Down with Blackened Pororo (2)

—Trembling…

"Is it really that fun for all of you to mess with me?"

"Fuck! I wanna gazelle-punch every last one of you right in the solar plexus!"

I almost yeeted my mouse across the room, then forced myself to stop. The viewers must have been watching the handcam, because the chat instantly lit up.

"I am NOT your niece!!!!"

Chat sentiment detonated. At the same time, the unbroken streak of massacres detonated my mental state right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠along with it. And the truly tragic part of reality? Blackened Pororo's carry had detonated the game itself.

My win streak died a hollow, meaningless death. And the one who killed it was Pororo—the same Pororo I'd written off as a Hyeji. The second I hit the defeat button and the results screen loaded, Pororo seized the moment and fired off chat.

The bastard said his piece and vanished like it was nothing.

—SLAM SLAM SLAMSLAMSLAM!!!!!

I hammered the keyboard in a mindless frenzy. It was the only way I could think of to vent this rage. After one savage round of keyboard abuse, I muttered at the results screen.

"Just you wait…. You better fucking wait."

Even after that, I refused to fold and queued again.

But in the blink of an eye—seven losses in a row.

Whether Pororo showed up on the enemy team or mine, every single game ended in defeat.

And the bad news didn't stop there. To the thunderous cheers of my viewers, I watched the light of my rank ore dim and freefall straight into the dirt.

"Motherfucker."

Getting farmed by Pororo of all people—someone I'd written off completely—and dropping all the way back to Iron 5 was no small thing. Honestly, this one hit my mental pretty hard.

"Alright, fuck this!!! I'm not streaming for a while, so deal with it."

Reality wasn't the priority right now. To restore the pride that had been butchered by a Hyeji who'd switched to top lane, I had to destroy Pororo somehow. For that reason, I planned to go into closed-door training for a few days of special practice.

"I'm gonna go train for a bit."

Washing away this humiliation was going to take bone-grinding effort. This was no time to stream and bleed focus.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"So I'm taking a short break. Like three or four days? Honestly, I think I've been playing way too feral anyway."

What the hell is this all of a sudden.

A flood of donations poured in one after another.

Looking at the donation list, the feeling that hit me harder than happiness was pure disbelief. Hadn't these bastards hated me?

I turned it over and over and still couldn't tell. But it was more than enough money to reverse my decision to go train alone in closed doors.

"Alright. If you all want me that badly."

My streaming career might be short, but once I've taken the money, I'm a pro. I had a professional duty to satisfy my viewers.

The second I walked back the closed-door training announcement, the viewers' confidence came roaring back. The pivot was bat-tier. I clenched a fist at the camera and shook it savagely.

"Don't get cocky."

Honestly, the donations that poured in out of nowhere had repaired my shattered mental—that much was true. But the rage wasn't settling so easily.

How the hell do I wreck that Blackened Pororo human.

The next day, at the café.

The moment I pushed through the door, I cracked a palm across SolidHeavy's back.

—SMACK!

"Kegh! W-Wait, ADC-nim!?"

SolidHeavy's head snapped up after taking the slap to the back.

That clueless expression. It was so infuriating I nearly lost the ability to speak.

"I thought you were a stalker, but you were a traitor?"

"What!? A traitor? What on earth are you talking about all of a sudden?"

"The runes and item build you cooked up for me yesterday! They were completely useless!"

I forced my anger down, sat across from SolidHeavy, and ordered drinks. Two americanos today. That was exactly the right amount for a traitor.

"Be honest. You took a backhander from Pororo, didn't you? I should've known from the way that bastard kept following me around."

I hated my past self. Thanks to my own bad judgment, I'd regressed straight back to Iron 5.

"I'm innocent! The advice I gave you was absolutely correct!"

"Then what's the actual reason I lost?"

"That's…."

SolidHeavy started to protest, then suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

"Hey, why'd you trail off? Is there something you're actually guilty about?"

"Even if I tell you…. You will almost certainly refuse to accept it."

SolidHeavy seemed to have something specific in mind.

"Oh, what is it! Stop dragging it out and just say it. I absolutely cannot stand people who start talking and then take it back. I have to hear it no matter what."

I was already stressed enough without the dramatic pauses—it felt like my blood pressure was climbing. There was no way I was letting this slide.

"You will definitely get angry…."

SolidHeavy stole a careful glance at my face.

"I won't!! Do you think I have anger management issues? I'm a deeply rational and reasonable intellectual. Spit it out."

I was an adult. What good ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was getting mad over nothing? If I heard it and it turned out to be reasonable and correct, I should just accept it cleanly. That was the mature adult way.

"…Then I will be completely honest about what I observed, without holding anything back. First of all, the fundamentals gap is far too large."

"…What?"

What did this bastard just say.

"It isn't merely a matter of mechanics. Your basic knowledge of Asgard as a game…. The difference is across the board. The theory side in particular—I believe you need to study it from the ground up."

Fundamentals?

To this body, which had reached Iron 4?

To a genius ADC temporarily stranded in the deep sea because of bad team luck?

"Urghkk!"

I shot up from my seat….

"Fundamentals, fundamentals!?"

A headlock—I locked my arm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around his thick neck, put my full weight into it, and squeezed.

"Aren't you being way too arrogant!?"

—SQUEEZE.

I choked him for real without holding back. Honestly, with a muscle mass like his, this much was the bare minimum to even register. And my judgment proved correct—SolidHeavy, even while caught in my headlock, was whipping his head around surveying the surroundings.

"U-Urk. ADC-nim! Please stop! People are watching!"

"Shut up! Like you did anything right."

"More than that, i-it's touching!"

"What is!"

"Your body!"

Doing a headlock did mean a lot of body contact. My chest might even have been pressing against the back of his head. But it didn't matter. There was zero chance of this becoming an embarrassing situation.

"Fuck it, it's eggplant-salad flat anyway."

So just sit still while I choke you to death.

"…ADC-nim. Did you not say you wouldn't get angry."

"I didn't get angry. That was just education."

I mean, a scrub worse than me being that mouthy? Fundamentals this, fundamentals that.

—SLUUURP.

I took an irritated pull of americano through the straw.

"So, got a plan for next?"

I'd administered corporal punishment this time, but credit where it was due. SolidHeavy's advice had been pretty plausible. That was why even I had fallen for the sweet talk and followed his instructions.

Bottom line: my gut said I still needed to listen to SolidHeavy's advice. At least in this area, he seemed far ahead of me.

"How about watching some theory lectures?"

SolidHeavy worked his phone and held it out to me.

How tragic. An era where even games required studying.

"Do I have to?"

But I really didn't want to study for a game on top of everything else. The process would definitely be boring and pretentious. I took the phone, scrolled halfheartedly, and sighed.

"The content all looks mid too. Nothing here that pulls at my soul."

A crushing sense of emptiness.

In the end, the only person who could satisfy my Iron spirit was that one person.