Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Place Where the Best Player Belongs
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The moment she put on the VR Device...
'So this is what it feels like.'
A floating sensation washed over her body for a moment, and soon she found herself transported not to the PC bang, but to a simple single room.
Amidst it all, the familiar input interfaces—a mouse and keyboard—were neatly placed on a desk in the center of the room.
She was a bit puzzled by the absence of a monitor, but when a screen-like display filled one entire wall of the room, any lingering unease vanished.
As always, she double-clicked the LOC icon on the screen, then connected to the voice chat channel of her school friends that she'd noted beforehand.
Of course, she didn't say much.
She knew they'd fire back with a dozen sentences if she said even one word.
Expecting self-control from guys who'd eagerly jump into a game just because a girl they barely knew suggested it was asking too much.
Of course, that didn't mean she planned to leave them like that.
'It's all about real skill anyway.'
Whether pros, streamers, or even friends like now, in the game, the best player is king.
Anyway, once she finished adjusting the mouse and keyboard sensitivity, she was suddenly invited to a Free Rank 5-man queue.
The room leader was, naturally, Jung Ji-hwan, with the highest rank.
Of course, she remembered him by another name.
'...Plook.'
LOCK—League of Champions Korea—the guy who'd won the Korean first league 5 times, taken 2 invitational international tournaments mid-season, and snagged MVPs like they were daily meals.
But the moniker people gave him had nothing to do with those achievements.
He claimed his nickname "Plook" came from the English name for flounder, but it shared the spelling with "Plook," the Korean slang for show-off, leaving no room for denial.
Of course, the reason he ended up with an insult worse than a curse was obvious.
'Because there's no LOC World Cup.'
To be precise, he'd made it to the finals three times.
Lost to Chinese teams twice, and the third time—the last World Cup right before the update halt announcement—he lost to her, forever barring him from the LOC World Cup.
There were many tragic figures in LOC history, but if she had to pick, he was the last tragic player.
Lost in memories, the queue popped quickly.
With the screen filling an entire wall, a program displaying the opponents' solo queue tiers and records was attached right next to the ban/pick screen.
Their team: Top Grandmaster, mid Diamond, jungle Silver, ADC Diamond, support Diamond.
For reference, she was naturally the Silver jungle.
Since she hadn't run ranked games yet, having the placement tier from her player-fan days wasn't strange.
Anyway, opponents: Diamond, Diamond, Master, Diamond, Master.
"...Isn't the enemy mid Master?"
"Your MMR adjustment because of you, Ji-hwan, made the enemies super tough!"
"Bullshit."
Probably to balance total team strength, she suddenly got matched against a Master.
"...You really gonna jungle?"
Ji-hwan was suggesting a swap, worried she'd get smashed in lane fights from the start, but that wouldn't happen, so it didn't matter.
"I'm better at jungle than you."
It was a fact verified in front of over 30,000 spectators, so they could trust it.
"A Silver?"
"......I'm escaping soon?"
Not escaping— she'd rocket straight to Challenger.
Naturally, he didn't believe her, but he'd find out soon enough.
So she locked in right away.
What appeared in her pick screen was a female assassin champion with her hair neatly tied up in a ponytail.
One of those blade champs where physical skill and judgment were key.
"This is my first game in VR, so go easy and keep it even while I get used to it."
The voice channel got noisier than during picks.
The top matchup was a tier gap where confrontation didn't even make sense.
If he wanted, he could stall the enemy to death or snag a kill like grabbing a snack, so she didn't want the game exploding over top difference.
"So just play something sturdy."
"......No carry needed?"
"Then why play?"
"......"
Fortunately, without those long-range ones yet, "sturdy" meant pure tanks with no damage.
Ji-hwan went quiet, probably wanting to see what she'd do, and just picked as instructed.
The rest? Their lanes were similar tiers anyway, so no need for more input.
And so, the game began.
Of course, as soon as the game started, the goal was victory.
Trolls might have other aims, but in a 5-man queue, no trolls in team.
