Quick Strike, Swift Retreat

Joon-ho steadied himself, heart still pounding as he gazed down at the dummy sprawled before him. His hand still tingled from the impact, but his eyes fell to something new—a small note taped to the dummy's chest. Carefully, he peeled it off and read:

"Good job on the quick reaction. However, an Assassin also needs to know when to retreat. Attacking is only the first part—the second is knowing when to escape to safety."

Just as he finished reading, there was a faint whoosh of air, and before he could process it, another mannequin hurtled straight toward him. Caught off guard, his legs stiffened, and he could feel frozen. Instinctively, he started to move, but his reaction lagged, too slow to dodge it.

But then, in a blur, another figure swept past, intercepting the mannequin with a forceful shove. The second mannequin crashed to the floor with a loud thud, leaving Joon-ho stunned and staring up at his unexpected saviour—Min-jae.

"Are you okay?" Min-jae asked, breath slightly laboured but eyes steady, glancing over Joon-ho with concern.

Joon-ho exhaled, nodding.

"Yeah…thanks. Good timing," he managed, his voice carrying a mix of relief and lingering tension. A quick look exchanged between them conveyed mutual reassurance—relief at finding each other again amid the unknown obstacle.

As they glanced at the newly felled mannequin, their eyes caught sight of another note taped across its torso. Joon-ho reached out and grabbed it, the words almost playful in their praise:

"Congratulations, Roamer. A Roamer's role is to be the lifeline for teammates, supporting and protecting them."

Min-jae, as a Tank, had done well to watch Joon-ho's back. His actions reflect the way one should play NexaRealm, even here in the real world.

Joon-ho and Min-jae shared a knowing smile, the note affirming what they both understood in their roles, whether virtual or real: that survival wasn't just about speed or strength, but the reliability they brought to one another.

As they walked side by side through the dimly lit path, Joon-ho felt an odd sense of relief. Having Min-jae beside him made the atmosphere feel less daunting, less like he was navigating some twisted maze alone. He kept glancing around, noting the odd quiet between them—a quiet that somehow felt purposeful, as if the instructors had intended each step, each encounter, to drive a lesson home.

Joon-ho mulled over this, and something began to take shape in his mind. The lecturers hadn't just thrown them into a simple test of their game skills or physical endurance. No, this final obstacle was something deeper. It wasn't just about proving who was the quickest to strike or the best at dodging a blow; it was about bridging the gap between the game world of NexaRealm and the real one they were living in now.

In NexaRealm, they played with quick minds and honed strategies, fully immersed in their roles. Joon-ho was the Assassin, precise and swift, but those traits were a mask, almost detached from his real self. Yet here, in the winding corridors of this strange trial, he felt as though the instructors were trying to blur that line. They wanted them to understand that skill wasn't just about tapping into their "game personas"; it was about truly merging the mindset of a player with the reflexes and instincts that applied to real life.

To be good, the instructors seemed to be saying, meant being prepared at all times, blurring that mental distinction between game and reality without losing sight of either. In the game, Joon-ho could afford to compartmentalize his actions. But in the real world, he needed to carry his instincts as seamlessly as he carried his real thoughts. The mind had to bridge both worlds, balancing the skill of a virtual realm with the readiness required in reality.

Min-jae seemed to be picking up on the same vibe, glancing at Joon-ho with a thoughtful expression as they walked.

"It's funny," Min-jae said after a moment. "How they're making us think like this. I keep expecting just another obstacle, but it feels like they're testing… something more personal."

Joon-ho nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah. They're pushing us to realize who we are here… it's just as important as who we pretend to be in NexaRealm. And the best part? They're showing us that our strengths in there can become real here, too—if we're ready for it."

With every step forward, it felt like their minds were being moulded, not into new people but into versions of themselves that could balance the virtual with the real. It was both empowering and a little intimidating. The instructors had given them a silent challenge: to walk with the same confidence they held in the game, embracing their strengths and instincts as naturally as breathing, but this time with the knowledge that both worlds required the same level of readiness and focus.

As Joon-ho and Min-jae entered the larger room, they instinctively tensed, each of them bracing for what was surely coming next. The open space, with dim lighting and walls seemingly designed to echo every sound, practically screamed "ambush." They'd already learned to expect the unexpected, and neither of them planned to be caught off guard again.

True to their instincts, mannequins began to shoot out from various corners of the room, propelled by some unseen mechanism. They were rapid, and relentless, almost as if testing their reactions down to the last millisecond. Joon-ho responded immediately, kicking one mannequin away with a fierce snap of his leg, the impact sending it flying. A second one careened toward him, but before he could get a hand on it, Min-jae deflected it with a broad shield he'd picked up from a nearby pile of discarded equipment.

"Nice save," Joon-ho breathed, nodding in appreciation.

Min-jae just grinned, eyes focused on the incoming mannequins.

"Don't get too comfy; looks like we've got more company."

And they did. Mannequins were now popping out faster than before, coming in from various directions at random intervals. It was a flurry of motion, demanding sharp reflexes and split-second decisions. Joon-ho spotted a metal rod lying to the side—maybe an improvised weapon left as part of the challenge. He snatched it up without hesitation, its weight perfect for swinging.

With the rod in hand, he swung it with precision, knocking back mannequins that veered too close. The added range made it easier to clear the area around him, and he found a certain rhythm to it, like some odd dance between dodging and striking. Joon-ho was fully immersed, instincts kicking in as he anticipated each new mannequin's trajectory.

Min-jae, meanwhile, used his newfound shield to body-block any that Joon-ho couldn't reach. Whenever a mannequin came from a blind spot, Min-jae would slide into position, using the shield's broad surface to deflect it back. Together, they created a makeshift line of defence, clearing the room methodically as a team.

And while these mannequins were nothing more than weighted props, their speed was no joke. Joon-ho could feel the air shift each time one flew by, knowing that even a small miscalculation could lead to a painful bruise or worse. The mannequins may not have the ability to harm like real enemies, but the sheer velocity they shot out with was enough to keep them on high alert.

Finally, with one last sweep of the rod, Joon-ho took down the last mannequin in their immediate vicinity. The room was clear, and both of them took a moment to catch their breath, adrenaline still humming in their veins. They exchanged a glance—one that didn't need words to convey their shared sense of accomplishment.

"Shall we keep moving?" Joon-ho asked, a spark of confidence in his voice.

Min-jae nodded, lifting his shield like a silent promise to back him up. Together, they stepped forward, ready to see just what other surprises the instructors had left in their path.

As Joon-ho and Min-jae moved onward, their surroundings began to shift, growing darker and more intricate. Shadows danced along the walls, and with each echo of their footsteps, the line between this real-world course and the familiar realm of NexaRealm seemed to dissolve. Joon-ho felt the pulse of adrenaline so vividly it was as if he'd been transported into the game itself. Every fibre of his being was on edge, senses sharpened as though he was ready to strike at an unseen foe.

The course was cleverly designed. Each twist and turn, every eerie silence, reminded them of NexaRealm's unpredictable battlegrounds, where enemies could appear at any moment and strategy was essential for survival. The instructors had taken real-world elements and woven them into a landscape that tapped into their gamer instincts, challenging them not just physically but mentally, too.

At that moment, Joon-ho felt a unique merging of realities—the tactical alertness of NexaRealm and the tangible thrill of the real world. For him and Min-jae, this wasn't just training anymore. It was a battle—a test of their skills, instincts, and courage. Steeling themselves, they pressed on, ready for whatever the final challenge had in store, fully immersed in this thrilling blend of worlds.