Starforce Lives Up to Its Name
No one could easily predict a Starforce victory in this situation, but Starforce was Starforce.
Just like always, Starforce began writing the first chapter of their miracle.
It started with the ban-pick.
Starforce went for a teamfight-oriented comp that ignored early laning like in the previous sets, and everyone was waiting to see what their last pick of the fifth slot would be.
And then,
Starforce selected Revolutionary.
While the casters stumbled in surprise, the crowd erupted in even greater murmurs.
Revolutionary.
A bruiser character usually played mid, and my signature pick as Dice.
The symbolism behind picking Revolutionary was huge.
In League of Eternity, this champion's concept was literally revolution—or rebellion.
In the lore, Revolutionary's revolutions had never succeeded even once, yet they kept trying to make one happen.
In a structure where success meant revolution and failure meant rebellion, why was someone who only failed still called Revolutionary instead of Rebel?
Because we all wished for their success.
Teams with the advantage rarely picked Revolutionary.
Revolutionary's ultimate, 'Revolution', equalized the level between the enemy and themselves. It was a skill that shone in disadvantageous situations by default.
It had some utility even when ahead, but there was no denying it became far less useful overall in favorable matchups.
In the end, teams picking Revolutionary were always the underdogs. Revolution wasn't from top to bottom—it was a thrust from below upward.
Thus, to LoE players, Revolutionary symbolized the underdog.
In reality, Proud's career record on Revolutionary was under ten games.
Yet here, in this critical moment, Starforce handed it to Proud.
Right now, Proud and Starforce Gaming were declaring it loud and clear.
Yeah, we've lost twice this season already. And now, after dropping two sets, we're on the verge of missing the trophy.
We'll admit it. Right here, right now—we're the underdogs.
At a glance, it might look like Starforce was playing the weakling's strategy.
But I could see it.
Starforce calling themselves underdogs meant they were no longer the ones being chased.
At this moment, Starforce Gaming were the hunters, the pursuers. Tundra—who had stepped two footprints ahead toward the throne—were now the ones being hunted by the world's strongest team.
By Proud's relentlessly vicious army.
In the third set, Starforce—who had been crushed in the previous two—played like an entirely different team.
They couldn't deny being behind in momentum, and since they'd built around teamfights over laning matchups from the start, Starforce had no choice but to fall behind early.
But even so, they didn't crumble like before. They didn't go down easy. They lurked, waiting for any opening.
And this situation? It was the perfect stage for Revolutionary to shine brighter than ever.
As a fifth pick, no one expected Starforce to grab Revolutionary in a tournament, so Tundra had already locked in scaling champs with good growth potential.
They couldn't sacrifice their own scaling just because Revolutionary was scary—there were plenty of juicy targets for the ult anyway.
Early 20 minutes in, with no objectives up and both sides just staring each other down, Tundra lunged at the slightly overextended Revolutionary.
Eliminate the variable before it pops off. Not the worst idea, but it was overly fixated on Proud's name. No matter how much you chant "Proud Proud," the rest of Starforce weren't just deadweight bus passengers.
It was already a bad engage angle even if they caught him, and in a situation demanding perfection, a tiny mistake slipped through. Starforce exploited it.
A minuscule error, but a team like Starforce didn't miss even that.
In that brief gap, Revolutionary ulted Tundra's hulking gladiator. In that instant, they were equals.
The cost of failing to burst Revolutionary was steep. The skirmish flipped to a full 5v5, and with Tundra's key skills on cooldown, Starforce dominated.
Starforce mercilessly picked off the routing Tundra one by one.
And they weren't sloppy enough to squander an advantage once they had it.
The price of a mistake against the world's best was enormous.
The third set ended, and the score was now 2-1.
On paper, Tundra still led, but the roaring cheers filling the arena proved the momentum—and the vibe—had shifted.
"This is insane."
"...Is it?"
"Yeah. But you... you okay?"
"Way better than before."
"You look it, but..."
Yuseung spoke up again, still not convinced I looked fine. But honestly, I wasn't as bad off as I felt. At least, not compared to right after the second set.
The reason...?
Let's not go there.
Not until after the next set, anyway.
The fourth set was nothing special to describe—not because it was boring, but because it was too goddamn incredible.
Up 2-0 and taking a punch to the gut. A little mental shake-up was natural, but Tundra knew they still held the edge.
Starforce knew it was just 2-1. One step back, and it'd be a cliff. No time to relax.
It was dead even—no one could call an advantage. Superplays popped off like clockwork from both sides, insane teamfights nonstop.
No matter who won, you couldn't call it an upset. Tundra was destructive; Starforce was seasoned. Perfect balance, evenly matched titans—it was just that.
But sadly, even if everyone shone, there could only be one winner.
After the bloodbath, Starforce took the fourth, announcing to everyone that things were back to square one.
The caster was screaming their lungs out.
Loss, loss, win, win.
And one final set.
Just one set until Starforce wrote the last chapter of their miracle.
Just one until Tundra fulfilled their long-held wish.
The arena shook with explosive cheers.
"This is peak 5-game tension. Both sides are on another level. Was Starforce's comp secretly high-value? Or their synergy..."
"Gonna hit the bathroom."
"Huh? Oh. Yeah."
Ignoring the roar entirely, Yuseung was busy reviewing the game. I made up an excuse about the bathroom to slip out quick—half worried he'd try talking to me.
It was a fake excuse, but I did need to go.
The second I got to the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face for a good while to wash away the emotions. Then I let out a deep sigh and looked in the mirror.
Staring back was the ugliest face imaginable.
Swirling inside were the most tangled emotions. Even the cold water couldn't rinse them away.
It was ecstasy.
Yeah, deep down, I wanted Tundra—the team that abandoned me—to lose. I'd tried denying it, but I couldn't anymore. What a pathetic feeling.
Feeling uncomfortable about my old team doing well, hoping they'd fail—it was so damn petty.
It hurt.
Call it jealousy if you want. I wanted to leap onto that stage right now. Sit down, grab the mouse and keyboard, throw down the gauntlet to Proud.
But I couldn't anymore.
The lingering attachment I'd buried broke free. I want to go pro. But I can't.
I no longer belonged on that battlefield. This ugly, emotion-riddled face in the mirror was too beautiful, too lovable for that.
I felt filthy enough to cry, but no tears came.
Because that wasn't all.
There was a third emotion haunting this face. One I didn't know, couldn't grasp—but maybe soon would.
[The 5th set will begin shortly. Please return to your seats if you are away.]
Before I could pin it down, the arena announcement erased every trace of that emotion. Had I spent that long in here?
I headed back to my seat, pretending nothing was wrong, face blank as ever.
Yuseung was giving me a weird look for some reason.
The long-awaited final fifth set.
Ban-pick began.