A Character Nobody Masters
“Of all the characters you could pick, it had to be that one…”
“Not a fan?”
“Well… the character itself is actually really good.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“….”
Cho Seo-hyun stayed silent for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh and gave a hollow little laugh.
“It’s good, sure… and plenty of people play it… but I’ve never once seen anyone who’s actually good with it.”
“….”
Her words painted a crystal-clear picture of the character I’d just locked in.
'So it’s a character with a ton of mains, huh.'
'High mechanical ceiling, tons of people try it, and almost nobody’s actually good. That’s what she’s saying.'
My own gaming life had almost never touched online titles, but stories about famous games still found their way to me whether I wanted them or not.
And in every online scene, one or two of those “main-bait” characters always ended up infamous.
Cho Seo-hyun scratched her head with a helpless smile.
“Ideally you would practice with something you actually want to play… but once you pick that one up, the feel is so good you just keep going even when you shouldn’t.”
“Ah…”
The more she talked, the less I wanted to let it go.
The path of the character I’d chosen… following it felt like destiny.
'So this is… the path of loyalty, huh…'
'Shut up…'
Somehow… I really didn’t want to put this character down.
“Can I just try it for a bit?”
“Good grief, fine.”
Cho Seo-hyun snorted and looked at me like I was adorable and ridiculous at the same time.
One glance at her face told me exactly what she was thinking.
(In the end you’re just another guy full of empty bravado.)
That expression alone set my motivation blazing like a portable gas burner turned all the way up.
The only problem was that I had no idea when the flame might snuff out…
'You’re not wrong… but wanting to play this one has another meaning too.'
VR tech developed in this world can’t fully import a body’s real ability stats, right?
The capsules had never been built for casual entertainment in the first place.
They were training tools for heroes, purpose-made for that role.
Even those couldn’t perfectly measure physical ability.
A simple headgear having that kind of feature was out of the question.
But there was still one thing that carried over even into VR.
"Hand skill"…
When I’d massaged Seong Sua, the technique had clearly transferred.
That meant "Hand Skills" wasn’t purely a matter of raw physical stats and right now I wanted to test exactly that.
Cho Seo-hyun watched me with that same faintly mocking smile and issued a warning.
“I’ll give you the archery skill, but don’t go thinking you can just freestyle with a bow in here the way you do outside.”
“Huh? Don’t you just… shoot the bow?”
“I knew it…”
She snorted again and started explaining.
“Think about it. Who do you think the main users of this VR system are?”
“…Rich people?”
“Ahaha! You’re not wrong. Rich people… pffft—!”
It wasn’t mockery, she was genuinely laughing.
When she finally caught her breath she gave me the real answer.
“Mostly heroes.”
“Ah…”
“Rapid-fire is only allowed within the programmed limits. Movement speed is locked per character too.”
In other words, you could only operate inside the fixed kit each character was given.
“The one you picked… it’s a strong character, no question. Ranged, melee, ultra long range skills—it’s got everything. But the problem is that it's incredibly tedious to use.”
Furthermore, she said it was actually harder for heroes who specialized in bows to use this character.
“Especially the ones whose main weapon is a bow. All the habits they’ve drilled into their bodies just make them get roasted nonstop on this character.”
Years of real archery had become muscle memory.
The moment the game slapped restrictions on them, they started making mistake after mistake.
“There’s a running joke that if a real archer picks this character, they end up in the hospital with rage-induced hypertension within a day.”
“Ah…”
For heroes who’d spent their whole lives with a bow, not being able to shoot the way they wanted—and watching arrows refuse to fly properly—was enough to shatter even the calmest patience in a single session.
That was why Cho Seo-hyun had tried to talk me out of it.
“Still, if we’re going to play together, it’d be a shame if you spent the whole time tilted.”
“Hmm… then let’s do one real match first. If it feels wrong I’ll switch.”
“Good grief… such stubbornness
In the end she threw up both hands in surrender.
“Fine. Let’s clear the tutorial first.”
The tutorial itself was nothing special.
It didn’t teach combat so much as the win conditions and the basic systems.
Kill the enemy minions to grow stronger, fight the enemy players, destroy their base.
First-person perspective made it feel a lot like an FPS.
…Honestly it felt like someone had just mashed together every game I already knew.
'Well, people everywhere end up thinking along the same lines.'
The tutorial wasn’t the problem.
'Damn… I only used the bow for a second and I’m already getting irritated.'
My aim was still perfect—every shot landed dead center.
The moment I loosed an arrow, the character’s built-in aiming assist seemed to lock on for me.
The real issue was the fixed attack speed and the skills.
No matter how badly I wanted to shoot faster, I simply could not exceed the programmed rate of fire.
And every skill on the kit had its own mana cost and cooldown, so I had to use them under strict conditions
Having power I couldn’t freely use was pure agony.
Cho Seo-hyun watched me and smirked.
“See? It’s different from just clicking a mouse. When you’re moving your own body and it still won’t do what you want, the frustration hits twice as hard.”
It was the special brand of irritation that only came from full-dive VR instead of staring at a monitor.
“I think I get why archers end up with rage hypertension.”
I gave a bitter smile and raised the bow again.
"Now that the tutorial is over, are we doing a real match?"
"No, it's your first time. Let's try an AI match first."
“Uh…”
“…?”
I looked at the puzzled Cho Seo-hyun and said,
“Can’t we just jump straight into a match against real players?”
While she waited in queue with Sung Su-ho, Cho Seo-hyun fretted.
'It would be fine if he just found it boring, but I'm worried he’ll get flamed…'
His confident attitude didn’t strike her as stupid or arrogant.
If anything, that overflowing self-assurance was starting to grow on her.
