What would happen if tickets to Heaven were sold on a first-come, first-served basis? Even those who appear as paragons of virtue would cut in line to be at the front.

 

That was why none of this madness surprised me.

 

"Hey, move aside while I'm asking nicely."

 

"Did you reserve this spot? You brat."

 

The psychics I had encountered were more akin to scoundrels than saints. It seemed unlikely they'd foolishly wait for someone else to grab a ticket in a first-come, first-served game.

 

"I vow as the black snake that spits paralyzing poison."

 

"I vow as the blade that reaps souls."

 

"I vow as the floral priestess who communes with flowers and vines."

 

The subway ticket booth area began to descend into chaos. Watching the examinees film their Super Ghost Showdowns made me sigh in resignation.

 

My plan for camaraderie was doomed from the start.

 

I watched as the examinees charged at each other, ready to kill.

 

"Boom-Boom?"

 

How should I put it? It was like watching an action scene without CGI. The kids were striking poses, shooting palm blasts, waving their hands, and making jumping evasions, but it looked far from cool.

 

To my eyes, nothing was visible. Of course, I could see the waiting room floor being ripped up, pillars collapsing, and dust falling down. But I couldn't see the powers.

 

 

A loud explosion sounded behind me.

 

Startled, I turned around to find the wall behind me blown apart.

 

"What? Did I hit the target?"

 

A man, posed to shoot an energy wave, was looking at me.

 

What? Did he attack me without me doing anything?

 

"Once more!"

 

 

This time, the stall behind me exploded.

 

I was surprised by the scene, and that jerk was surprised too.

 

"Ow"

 

A piece of rock from the shattered stall hit near my eye. It stings. But that was the only pain I felt.

 

"Huh? Huh."

 

So, I see. I can't see ghosts, but I'm also unaffected by anything related to them. I'm only now realizing such a simple fact.

They say even a worm had its skill at wriggling, and it turned out I had my own knack too. I clenched my fist and shouted.

“Imagination Breaker!!!”

 

I threw a righteous punch at the startled jerk, trying to attack me. He took the hit and collapsed on the spot.

 

'Lucky me.'

 

It really was a stroke of luck. It could have been troublesome if my opponent had been one who defended with physical force.

 

'How about that punch from me, once called the strongest middle schooler on the ground?'

 

"That guy's skilled, isn't he?"

 

"To knock down the foremost disciple of the Qi Cultivation Sect in one blow. He was quite strong."

 

"I didn't sense any abilities from him. Yet he's this powerful?"

 

Numerous gazes pierced me. Gazes from monsters who could shatter concrete walls with a mere flick of their hand.

 

"Anyone who wants to fight, come at me first."

 

I imitated the macho men I had seen.

 

"I don't back down from a fight coming my way."

 

Right now, I was a lone, powerful warrior. A beast who does not shy away from fights, a chewed-up manly man who won't succumb to TS male!!!

 

Wait, that last comparison was a bit ominous.

 

It was always those who talk like that who ended up succumbing.

 

"..."

 

In any case, the well-off psychic silver spoons glared at me for a while, but couldn't withstand my gaze, hardened by street fights, and turned their heads away.

 

Even the pink witch shaman girl, who had been taunting me, quickly turned her head away with a strange 'Peep!?' sound when our eyes met.

 

Then a group of men started attacking her.

 

"We kill the Fengchu here."

 

"You guys. Why, why...? It's, it's cowardly to gang up like this...!"

 

And thus, Super Ghost Showdown Part 2 began.

 

.

.

.

 

"Phew."

 

Finally, I could catch my breath.

 

Damn, that shard hitting near my eye earlier still hurts.

 

I rubbed my eye and collected my thoughts.

 

I couldn't see ghosts. Therefore, I couldn't see psychic powers either. Hence, I was unaffected by ghosts and their psychic abilities.

 

However I was affected by the physical force generated by psychic powers. I wasn't affected by the Qi Cultivation Sect's energy wave attack, but I was affected by the debris from the shop destroyed by that energy wave.

 

The floor of the subway station flipped, and steel bars sprung out. Honestly, I thought I was going to wet myself when those steel bars, sounding like a missile without an explosion, flew toward the opponent.

 

If I had gotten mixed up in that show of these superhumans, I wouldn't have had a bone left intact.

 

So, I intentionally bluffed to appear strong.

 

Otherwise, I would have ended up split in half by those steel bars.

 

So, what now? I picked up a suitably heavy brick, pondering my next move.

 

Come to think of it, haven’t I once smashed the head of a disciple of Cheonsu with a soju bottle?

 

This should work.

 

A brick was a more powerful item than a soju bottle.

 

If a soju bottle was like Attack Power 3, then a brick was around Attack Power 6. 

 

Meaning it was so strong that I didn't even need to use anything else in return.

 

I would have to wait for the right moment to smash the head of the most bastard-like guy to ensure they wouldn’t dare attack me recklessly. Why? Because psychics only bowed to those who were stronger than them. That was what my sister officially said:

 

If I don't show strength when the opportunity arises, I'll definitely be attacked 120% later.

 

Moreover, if I didn't want to be exposed as a powerless person who couldn't see ghosts, I needed to package myself as a strong psychic.

 

So, I waited for the right moment. And who would be the most deserving trash whose head could be smashed with less guilt? I saw a few candidates.

 

There, a group beating up a girl who was not clearly visible. The girl struggled and knocked down a few men, but it seemed hopeless against the gang-up.

 

And on the other hands, more and more people were starting to fall and get injured.

 

A psychic, seemingly overexerting his power, suddenly started rapping something like “I’ve heard of the darkness shedding its physical form from far away...” and ran down to the B4 escalator.

 

And another psychic kept banging his head on the ground till it was soaked with blood, shouting “I surrender. I surrender. Please stop!!! I surrender!!!” until he collapsed.

 

Even those standing didn’t look too good.

 

Some psychics were even calmly closing their eyes and enjoying meditation.

 

Doing other things amidst a fight.

 

Isn’t this totally MZ* behavior?

 

Anyway, good. With the fight quieting down, I can move.

 

“Ahaha. Planning to see it through? Scary.”

 

“Look at the concentration of psychic energy. What kind of technique is he planning to use?”

 

“Wait, what’s that guy doing? Why is he entering that dangerous line?”

The other kids murmured something, but I ignored them and focused on the back of the heads of the men beating up a girl...

 

 

I delivered a "Justice Block Backhead Hit." To elaborate for those not versed in psychic powers, it meant hitting the back of the head with a brick.

 

The two men groaned and collapsed.

 

Good, this should make my power clear.

 

I spoke up.

 

"Isn't it about time to stop fighting?"

 

Because, well, I had used up all the bricks.

 

But to avoid showing that, I extended my hand to the girl who was being beaten. I may be a battle fanatic, but it was time to put the fight aside to save the girl – at least that was the impression I wanted to give. But who was she, for these men to gang up on her like that?

 

"Peep...?"

 

The girl had pink hair, unforgettable once seen.

 

Her usually defiant eyes were filled with tears, and her cheeks were slightly swollen. Her flamboyant shaman outfit was torn and frayed, losing its purpose as clothing. The bruises on her visible skin revealed how severely she had been beaten.

 

The pink-haired shaman girl, wiping her tears incredulously, asked,

 

"Why, why? Why did you save me?"

 

Indeed. Even I wasn't sure why I saved her.

 

If it weren't for that bastard Cheonsu, I would never have gotten close to a psychic lady like her.

But a true man doesn't retract an extended hand.