“Have you ever watched baseball?”

Ihan had once been completely ignorant about baseball, but during his time in the military, he had no choice but to watch it.

One of his senior noncommissioned officers was a baseball fan, and in the military, accommodating the hobbies of higher-ranking officers was as natural as the cycle of nature.

—What the hell are they even talking about…?

At first, it was all confusing.
The rules, the way points were scored—it didn’t make sense.
Batting averages? On-base percentages?

None of it clicked, but as time passed, he was (forcefully) trained to watch baseball, developed a favorite team, and eventually found himself celebrating wins and sulking over losses.

Before he knew it, he was watching postseason games in the fall—

—Baseball is absolutely insane!

Ihan found himself shouting at the opposing team and experiencing firsthand how his blood pressure spiked whenever his team lost.

Soon, instead of playing foot volleyball with the others during physical training, Ihan began throwing baseballs, swinging bats, and practicing alone.

His reasoning?

—If I’m going to insult the players, I might as well understand how hard their sport actually is.

…And then—

—Holy hell, this is insanely hard.

Ihan realized just how unforgiving the sport was.

Throwing a ball properly was no joke.
Hitting one cleanly was even worse.

What shocked him most was how hard and heavy the baseball felt.
Throwing it with full force left his elbows and shoulders feeling like they were being ground down.

And then there were curveballs and sliders.
After watching tutorial videos and trying to throw them himself, Ihan felt like his wrists were being ground down too.

He finally understood why pitchers frequently underwent surgeries and why they joked about “replacing their elbows.”

After that, Ihan stopped yelling at pitchers—and stopped watching baseball altogether.
No yelling meant no high blood pressure.

Instead, he picked up the hobby of playing catch and occasionally practiced throwing breaking balls.

It was his first real hobby in the bleak life of a soldier, and he even thought about joining an amateur league after retiring.

But who would’ve thought—

‘So this is how it’d come in handy?’

Ihan chuckled to himself, stretching his arms.

“Okay, so you’re saying I just need to scrape along that point? Should I go with a cutter or a slider…?”
“…What are cutters and sliders?”
“Just follow along.”
“Fine, I’ll do that.”
“…Why are you suddenly so cooperative?”
“Because I’m not the one who has to execute it.”
“Hey….”

What a shameless bastard.

‘He’s the one who’s making me do this….’

But—

“If you’re scared, we can stop right now.”
“…Thanks for the taunt.”

It was the perfect provocation—leaving Ihan no choice but to follow through.

He smirked.

After all—

“I was going to break through this thing no matter what.”

There was no way he’d let those damn mages get away with this.

And so—

Crunch!

“Make sure you guide me properly.”
“I don’t make mistakes.”
“…What a smug bastard.”

Ihan began to rotate his body.

The guide said they needed the power, precision, and speed to match the capsule.
At first, Ihan thought about using the Piercing Spear.

But—

‘That’s not enough.’

The Piercing Spear had power but lacked control.

So instead—

Crunch!

‘I’ll just do it myself!’

Ihan activated Sky Step.
But this time, the flow was different.

Instead of simply stepping through the air, his movements began to swirl—like he was floating.

Whirr!

The gathering energy thickened.
The air trembled as power focused on Ihan, and soon, his body became a small, swirling typhoon.

This was a technique that Ihan had developed during his battle with Tristan—

Derived from the mythical arts of Kunlun, the land of immortals, yet adapted by Ihan’s unique interpretation—

Cloud Dragon: Eight Revolutions.

Nothing under heaven could stop the movements of a dragon riding the clouds—

BOOM!

Ihan launched himself.

His speed matched the capsules fired at the Magic Tower, heading straight for the target.

Then—

Flash!

A spear shot out ahead of him, faster than Ihan himself—

As if pointing the way.

“──.”

Without hesitation, Ihan adjusted his angle to match the spear’s trajectory.

Where the spear flew—

‘That’s the weak point.’

Ihan coiled his body tightly.

What he needed now was precision, speed, and the relentless cutting force to shred through the massive structure—no, this giant bat.

Grrrrrrind!

Ihan’s spinning body sliced into the Magic Tower’s barrier, grinding it down like a sawblade.

Rumble…!

The Tower shook.

*****

“Am… Am I dreaming…?”

Patrick stared, his jaw hanging open.

A man was flying.

Not just flying—he had turned into a small typhoon and was tearing into the Magic Tower.

…If he told anyone this story, they’d think he was high.

But Patrick was just describing what he saw—and he was completely stunned.

