Hwasong High Charity Recon Tournament — First Half (1)

A week vanished in the blink of an eye.

For Jin Gyeo-wool, who had slept a grand total of ten hours from Monday through Friday, it vanished even faster.

Looking thoroughly wrecked, Gyeo-wool entered the auditorium propped up by her two friends.

"You have to think about your body. Who decides to sleep two hours a night for an entire week?"

"For real. Winter-Winter. Have you lost it?"

Trailing behind them came Lee Yeong-bin and the other three members of Gyeo-wool's team.

Choi Go-yun, who had watched her fighting spirit up close during their after-school practice sessions all week, tossed out a remark.

"Look, grinding to win is great and all, but can she even play properly like that?"

Watching Gyeo-wool's limp figure from behind, Yeong-bin scratched the back of his head.

"We just have to trust her… Without Gyeo-wool, it's not like the rest of us are exactly stacked on average skill."

Choi Go-yun, their sole Diamond-tier player and the only other ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠real hope of carrying, was something — but everyone else was Gold or Silver.

Still, this was Hwasong High School, the same place that had produced superstar mid laner Lee Do-jin and ADC Kim Han-gyu. Whether a Recon gold vein ran under the campus or not, all sixteen teams entered in this tournament were stacked with talent.

"The other teams' average tier was Platinum, right…?"

Choi Go-yun muttered, staring up at the bracket blown up large on the screen at the front of the auditorium.

If I remember right, our first-round opponents have a Grandmaster mid…

Of all the luck — a rough draw right out of the gate.

And their team's strongest player, Jin Gyeo-wool, was limp as a rag from overdoing it. Sheer sleep deprivation had her dozing through every class this week.

"Gyeo-wool, are you sure you're okay?"

"…Ugh, I said I'm fine!"

The roar made the four guys trailing her flinch hard.

How she planned to play a match in that condition, Choi Go-yun had no idea — he could only sigh. But watching her bull her way forward even while exhausted, he couldn't exactly stop her either.

"No problem. I'll win everything, so quit worrying."

The vibe said that trying to talk her down would only earn him a faceful of abuse. At least she didn't look ready to start thrashing anyone, which was something.

Too much effort turns into poison. Does she not get that…?

Grinding your teeth to win was fine. But being a pro took more than effort alone. Managing your stamina and condition so you could actually perform when it counted — that was a skill every competitor needed. Amateur tournaments were no different. Blow your stamina management and you'd collapse before you even finished the bracket.

It was knowledge Choi Go-yun had picked up watching his little brother Choi Do-yun, who always treated condition management like a religion. But there was no real need to say any of it to Gyeo-wool.

They'd thrown this temporary team together at her request, sure — but aside from Yeong-bin, the other three guys had zero reason to stick with her long-term. Every game together meant clutching their chests in constant dread. The stress of that hit harder than watching an ally int or die. Keep this up for more than a month? The three of them would be the ones flat on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their backs first — Yeong-bin excluded.

"Gyeo-wool, want me to grab you something to drink?"

"No."

"You should at least have some water."

"I said I'm good!"

See? That right there. Yeong-bin was doing everything he could to look after her, and she was just snapping at him.

Choi Go-yun jerked his gaze away, terrified of locking eyes with her. Meet those flashing eyes and he might turn to stone on the spot.

"Winter-Wiiinter. Don't get all snippy, okay~?"

"Mmngh…"

Still, the moment Han Yeo-reum wrapped her in a warm hug from the side, Gyeo-wool settled down — at least for a little while. Yeo-reum knew it too, and by now she stuck to Gyeo-wool's side out of pure habit.

Cha Ga-eul scolded Yeong-bin, saying the best move right now was just to leave her alone.

"Yeong-bin, you stop too. It's not like she's collapsed. She's just a little short on sleep."

"…I was only worried."

Yeong-bin had never seen Gyeo-wool throw herself into practice like this. Streams that always wrapped by midnight at the latest had stretched until five in the morning for days straight. Wanting to win the tournament was great — but the passion felt almost excessive.

Gyeo-wool tried to keep her lolling head upright, but in the end it tipped sideways and dropped onto Yeo-reum's shoulder. She was out cold. Yeo-reum locked both arms around her so she wouldn't slide off, then turned a blank face toward the guys and mumbled,

"She's asleep?"

