Soul system:Return Of The SSS-Ranked Troublemaker-Chapter 64: Game Of Fate (20) Japan.
The room was drowned in a heavy, oppressive silence.
Only the soft hum of energy echoed faintly... until the light finally faded.
Yuan stood tall at the center, no longer the same man. The mask had fused seamlessly with his face, the once-separate artifact now part of him — not worn, but absorbed. A suffocating aura radiated from him like a storm wrapped in silence. The sheer weight of his presence seemed to bend the air.
He was no longer merely a leader.
He was a monarch of the soul.
A king who now reigned over every emotion, every desire — a Sovereign of the Heart.
Without a word, Yuan turned toward them. The crimson mask gleamed under the eerie glow, its single carved scar now a brand of command. Every flicker of light seemed to pulse around him, as if recognizing a new ruler.
"Let’s go," he said quietly — but with such gravity that none dared to disobey.
---
Japan — Student Perspective
The sun was bright, almost too bright. The air was still, unnaturally pure. Not a speck of pollution, not a hint of cloud — it felt like a scene painted to perfection. The waterfall nearby glistened in crystalline waves, its waters warm or cool depending on where you stepped in. Laughter echoed as students of all ages played and relaxed among the trees, the scene resembling a peaceful summer retreat.
Amid the harmony, a small orange-haired boy stood knee-deep in the falls, droplets rolling down his short figure. His cheeks puffed in frustration.
"Hey, Miyuki," he called out to the girl lounging lazily on a wide rock, dressed in a designer micro-skirt and a bikini top. "Why do you think the President didn’t even try to recruit that kid from the Gyakumei clan?"
Miyuki took a slow sip from her glass, her eyes staring into the endless sky. "Who knows," she said with disinterest. "Maybe they considered it... and realized it’d just be a waste of time. They should focus on us instead."
"Hm..." The dwarf student scratched his wet head. "Still... Even if the clan’s extinct — or not — wouldn’t it be smart to groom that kid into following Japan’s path? He is the last of the Gyakumei bloodline."
Miyuki sighed and adjusted her glasses before pulling them off.
"Raizu," she said sternly, "I know you’re small, but your brain shouldn’t be."
Raizu flinched.
"The Gyakumei clan were never easy to control. Two generations of Hero of Machines couldn’t handle them. So why would some nameless boy — abandoned by his own father — obey us?"
Raizu blinked. "But I heard Korea’s Mighty Fist offered to give him a name. He declined."
"Exactly," Miyuki said, her tone growing cold. "The Gyakumei were built on loyalty, honor, and silence. One of their own betrayed that code and led them to extinction. And you think this boy, who refused even a name, won’t one day betray us?"
She set her glass down, her gaze sharp.
"No... That boy is dangerous. Grooming him? That’s not just naive — it’s suicide."
"Hm... I guess that’s a good point," Raizu muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Even if the Gyakumei clan was wiped out due to betrayal, putting our technology—especially one of the Twelve Great Technologies—in the hands of their descendant would be a serious risk."
Miyuki smiled, her sharp eyes narrowing with satisfaction. "Good, you’re finally using your brain, Raizu."
She stretched slightly, closing her eyes with a graceful tilt of her head. "By the way... where’s that bum?"
Raizu blinked. "Huh? I don’t know... Haven’t seen him all day."
Meanwhile — at a coastal tourist spot
The beachside town buzzed with life. Stalls lined the streets, bursting with color and noise—vendors shouting over one another, steam rising from sizzling pans of food, and laughter echoing from families and students on holiday.
In the middle of it all walked a peculiar figure.
He wore a white hanbok outlined in soft blue, flowing lightly with the sea breeze. His white spiky hair danced in the wind, and on his face was a red mask adorned with a goofy expression — round "O"-shaped lips and puffed cheeks, like some kind of traditional comedic mask.
The masked boy wandered slowly, silently taking in the scene. His eyes shifted from a stand selling grilled seafood to one with traditional clothing rentals. Everything seemed loud, cheerful... alive.
Then he stopped, gaze locked on a vendor grilling tteokbokki.
"Hey there! Want some tteokbokki, sir?" the merchant called out, waving a ladle playfully. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦
The masked boy nodded and raised a single finger — a quiet gesture.
"Oh? You mute?" the merchant asked curiously, tilting his head. "No problem!"
The merchant served him a warm bowl of spicy rice cakes. The student handed over the won and gave a polite bow in return.
"Thank you, sir!" the vendor said, bowing deeper.
