You Should Drop Haven

Serious practice began the next day.

Even yesterday the mood had been strangely warm, and someone had suggested we all queue a normal game together, but between my own condition and a few mismatched schedules the idea had fallen apart on its own. We settled on gathering again around lunchtime today to start building chemistry.

And so here we were. For starters we decided to run normals and let everyone pull out the picks they felt most comfortable on.

"My shield's about to break. Once it does I'll fall back for a second."

That was Lime-tak's call as the tank. The energy shield on the steel robot Will he had locked in was soaking every poke the enemy threw at it. For a returning player his play looked solid—far better than Silver. The occasional missed skillshot was only to be expected; asking for more than that would have been greed. Considering the tier, this was already above expectations.

"Stacking a bit more, then I'm going in."

Cheon-hun's Lenox was swinging that greatsword, filling the unique gauge he needed for his ultimate, when frantic pings and a panicked voice erupted from the back line.

"Behind! Dan's in from behind! I'm dead—peel him off me!"

Hak-chu, on the mage role, was calling for help. The assassin Dan had slipped in through the rear. Cassia, the glass-cannon mage she had picked, was notoriously fragile in exactly this situation. Hold position and deny the entry and she became a nightmare; that very strength was why assassins existed as her natural counter.

Hak-chu was already screaming, advertising her impending death, when—

"Dan's dead. A second later and Hak-chu would have actually died."

"Whoa, I had thirty HP left. That was way too close."

Hangang arrived just in time, deleted Dan, and pulled Hak-chu out of the fire. True to his status as the team's core Diamond-tier power, he knew exactly what mattered. Even if he and Cheon-hun successfully dove and smashed the enemy back line, it would all be pointless if our own back line collapsed first. He deliberately held the center of the formation and rotated to wherever numbers were needed—almost like a libero. Only players with a deep understanding of the game could play that way.

Huh… why are these people so good?

Honestly, it was unexpected. In tournaments like this, when teams are thrown together at random, coordination usually falls apart and a dozen little in-game problems crop up. That was common sense. These people were shattering that common sense in real time. Normals or not, you still couldn't ignore them—Abyss normals were the kind of place where you regularly ran into mysterious freaks who only played casuals or high-tier players who dropped down to practice.

All in all, everything was going smoothly.

The viewers seemed to agree; positive reactions poured in immediately. Our team was the strongest—were we already locking in a sharp path to the championship?

Every step of the team's practice was being streamed live. That was part of the content and part of the tournament's charm.

While I was glancing between the team and the chat, one viewer raised a question.

"Ah, I'm sitting out on purpose."

Right now I was positioned a full step away from the fight where the rest of the team was. I was just clearing creeps and cutting down the waves of soldiers that pushed in—minimum defense, nothing more. The reason was simple: I needed the others to practice and I needed an accurate read on their real skill.

Last game I had stood with them on the front line and the match had completely fallen apart. The moment I played the way I normally did, the rest of the team suddenly had nothing left to do. Hangang, the Diamond, deliberately staying out of full combat followed the same logic. He could stomp the lobby whenever he felt like it, so he had taken the role of rotating mid-fight to save whoever was in trouble.

Not every teammate was breezing through the game, though.

"Ah… s-sorry…."

Bronze. Lowest tier on the team, and the one holding the ADC role—Ririyang was faithfully filling the hole in the roster as well. Watching her, I finally felt my common sense kick back into gear.

Yeah. This is how it's supposed to be. The games had been way too comfortable until now.

I had braced myself for the despair version of a group project; this had been far too hopeful. You needed at least one hole. A team that was perfect from the start was boring.

The person in question, of course, couldn't take it so lightly. She was streaming too, so the chat was already tearing into her. With the tournament drawing a huge crowd, the heat was definitely worse than usual.

Ririyang kept making mistakes, yet the balance of the game, once broken, showed no sign of recovering.

Same result as the previous game. The path to sealing the win was different, but the conclusion was identical. Maybe the viewers were right and we really needed to start scrimming. Normals no longer seemed to offer anything except a morale boost.

"Sweet, so sweet. We're actually cracked, huh?"

"Playing together is pretty fun."

"How about one more?"

"But is this even practice? It's way too easy."

The mood was good—probably thanks to the back-to-back wins. Even in the middle of all that cheer, one person still couldn't open her mouth. Ririyang, who had fed spectacularly the game before and the game before that. Even normals looked like a heavy burden for her.

Then the quiet girl finally spoke.

"U-um…."

"Yes! Ririyang."

"Could we… take a short break?"

The teammates were fundamentally good people. Aside from Ririyang they were all talkative and bright. People with that kind of personality ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tended to start streaming in the first place, so it made sense. Cases like mine and Ririyang's were the odd ones out; if I had to place myself, I was closer to her side of the spectrum.

"Uh, well…."

Even with every eye on her, the timid Ririyang only fidgeted. This was beyond introverted. How had she ever started streaming?

Still, no one here was going to snap at her to hurry up and spit it out. She hesitated a little longer, then finally managed the words.

"C-could I do some personal practice…?"

"Personal practice?"

"My skill is just too far behind… ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even when we play together I can't keep up…."

"Read the stream rules and come back."

I muted my mic so the team wouldn't hear and banned the ones flaming Ririyang. Tournament hype really did bring out the over-invested crowd. Like a gardener pruning twisted branches, I mechanically filtered the chat.

"Ah, sure, of course that's fine! Then should the rest of us do some personal practice too? Or keep running normals—"

Most of the team was already nodding and planning the next step when Ririyang raised her voice again, as if she still had more to say.

"A-and also…!"

What else could she want? I stopped mid-ban and listened.

"Kayack… could you help me a little…?"

The sudden call made my eyes go wide.

"Me?"

I had known something like this would come up once we started practicing for the tournament. After watching Ririyang struggle I had already planned to set aside time for feedback as soon as she agreed. I just hadn't expected her to ask first. A student who already had the right attitude.

Between her and Nikang before her, I seemed to have pretty good luck with disciples.

"U-um… is that okay…?"

But that was one thing and this was another. Even the cutest student still needed to hear the truth.

"Hmm…."

Ririyang had just finished a few solo-queue games and was waiting for my evaluation, her voice tight with nerves. The answer I was about to give might hit her pretty hard.

I thought that, then opened my mouth.

"Ririyang… you need to drop Haven."