I'm Disappointed
I'm disappointed.
It was a battlefield thick with the stench of blood.
Allies and enemies alike, countless soldiers had fallen without distinction of friend or foe.
From that place a boy rose, limping to his feet.
His body swayed, unable to keep its balance, and his breathing came irregular and shallow—anyone could see he was far from whole. Somewhere, something in him had clearly broken.
Yet he had no mind to complain. The very fact that he could still think such thoughts while dragging this numb, cumbersome body was already proof that he lived.
The dead have no words.
For a moment he met the unblinking eyes of the comrades who had died without even closing their lids, then the boy limped onward.
The road ahead was long. Stay here and he would end up just like them.
Somehow he alone had survived, and he vowed, however wretchedly, to keep living.
He would return without fail and carry word of his comrades' deaths to their families. He would keep the promise he had made to his mother and younger siblings—that he would come home.
With that resolve the boy soldier dragged his dragging leg toward the fortress.
The eastern keep still stood. Reach it and his chances of survival would rise sharply.
How many desperate minutes did he walk?
At last the eastern fortress entered his sight—the massive iron gate, the red banner hanging from it.
Ignoring the fatigue piled up from the long run, he raised a hand to wave—
–!
A roar that nearly split his eardrums, and a flash of light.
That the boy who had just begun to feel relief survived once more was pure luck. He had simply tripped over a protruding stone and fallen.
Yet when he lifted his head and looked at the sky, his face went blank with despair and he hung his head.
The fortress—the eastern keep he had raced toward—was burning.
At the same moment the sky was embroidered with countless sparks. The soldier who had already crawled out of hell once knew exactly what that sky meant.
The omen of a grand magic that could overturn the entire battlefield. The enemy's archmage had cast it to bring down the eastern keep.
Sensing his end, the boy closed his eyes. Any moment now a house-sized fireball would fall from the heavens.
Ah, Mother. I don't think I can keep that promise. Carlson, Smith, Jerry… I'll be joining you soon.
Even though he had steeled himself, the approaching death was terrifying beyond measure; he trembled violently with eyes shut.
…?
It was several minutes later that he felt something strange and opened his eyes.
No matter how long he waited, prepared for the end, the world never went white, nor did any world-shattering roar reach his ears.
So the boy opened his eyes and saw.
The sky—the sky was opening.
No exaggeration, pure truth. The sky itself had literally split open.
The clouds that had occupied one corner of the heavens vanished as if a hole had been punched through them, and from that place a brilliant light poured down.
A light so holy that merely looking at it filled one with sacred awe drew nearer and took form.
At last the descending radiance faded, and between the beams of light a single figure appeared.
For a moment the soldier forgot he stood on a battlefield and simply stared, dazed, at that silhouette.
It was the very image of an angel that lives in the human mind.
Skin like white jade, hair pure as snow, and above it an oval halo floating.
The descent of an angel who belonged in the celestial realm above the sky. The soldier could not tear his eyes from the angel clad in fluttering white robes.
Whether aware of his gaze or not, the angel was busy rummaging inside its robes.
What… what is it taking out?
The boy soldier asked himself and found the answer himself.
Surely some weapon for battle. This was the middle of a war, after all.
He felt no urge to flee. The angel that had appeared so suddenly seemed to hold no hostility toward him, and in any case his body was in no condition to run.
Where fear and tension had vanished, a vague curiosity settled.
What kind of weapon will an angel use?
Inwardly the soldier grew curious about what weapon this legendary being before him would draw.
A rosary like the ones priests commonly used? Or a holy scripture? Perhaps a unique arcana usable only by those beloved of the gods?
Yet the weapon the angel finally pulled from its robes after continuous rummaging shattered every one of the soldier's successive expectations in an instant.
It was not some completely unfamiliar armament he had never seen. Rather, in a case like this, its very familiarity was what startled him.
He had never expected that kind of weapon to appear. From the soldier's perspective he had assumed the being before him would wield something far more special.
The soldier's gaze fixed on the tips of the angel's fingers gripping the weapon.
In the angel's tiny, pure-white hand was clasped a blunt mace that did not suit it at all.
"Whew…."
A sigh of relief came through Discord.
Even while letting out a weary breath, the corners of her mouth still rose a little—because somehow they had managed to win.
