White1876

The enemy charging toward us hadn't been the one who fired, which meant the remaining player had. But from where?

If that hadn't been a lucky shot, why hadn't they moved until now? Was it just luck after all?

Faced with a situation I hadn't even imagined, all kinds of thoughts started bubbling up. This wasn't the time for any of them, though.

While I'd been lost in my head, the approaching enemy reached the first floor, and I intercepted them easily enough. The problem was that in the meantime, another one of us had gone down.

That made one dead on the first floor and one on the second.

"Fuck! What the hell is this!? Where are they even shooting from!?"

"Who the hell is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that? A ranker?"

One shot, one kill.

Everyone except me and one other person was wearing Tier 2 head protection. If they were getting one-shotted, the enemy's weapon had to be a Tier 0 sniper rifle — the only one on the entire map, hidden in a different random location every match.

Even accounting for that, landing a headshot in a single pull on someone hiding inside a house, with no idea which window they'd pop out of, was not a trick an ordinary player could pull off.

"What have they even been doing this whole time if they're only starting to move now?"

With skill like that, they should have locked down the win ages ago. So why had they been hiding until the EMP field started closing in? Had they been active this whole time and we just hadn't noticed?

No. If the same nickname kept showing up in the kill log, there's no way we wouldn't have seen it.

Even if I didn't know any better, the noonas who'd been playing UnCom for a long time certainly would. A player that conspicuous was someone you'd keep on your radar.

"...White1876? Wait — White. Isn't that her?"

One of the noonas spoke up, staring at the nickname in the kill log.

"The world championship winner! Frost White!"

"No way. Why would the number one ranker be playing a pub match?"

Frost White. A pro gamer under the eSports organization Frost. Ranked number one in the world in Unknown Combat. A sniping virtuoso known as the World's Best Sniper. A monster who had never once surrendered the top spot since the day she started competing in official UnCom tournaments. With every superlative imaginable attached to her name, Frost White was, without question, the strongest player in the game.

Which is exactly why nobody bought it.

The World UnCom Championship was being held in April. Someone that busy preparing for it wouldn't be grinding regular matches — that was the noonas' argument.

Setting the pointless speculation aside, the snipers stepped up to figure out where the shots were coming from.

"I'll poke my head out and pull it back. You pinpoint the gunshot."

"Got it. Be careful, yeah? Don't go getting a hole punched through your forehead."

She let out a hollow laugh, like she couldn't believe what she'd just heard.

"If they land that shot, I deserve to die clean."

I'd been wound tight, thinking this was a dangerous gamble, but the chat cooled my nerves just enough. I waited for the result with something closer to ease.

"Going."

A gunshot cracked the air a heartbeat later.

Thankfully, no kill log popped up — but I could hear her breathing hard.

"Holy shit! Is that hacks!?"

"The sound came from the front. Can you do it one more time?"

"I feel like I'll die if I do it again..."

That was how precise the other player was. She'd said the bullet had barely clipped the wall. A little less luck and she'd have been gone.

"If it's coming from the front, that's the woods past the house, right?"

"Probably. That's ridiculous."

"Are we sure that's not hacks? Honestly, that would make more sense."

Everyone was suspicious. And honestly, it was absurd. Was that even a reaction speed a human being could produce?

I had no idea how we were supposed to win this. We were fighting five-on-one and getting pushed back. I never saw that coming.

Sitting tight inside the house wasn't going to save us either. The EMP field still had three more shrinks before it fully closed, and White1876 would have plenty of chances to close in on the house in that time. Looking at that unholy sniper skill, even rushing her with numbers was no guarantee of a win.

"Going again?"

"Okay."

Apparently she'd decided to look outside one more time. I could hear her taking a deep breath. For a moment her breathing cut out — and then a gunshot rang.

The difference from last time was that a kill log popped up.

"Okay, this is starting to get scary..."

"How do we even beat that? Can anyone here take her? Or does anyone have a plan?"

Nobody said a word. That was how overwhelming White1876's skill was.

The number of people who'd died since the match started and the number White had killed were almost even — four and three. And in terms of time, she'd done it nearly ten times faster. If that wasn't a monster, what was?

"Here's what we do. I'll leave the house and loop around to the woods. You guys keep her attention while I do."

The last remaining sniper came down from the second floor as she said it.

"Are you sure? That's way too dangerous."

"Yeah. Wouldn't it be better if we all went out and flanked from both sides?"

On the surface it looked like a brave play. In reality, it was reckless. Or maybe she'd just given up.

The enemy had the reaction speed to instantly hit a target that appeared in one of the mansion's many second-floor windows and vanished just as fast. If we kept popping in and out of the house, she'd know we were up to something. And the moment she got suspicious, there was no way she'd miss the person slipping out to loop around.

"Ian, did you have fun?"

One of the noonas asked a question that came out of nowhere.

"Huh? Uh, yeah. I had fun."

"Then that's all that matters. Games are supposed to be fun. One last desperate struggle should be fun too, right?"

"Ah..."

