Just One Set Away
“Finally reaching this stage, the two teams have gathered at last. Perhaps the harshest situation imaginable. The team's most reliable pillar, our eldest brother, has left us, and all we could do was mourn his absence. But they never gave up. With a sturdy new teammate to fill that void, they carried on his will and stood here today. They were always the team that burned hottest, blazing most spectacularly until the very end. But!! This season, they were the coldest team of all!!! For so long, they were always, always the pursuers. The challengers. But now, right here on this stage, they stand as the pursued, the ones being challenged! They boldly declare that they will usher in a new era from this very spot. Tundra~~~~~ Silver Airs!!!!!!”
The caster's opening intro for Tundra Silver Airs wrapped up, and the players took the stage one by one, bowing to the crowd. Cheers erupted from the stands with each name called. Tundra had always been seen as having a weaker fandom compared to Starforce, but thanks to their strong performance this season, the roars echoing through the venue were louder than expected.
But we all knew this wasn't the end.
“Legends don't crumble easily. Three World Championships, one Mid-Season Invitational, five league titles. All achieved in just four years. Across countless stages and finals, this team has always declared—and proven—that they are the best in the ECK, no, the world!! But this season, they fell to an overwhelmingly dominant foe, they wavered, they were pushed back. That team stands right before us now. But!! They're the strongest not because they never waver. It's because they waver but ultimately overcome!!! That's how they claimed the titles of greatest and strongest. They always had a guiding star to light their path!! That star has always shown them the right way, and it won't lead them astray this time either!! The lords of the throne! Worlds defending champions! They've taken the stage once more to prove their legend!!! The team that shines with the brightest light in the world!! Starforce~~~~~ Gaming!!!”
A deafening roar shook the arena, nearly splitting eardrums. It had been loud before, but this was on another level. No surprise there.
Starforce Gaming was the most popular team in Korea—not, the world—and this was the finals, after all. Though not on Worlds scale since it was the regular league finals, the thousand-seat arena was packed. When half—or more—of that crowd screamed at once, this kind of impact was inevitable.
Just like with Tundra, the players came up one by one to greet the fans, and cheers exploded each time a name was called. Then came the mid laner, Proud. The roar surpassed everything before it combined.
The world's strongest, most victorious, most popular mid laner. The world's greatest of all time.
Greatest Of All Time
GOAT
Proud
Only he deserved—and could handle—a cheer like that on this stage.
I bit my lower lip without thinking.
“Whoa, it's gotten huge. Back in my day, we never played in arenas this big, and never had crowds this size.”
“Yeah.”
Yuseung chattered beside me. Back when we were teammates, we'd never even reached the league finals, and he'd been on hiatus since, so it wasn't weird for him to be amazed.
The casters and commentators greeted the crowd up front. A short hype video played before the match, along with on-screen info about both teams. Data from their two regular-season clashes, and stats for the mid-lane matchup expected to define the finals.
“AOD's no joke. Every stat is topped with 1sts.”
“He's good.”
But Proud was no slouch. AOD edged him out slightly, but wherever AOD didn't claim first, Proud did. They were basically splitting the top two spots across the board.
These numbers explained how these two teams snagged first and second this season.
“Who you rooting for?”
“Don't care who wins.”
“Then why'd you come?”
“...Dunno.”
I really didn't know.
I closed my eyes quietly for a moment, waiting. When the caster announced the start of bans and picks for game 1, I opened them. The familiar UI lit up my screen.
The real game was on.
~
In game 1, Starforce picked a snowball comp built for strong laning. Tundra countered with a late-game value-oriented pick. A common matchup between these teams.
Starforce pressured hard early, but Tundra held firm, and soon the early leads started fizzling out. An impatient Starforce, leveraging their stacked dragons, forced a teamfight—but
“What in the world is this!!!”
The caster screamed. Suhyun—Durumi, the ADC—had been sniped, but with godlike movement, he dodged every skill, survived the gank, and picked off Starforce one by one from afar as they overcommitted.
An insane superplay. The game snowballed uncontrollably toward Tundra, who took game 1.
“Tundra's doing great.”
“Yeah.”
My old team won. I should be thrilled, but I wasn't. Why?
Probably because the series wasn't over. Celebrating now, when Tundra's victory wasn't sealed, felt arrogant.
We barely talked through the match, sitting in stony silence. Anyone watching might think we'd fought.
But it was just habit. Both of us mentally replaying the game nonstop.
Inevitable for pros.
Every match was a textbook overflowing with data and lessons.
Even if, right now,
it felt meaningless.
Game 2 began.
~
The teams swapped comps this time, and Tundra won again.
They'd mocked Starforce's snowball style from game 1—“that's not how you snowball”—by mimicking it perfectly, pressuring aggressively from the start.
Starforce trusted their late-game value and tried to weather it, but failed.
AOD's power.
In game 2, despite nerfs, Proud picked Engineer—still dominant in lane with huge late-game carry potential.
AOD countered with Earthshaper, a priest-class job that manipulated terrain to create structures. Tricky to play, not a damage monster, but the terrain variables made it swingy as hell. Pros could troll it hard if mishandled.
But AOD dominated lane with Earthshaper, unleashing creative plays to block, disrupt, and zone Proud relentlessly.
Before 30 minutes, Tundra teamfought off AOD's carry, and smashed Starforce's Nexus.
Tundra up 2-0.
Just.
One game left.
Only one set stood between them and that long-cherished dream.
Shivers ran through my body.
Until they stole Starforce's throne and became the new kings.
Until this impossible upset happened—Tundra dethroning Starforce.
Just one set away.
Tundra over Starforce. Tundra beating Starforce...
...Tundra.
“Ah.”
Right.
Not me.
Tundra.
I wasn't part of Tundra anymore.
“...You okay? What's wrong?”
“F-Fine.”
Suddenly, it felt like I couldn't breathe. Not really, but like respiratory distress hitting out of nowhere. I bowed my head, regulating my breaths slowly.
The arena buzzed, Tundra's fan section erupting in joy while Starforce's was grim and subdued.
Makes sense.
They hadn't just lost—they'd been one-sidedly stomped two games straight.
To win from here, they'd need three in a row. Tough even without the gap; impossible like this.
Even I, who knew Proud's strength better than anyone, couldn't bet on Starforce.
So why, in this moment where my old team was winning,
couldn't I breathe?
The answer was right there. But invisible. I'd buried it, tried to forget, convinced myself I had.
So I started cheering for Tundra for real.
To keep that hidden feeling buried.
To forget it completely.
To believe I could.
As bans for game 3 began, my breath steadied. I panted it out, eyes wide. I had to watch this match.
I needed to.
Not missing a second. No matter who won, to see it through to the end.
...And, as always, to lose to Proud.