Here's the English translation:
I took the last steps quickly; I felt my legs almost give out from exhaustion, but I didn't stop until we passed the barrier. When we entered, I suddenly felt a drop in pressure in my ears, as if we had crossed into a different environment. The air here was a little fresher, and the sounds from outside seemed muffled, as if the barrier was isolating us from the chaos.
The three of us were the last to arrive, and that wasn't good, because the system closed the barrier as soon as we entered, making a faint buzzing sound. Some people turned to look at us, scrutinizing glances, but no one stepped forward to speak.
I put Arba on the ground while the child beside me sat, gasping for breath. I watched the barrier and wondered: how long will we stay here before the next scenario begins?
As I was catching my breath and trying to observe the situation inside the barrier, a huge man approached—bald head reflecting the blue light coming from the barrier, his arms and shoulders covered in tattoos, mostly symbols indicating gang affiliation. He came with heavy steps; each step made a clear thud on the ground, as if the floor itself protested his weight.
He stopped directly in front of me, his face devoid of any kindness or respect, then spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear:
"Everyone who comes here must pay a protection fee."
I looked at him without answering immediately, because his features and movements seemed oddly familiar. I tried to recall, and then I suddenly realized that I knew him… or rather, I knew his character. He was a minor character in a novel I had read before—a background figure so insignificant the writer didn't even give him a name. Just someone who caused trouble in a few scenes and then vanished. I hadn't expected to meet him face-to-face here.
While I was lost in that thought, the man shouted angrily again:
"What are you staring at the door for?!"
But my mind was occupied with something else… there was a strange dual feeling between what I was seeing now and what I had seen on the screen or the pages of the novel. I had always wanted to be inside that world, to feel what the heroes feel, to be part of the events rather than watching them from afar. And now I was here… yet I still couldn't fully believe what was happening.
Before I snapped out of my reverie, I felt a powerful punch land on my face. My head jerked back a little from the blow, and it took me a full two seconds to register what had happened. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and my eyes watered slightly from the shock. For a moment I forgot about the man entirely and focused on gathering myself and regaining balance.
I wanted to retaliate immediately, but before I could move something unexpected happened. The child with us—the boy with dark hair with a bluish tint and deep black eyes—stepped forward and stood in front of the bald man without hesitation. His expression was rigid, fearless, even though his body was much smaller than the big man's.
Suddenly, without warning, the child lifted his leg and delivered a kick straight to the man's head. The strike was so fast and precise that I couldn't follow the entire motion. The man's head slammed hard; the sound of the blow was clear to everyone. He took a step back holding his jaw, shock showing on his face that a small child dared to hit him with such force.
But the scene didn't end there… everyone around us watched silently. Some were astonished, some were waiting to see what would happen next. The child stood his ground, looking at the man with steady eyes as if openly challenging him.
I knew it wouldn't stop there and that the man's reaction would be violent. Inside, I prepared to intervene before the situation turned into a full fight inside the barrier—especially since we hadn't finished the mission and he could easily kill us.
The bald man slowly rose, his hand on his head, eyes filled with rage. He shouted at the child in a loud voice:
"You brat, I'll kill you."
He moved quickly toward the child and raised his hand to deliver a heavy strike, but before he could, the child extended his small arm and slapped him squarely in the middle of his face. The hit was not ordinary; it was fast and decisive, and the child knew exactly where to strike.
The man's head snapped back from the blow, and suddenly blood streamed from his mouth. He lost balance and fell to his knees, then rolled onto his side on the ground. His voice was low as he moaned, then began to speak in broken sentences:
"...Forgive me... I didn't mean... please... don't hurt me."
Everyone in the barrier watched in astonishment. Faces exchanged looks as if they couldn't believe a small child could knock down such a large adult so easily. There was a brief silence, then some people slowly backed away as if they didn't want to get involved. Others stayed and watched from a distance, but it was clear that the incident changed how they assessed the child.
The man who moments before had threatened and shouted was now on the ground, groaning softly while trying to staunch the blood from his mouth. The child remained standing, his gaze calm and steady. He didn't speak and showed no look of triumph or fear, as if what happened was perfectly normal.
After the scuffle ended, we moved a little away from the crowd so no one could overhear our conversation. I looked straight at the child and asked:
"How did you do that? How could you knock an adult down so quickly and with such strength?"
The child didn't hesitate; he answered in a steady voice as if explaining something ordinary:
"Something came to me… it came from that blue screen that appeared for everyone at the start. A message showed the Combat Star. It offered me to sign a contract, saying it would make me strong. I was scared then and didn't know what would happen. But I agreed immediately… and when I tried it for the first time, that was when I threw the electric pole at the monsters."
I paused, absorbing what he'd said. It sounded strangely familiar, as if I had heard this story before. A peculiar feeling swept over me, and my mind began to recall the events of the novel I knew from my previous world. Suddenly, a name popped into my head…
"Wait… is it! Ik Soohmyun?"
"What's your name?"
"Ik Soohmyun."
I froze for a moment. In the novel I had read, Ik Soohmyun wasn't an ordinary child—he was nicknamed "the Cursed Child." He was to become one of the prominent future members of the revolutionary army and possessed a rare combat ability that made anyone think twice before facing him. His early appearance in the events was not normal; he usually showed up much later after the protagonist had gone through many trials.
I looked him over from head to toe, trying to confirm the details. The dark bluish-black hair, the deep black eyes, the features that belied his small size… yes, there was no doubt. This was the same Ik Soohmyun I had read about, but he was here in front of me much earlier than he should be.
Inside, I felt as if I had found a precious treasure. I couldn't hide the satisfied look that crossed my face, as if I'd found a rare piece that could change the course of events in our favor. I stepped closer and asked firmly, in a low voice:
"Did that Combat Star tell you what you had to do?"
He shook his head and said:
"It said I must fight… and that every battle I survive will increase my strength, but only if I stay alive."
There must be a reason the Combat Star granted power—perhaps because the Combat Star's reputation for valor was mentioned in the novel.