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The match began.

As the referee announced the start of the fight, the opponent slowly approached.

'My neck feels stiff.'

Ryu lightly stretched his stiff body by tilting his head.

Perhaps due to this leisurely demeanor, a vein bulged on his opponent's forehead. It was not surprising for his opponent to think he was being ignored.

However, even in the face of his opponent's furious expression, Ryu remained unfazed.

That bald opponent was ultimately a challenger, while Ryu was the champion. A lion sitting on its throne must always possess composure and grace.

Ryu's eyes began to follow his opponent. As soon as their eyes met, the bald opponent felt a shiver run through his body.

'What kind of gaze is that…?'

It felt like he had become prey, causing his legs to go weak. He felt his heartbeat slow. As the pumping of his heart decreased, signals came from his fingertips and toes. His body began to feel sluggish.

Agile movement is a fundamental virtue for a fighter. A fighter with tied hands and feet is worse than an amateur.

Ryu slowly approached.

He was not in a hurry. He already felt it.

'I've won.'

Though anything can happen in the octagon, Ryu was certain. His opponent was already terrified. No matter how full of surprises the octagon might be, a rabbit cannot kill a lion.

Tap.

Ryu's leading foot blocked his opponent's foot.

'Damn it!'

His opponent tried to back away in a panic, but Ryu's body moved faster.

Using his leading foot as a pivot, Ryu twisted his waist.

Wham!

Ryu's fist landed on his opponent's jaw. It was an undeniable, perfectly executed straight punch.

The opponent's body crumpled, and the match ended anticlimactically.

Waaahhh!

The crowd erupted in cheers at the champion's performance that did not disappoint.

Ryu descended from the octagon with a nonchalant expression.

There was no damage. His right hand, thrown without any setup, had landed on his opponent's jaw.

His opponent had not lost due to lack of skill. Ryu was simply extraordinarily strong.

Undefeated in 40 fights.

The SFC three-division champion and undefeated fighter. That was Ryu Taishin.

Therefore, the cheers gave Ryu no particular emotion.

'This is boring.'

He had started fighting because he loved the struggle, but no opponent could stir Ryu's fighting spirit. They were all too weak. Their movements were transparent, and no strategy worked against him.

It was tedious.

Ryu's current weight class was middleweight. He had ascended from the lightweight class sequentially to his current position.

In fact, he did not even bother to cut weight for middleweight matches and competed in his usual physical condition. A few kilos of body weight did not significantly affect Ryu. He did not feel the need to advance to a higher weight class.

'It would be the same anyway.'

Even fighters in higher weight classes did not ignite any competitive spirit in him. At some point, an indescribable sense of lethargy overwhelmed him.

"Should I retire?"

It was a thoughtlessly muttered statement. The numerous staff and fighters around Ryu were shocked.

"What are you talking about?!"

"Are you on drugs?! Retiring out of the blue!"

As the waiting room quickly became chaotic, Ryu frowned.

"It was just a passing thought."

After the commotion died down, the coaches and other fighters offered Ryu pieces of advice. Most of them were trivial, self-serving remarks.

'Parasites.'

He knew. They did not see him as a colleague. Just a money-maker.

They were parasitic beings clinging to Ryu's unprecedented star power.

Ryu, who never had much greed for money, tolerated it, but recently, they had started to intrude on personal matters, like searching his phone or room. It was annoying, but too bothersome to cut them off.

Boredom.

A maddening boredom was devouring him. He felt no motivation. He had earned enough fame and money. Earning more wouldn't improve his quality of life.

Ignoring the coaches' words, Ryu picked up his phone.

There was a novel he had been regularly following lately. The content was trivial, a typical mass-produced fantasy, but it was perfect for mindlessly passing time.

[In Reality, I'm a Loser, But in Another World, I'm a Hero?]

The ridiculous title had initially put him off. But once he started reading, it was surprisingly tolerable.

'The protagonist is frustrating though.'

Ryu could not understand the weak and pathetic protagonist. But even so, the protagonist steadily overcame adversities and grew.

In the process, many stunning beauties gathered around the protagonist.

He smirked.

The story was unrealistic, and it lacked literary value, but it wasn't bad for killing time.

***

"Ugh...."

Ryu groaned and opened his eyes.

'I must have fallen asleep without realizing it.'

As he tried to get up, he noticed something.

"...What?"

His body felt heavy. It wasn't the heaviness from fatigue. It was a weighted feeling, like sandbags, that felt disturbingly vivid.

He instinctively looked at his arm. It wasn't his well-toned, muscular arm. It was thick, plump, and chubby.

Ryu blinked.

'Am I dreaming?'

Looking around, the first thing he noticed was the mess of objects scattered everywhere.

'What a wreck. Also... I don't think I drank, so why does my head feel like it's splitting?'

It was baffling. He had only heard of "feeling like your head is splitting" but had never experienced it himself.

'And what is this lump of fat?'

He was speechless. Nothing made sense from start to finish.

Ryu tried to get up. But with a body covered in fat, even the simple act of standing up was difficult.

