Game 27: The Boy Who Played with lightning
Han Tae-yang twirled a cheap, plastic lighter between his fingers as if it were some ancient relic passed down by gods. The flame flicked alive, died, flicked again. His grin was smug enough to make even statues want to slap him.
Across from him, Park Min-jae's jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth were trying to escape. His old-man voice thundered, veins glowing faintly from the remnants of lightning mana burning under his skin.
"What the hell are you doing, kid?"
The lighter clicked. Fshhhk. The flame wobbled weakly in the tower's stale air, casting crooked shadows on the cracked stone walls. Around them, the barrier hummed like a colossal electric beehive, its translucent surface shaking the ground with every pulse.
Han Tae-yang didn't answer right away. He raised the lighter to the brittle parchment of the map, an artifact humming faintly with mana, its edges glowing with knowledge from ten whole floors of the Tower of God. Information so rare, guilds would trade kingdoms for a single corner of it.
He said in a casual, almost lazy tone, "Didn't I tell you before? I don't need this."
The lighter kissed the edge of the map. Flame bloomed, orange and hungry, devouring mana-scripted symbols in an instant. The smell hit next, burnt parchment mixed with something metallic, like scorched lightning.
Park Min-jae's eyes bulged. "No!"
The old man surged forward, lightning sparking across his hands, but he was too slow. The flames sprinted like marathon runners pumped on steroids, eating the map alive until only blackened ash fell, swirling in the charged air.
Tae-yang watched it burn without flinching, eyes calm, face carved with a faint smirk. His voice was sharp but casual, like someone explaining why they stole the last piece of chicken at dinner.
"If people can get information up to the tenth floor from this map, there's always a chance they'll surpass me. Can't have that. The only way to secure my position… is to remove the possibility entirely."
The words hit harder than the flames.
Park Min-jae trembled, his body glowing with sparks. His hands clenched into claws as mana surged uncontrollably. The lightning around him crackled louder than a collapsing stormcloud.
"You bastard!" His roar cracked the air. "Do you understand what you've done? That was priceless! I'll kill you! I'll rip your body apart and grind your bones just to vent my anger!"
His voice warped into something primal, deep and raw. Even Kim Roji, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, flinched back. Her Anubis Guardian gave a low, metallic growl, its jackal eyes flashing crimson.
But Tae-yang? He leaned back, stretched his arms as if he'd just won a lazy argument, and whispered with mock drama, "Oh no. Grandpa's mad."
Then, ping.
[You have met the conditions.]
[You have successfully copied the skill: Lightning Element.]
[Skill stored in the World's Memory.]
[Element: Lightning.]
[Difficulty: High. Affinity with the element will grow over time. Additional effect: Minor resistance to electrical-based damage.]
Tae-yang's grin widened into something sharper, wolfish.
"Well, well… lightning. Not a bad first copy."
His thoughts came fast, sly, almost musical: Fire in one hand, thunder in the other. If this doesn't make me look like a budget god, I don't know what will.
Park Min-jae's rage peaked. The air itself split, sparks raining down the barrier's surface as he shouted, "You'll regret this! I'll make you scream until even your shadow refuses to follow you!"
Tae-yang didn't bother looking at him. He tapped the burnt ash off his fingers and spoke almost to himself, voice steady.
"You still don't get it, old man. Why I had to burn that map."
The barrier pulsed behind him, throwing ghostly blue light across the floor. The hum grew louder, as if the Tower itself was holding its breath.
Another system alert flickered across his vision.
[Skill: Lightning Element — Level 1 activating.]
A sharp vibration crawled across his skin. His veins lit with electric veins, his bones humming like a living storm conductor. Sparks flickered between his fingertips, the lighter in his palm shattering into molten plastic under the charge.
Then, without waiting for Park Min-jae's response, Han Tae-yang tilted his head, his smile curving like a blade.
Lightning erupted.
It tore through the chamber, splitting air, stone, and silence. A white-hot bolt ripped straight toward Park Min-jae.