'...Or not?'
From Ji-hwan's view, a Silver jungler confidently trading with a Master mid laner screamed troll.
'Can't help either.'
Just watching the enemy's movement, no matter the champ, he could crush them and roam anywhere.
But that would break Eun-seol's words.
'...I'll watch till the game slips away, for real.'
If he salvaged a win before it was hopeless, she might get genuinely interested in the game, and he'd get the victory too—not bad.
All four thought similarly.
That was the plan anyway.
The kill log popping up less than five minutes in went completely against what Ji-hwan and the other three expected.
Having devoted her life to LOC, a thrill ran through her the instant she saw the first kill log.
'Movements feel light.'
Switching from Top-Down View to First-Person right before combat, she was now facing the enemy on mid lane in Twisted Canyon.
No need to press skill buttons—just think, and as long as cooldowns were up, her body moved immediately, feeling more fluid and smooth.
Even curved movements impossible with clicks were effortlessly graceful.
'Skill movement correction is solid... and for dodging, First-Person is way more responsive.'
Top-Down View was better for landing non-target skills sometimes.
But dodging was different.
Skill evasion relied on reaction speed and prediction.
First-Person sent signals straight from brain to movement, skipping keyboard/mouse, so reactions were faster. And with precursory motions visible up close, dodging was a breeze—no prediction needed.
'Pros must all have reactions like this...'
All that was left was getting used to quick switches and mixes between Top-Down and First-Person.
Her practice dummy? The enemy champion right in front of her—a shield soldier.
And so, before even ten minutes passed, he repeatedly executed quick retreats to the safe backline.
Of course, not by choice.
Securing quick surrenders like that, they won two or three more games in a row, and she logged off LOC.
No time left for more. They all skipped academies or whatever, but that pricked her conscience.
"No, seriously, what's your skill?"
"Duo with me!"
"Please get me to Master..."
She brushed off the swarming guys like shielding from girlfriends and stretched.
Her body felt oddly sore, more than usual.
"Rest at home and practice."
"Had fun?"
"Our school kids are pretty good at LOC, huh?"
Said for the ones who joined her sake.
They looked disappointed at first, but grinned at her words.
Amateur level only, but they'd humored her stubbornness at the start, so compliments were endless.
She closed the last game's results and tried to stand—
"Huh?"
—then plopped back down.
"Calling boys over for games, now doing physical comedy?"
Eun-chae giggled.
She tried standing again, but her body wouldn't respond properly.
"......You're really new to LOC."
Ji-hwan, seeing her state, asked with a shocked face.
"Precisely, first time with this on my head."
"I know. Your body's screaming it."
"What's wrong with my body?"
"You didn't read the VR Device precautions?"
"...Probably not?"
She had no memory of it.
Quickly pulling up search on the still-free computer, she scrolled through VR Device warnings.
"Insufficient stamina or special conditions with excessive use... muscle pain and full-body aches?"
What the hell.
"The device gives electrical stimulation to your whole body."
Skipping complex science, simply put:
If base strength and stamina were sufficient, play made your body sturdier like electrotherapy. If not, you ended up like her.
"...Tch."
She glanced over her body.
White skin, slender legs, soft flesh, curves where they should be.
But the one thing completely absent...
"If you wanna go pro, build strength and base stamina first."
"......"
Looks like begging Dad first wasn't for the latest VR Device, but workout gear.
No wonder pro gamers at matches looked different from her memories.
"And you're seriously going pro?"
"You watched me crush top while you spectated my lane whole game, so you know."
"......Then, if interested, contact this."
Ji-hwan pondered, then pulled a business card from his inner pocket.
"Milky Way S......"
"Scout's card. At your level—"
Before he finished, she shoved it back into his pocket.
"Absolutely. Not. Going."
The place for the best player is ST Gaming.
Always.
"So don't go there either. Just come to ST Academy top."
"What?"
"LOC World Cup. I'll make you win."
At least higher chance than now.
Because she'd be there.