I Can Only Cultivate In A Game

(( Twenty Minutes Before the Clash ))

Deep within one of Vantablade Studios' back corridors, behind a row of storage closets and clothing racks, a lone studio technician stood by a service terminal, speaking quietly into a black comm-device embedded into his wrist.

He checked over his shoulder before replying to the voice on the other end.

"Yeah," he said under his breath. "Everything's going exactly as you wanted."

The voice on the other side was cold, composed, and modulated—no trace of identity.

"Is he reacting yet?"

The man smirked faintly. "Not openly, but it's working. He's already been brushed aside. Lost his spotlight. Can't even get a proper frame without Zara Feng knocking him out of view. The kid's pride's taking a hit."

A brief pause.

"Good," the voice replied with a subtle hint of malice. "Let him feel worthless. Let the world remind him that no one cares how 'special' he thinks he is."

The technician adjusted his collar. "You want me to keep going?"

"No." Another pause. "Take it up a notch. Get Zara involved. Personally. She has a temper. It won't take much. Just... give her a reason... and she'll get him hospitalised for sure."

The worker's lips curved into a professional smile. "Consider it done."

He ended the call and pocketed the device, walking calmly back into the studio floor like nothing had happened—

---

(( Present ))

Wind roared in Victor's ears. His back was arched with Zara's full weight on top of him as gravity dragged them both toward the concrete below.

'I'm gonna die,' he realized while trying to get away from the forcefulness of her knee on his chest but it was like her body was stuck on his.

She was too strong—'If I land this way, my skull will crack open.'

An image of his mother appeared in his mind. 'I can't die yet!'

His eyes flared with focus.

"Wind Gale!"

A concentrated burst of wind blasted from his palm, slamming into Zara's side and knocking her clean off his chest. She spun away mid-air, caught off guard for the first time.

Victor twisted in midair with his limbs flailing for a moment before he activated one of his latest wind techniques.

"Wind Glide!"

Wind gathered around him in droves as his body paused in mid air like he had landed on an invisible surface—just enough to break his fall speed. Then he angled himself to straighten up and jumped forward in mid air.

With a near-silent whoosh, he landed feet-first against the side of the Vantablade tower with his knees bent as his boots slid down the wall in a controlled drop.

A second later, he leapt off the wall and flipped once before landing hard on the sidewalk with a grunt of pain but no broken bones.

Behind him, Zara hit the ground with a shockwave sending dust and debris flying out in a ripple.

Victor turned while wiping blood from his face.

She stood with her sword in hand, and pointed it directly at him.

"You're finished," she said coldly.

Victor raised an eyebrow without flinching. "I thought that was before we fell through a building."

Her sword flared with heat again, and Victor braced himself—gathering qi around him.

All of a sudden...

A soft beep-beep rang out.

The comms earpiece in her left ear crackled to life.

Zara paused and touched it. "Yes?"

Her expression immediately shifted.

Her face had gone from cold to alarmed.

Her eyes snapped to Victor, then back to nothing, then widened.

"…Understood," she suddenly stiffened up.

Without another word, without a threat, without even glancing at him again—

She launched herself off into the city skies, vanishing with a burst of mana.

Victor stood there in confusion with wind stirring faintly around him.

Alyss and the rest of the shaken crew ran to the edge of the shattered floor above and peered down.

"Are you okay?" She yelled in concern.

Victor slowly looked up at the now-smoking hole in the tower and muttered:

"…I'm still charging for that shoot."

...

...

The aftermath was messy.

The once-luxurious studio on one of the highest floors of Vantablade Studios now looked like a combat zone.

Cracked glass panels hung dangerously from the ceiling. Light fixtures blinked erratically.

The platform Victor had stood on just an hour ago now resembled a small crater.

Victor stood near a collapsed display rack with his sleeves rolled up. He was helping one of the shaken stylists clean up fallen equipment. His nose was throbbing mercilessly with a dull, rhythmic pain that hurt with every breath.

He'd tried to ignore it.

He really had.

But when a medic from the studio staff saw the swollen bruises and the crooked angle of his nose, she insisted.

"Sit. Don't move. You might be brave, but you're not invincible."

Victor gave a weak smirk as she prodded gently around the injury. "Define brave. Because right now, I feel pretty dumb."

"It's broken," she muttered and began prepping a soaked gauze. "Hold still. This is going to sting like a thousand angry bees."

It did.

He clenched his jaw hard, trying not to wince too obviously. Sweat beaded on his forehead as she realigned the bone with surgical skill.

"Still dumb?" she asked with a smile.

He grunted. "Less brave. More humbled."

A short distance away, Alyss Raen, still looked thoroughly mortified as she tried directing a few remaining staff to salvage the shoot files. Her gaze kept drifting back toward Victor.

When he was done with the medic, he walked over to her with his nose bandaged.

"You know," he said flatly, "you could've just told me I was going to be shooting with a psycho today."

Alyss exhaled with a regretful look. "Victor—"

"You really thought pairing me with Zara Feng was a good idea?"

"She wasn't supposed to arrive then," Alyss said defensively. "There was a miscommunication in the scheduling—"

"Sure. A miscommunication that nearly took my face off."

Before Alyss could respond, a soft voice interrupted them.

It was Mina, one of Zara's assistants—the same woman Victor had pushed out of harm's way.

She stepped forward with a look of appreciation. "Thank you… for earlier. If you hadn't moved, I—I don't know what would've happened."