control.

I bit my lip and poured my thanks into the bow, channeling mana and then fine-tuning it like spinning silk from a cocoon. Surprisingly, it wasn’t difficult. If my old self saw this, it would be like a microscope revealing mana.

Vrrrr—

To my senses it felt slow, but in reality it took mere seconds for the bow to glow. A bluish mana arrow formed on its string—and I loosed it.

The condensed bolt streaked skyward, missed the helicopter entirely, then paused mid-air.

Zing!

It shattered like glass into hundreds of shards. Hundreds of azure fragments rained down—yet not a single one struck the protective shields below. Each shard bent its path mid-flight to intercept bullets and shells, detonating them in mid-air.

Bang! Ker-boom! Bang!

Blue sparks and crimson explosions littered the dark sky. All incoming fire was neutralized above us, then the arrows struck the three helicopters in turn. Helicopters aren’t magical artifacts; I knew nothing of their structure. Yet instinct told me which parts to destroy.

They didn’t plummet uncontrollably but exploded in mid-air.

Kaboom!

Each aircraft ripped apart, scattering lethal debris. The bow slipped from my hand. Overwhelming nausea hit me again as my heightened mana senses dulled, dizziness crashing over me like a brutal hangover. I nearly blacked out.

Chatterbox caught me as I collapsed. Instantly, the lights that had gone dark from gunfire flickered back on, eager to illuminate us. Though many screens were shattered, one large display clearly showed our figures.

Chatterbox smiled without a word. I felt bile rise.

“Everyone,” his voice filled the arena through a wireless mic, calm and low. The shields dropped, and the audience fixed their gaze on us.

A sudden attack. His bloodied face revealed. He’d shielded me at cost to himself. The F-rank under his bow. The light arrows that swept away our foes.

He let the silence stretch until the air itself trembled—and then

Waaaaah!

A roar of approval burst forth.

“Han Yujin!”

“Chatterbox!”

Shouts of excitement echoed like those from my personal stream. But my heart chilled. Until now, I’d acted by my own will even on his stage. This performance from start to finish was his design, not mine. That applause wasn’t truly for me. I felt no joy.

“Smile for them,” Chatterbox whispered as he turned off the mic. “For those who love you.”

“…Isn’t this a breach of contract?” I murmured.

“A mere dizziness. No lasting side effects,” he replied.

As promised, my vision steadied and the headache eased. I gathered my strength and stood. The cheers swelled. I stared blankly at the crowd, then lifted the corner of my mouth in a smile. Even if the whole thing was staged, they were still cheering me. Some of these people might genuinely support me regardless of today’s spectacle.

‘The real problem is Chatterbox,’ I thought, forcing my expression soft.

“Hunter Han Yujin, are you unharmed?” Chatterbox held the mic to me. I wanted to flip him off.

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” I replied. The crowd cheered again as though awaiting my words. Chatterbox beamed, his handsome face—damn it—winning hearts as always.

“I’m well too. Thank you,” he said, taking a wet wipe and potion from a staffer. He wiped the blood from his face and treated his wound, then touched his mask sheepishly—as if surprised he’d revealed himself. Brazen. It’s not even his real face.

“I’m not used to this—pardon me,” he said, pulling a fresh mask from somewhere and donning it. The audience sighed with regret.

“Now, before we call the next contestant—” His hand signaled upward and spotlights swept the sky. A red shape appeared against the night: the Flame Horn Lion. I saw Han Yuhyun riding on its back.

“Hunter Han /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ Yuhyun!” Chatterbox applauded, explaining he’d flown in as soon as he sensed his brother in danger. The crowd joined in. Yuhyun leapt down gracefully, landing amid swirling blue willow leaves. His ceremonial sword drawn, he glared coolly at Chatterbox, then at me.

“Hyung.”

“No wounds. I’m fine—just startled.”

I conveyed silently: don’t do anything reckless. Opening my arms widely, I embraced him.

“You came so quickly—thank you, little brother!” The applause followed. Yuhyun sighed softly in my arms, tension easing from him.

“It must be staged. They didn’t intend to hurt me.” I whispered to him.

“The teleport could have moved others too, so I went first.”