She was right. This was a game. There was no need to get that serious about it. If we enjoyed ourselves, that was the whole point. We might as well play smiling until the end.

"Alright. Doing it your way sounds like fun too!"

"That's the spirit! I'll head out, so I'm counting on you guys."

She dumped her sniper rifle on the floor, picked up a dead noona's assault rifle, and walked straight out the back door.

From here on, our job was what mattered. There was zero chance of actually hitting anything if we shot from here. We just needed to draw her eyes. While she was busy trying to pick us off, the noona would get to her first. I stepped up to the window.

"Hoo... shall we?"

"Let's go!"

"LETS GOOO!!"

The game of Whac-A-Mole began. The twist being that we were the moles, and instead of a mallet, bullets came screaming in — a rather bloodthirsty version of the game.

"Ha. Hahaha. What even is this..."

I couldn't get any strength into my hands.

Everything we'd built up until now had collapsed like it had all been a lie. We'd even drawn up a whole strategy to take down White1876, and it had failed so pathetically it was almost funny.

Like she was toying with us, she'd kept us alive until the noona looping around actually made it into the woods — and then wiped every last one of us in an instant.

I was the only one left.

"What do I even do?"

I'd lost the will. This was a game with no chance of winning no matter how hard I fought. I didn't particularly want revenge, either. I hadn't thought it was possible in the first place, and the noonas had said they'd had fun.

But I at least wanted to see who she was. Call it stubborn pride if you want.

"I'm going out. I at least want to see ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what she looks like."

I opened the back door and stepped outside. To keep my exposure to a minimum, I hopped the fence and moved in a crouch.

This was the last EMP field shrink. After this, the entire map would be swallowed by it, and the match would turn into a war of attrition. I didn't have time to waste.

"I'm running."

I reached the end of the residential fences. From here, I planned to sprint in a straight line to the woods.

There was a good chance the enemy didn't know where I was. She might even think I was still in the house, or she might be watching the complete opposite direction. I put everything I had on that sliver of possibility and ran.

It was a shame the sprint button wouldn't make me go any faster. I prayed inwardly that I wouldn't get spotted, and I thought it had worked — I reached the treeline without a single thing happening.

"Yandere! I'm he— huh?"

The second I shouted in relief, someone stepped out of the woods.

"Hhk!?"

I snapped my sights onto her, but she didn't move. No — she did move. She put away the sniper rifle she'd been holding and started crouching and standing, over and over.

"How am I the final boss!?"

I didn't drop my guard. I kept the barrel trained on her as I closed the distance. I had the advantage here. There was no way I'd miss at this range, and the second she reached for a gun I could put her down.

"Can you talk?"

If she had in-game voice chat on, we'd be able to speak. I asked just in case.

"Yes! I can!"

A voice snapped to attention like she'd just been called on in formation. But it was completely at odds with the impression she'd given so far — a cute voice that still had a childish lilt left in it.

"Are you... a Yan Sister?"

"Y-yes! That's right! I'm with the Little Sis Squad!"

Little Sis Squad? Ah. I really didn't want to ask.

Alarm bells went off in my head. Don't ask. You should not ask.

But I was the type who couldn't stand not knowing, so I asked anyway.

"What's the Little Sis Squad?"

"It's what we call the Yan Sisters who are younger than oppa!"

See? I knew it was going to be something like that.

If there was a Little Sis Squad, was there a Big Sis Squad too? Wait — did I even have a fan club in the first place?

"Where did this Little Sis Squad thing even come from? Is there a separate fan club?"

"There's no official fan club yet! People in the community just started saying it!"

"I see... Ah, you can talk casually."

White called me oppa with a goofy little smile on her face. Cute.

I was a confirmed older-woman guy, but being called oppa had a flavor all its own.

"You're insanely good at this game, you know that?"

"Ah, of course! My nickname is the World's Best Sniper! I'm the best sniper in the world!"

I never thought she'd actually be a pro gamer. That impossible skill finally made sense.

"So you queued sniper ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this match?"

"Th-that's not it! I just happened to pick it up! I got a message in the middle of the match and that's how I found out we were in the same game!"

What a coincidence. Still — why hadn't she shown herself earlier, and why had she killed everyone except me? Was there a reason? The fact that she'd revealed herself like this made it feel like she had something she wanted to say.

"Did you have something you wanted to tell me?"

"Ah, well..."

"It's fine. Just say it."

What was she trying to say that had her hesitating like this?

"Hoo..."

She took a deep breath, and then she opened her mouth.

The second the words left her mouth, she bolted into the woods without giving me a chance to answer. From far off came the sound of a grenade, and a kill log popped up saying she'd blown herself up.

"...All roads lead to Seoul, I guess. We still got the win, huh?"

A flood of congratulations poured through chat, and then the donations started going off one after another.

"Thank you, everyone! And thanks to the noonas who helped me out today, and to White too!"

I offered my thanks as I returned to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the lobby, where a game illustration greeted me instead of the familiar avatar. There was text written across the middle, so I read it.

"Restricted until February 4th for teaming?"

"...I can't play the game?"

My first gaming stream came to an absurdly hollow end.