This match had been full of hardship from the very early game, yet in the end Ririyang secured the victory and proved her own worth.
The viewers, too, seemed quite impressed by Ririyang's hard fight and poured out chat messages in a flurry.
Overall record: three wins, two losses. That was the result after Ririyang had played five games since declaring her switch to support.
Considering that most of the heroes were ones she was touching for the first time as a former ADC main, it was a rather solid performance.
Even in the losses she never threw them away lightly and did everything she could within her limits—that was a solid plus as well.
Fundamentally her absorption was excellent. She had said she'd been playing Abyss for about a year.
Not long enough to still call her a pure newbie, yet it seemed this was the first time she had ever been properly coached by someone.
Watching her soak up everything I taught like a sponge was endlessly satisfying.
Of course, just as water leaks from a sponge, half of what I poured in would drip right back out—but that much was fine. I just had to keep reminding her so she wouldn't forget.
More than anything, she worked hard, yeah.
Even an ordinary newbie is precious, so how could a hardworking newbie not look adorable?
These days so many users flood in that the value of newbies has faded, but back in the old days if you found one like this, everyone from the boomers to the fossils would come running from all over the neighborhood to teach them the game.
While I was briefly lost in old memories, my cute disciple's voice came through the headphones.
"Teacher, I… umm…."
She carefully chose her words. I had deliberately left Ririyang's stream on so I could check her habits and eye movements while she played.
She kept hesitating so long that when I glanced at the screen I immediately understood what she wanted to say.
"Good work, Ririyang. That last game was solid too. Your mace hit rate was higher than I expected."
"Hehe, thank you. It's all thanks to you, Teacher!"
"There are plenty of people in chat who get taught the same things and still can't do half as well. Anyway, shall we wrap it up for today and go rest?"
"I-is that really okay?"
Fatigue clung thickly around her eyes. If it showed this clearly even through the cam, how bad must it be in person?
It was true I was a little greedy for this unexpectedly bright disciple, but pushing past her condition wasn't good either. Today was the first proper practice day, after all.
That was probably why she had brought it up first. She was the type who always watched others' faces, so I simply said it for her.
She could have just said she'd done enough and wanted to log off, yet I still seemed a bit intimidating?
Still, while she was playing she no longer trailed off and her confidence had quietly risen, so I didn't think there would be communication problems inside the team.
After sending Ririyang off I ended my own stream as well.
As always the viewers begged me not to go, but the other teammates had already closed their streams and I was hungry, so unfortunately there would be no extra stream today.
I ordered food through an app and threw myself onto the bed. Living on delivery like this wasn't ideal, but today I was too tired myself.
Forty minutes until arrival.
After confirming the order had been accepted I rolled around for a while still holding my phone.
Anything to kill time until the food comes, or while eating?
That was when my thoughts reached my first disciple, Nikang. After browsing VTube and the communities I logged into Twich and started checking streams.
Today I had, in a way, taken on a second disciple. Come to think of it, I had heard that my first disciple Nikang was also participating in this tournament.
We hadn't ended up on the same team, but I was still curious about how she was doing. Wondering if she might be streaming, I looked her up and found she had only just gone live.
'Short solo queue before team practice.'
A stream that could kill time nicely and was interesting to boot. I quickly settled into position and started setting up to watch.
Let's see, any beer left….
"Hmm, what to do. ADC's no good… team comp's kinda awkward…."
It was the moment I dug through the fridge and pulled out a rolling beer can. Nikang's turn to pick had already come.
Hearing her muttering I immediately checked the draft and felt a slight puzzlement.
Wait, isn't the pick completely obvious here?
I started typing in chat right away. Just in case Nikang might not know.
Yet Nikang either didn't have time to look at chat or kept deliberating until the timer hit zero.
"Guess I'll go Lenox."
She locked in some weird pick.
Then, belatedly checking the chat, she covered her mouth.
"What Camilla… ah, Teacher, you're here? I saw the chat late. If I'd seen it I would've locked Camilla right away."
"No, Teacher, it's not like that. I have my reasons. Ah, the game's starting. I'll explain after this match!"
After that I didn't type anything else and just quietly drank my beer while watching the stream.
I'm disappointed. Hmph. Just go lose already.
And thirty minutes later, right around the time the food I had ordered arrived, Nikang lost with uncanny precision.