From the very beginning she had always preferred people like Sung Su-ho, people who tried to wring every drop out of their own talent over those who settled for “good enough.”
The problem was how vicious the mouths of the people who played this game could be.
Sometimes she half-suspected that real demons worse than any dungeon monster lived inside the hearts of so-called heroes.
'At least in normal queues the flaming usually stays light… it should be fine.'
She had invited him as a friend earlier simply because she wanted to talk more.
Now that they were actually here, the worry crept in. What if she’d just dragged him into something that would ruin his mood?
While she waited, a hologram window popped up with the match-found alert.
'No matter what happens, I have to cover for him.'
She wouldn’t call herself great at the game, but she was confident enough in normal matches.
“Alright, let’s go in.”
“I’ll do my best not to get flamed.”
Sung Su-ho smiled easily and tapped the hologram. Watching that smile, Cho Seo-hyun felt a quiet pang of self-reproach.
'He never smiles like that during class… I should talk to him more during lessons from now on.'
She gave a wry little smile of her own and accepted the match.
The world around them glitched and twisted, graphics unraveling and reforming until they stood in a place that looked like ancient ruins. Cho Seo-hyun explained,
“Match maps are random.”
“Haa… still, it’s weird.”
“What is?”
“Instructor Cho Seo-hyun looks exactly like you do in real life, but everyone else is just the character models we saw earlier.”
He was right.
Their own appearances had been pulled straight from reality with only the outfits changed. Every other player wore the full face and body of their chosen character, looking like pure AI.
She folded her arms and smiled as she explained.
“It's for security.”
“Security?”
This VR system was revolutionary—it let people meet face-to-face and talk from anywhere. The catch was that most of its users belonged to the upper class.
“If everyone just walked around with their real faces, in a scene this small everyone would know exactly who you are.”
“Ah… then why are our faces showing?”
For all the talk of security, she and Sung Su-ho could see each other’s faces and figures perfectly clearly.
“If you’re friends and you’ve both authorized it, it displays like this. If you don’t like it you can change the setting later.”
“Mm… I think I prefer it this way.”
Cho Seo-hyun smiled at his silly little grin.
From character select all the way through which lane he should take, she walked him through every detail, hoping he wouldn’t get flamed for something avoidable.
However, the pick phase didn't go smoothly..
While they were picking characters, someone spoke to Seong Su-ho.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
“Switch characters.”
“…What?”
A teammate who had already locked in started laying into Sung Su-ho.
“"I said change it. I'm sick and tired of seeing these damn archers."”
It was a sharp tone, the kind of speech from someone who had completely discarded any notion of politeness.
However, even that was relatively toned down.
In some lobbies the match started with pure cursing from the first second.
The one who actually got angry, though, wasn’t Sung Su-ho. It was Cho Seo-hyun.
“It’s not even ranked! What’s wrong with letting someone play what they want?!”
“Haa… fine, fine. Do whatever. One-tricks never listen to advice anyway.”
“You little sh—”
Just as she was about to spit a real curse, Sung Su-ho stopped her and apologized instead.
“Sorry. I should’ve listened to Instructor Cho from the start. Now you’re catching flak because of me.”
“No! You didn’t do anything wrong—why are you apologizing?”
His apology only made her angrier. Watching someone who hadn’t done anything wrong still bow his head felt uncomfortably like watching her own school-days self.
The situations were different, but the feeling was the same.
“If it turns out to be a problem after this match, I’ll switch right away.”
“….”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell him to just ignore them and play what he wanted. The character he’d locked was hard enough that even a little trolling would kill the fun for everyone.
'Yeah… no need to force a game while listening to that kind of crap.'
Worry still sat in her chest, but she didn’t stop him.
'Still… his focus looked solid. Who knows, maybe he’ll actually be good?'
These VR games had their own quirks.
Real stamina never drained.
You could sprint forever and only feel a programmed sense of fatigue; your body never truly tired.
The system controlled that fatigue in other ways—forced slowdowns after a certain run time, forced stops, and so on.
Real-world physical stats were completely useless here.
Even regular computer games needed precise hand control and reflexes.
Inside VR those things became almost meaningless.
Conversely, the mental aspects were brought over entirely.
Concentration. Judgment. Self-control.
That was exactly why Cho Seo-hyun kept playing—to sharpen those mental muscles.
'I’ve been at this for years and I’m still not improving. Maybe I should just quit…'
She had spent years trying to overcome the anxiety and panic that always flared up mid-game.
She had been playing for years for that reason, but there was no sign of improvement.
No... if anything, resentment was only piling up inside her.
When a game started, her allies were usually quick to praise her in the beginning.
The problem always came after mid-game.
Once the actual team fights began, she would start making mistake after mistake.
The character Cho Seo-hyun played was an assassin.
It was a character designed to roam alone and disrupt the enemy team.
It was common for her to bring victory within reach through her early-game activity, only to lose the match due to a series of blunders during the mid-game.
'It's just a normal match anyway.... It'll be over soon.'
Sung Su-ho had no match history yet, so she figured neither their teammates nor the enemy would be especially high level.
Both sides finished locking in. A huge holographic countdown appeared in front of them.
10… 9…
The numbers ticked down one by one, counting toward the start.
Even then Cho Seo-hyun kept calmly coaching him.
“Try not to use all-chat or team-chat if you can help it. Wait until you’re used to the game. For now just whisper me, or talk to whoever’s next to you…”
“Got it.”
“…And don’t be so stiff while we’re playing. This isn’t class…”
“Haha… understood.”
His expression still wasn’t completely relaxed, but it had softened a little. While the two of them looked at each other, the number hit zero.