The secure briefing room three floors below the main administration building had been designed for exactly this type of sensitive discussion. Soundproof walls, electromagnetic shielding, and subtle energy dampening fields ensured complete privacy. As the team filed in after their humbling morning training session, they found Lee Tae-jun waiting with an array of documents, tablets, and projection equipment that spoke to the seriousness of what they were about to learn.
"Before we begin," Tae-jun said, his usually mild demeanor replaced by focused intensity, "understand that what I'm about to share represents months of intelligence gathering by moderate faction networks across the country. This information could be considered classified by several organizations."
Principal Mu nodded from his position at the head of the table. "The team needs to understand exactly what they're facing. Ignorance won't protect them—it will only ensure their defeat."
Tae-jun activated the room's projection system, and the walls came alive with photos, statistics, and video clips. "The National University Martial Arts Championship features representatives from 64 institutions. Of these, approximately 15 are considered serious contenders for advancement beyond the first few rounds. Five are deemed virtually unstoppable by conventional standards."
The first video was mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measure. Seol Hanbi stood at the center of what had been a standard tournament arena—forty meters square, protective barriers around the edges, climate-controlled environment designed for optimal martial arts competition.
Within three seconds of the match beginning, none of that mattered anymore.
Ice began forming at her feet, but this wasn't the simple freezing technique most martial artists might expect. The ice moved like a living thing, spreading outward in geometric patterns that seemed to follow mathematical principles beyond normal comprehension. As it expanded, the very air in the arena began to change.
Her opponent, a skilled martial artist from a respected fire-attribute school, launched his opening attack—a burst of flame hot enough to melt steel, aimed with precision that spoke of years of training. The fire struck the expanding ice field and simply... stopped. Not extinguished, not overwhelmed—frozen in place, the flames themselves becoming crystalline sculptures that hung motionless in the air.
"Watch her eyes," Tae-jun pointed to the close-up view. Seol Hanbi's pupils had shifted to an almost silver color, and frost patterns were literally forming in the air around her irises. "The ice isn't just her technique—she becomes part of it. The entire arena becomes an extension of her will."
The opponent tried to retreat, but the ice had already spread beneath his feet. Not just slippery—the frozen ground was actively responding to his movements, creating walls where he wanted to dodge, forming spikes where he planned to land, predicting his intentions with supernatural accuracy.
In desperation, he unleashed his most powerful technique—"Inferno Cascade," a flame attack that should have raised the arena temperature beyond the survival point of any ice technique. Fire erupted from him in all directions, a technique capable of melting concrete and turning sand to glass.
Seol Hanbi raised her hand palm-forward, and spoke a single word that the arena microphones barely caught: "Absolute."
The temperature didn't just drop—it plummeted beyond what thermodynamics suggested was possible. The massive fire attack struck an invisible barrier around her and instantly transformed into more crystalline sculptures. But more unnervingly, the cold began affecting more than just the physical environment.
The opponent's movements slowed, not just from cold but as if his very thoughts were crystallizing. His internal energy circulation became sluggish, his reaction time stretched, his decision-making process visibly impaired. He was still functional, still conscious, but operating as if the world around him had become thick as honey.
The match ended when he simply stopped moving, not unconscious but unable to process fast enough to continue fighting effectively. Seol Hanbi had created a domain where she existed in normal time while everything else moved through frozen eternity.
"Ninety seconds," Tae-jun noted grimly. "And she was clearly holding back."
[Ice Emperor Analysis Complete]Domain Effect: Complete environmental and temporal control within effective range
Psychological Impact: Induces despair through demonstration of inevitable defeat
Physical Threat: Can potentially freeze opponents at molecular level
Counter-Strategy Requirements: Engagement must end before domain establishment
The projection switched to Jin Hwasung, and immediately the temperature in the briefing room seemed to rise just from watching him. Where Seol Hanbi was precise and controlled, the Flame Emperor was barely contained destruction walking in human form.
His opponent was clearly skilled—a martial artist specializing in defensive techniques who had obviously studied Jin Hwasung's previous matches. Smart strategy: survive the initial explosion, then counter-attack when the fire user had exhausted himself.
The defensive specialist immediately activated his strongest protection—"Tortoise Shell Formation," a technique that created multiple layers of energy barriers designed to absorb and disperse incoming attacks. The barriers were impressive, shimmering like heat mirages but possessing enough substance to stop artillery.
Jin Hwasung looked at the defensive formation with what might have been amusement. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, they were literally burning. Not metaphorically—actual flames were flickering in his pupils.
"Phoenix Incineration isn't just one technique," Tae-jun explained as they watched Jin Hwasung begin to glow with internal fire. "It's seven different flame-based martial arts executed simultaneously and merged into a single devastating attack."
What happened next challenged the cameras' ability to record. Jin Hwasung moved—not quickly, but with terrifying inevitability. His right hand traced a complex pattern in the air, leaving trails of fire that hung suspended like burning calligraphy. His left hand gathered energy that compressed and concentrated until it became a miniature sun. His feet shifted into a stance that somehow made the ground beneath him begin to smoke.
But most unnervingly, he began to speak—not words, but sounds that resonated with primal fire, as if he were calling flame itself to answer his will.
The seven techniques launched simultaneously: Fire Dragon Ascension from his right hand, Solar Compression Burst from his left, Phoenix Wings from his shoulders, Infernal Ground Technique from his feet, Flame Tornado from his movement, Sacred Fire Mantra from his voice, and something the databases simply labeled as "Unknown Fire Mastery" that seemed to emerge from his entire being.
The resulting explosion didn't just break through the defensive barriers—it annihilated them so completely that there was no debris, no fragments, nothing but empty air where impenetrable protection had existed moments before. The defensive specialist was unconscious and outside the arena boundaries before the sound of the explosion had finished echoing.
"Eight seconds from technique initiation to victory," Tae-jun said with professional calm that didn't quite hide his unease. "The force calculations suggest that attack could have leveled a city block."
[Flame Emperor Analysis Complete]Attack Power: Potentially unlimited escalation
Speed: Instant victory capability against any known defense
Versatility: Seven-technique fusion allows adaptation to any opponent
Counter-Strategy Requirements: Prevention of technique initiation—no defensive options viable
The third video began, and immediately everyone in the room leaned forward. Lee Geommu, the Sword Emperor, appeared utterly ordinary—average height, normal build, unremarkable clothing. Only his sword marked him as anything special, and even that was elegant simplicity rather than ornate display.
His opponent was clearly a veteran competitor, moving with the confidence of someone who had faced many skilled swordsmen and prevailed. Good strategy: fight sword against sword, technique against technique, in the classical tradition where experience and training would matter most.
Lee Geommu drew his sword in a motion so smooth it seemed like the blade materialized in his hand rather than being unsheathed. He held it in a basic ready position that any first-year student would recognize.
Then he moved, and reality became negotiable.
The first strike appeared to come from directly in front, a simple thrust that the opponent parried with textbook precision. Simultaneously, identical strikes materialized from the left, right, above, and below. Not similar strikes—identical, as if the same sword was attacking from multiple positions at the same moment.
The opponent's parry succeeded against the frontal attack, but the other four connected with devastating precision. Except that shouldn't have been possible, because Lee Geommu only had one sword, was only in one position, could only make one attack at a time.
"Ten Thousand Sword Unity," Tae-jun said with something approaching reverence. "He doesn't create multiple attacks—he creates multiple possibilities of the same attack, then makes them all real simultaneously."
The opponent, somehow still standing despite taking four seemingly fatal strikes, attempted a counter-attack. Lee Geommu's response was even more impossible.
He didn't dodge, didn't block, didn't parry. Instead, he attacked again—and this time the strikes came from every conceivable angle, high and low, left and right, diagonal and straight, each one perfectly timed and placed. Not a flurry of strikes in sequence, but dozens of perfect strikes happening at the exact same instant.
The opponent's counter-attack found only empty air. Every position where Lee Geommu might have been was occupied by the trail of a sword strike that had already passed through that space, but Lee Geommu himself was somehow nowhere and everywhere simultaneously.
When the technique ended, Lee Geommu stood in his original position, sword held in the same basic ready stance, as if he had never moved at all. His opponent was motionless—not unconscious, not injured, but completely disarmed and surrounded by the lingering energy traces of forty-seven different sword strikes that had all somehow occurred in the space of a single heartbeat.
"The mathematics department at Seoul University published a paper trying to explain this technique," Tae-jun said quietly. "Their conclusion was that he's somehow accessing quantum superposition—existing in multiple states simultaneously until the moment of attack resolution."
