(Ranks C vs Ranks A)**
Screams erupted across the area as panic swept through the crowd. Moments ago, the front of the stage had been packed with people—rows of neatly arranged chairs, journalists crowding forward, flashes going off every second.
Now, only chaos remained.
Chairs lay scattered and shattered across the floor, and the reporters who had once gathered confidently were fleeing in every direction. No one wanted to be anywhere near the edge of the stage anymore.
Nawa watched the unfolding scene from not too far away. Beside him, one journalist remained—still filming, still documenting every second despite the danger creeping closer.
Their position wasn't technically within the immediate combat zone… but it was certainly far from safe.
Nawa recognized the journalist. His name was Yongyut, a once-famous political news analyst from five years ago.
Back then, Nawa saw him on TV nearly every day. Now, the man appeared only in short, easily overlooked segments. It made Nawa wonder—what exactly happened to him during the years he had been gone?
"Um… excuse me. Aren't you Yongyut, the well-known news host?"
Nawa couldn't help but ask, even though the timing wasn't ideal.
"Yes. That's me," Yongyut replied without looking away from his camera. He continued filming with intense focus.
Yongyut had once been a renowned political analyst—sharp, direct, and unafraid to criticize powerful politicians.
That same honesty eventually became his downfall. After stepping on too many toes, he was pressured into leaving political journalism altogether.
He had since switched to reporting on The Oneness. But his new career never reached the same heights. His analytical skills were sharp, yes—but because he wasn't a Player, he had no way of entering The Oneness himself.
His reports were slow, second-hand, and lacked the accuracy that audiences expected. As a result, he never reclaimed his former popularity.
"Kid, are you a journalist too? Not many young folks these days are dedicated enough to walk into danger for the sake of news,"
Yongyut suddenly asked, finally glancing toward Nawa. They were both crouched behind a thick pillar—a temporary shelter offering at least a bit of protection.
"No. I'm not a journalist," Nawa answered plainly.
"Then why are you still standing here? From experience, a fight between Players is going to break out any moment now. And once that happens… this entire place will turn into a battlefield. Players aren't bound by human limits."
Yongyut's voice carried a grave seriousness.
"I know,"
Nawa said softly, eyes locked on the two figures confronting each other—Tana, Guildmaster of The Future, and the man called Singkhon.
He wanted to see with his own eyes what a battle between high-ranking Players looked like.
"Don't tell me… you're a Player too?"
Yongyut asked, suddenly intrigued. His gaze darted to Nawa's ears, searching for something every Player should have—but he saw nothing. Before he could ask further, the battle began.
Singkhon—clad in ancient Thai warrior attire, muscles carved like stone—lunged toward Tana like a feral beast. Twin daggers flashed in his hands as he struck again and again with frightening speed.
Each slash was so swift and forceful that even Nawa, observing from afar, could feel the gusts slicing through the air.
Yet not a single strike touched Tana. The Guildmaster dodged effortlessly, moving just enough to avoid each lethal blow.
"Impressive… A mere low-rank Player managing to pressure one of the country's top ten Rank A Players. No wonder the Tigerfang Guild accepted him as a core member despite him not being a High Rank yet,"
Yongyut muttered to himself, analyzing the fight as if by instinct.
"You know that man?" Nawa asked.
"Mhm." Yongyut nodded briefly without looking away. Then he continued:
"I covered a feature story on Singkhon years ago. Back then, he was a rising star—one of the fastest-growing Players of his generation. Not exactly a top contender for the eleventh Rank A slot, but easily one of the most promising Rank C prospects.
He entered The Oneness for just a year before rising to Rank C. And he did it without being born into wealth or receiving support from any major organization.
Players from poor families saw him as a symbol of hope."
Yongyut understood the struggles of low-rank Players well. Many from ordinary or impoverished families were exploited—forced into debt arrangements, sent on dangerous hunts, and treated little better than modern slaves.
It was true that Players could grow stronger by training and consuming monster meat. But for low-rank Players without resources, true growth was nearly impossible.
The system itself was stacked against them.
Wealthy families trained their children early. They had access to high-quality weapons, artifacts, and expensive skill manuals. Their early hunts were safer, easier, and far more profitable. They didn't have to waste earnings on interest or loan sharks.
The gap in growth between the rich and the poor was like heaven and earth.And so Singkhon became a beacon for those struggling players—proof that even those without privilege could rise.
Yongyut himself had helped shape Singkhon's early fame. His reports painted Singkhon as a hero of the common people. His praise even influenced Tigerfang Guild's decision to recruit Singkhon as a core member.
But soon after, everything changed.
Once Singkhon joined Tigerfang, rumors and scandals began to surface. Abuse of lower-ranked Players. Extortion. Theft. Some claimed he had joined Darkness, the infamous underground syndicate within The Oneness.
Those stories shattered the heroic image Yongyut had helped build—and with it, his credibility.
And now, seeing Singkhon crash an official press conference held by Tana—the guild master known for supporting and uplifting low-rank Players—the shame and bitterness returned in full.
For Yongyut, this moment pushed him even further from his hope of regaining his former place in the world of journalism.