All four of them exhaled in relief. Better that she was sleeping, honestly. Yeong-bin murmured under his breath,

"…She'll be fine. Just let her rest."

Round of 16. Single-elimination tournament.

While the other teams' matches played out, Gyeo-wool — slotted into the very last group — stayed sunk in deep sleep.

Something he had only recently discovered: Soul Assimilation had another hidden ability. Like the side effects he'd only ever sensed vaguely, it stayed buried until certain conditions were met, at which point a tooltip would activate.

Gyeo-wool had found out about it the moment she started cutting sleep to grind practice this week.

I'm so damn sleepy…

She cracked her eyes open a fraction, but the exhaustion still crushed down on her body.

I just want to sit in front of a computer already…

She had no idea how this power had manifested, but for anyone chasing a pro career in League of Council, it was essential. If you could buy it, every pro in the scene would open their wallet without blinking.

"Alright, next teams, get ready! Team HandsShakingShaking, left seats — Team Winter Kingdom, right seats!"

Half-awake Gyeo-wool finally opened her eyes for real. Yeong-bin was waiting up ahead to walk her onto the stage.

"Support her properly so she doesn't fall."

"Grab my hand, Gyeo-wool."

Why would I hold some guy's hand.

Gyeo-wool swatted Yeong-bin's outstretched hand aside without mercy. She spun him around so his back faced her, then clamped hard onto the scruff of his neck.

"Ghk— Gyeo-wool, I can't breathe…!"

"Move it."

She needed to sit down now. The second she logged into League of Council, the sleep-deprived status ailment would vanish in an instant.

As Gyeo-wool hauled herself up onto the auditorium stage by Yeong-bin's nape, the watching crowd started to murmur. Students who once would have been purely uncomfortable around her were now about half smiling. Honestly, a neck-scruff grab was practically cute. At least she wasn't yanking anyone's hair.

"Sit down carefully."

"Haaah."

Gyeo-wool finally managed to drop into the seat prepared for the top laner. Sitting down made her feel halfway human again. Before her eyes could close, her hands flew across the keys and logged into the client.

— Loading 55% …

Login complete. The game client booted up.

"……Hup!"

Her fogged vision snapped crystal clear in a single breath, and the fatigue clogging every corner of her body washed away like it had never been there. Life flooded back into arms and legs that had felt as weak as a sixty-year-old's — she could feel it distinctly.

Gyeo-wool checked the Soul Assimilation UI again with her eyes — the one only she could see, tucked in the upper-right corner of the client.

Twenty percent… Should hit it by next week.

She'd pushed a little hard, but the accumulated Memory Erosion Rate was satisfying. And she'd uncovered this hidden ability on top of it. It felt like borrowing energy from the future, so overusing it probably wasn't smart — but for a critical tournament, nothing else came close.

Stretching both arms high overhead, Gyeo-wool called out,

"Everyone ready?"

Choi Go-yun had been worried she'd fall asleep mid-game. Instead, watching her spring fully back to life, he muttered,

"Sometimes I look at her and think she's not even human."

Yuk Min-su heard him and said quietly,

"…Don't say stuff like that, it's scary. What if she actually is a demon?"

"There's a limit to the bullshit you'll spout, you idiot."

Still, Gyeo-wool's resurrection was pure upside for the team. If she couldn't play at full strength, Team Winter Kingdom would have gotten tourist-stomped by the enemy Grandmaster without landing a single real punch.

"Quit the useless talk and don't screw up. Anyone who ignores my calls and dies, I'm deleting your account. Got it?"

Choi Go-yun wasn't raising his voice for no reason. That Jin Gyeo-wool was on their team, and she wanted to win. If they lost? In the round of 16, the absolute bottom rung? Hwasong High might suddenly find itself with four brand-new bright lightbulbs.

"We win. No matter what. No matter what!"

All five teammates looked at each other, clenched their fists tight, and — as if on cue — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pulled on their headsets.

Game prep complete.

And then the match began.

"Alright then — the Hwasong High Charity Recon Tournament. Starting the final match of the round of sixteen!"

There had been a player intro segment before the game started, and introducing Gyeo-wool's tier caused a small stir. Students who'd looked at the pre-submitted team roster and assumed it was a printing error were only now confronting the truth.