[Sword Emperor Analysis Complete]Technique Nature: Transcends normal space-time limitations
Defensive Capability: Cannot be attacked while technique is active
Offensive Potential: Simultaneous strikes from all possible angles
Counter-Strategy Requirements: Engagement must prevent technique initiation—no known defensive measures
The room fell silent as the implications sank in. These weren't just skilled martial artists—they were individuals who had pushed their chosen disciplines so far beyond normal limits that they were approaching something resembling supernatural abilities.
Sora was staring at the projection with wide eyes. "That sword technique... it's not just fast. It's like he's fighting in multiple dimensions."
"Which brings us to competitors whose abilities challenge our understanding of martial arts entirely," Tae-jun said, switching to new footage.
The next video showed someone who seemed to flicker in and out of existence. "Haeun Martial University: Baram, the 'Wind God.' Pure speed taken to theoretical limits."
In the footage, Baram's opponent swung at empty air repeatedly, growing increasingly frustrated. Baram appeared to be everywhere and nowhere, striking from impossible angles at speeds that made him nearly invisible even to the high-speed cameras.
"'Limitless Acceleration' allows him to move faster than human reflexes can track. The physics department at his university has published papers trying to explain how he doesn't break the sound barrier or suffer from momentum-related injuries."
[Target Analysis: Wind God]Combat Style: Untouchable mobility and precision strikes
Primary Threat: Cannot be hit by conventional means
Estimated Power Level: ★★★★☆
Current Team Win Probability: 12%
Recommended Counter-Strategy: Area-effect techniques and prediction-based attacks
"Finally," Tae-jun said, "we have absolute defense made manifest."
The final video showed a massive young man who simply stood motionless while his opponent unleashed technique after technique. Sword strikes, energy blasts, martial arts combinations that would have devastated normal defenses—all were absorbed or deflected without apparent effort.
"Gangcheol Martial University: Jang Mujeok, the 'Iron Wall.' He has never taken significant damage in any recorded match. His technique, 'Immovable Fortress,' doesn't just provide defense—it seems to make him immune to harm entirely."
[Target Analysis: Iron Wall]Combat Style: Perfect defense with counter-attack opportunities
Primary Threat: Cannot be harmed by direct confrontation
Estimated Power Level: ★★★★☆
Current Team Win Probability: 15%
Recommended Counter-Strategy: Indirect attacks and environmental manipulation
The room fell silent as the implications sank in. These weren't just skilled martial artists—they were prodigies who had pushed their respective disciplines to levels that seemed almost supernatural.
"The comprehensive analysis is even more sobering," Tae-jun continued, bringing up a complex statistical display. "Sixty-four competitors total. The five I've shown you represent the absolute top tier. Below them are approximately ten more students who would be considered exceptional by any normal standard. The remainder range from very good to merely competent by national tournament standards."
[National Tournament Comprehensive Analysis]Total Participants: 64 universities
Top Tier Competitors (Extreme Threat): 5
High Tier Competitors (Significant Threat): 10
Mid Tier Competitors (Moderate Threat): 20
Lower Tier Competitors (Manageable): 29
Current Team Overall Win Probability: 12%
Probability of Reaching Quarter-Finals: 4%
Probability of Championship Victory: <1%
Master Liu, who had been observing silently, finally spoke. "These numbers assume conventional team tactics and individual skill levels. They don't account for the revolutionary approach you're developing." His expression was serious but not defeated. "However, they do illustrate the magnitude of what you're attempting."
Haneul leaned back in his chair, looking stunned. "These aren't students. They're martial arts legends in the making."
"Each one represents the pinnacle of their chosen discipline," Daesung agreed, his formal composure cracking slightly. "The level of mastery they've achieved..."
"Is exactly what we need to surpass," Minwoo said firmly, though his stomach was churning. The system was running continuous analysis, and every calculation confirmed the overwhelming challenge ahead. "We knew this wouldn't be easy. Now we know exactly how difficult it will be."
Principal Mu stood slowly. "Knowledge is the first step toward victory. You now understand what you're truly facing. The question is: does this change your commitment to the path you've chosen?"
Four voices answered with varying degrees of determination: "No."
"Then," Master Liu said with a slight smile, "we have work to do."