The boy continued walking, calmly eating as the crowd bustled around him.
Soon, he passed by a group of shirtless men gathered around a makeshift stage. One muscular guy, oiled up and flexing, held a large cardboard sign that read:
"JOIN OUR MUSCLE COMPETITION – WIN BIG CASH!"
The masked student approached with interest. He pointed at the man, then at himself.
"Huh? You wanna join?" the muscular man asked, giving him a once-over. "You don’t look that big... and you’re probably mute. Easy win."
The man smirked arrogantly.
"Alright, alright," he said, reaching for a clipboard. "Entry fee’s 10,000 won. Just sign here."
The masked student took the pen, signed his name in calm strokes, and handed over the money without a word.
"Heh. This’ll be fun," the bodybuilder said, cracking his knuckles.
After signing up for the muscle competition, the masked student decided to make the most of his spare time by wandering the surrounding area.
The coastal town was a vivid tapestry of Korean culture—traditional hanok houses stood proudly beside more modern shops, their curved tiled roofs casting elegant shadows in the sun. The scent of sizzling kimchi pancakes, bulgogi, and sweet hotteok filled the air. Elderly women in colorful hanboks served food with warm smiles, while children ran barefoot near the fountains, chasing one another with water balloons. Tourists laughed while trying on rented traditional clothes, snapping photos against painted murals of historical scenes. Street performers played bamboo flutes and danced in circles wearing lion masks, drawing small cheering crowds.
Despite the noise and energy, the masked student moved calmly through it all—quietly observing the warmth of human life, absorbing every detail of a culture not his own. It was lively, colorful, and filled with the kind of joy that felt foreign yet strangely comforting.
Eventually, he returned to the beach, just in time.
"Ah, you’re back! Good timing!" the bodybuilder grinned, now holding a microphone. He pointed toward a row of competitors already forming up on the beach. "Line up over there!"
The masked student joined the line. The other competitors were noticeably more muscular—some lean and chiseled, others massive and towering. Despite their intimidating physiques, he stood silently, completely unfazed.
The bodybuilder stepped up onto a wooden platform, now acting as the event host.
"Alright, everyone! Before we begin, let me explain the rules!"
He raised one finger dramatically.
"No use of Aetheris or any abilities is allowed. This is raw, physical strength only!"
The crowd murmured with excitement.
"Our first game... is Boulder Lifting!"
Cheers erupted from the beachside audience.
"You’ll each lift five boulders—each one larger than the last—and carry them ten feet to the finish line. The fastest gets five points, second gets four, and so on!"
He raised his hand high in the air. The sun gleamed off his biceps.
"Get ready..."
The competitors crouched, hands tense, eyes fixed on the first boulder.
"GO!!!"
Sand kicked up as the boulder-lifting challenge began.
The moment the signal was given, the competitors rushed forward.
The masked student moved with calm precision. He approached the first boulder, the smallest of the five, weighing around 20 kilograms. With one swift motion, he picked it up as if it were no heavier than a bag of rice and sprinted across the ten-foot distance.
"Hmm... 20 kilograms, and he barely flinched," the host muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes. "With that frame? Is this what they call a sleeper build?"
The student returned just as fast, now facing the second boulder, twice as heavy—40 kilograms. Again, he lifted it with no visible strain and made his way across the sand in a smooth run. By now, murmurs had started rippling through the onlookers.
"Isn’t that kinda crazy?" one spectator whispered. "He’s not even bulky, but he’s making it look easy."
"Yeah, and it’s a muscle contest—no abilities, no Aetheris. Seems fair..."
"Tch, I’ll try lifting it after. If this is some scam, I’ll find out!"
The masked student returned once more, this time standing before the third boulder, now a heavy 60 kilograms.
With no hesitation, he bent down and wrapped his arms around it. With fluid strength, he hoisted it over his shoulder and dashed across the beach as if it weighed nothing.
Eyes widened. Jaws dropped.
"He’s not even breathing hard..." a competitor muttered, sweat pouring down his own face from just lifting the first boulder.
As the student completed all five boulders—each heavier than the last—he maintained a steady pace, crossing the finish line first, with a wide margin.
Silence fell for a moment.
Then came the stunned murmurs.
"Wh–What the... f–fuck..." one of the watchers stammered.
Even the host, trying to keep his composure, found his voice faltering. "E-Everyone... c-clap for our players!"
A wave of awkward applause followed, still mixed with disbelief and awe as all eyes fixated on the small-framed student who had just effortlessly outperformed them all.