Crash!

The table and chairs toppled over.

"...Haha."

A hollow laugh escaped him at the absurdity of the situation.

Was it a dream? That seemed the most reasonable explanation. However, Ryu instinctively knew.

'This isn't a dream.'

The vividness was fundamentally different from a dream. This wasn't a dream. Then what was happening now? The confusion continued, only deepening.

As Ryu staggered, unable to steady himself, a voice called from behind.

"It's time to go back, Young Master."

The voice was cold. Though it was a low, deep tone, there was a thorn in it.

Ryu turned his head.

"Young Master?"

The man in front of him was an elderly gentleman in a pristine tuxedo. He looked like a character straight out of a movie. But there was something strange about him. Although it was a face he had never seen before, it felt oddly familiar.

At that moment, a sudden headache struck. A piercing pain in his head brought forth a flood of fragmented memories.

'...Ethan Blante? What's all this?'

His memories were a jumbled mess. They came rushing in, like scattered puzzle pieces not yet put together.

It was disorienting.

The splitting headache made him feel like he might collapse, but Ryu gritted his teeth and held onto his sanity.

'Ethan? Blante?'

Despite the chaos, there was a familiar feeling.

'A novel?'

That story about a loser in reality?

"Haha."

A dry laugh slipped out.

Yes. Things were starting to make sense.

As he understood the situation, his chaotic memories began to organize themselves.

That didn't mean the headache subsided. If anything, it grew more intense.

'Have I entered a novel?'

And not just any novel, but a clichéd, poorly written one at that.

Ryu, now Ethan Blante, had no choice but to accept the sudden reality. He didn't have the luxury to foolishly deny reality by insisting it was a dream.

He tried to remain as composed as possible, but someone was there to disrupt his attempt.

"It seems you've lost your senses again."

A look of contempt. Though his face was expressionless, there was a trace of emotion in his eyes.

Ethan could see it.

'Naid.'

Ethan's personal butler.

Ethan, who was arrogant and reckless to his core, had often humiliated Naid.

But Ethan, or rather, Ryu who had read the novel, knew. Naid wasn't just a mere butler.

Naid approached with steady steps. The atmosphere as he stepped on the broken glass and dishes was heavy.

"This time, I'll have to take some measures. Don't blame me; it's the master's orders."

As Naid said this, a thin smile formed on his lips, and Ethan frowned.

'What should I do?'

It was impossible to make sense of everything right then and there. He needed time to organize his thoughts.

After a moment of deliberation, Ethan decided to comply with Naid's words.

At that moment, Naid's hand reached for Ethan's neck. Instinctively, Ethan twisted his body. He grabbed Naid's outstretched hand and draped his hefty body over Naid's back. The heavy weight disrupted Naid's balance. As Ethan leaned forward, Naid's body momentarily lifted off the ground. It was a nearly perfect judo throw.

'Damn.'

Ethan regretted it as soon as he attempted the throw. It had been a reflex. But the solid feel of Naid's body against his hands suggested that such a move wouldn't work.

Whoosh—

As expected, Naid didn't fall for the throw.

Not feeling any weight, Ethan quickly lifted his head. Naid stood there, smiling faintly.

"That was quite surprising. I've never encountered such fighting techniques before."

Naid seemed genuinely surprised. But Ethan was equally taken aback.

'How did he avoid it?'

It had been a perfectly executed move. Once 80% of the move was completed, defense was usually meaningless. Yet Naid stood unaffected. It was something beyond Ethan's comprehension.

"Let's end the games here and head back."

The contempt in Naid's wrinkled eyes had vanished.

"Fine."

Ethan raised his hands. There was no point in resisting.

'Unbelievable.'

It was the first time he had ever encountered someone who seemed unbeatable just by looking at them.

When Ethan obediently complied, Naid was more surprised. It was uncharacteristic behavior for Ethan, whose usual nature was violent and savage.

Naid kept an eye on him, worried that Ethan might try to escape, but Ethan had no such thoughts.

'Entering a novel, huh.'

It was an outdated trope, like something from a third-rate story. And now, he was experiencing it himself.

'And why this character of all people?'

Ethan Blante, the second son of a prestigious swordsmanship family on the continent.

His status was excellent, but the titles associated with him were far from flattering.

The Blante family's disgrace.

The shame of the household.

Despite being the son of a renowned swordsmanship family, Ethan feared the sword. And his fear was for no particular reason. Ethan was naturally timid and prioritized his own safety above all else. Because of this trait, Ethan feared the sword.

His abysmal talent and cowardly nature made it hard to believe he was descended from a swordsmanship family.

Consequently, his reputation within the family was rock bottom.

But the biggest problem was.

'An extra villain.'

A character designed to make the protagonist shine. That was his role, a character crafted for that purpose. He was far from being a well-rounded character. A stereotypical, artificial villain.

'I can't let that happen.'

Ryu had no intention of following Ethan's character arc. He was always a predator, a leader, a champion.

The thought of returning to Earth didn't even cross his mind.