The Frenzy of the Second Step
The word frenzy in the title selection said it all—the gallery's reaction hit me pretty hard. Not in a "Whoa, I'm getting this much attention? Awesome!" kind of way, but my eyes just plain hurt. Trying to take in the flood of text at once was a crime too big to forgive.
Of course, you could ask just how bad it was to cause this much fuss. Well...
"......"
Yeah. While I was reading one comment, dozens more were piling up. The miracle of feeding five thousand with five loaves wasn't far off. Communities are often judged by their firepower, and by that metric, this War Commanders Gallery could qualify as a mega-gallery.
Of course, watching this spectacle, I couldn't care less about mega or whatever—I just wished they'd chill the fuck out a bit.
Anyway.
"Fuck."
I regretted it. Should've started the first comment with a question instead. Sure, someone might say "You're dying over this?" but this was a livelihood question for me. I might come off like a bullshit artist, but I'm actually in a pretty desperate spot.
So getting buried under recreational comments (close to concern, but still) was a major issue.
But there was a way.
'To control the flow, don't fight it—create a new one.'
Right. To flip this board, I needed drastic measures.
No hesitation. I hit the back button to the main page, clicked the pencil icon, and decided to start a new post. Quick, clean, correct decision—no frills.
The gallery vets would've applauded my maneuverability, right? Disagree? Whatever.
Anyway, with the window open, I typed the title, hoping for some traffic control.
Just kidding, fuck, I'll explain everything later so everyone stop for now!
I kept going along the lines of "Okay, I get it, calm down," and they seemed to buy it, shifting from questions to more targeted ones.
'Ahem.' Kinda clumsy explanation.
'Overwhelming victory.' What kind of overwhelming vocab is that? If I had to phrase it, maybe "Enemy battalion advancing straight up the hill was annihilated. Minimal friendly losses." Something like that.
But I'm not used to this lingo yet. I know it in my head, but it hasn't sunk into my body. ...Honestly, feels a bit chuunibyou too.
How often does a 21st-century normie use words like "annihilated" or "routed"? Cut me some slack.
Of course, that's no excuse. And the gallery seemed to agree.
They started probing deeper, demanding a clearer report.
Summing up the gallery's point: "You didn't mistake their pullback for victory, right?"
If twisted, it sounded like "Your eyes are shit, can't trust 'em." But honestly, my eyes are shit, so getting it clarified wasn't annoying.
I'm not that petty. Besides, I could see why they were double-checking. Unlike me on-site, they had filtered info—classic info asymmetry.
Plus, knowing I suck at military stuff, "Noob crushed the enemy!" was less convincing than "Is this guy deluded?"
To fix that, I needed to share my view. So before explaining, I snapped a pic of the scene and uploaded it.
Even to me, the ambush-volley-bayonet charge went perfectly. They probably dove deeper and without hesitation than expected, amplifying the effect.
As I slowly explained, an idea hit me.
'This victory punched a hole in their encirclement. Send some troops to hit their rear?'
That was—flanking.
Anyone who's played battle royale knows its power and viciousness. Hard-learned from blood, tears, and salt.
Gulp. Rare good idea. I posted it right away.
And I was kinda hoping for praise. Figuring out the unmentioned part and planning ahead? Worth some positives, right?
But the replies crushed that hope.
Fierce pushback. Seeing such urgent walls of text made me feel guilty. To them, I must look like a kid by the water's edge.
"...Tch."
I scratched the flanking idea from my head. Ambitious plan dashed—bitter, but the battlefield's blood and gunpowder scent snapped me out of it quick.
Plus, no time to sulk; needed the next move.
I asked straight up.
Fair. I'm adapting too; they'll do the same. Sticking blindly to my plan would be like flailing punches blindfolded.
'Dodged a bullet by asking.'
Sighing in agreement with their thinking, another snag hit me.
...Wait, didn't I already hear the flankers were advancing straight in?
......
Realizing my huge fuckup, I added casually, with some humor:
No brushing it off, but admitting "I'm the idiot" upfront softens the backlash.
'Still embarrassing as fuck.'
Couldn't hide the shame. I cleared my throat pointlessly, waiting for replies.
Replies after trailed off without big changes. Direction set.
Flash—
Advice absorbed, I closed the window.
"Now for the second..."
I knew better than to slack after one win. That victory wasn't mine—troops' and gallery's. No claiming credit on a free ride.
Gamblers who mistake luck for skill crash hard. To avoid ruin, stay objective.
Having grasped this subtlety, I slapped my cheeks and muttered:
"Hmm~ I'm total cannon fodder. Snap to it."
Mentally geared up, body felt lighter. All set, I stepped toward the decisive spot.
The noonday sun blazed blindingly.