Of course. With Noah absent, only Yuhyun could arrive so fast. Even if Peace could carry several people, more passengers slow him down.

“Your seat, Hunter Han Yuhyun,” Chatterbox announced, pointing to a platform. I signaled Yuhyun to stand there reluctantly.

“I’ll keep Peace with me,” Yuhyun said. Peace shrank and padded to my feet. Chatterbox left the beast untouched. As Yuhyun jumped onto the platform, it glowed deep sapphire despite shattered lights. Dry ice formed a glowing blue mist, and a sleek, dignified chair rose for him.

“Though in uniform, your attire also suits you,” Chatterbox remarked. I almost asked what Peace’s outfit would have been.

‘What a maddening bastard.’ I could easily see myself binge-watching this channel if I were a normal viewer.

Chatterbox snapped his fingers and a staffer tossed him a cape and hat for the Flame Horn Lion. “Minimally restrictive,” he said. Fine, I wanted to see Peace in a police hat. The cape’s trim was luxurious gold, light and silky.

“Grr…” Peace purred. As I placed the hat and cape on him, the crowd cheered.

“And now, overall second place!” Dramatic music swelled as a massive screen lit up with the Breaker Guild’s emblem. Drones clustered and shot upward in a flash of lightning effects. On the stage’s edge, Moon Hyunah appeared astride a heavy bike in sleek black racing gear.

“Hunter Moon Hyunah!” The path before her coalesced like thorny vines. She glanced at me, nodded, and revved her bike. She sped down the glowing route—

Screech—

She swerved and leapt off, hurling the bike with one arm into the lower screen.

Wham!

It crashed and sparked. Hyunah brushed her hair back as if nothing happened and stood before her seat, which emerged for her. Though the screen beneath was damaged, it still displayed her.

“Breaker!” The crowd erupted.

Perhaps her stunt was venting her annoyance at Chatterbox’s antics, but it was undeniably cool. When Moon Hyunah raised a hand to the crowd, the roar grew.

“In third place, Hunter Noah Ruhir is unfortunately absent. Next up, outside the rankings: the participant with the most gold!”

A solemn tune played as the screen dimmed and a gilded guild crest took center stage. Golden light bathed the stage; drones ascended like lightning bolts. Seong Hyunjae appeared beneath them in a black suit with a short cape over his shoulders. His pale hair and golden eyes stood out against the darkness.

“Hunter Seong Hyunjae!” He tilted his head, eyes on me and the drones.

“Special effects, huh?” His quiet voice carried clearly. Then—

Rumble!

Real lightning struck, golden arcs branching upward like trees and engulfing the drones. Thunder roared as they exploded without trace. A bolt shot skyward then vanished as Hyunjae stepped forward onto a lightning-shaped path. He seated himself regally and looked at me. I silently mouthed, What about Kyeol? He shrugged. Where did he put the kid?

“The most popular hunter team!” Chatterbox announced as waves of blue washed the screen. Ice spires shot up amid the surf, and crystal-clear music began that sounded vaguely familiar. The stage glowed icy blue and white as Park Yerim and Director Song appeared.

“Team Park Yerim, Song Taewon!”

“Yes!” “Song.”

No hesitation this time. Director Song, you can do it. Next to his solemn figure, Yerim waved happily at me before stepping back. Ice fireworks exploded overhead without Chatterbox’s effects.

“Hello, everyone!” Yerim’s cheerful greeting drew cheers. Ice crystals formed a path she walked down as jagged ice pillars shimmered under colored lights. Director Song followed steadily.

‘He kept his outfit the same?’ I wondered. Yerim wore a princely ensemble like something from a French palace—what did they give Song?

“I love you all, too!” Yerim’s turn ended; I must stop worrying her.

Others then appeared: Liet bursting onstage with fanfare, Evelyn more subdued, and Gyeol alone amid floating petals and a giant flower-shaped platform. The arena filled with fragrant blooms. Gyeol strutted proudly along his petal path.

Since introductions were the centerpiece, the show wrapped after brief interviews. As the final farewell ended, Chatterbox whispered to me,

“I look forward to your performance in the final game.”

He smiled.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep