Rising Star
All hell had broken loose.
Not anywhere else—right in my stream.
The official broadcast chat, which had been chanting my name nonstop, had finally quieted down. Mine, though, still burned with the same feverish heat as before.
The casters, true professionals, cooled their excitement and smoothly moved on to introducing the next player. My stream had no such luxury.
Like it or not, I was the host of my own broadcast—and therefore the main character.
Just as you would get banned for relaying or even mentioning another streamer’s content in someone else’s room, that room belonged first and foremost to its owner. From that perspective, the viewers still talking only about me while other players were being introduced must have truly cherished me.
I was grateful. Really, truly grateful. And yet…
I was so grateful I could cry.
The second they found any excuse, they went this wild. No wonder streamers ended up with ruined personalities. Getting bullied by an anonymous mob like this, how was anyone supposed to stay sane?
Cyberbullying, cyber violence, cyber harassment—stop!
Of course they weren’t going to stop just because I asked, so I decided on a slightly more forceful measure.
Banned Words Registered: “God of Camilla” · “I don’t know” · “Embarrassed”
Drastic measures.
The banned-word function that instantly kicked anyone who typed a specific phrase. I only set three, keeping it reasonable. Once today’s stream ended I planned to watch how things settled and remove them if the chat calmed down.
The viewers had seen the sudden ban list appear, so they should have gotten the message, right?
But things never went the way you wanted them to.
I had no choice but to go hardline. As an example, I temporarily banned a few people who had been spamming the hardest since earlier.
Only then did the messages start vanishing and the chat finally settle a little.
They weren’t little kids… and yet they only ever listened when you actually brought out the stick.
“Please focus on the official broadcast. They’re introducing the other players.”
With that I tore my eyes away from chat and returned to watching the official stream.
These people might end up on my team. For now it was best to learn as many faces as I could.
—And that brings us to our final player! Streamer Yu-hye! His main hero is Lenox. Current tier: Grandmaster, around 500 LP. Not the absolute peak of the ladder, but among everyone who entered, he holds the highest current rank. I imagine more than a few people are already hoping to recruit him. That’s enough talk—let’s watch the highlight reel he sent in.
Grandmaster 500 LP.
Someone I needed to watch carefully.
Even after the tier system rework and the increase in high-rank population, you could never dismiss the skill of players at that level.
Of course it would be ideal if we ended up allies, but if the organizers had any brains they would never put the two of us on the same team.
Even after teams were formed, they would still try to keep the tier balance roughly even. So this Lenox player would naturally become my enemy.
At that moment I had a feeling he was thinking something similar—that the two of us would never be teammates.
Well, I couldn’t say for certain. For all I knew he might not have been thinking about me at all.
But in my experience, high-rank players were thorough scouts and extremely sharp people. I decided to leave every possibility open.
My original goal had simply been to enter the tournament and enjoy myself. That was no longer an option.
Thanks to the casters—and then the viewers—an exaggerated image of me had been burned into everyone’s minds. They had hyped me up far beyond what I expected. If I went out with a whimper now, the embarrassment would be unbearable.
…They called me a god. I at least had to win the whole thing.
That hadn’t been the plan at all.
I let out a quiet sigh and watched the following highlight video with extreme care.
—And with that, four teams have been formed! Aren’t you already excited to see what each of them will show us?
—That’s everything for today’s schedule. Each team now has two weeks—long or short depending on how you look at it—before they face another team. Next week at this same time we’ll have a broadcast to decide the matchups. We hope you’ll tune in then just like today. For now, this is caster Lee Hyeok-jin signing off.
—Streamer Taker.
—And announcer Kim Ye-ji. Thank you!
With the casters’ closing remarks, the official broadcast ended.
I wanted to log off just like them, but unfortunately I still had one more item on the agenda.
Nothing major—just a short Discord call so the people who had been drafted onto the same team could at least introduce themselves.
The plan had been set the moment team selection finished, spearheaded by a streamer named Hangang.
Still, I liked the enthusiasm. In tournaments, passion was practically life itself. Teams that had fire and put in the work were the ones that could actually aim for the title—the kind of morale that felt almost like a combat buff.
I had been overflowing with that same fire before I went live. Now every last drop of energy had been sucked out of me and all I wanted was to rest.
But everyone else was gathering. I couldn’t be the only one to skip.
After cracking the whip on chat one more time, I used the link I’d been given and joined the Discord voice channel.
Not long after, a calm, low voice came through.
“Looks like everyone’s here. Today isn’t for anything complicated—some of us already know each other, some of us are meeting for the first time, so I thought a quick round of introductions would be nice. I’m streamer Hangang. Main character is Nixon. Nice to meet you all.”
How to put it… an extremely standard, polite greeting.
These things always hinged on the first impression, and he had started us off well.
While I was thinking that, someone else spoke up.
“Ah—aha… ahem! Hello! I’m Ririyang. I mainly play Haven and Miriam, but I’ve tried every other ADC at least once. I-I’m only Bronze, but I’ll work hard! I’ll learn hard, thank you!”
A self-introduction bursting with fighting spirit. She stuttered a little—maybe she was naturally timid—but the passion for the game came through clearly. “Work hard” and “learn hard.” She had used the word “hard” twice.
Ririyang: low tier, overflowing with fight. I made a quick mental note, and the introductions continued.
“Cheon-hun. Platinum. I’ve been playing Abyss for about three years now, but I never really think when I play, so my macro and game sense are pretty lacking. I mostly play melee bruisers. Skirmishes, though—I’m confident in those.”
Cheon-hun: skirmish-oriented player.
“I’m Lime-tak. Just did placements the other day and got Silver. I dabbled a bit in Season 2, quit, and came back this season. Being on the same team as Kayack is a huge honor. Loved the mad movie earlier. Oh—my mains are solid comfort-food tanks like Tons and Will. I can’t do anything else; all I’m good at is taking hits.”
Lime-tak: talkative tank.
“Hak-chu. Gold… eternal Gold. If you play in Gold you’ll run into me eventually. I play Cassia the most. This season alone I think I’ve already hit three hundred games? If I need to grind other characters I can climb them pretty fast. I basically just eat and play.”
Hak-chu: mage who plays a ton of games.
I filed the last two sets of information into my head as well.
That left only me.
Hmm. What should I even say?
Everyone else had spoken so well that I wished I had at least sketched out a rough introduction beforehand.
Keep it simple.
“Hello. I’m Kayack, mainly play Camilla. Master tier. Looking forward to working with you.”
And yet…
Even though my introduction had been the shortest, the team’s reaction was completely different from before.
“Kayack! Kayack! Kayack! Kayack! Kayack!”
Someone started chanting my name like they had copy-pasted the chat, and then—
“It’s the God of Camilla! The God of Camilla is on our team!”
“K-Kayack, nice to meet you. I’m counting on you completely.”
“Aigoo, the legend of Season 2, right here…”
It was as if they had all been waiting for me to speak so they could suddenly become chatty.
At least the Diamond streamer Hangang stayed quiet and held the room together… until he didn’t.
“Kayack, I ran into you in ranked a little while ago and you were seriously good. Thanks for the free bus ride.”
I had to treat this as an extension of the earlier broadcast hype.
The overall situation wasn’t all that different.
For some reason I was receiving way too much attention and focus.
I hated the casters. I hated the commentators. Why had that guy suddenly started throwing around words like “god” and inventing weird catchphrases?
“K-Kayack, if it’s okay… what mouse do you use?”
“Kayack’s a god so she doesn’t need a mouse.”
“…I use a mouse.”
Listening to far too many overwhelming comments, I finished the introductions with my new teammates.