Don't Argue with Fools
Jun-hyeok didn't know much about Kayak.
An early player who'd been at the game since before he even started Abyss. A fairly famous broadcaster who kept popping up on Vtube's algorithm lately—he'd heard she was a skilled female streamer who'd appeared like a comet out of nowhere.
That was the sum total of what Jun-hyeok knew about Kayak.
He didn't understand why his teammates, who'd also started in those early days like her, were so fanatical about her—why some of them even praised her like religious zealots.
Sure, she was good at the game… but at the end of the day, she was still a civilian, not a pro.
It wasn't condescension. It was an objective assessment. League play, where teams coordinated and competed as units, and solo rank, where you faced randomly matched opponents, were fundamentally different domains. It wasn't about who was better or worse. They simply operated in different fields.
Still, he was curious. About that era his teammates always talked about in one voice. About the skill of the person said to have dominated it.
That was the thought of Jun-hyeok—who had entered Abyss late, after the league became active, become a pro, and was called by some "the best player."
And now, right before his eyes, Jun-hyeok was witnessing at least a fragment of the results he'd been so curious about.
"Why can't you do this… Hmm…."
"No, there's just too much to keep track of. While I'm playing I have to worry about accidentally mashing QW, and there are all these weird bugs outside of just the gameplay—"
"But you're going to play Camilla, right? Camilla's better than you thought, isn't she?"
"It does seem to fit the current meta, but…"
It would take a fair amount of practice—.
That was probably what Min-hyeong had been about to say.
He was right. Even Jun-hyeok thought that properly handling a hero like Camilla would require considerable practice. And that was only natural for a pro. After all, a pro gamer called the best at their game was supposed to be able to handle every hero.
That was what mastery meant. If you couldn't do that, you didn't deserve to be called a pro. That had always been Jun-hyeok's philosophy.
The anomaly happened then. With Jun-hyeok's permission, Kayak had been rattling off improvements in a rapid-fire stream—when Min-hyeong began to push back, even if only slightly.
"But isn't this build way too hard to snowball with? Instead of taking nothing for defense in the neutral traits, wouldn't it be better for health management to swap Agile Footwork here for Survival Expert or Super Regeneration?"
It was a reasonable point. The build Kayak had made was so-called high-risk, high-return—a strategy that carried real burden for use in league play. To use it in the pro league, it would need some refinement to pursue stability.
But the key was how the original creator would take this.
Kayak's reaction upon hearing that was something that surprised even Jun-hyeok, who had maintained a fairly impassive demeanor until now.
A face white and flawless without a single blemish, resembling Camilla. Eyes holding strangely cold-looking blue irises. Those eyes curved beautifully into crescents. The face that had only looked cold until now somehow took on an air of amusement.
"Is that sooo?"
"Ah—no. I, if I offended you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that you made the build wrong or anything. I just thought that side might be better from a stability standpoint…"
Faced head-on with that face of intense destructive power, Min-hyeong could only hastily walk back what he'd said.
But Kayak didn't seem offended. She continued speaking with a spinning smile.
"Stability, stability. I think the feature is maximizing the ping-pong while keeping mobility alive. I think the neutral traits need to stay as they are."
"…Isn't that too much of a tightrope walk? One lucky punch and you're immediately near death and off the battlefield. It's not like you're saying you won't take a single hit against Lenok or Jerome… In that case, like I said, change the neutral traits or put self-heal on the defense side—"
Kayak shook her head firmly.
"I've done more build research. If you do it that way, there's no reason to use this build, and no reason to use Camilla. I think it'll work fine even in league."
"…Do you even watch the league?"
It was a remark loaded with the rebuke: someone who claims to watch the league doesn't know Fusion Gaming—the number-one org and most famous team?
At those words, Kayak gave an awkward little cough before continuing.
"Anyway, this build doesn't need a single change. Well, but just saying this won't earn any trust…"
She moved. Her destination was a seat a little ways from where Min-hyeong had been sitting.
"Want to play a game? Whether I'm right, or the player is right."
That was a rather arrogant and confident statement to make to a pro gamer.
One-on-one. Single combat. Showdown. Duel.
This sacred decisive battle happened in more places than you'd think. Even outside of Abyss right now. Because in a 1v1, victory and defeat were decided purely by your own skill, completely free of anyone else's influence.
I was the type who rather loved these one-on-ones. How many people had I dunked on back in those days—people who said I was wrong and challenged me to 1v1s? The sight of even the most confident ones admitting their defeat after consecutive losses was quite something.
"They're doing a 1v1 here?"
"What guts…"
"There's no way Min-hyeong loses, right?"
As I was setting up the 1v1 duel arena, murmuring voices drifted over from the surroundings. Whispers about how Fusion Gaming's tryouts were basically 1v1s, how the player in front of me had scored quite outstandingly on the tests, and so on.
Honestly, I did feel a bit that I'd been hasty.
I hadn't come here for this in the first place. A 1v1 with a pro? Strictly speaking, it was something that did zero good for teaching Camilla techniques.
The reason I'd proposed the 1v1 first anyway was because I was the kind of person who only knew how to persuade others this way.
The people left in a dying game had lower intelligence than you'd think.
The intelligence I mean here isn't simply about being smart or dumb—intelligence is measured by whether you can acknowledge the other person's words or not. Whether it's talk about builds or debates about a character's performance. People who can't bend their own opinions.
In the community back then, those people were called idiots.
Even if a post saying "daggers can never beat longswords" got dozens of rebuttal comments, if the writer was an idiot—if their intelligence was low—they'd just ignore all those posts in most cases.
In those situations, there was only one method. Show them with actions, not words.
It was routine for me. Because fundamentally, I was also one of those "idiots who don't listen to others." A stubborn person who always went around saying Camilla was the best—that was me.
But the difference between me and other idiots was that I had never once lost a single combat that came with a rebuttal.
As a result, I succeeded in establishing my theory that Camilla can theoretically beat every hero in a 1v1. Memories of days long past.
The digression was long, but the point is simple.
Just, the winner is right. The person who wins is correct. If you want to rebut, challenge immediately and prove your words—that was all there was to it.
You could call it rather primitive and barbaric, but nothing was more certain. Was dueling popular in the old days for no reason? Ending debates with duels was a traditional method that had worked since ancient times.
"Is this right…"
Meanwhile, preparations had already finished.
A league-style event match. A single-combat rule running as best of three.
From across the way, the player's questioning voice came through.
"Um, player? If you're ready, please start."
"Just asking to be sure. You didn't forget my name, did you?"
"…Of course not. I'm just bad at calling names on first meetings."
I'd actually forgotten. There were a lot of people here. I couldn't even properly memorize the names of the players who'd gotten my autograph earlier, so there was no way I'd remember this guy too.
The only one I remembered was Lee Jun-hyeok, the captain and eldest-brother legend player.
As if reading my thoughts, a slightly hurt voice came through.
"I'm Choi Min-hyeong. My player name is the same—FG Min-hyeong, after Fusion Gaming's initials. I think I told you earlier."
"I'm just bad at remembering people's names…"
"I'll have to make an effort so you'll remember."
That was no different from saying he'd show an impressive performance. In other words, he was saying he'd win.
With a secretly pleased feeling, I also lifted the corner of my mouth slightly as I answered.
"That sounds good."
Please show me your best play. Unlike all my opponents so far, surprise me as a pro gamer.
The game will begin shortly.
Hearing the inorganic notification voice unique to single combat announcing the start of the game, I felt my blood boiling for the first time in a while.