However—

“—Still not enough.”
“Sir Knight?”
“Step back.”
“!!”

Chill.

A shiver ran down Patrick’s spine.

Patrick nearly collapsed, his legs trembling under the suffocating pressure of the knight’s murderous aura.

It was so intense that he felt like he might wet himself.

Whoooosh!

A crimson mist began to coil around the knight’s body.

Crack!

It wasn’t just an aura—it was the physical manifestation of a man’s innate killing intent.
Its sheer force cracked the ground and left fractures running up the nearby buildings.

Born under a cursed star, the man channeled his murderous aura into his spear.

Snap!

It was a simple, mass-produced spear scavenged from the Empire, but once infused with his aura, it began to hum with enough force to pierce anything.

Blake, his master, had named this unique power [Red Qi].

And now, that power gathered and condensed into the spear.

Flash!

It shot out in a crimson arc.

It wasn’t a human throw.
The spear flew like a harpoon, hurtling toward the unstable Magic Tower.

BOOM!

“Got it.”

This wasn’t just brute force.
The knight who could see the Tower’s weak points had aimed precisely to collapse its already unstable magical barrier.

“…A thousand years, huh? How laughable.”

Even the sturdiest walls need repairs after a millennium.
By now, the Tower’s blueprints had probably been leaked all over the place.

And yet, those fools—

“They made themselves an easy target.”

Utterly ridiculous.

It wasn’t even like he was using high-grade weapons.

A couple of old spears from a blacksmith’s shop…

“And a single brute to tear it all down.”

The knight sneered coldly and sprinted forward.

If he delayed even for a moment—

—The beast would devour all the spoils.

So he ran.

“Are knights in the South… all like this?”

Patrick sat on the ground, stunned.
What kind of monsters were these?

A tiny misunderstanding about the South had begun to take root in the boy’s mind.

Craaaack!

The Tower’s magical barrier shattered.

A defense that had lasted a thousand years crumbled in an instant.

But breaking the barrier didn’t just mean the Tower’s shield was down.

“Urgh!”
“Uwaaaah!”
“S-Save me…!”

The barrier was powered by the mana of the Tower’s mages.
When it broke, the backlash hit them hard.

Give and take.

Everything had a cost, and the mages, who believed their barrier could never be breached, were forced to endure excruciating pain.

Their mana surged chaotically, leaving them with internal injuries that would take at least two weeks of rest to recover from.

But injuries weren’t their biggest concern.

Whoooosh!

The Tower began to fall.

The so-called Sky Fortress—the holy land of mages—

Lost its floating magic and plummeted.

“C-Cast a spell! Now!”
“The Tower is crashing into the ground!!”
“No! This can’t be happening!!”

The Tower held all their research, experiments, and artifacts.
To the mages, it was as precious as their lives.

If it fell—

BOOOOM!

Everything would be destroyed.

The Tower crashed into the frozen wasteland below.
Fortunately, it landed in an empty field, sparing the people in the Colony from harm.

Rumble!
Crack!

But the impact shook the earth.

Shhhhh!

The snow covering the plains erupted into the air.

The Colonies nearby would be panicking, and travelers would likely freeze in terror.

At this scale, no structure could possibly remain intact.

A fortress falling from the sky?
It had to be reduced to rubble.

Or so logic dictated.

“The Tower…!”
“My research…!!”
“Thank the heavens, it didn’t collapse!”

…The Sky Fortress had only a few visible cracks and was mostly intact.

Of course, it wouldn’t fall that easily.

The Tower’s bricks were coated with magical reinforcement, and every material used in its construction was special.

Even after falling from the sky, it still had the durability to survive.

It was practically a miracle—

 

“Let’s see if it survives this too.”

Whoosh!

The knight floated into the air, holding a massive boulder.

Where did he get it?

He had simply ripped it out of the ground.

Now, with the boulder in hand, he took the stance of a pitcher.

Because even when he played baseball—

‘I always loved throwing straight fastballs!’

Whoosh!

Pitchers who could throw over 160 km/h were called fireballers.

But what do you call someone who hurls a boulder the size of a bull—at 300 km/h?

…A Meteorballer?

Whatever the case—

CRASH!

The Magic Tower’s bad luck remained unchanged.

Built by enslaved labor, the Tower stood as a monument to the mages’ cruelty.

A cursed tower, stained with the blood and tears of the oppressed—

And now—

“R-Run for your lives!”

It was about to be bathed in the blood and screams of its creators.