I had long since accepted Gabriel as a constant in my life.

A few months after Akoras Online had launched, an avatar with fair hair and blue eyes had faced me. He was gripping nothing but a level 5 sword.

“I’ve finally found you!” He had shouted. “Fight me to the death!”

So I annihilated him on the spot. That was supposed to be the end of it, like the other players who PvPed me. Their hard-earned stats reset, and then they left me alone—or they quit the game and complained about its bullshit system.

But Gabriel had come back a week later, this time brandishing a level 10 sword. He died just as quickly.

He came back again. And again. Eventually, other players began noticing us, picking sides. The community grew, and so did our spectators. As Gabriel began making a name in the server, he proclaimed himself the Hero. And what else did that make me, the nemesis of him and the people, if not the Demon King?

Now he stood before me with no audience, but the exasperating resolve on his face was clear as always.

It was one thing if Michi had gotten through my wards by chance, but he had been looking for me with deliberation. He shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t be here.

But of course, this was Gabriel, the same one who sought me in all corners of the realm. Gabriel, the one who seemed to stop at nothing just to fight me, just to try to get the better of me.

“You came here at the wrong time,” I said.

“What?” His sword dipped to the ground in confusion. It was probably the most I had said to him in one match.

I admitted it—I had gotten too comfortable. The result was, within a month, two players had found the place I had hidden for years. It was time to break the routine.

He barely had time to raise his sword before my spear slammed into it—a valiant effort. The weapons trembled there for a precarious second. As I pressed down harder, I glanced at Gabriel’s stunned face. He hadn’t even used any mana to defend himself yet.

A basic attack against a basic defense. I easily slammed the sword out of his hands, where it thumped at the cliff’s edge.

I pierced at his chest, but he gathered enough wits to summon a shield, teeming with a bright glow. My spear simply crackled through it. The shattered shield exploded into fractals of golden dust. They hung in the air for a fleeting moment before dissipating completely.

“How—?” his eyes widened. I didn’t give him a chance to finish as I sent another charged attack towards his head.

“Dispel!” he yelled, and the shadows building up around me evaporated.

As if that would stop me.

My spear chased again. Wildly, he threw up another holy defense—all in vain. An explosion of gold and purple, and then he was down. The shock sent my spear flying out of my hands, but I didn’t bother wasting time to retrieve it. Instead, I began punching him. Each fist against his face was a mark of grim catharsis.

Level 5, level 10, or level 200—none of it made a difference.

It was still too easy.

My power was still at least four times greater than his. Usually, high-level players couldn’t die by fists, but I was certain I could kill him.

There were flashy artifacts all over his body: golden earrings, dragon-leather tunic, ruby rings. Such high-tier dungeon items were hard to break and even harder to find, but he wasn’t even using them. It seemed that the shock of being bludgeoned to death stopped his brain from functioning.

With each strike, artifacts began breaking off into the grass. With each loss, I could feel his buffs losing power.

“Stop!” He finally begged. I hit harder, though it didn’t make a difference in damage. Blood splattered on the ground. There was no way he could feel pain through his avatar, but his body was shaking like a leaf. It was probably from the realization that I had been going easy on him for years. Was I finally scaring this arrogant guy? Good. He had finally gone too far.

More artifacts broke off one by one. A gauntlet shattered as he reared up his hand to block. The green pendant on his neck broke into glittering shards.

I drove my fist into his face, over and over. An insecure loner. A cocky bastard. A coward. A bully. If that’s what they wanted me to be, then so be it. I never could improve conditions with my parents, my job, my life. I couldn’t even find enjoyment in a stupid game, with the irritations everyone brought on me. Why couldn’t people just leave me alone?

Gabriel cried out again. “Argh! Stop!”

My fist froze mid-punch. Beneath me, his body turned into lead, as if he had stopped breathing. Time seemed to suspend as we both stared at each other. The look on his face must’ve mirrored my own.

His voice had been suddenly higher, and cracking in the wrong places, and far too youthful, even for a college-aged teen.

Slowly, I drew my hands back, stained with red. The sun had already set, leaving the moonlight to frown upon my silhouette. Hushed darkness had fallen over the cliffside. In the silence, green fractals of the pendant glinted among the grass.

I looked back at Gabriel’s wide, blue eyes.

“What the hell?” I said to the trembling boy who had fought me one-on-one for nearly two years. “You’re just a kid?”