Gyeo-wool being Master tier was shocking enough — her pick was even more so.

Vladimir.

The Crimson Reaper himself, infamous for how hard he was to pilot. But as difficult as the pick was, it crushed lower-tier opponents, and in a local tournament like this — where enemies tended to clump up in teamfights — it was an excellent choice to pull out.

On top of that, the enemy top laner was Diamond. Only one tier of difference, but after grinding so many games against Diamonds in practice lately, confidence was pouring off Gyeo-wool. She still hadn't broken into the next rank, but as her Memory Erosion Rate climbed, her skill had improved by fine degrees. Thanks to that, she was steadily widening the gap between herself and Diamond-tier players.

"Gyeo-wool, I'm heading top. Any kill angle?"

"Hold on."

The enemy had locked in top-lane Jackson. Three of their team's ban slots had been dumped on the enemy mid laner — the Grandmaster — which meant the enemy top had a relatively wide pool… and he'd still gone Jackson.

She'd never faced him before, but Gyeo-wool could vaguely tell he was a one-trick who'd climbed to Diamond on Jackson alone.

"Let's look for a play. I'm taking top TP — mid, can you watch top with me? Feels like their Evelynn's coming."

In a Vladimir-versus-Jackson matchup, the lane phase usually came down to the Vladimir pilot's skill. How well you pulled the wave and farmed. How you answered with QWE when they engaged. How hard you harassed them with constant Q/Transfusion. Those were the factors that decided the winner and loser of lane.

Keep that harassment going long enough and the opponent would inevitably tilt. The fact that his most-played was an engage bruiser like Jackson was basically him announcing through his champion select that he intended to play aggressive. The longer the hellish bullying stretched on, the thinner Jackson's patience wore. Unless you were a pro, that patience snapped on its own.

And once it did, Jackson had exactly two options left: call the jungler to crush this goddamn mosquito (Vladimir), or just suck it up and keep laning in silence.

But this wasn't a pro match, was it? As long as the opponent was an amateur, Gyeo-wool's bait couldn't fail. What brain-game player Bae Do-hyun did best was calmly dig a pit and herd the enemy straight into it — shatter their mental, make them walk into the trap on their own two feet and thrash around inside it. That was Bae Do-hyun-style swamp Recon.

And for swamp Recon play, no champion beat Vladimir. It would need more polish for the pro stage, but for a small tournament like this, his usual practice was more than enough.

"Evelynn showed on vision. You see her?"

"Got it. Yo, Ho-jae — the second I call it, drop TF ult."

"Okay."

The moment Gyeo-wool's Vladimir hit the teleport on the wave shoved toward the enemy blue side, Jackson started hovering nearby, itching to start an engage. Evelynn was already sitting in the top river brush.

The second Vladimir landed, Jackson's E/Counter Strike — the one with the stun — would come flying in. A pro would never lead with Counter Strike… ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but this opponent had lost his mind to pure rage. Counter Strike was coming first, guaranteed.

"There it is."

Exactly as predicted, Jackson activated Counter Strike and started spinning the blunt weapon in his hands. Gyeo-wool didn't bother dodging the stun with W/Sanguine Pool — she just opened a modest amount of space. Encouraged, Jackson even burned Q/Leap Strike to chase Vladimir down.

A wicked smile curled across Gyeo-wool's lips at the sight.

"Ho-jae, ult!"

"Going in~!"

Evelynn burst out of the brush to charm him for the two-man dive — and in the exact same instant, Twisted Fate's ultimate lit up from mid, where he'd already shoved the wave. The moment all five enemy positions painted themselves across the map, Evelynn spun on her heel. She was abandoning the overextended Jackson and bolting for tower.

"Forget Evelynn — focus Jackson!"

Better to cook the fish already caught in the net than overforce a chase on a fleeing target. Elise arriving from behind, Twisted Fate landing on top of them, and Gyeo-wool's Vladimir sealed Jackson's escape route completely.

As he died, did Jackson regret not saving the Q he could have used to escape?

He must be losing his absolute mind…

No. Right now he was drowning in a rage beyond description — thrashing inside Vladimir's inescapable swamp, with no idea what had even gone wrong.