180 - Endgame

"Yes, Professor Hwang. Thank you so much for your help. Yes, yes, I'll make sure to visit when I have time."

It had been four years since Raon Clan's leader collapsed from a myocardial infarction and ended up bedridden. Kim Seok-il, who had been acting as clan leader in his father's stead, finished his phone call with Professor Hwang Bo-heum of the Seferon Foundation and slowly stroked his chin.

'Second year? Elementary division...?'

Kim Seok-il, the acting clan leader, couldn't help but burst into incredulous laughter at Professor Hwang's words. A deep sigh followed, one that made all his efforts to scout NoName by poking around various academies feel utterly futile.

Exceptional mages were practically walking corporations in their own right. There was that famous article about a young theoretical mage in 'Raon' paying 20 billion won in income tax alone last year. But like any clan, Raon was just a loose association of individuals, treated under tax law as a joint business venture where multiple people worked under one umbrella. So even if it irked him as clan leader that they disclosed their income so freely, it wasn't an area he could touch. It was their personal freedom, after all.

Put another way, every single talent was precious to a clan. Someone who wielded 5th Circle magic, possessed broad knowledge in pure academia, and had even developed their own unique magic—it was only natural to salivate over them regardless of age. Other conservative clans might feel differently, but Kim Seok-il trusted his own judgment firmly enough to resolve to recruit NoName.

Since academy affiliates wouldn't talk due to that damned 'oath,' he resorted to his usual backdoor methods: targeting people in ambiguous positions—affiliated with the foundation yet not quite. His mark was Professor Hwang Bo-heum, a Princeton magic department chair who'd served as Seferon Foundation admissions officer for the past three years. And the revelations spilling from him were a nonstop shock.

'Seferon Academy second year... that means the kid's in the same class as my nephew...!'

His youngest brother's son, snot-nosed Kim Han-geol, should be in elementary second year right now. It was certain—last spring, he'd gifted the boy a portable transmutation circle drafter as an academy enrollment present.

Kim Seok-il counted in his head from one. But the numbers fizzled out weakly before reaching eight.

"What was I doing at eight? Probably just eating dirt."

What he'd only meant to think slipped out aloud. But the study wasn't silent with just his voice.

Channel 172 on Twisty TV.

The League of Legends that Kim Seok-il had loved so much as a kid he'd skip school for was now reborn as Legacy of Legend, carrying on even into virtual reality. The amateur tournament radiated an intensity and crowd heat that belied its status. And the culprit tormenting him right now ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was casually gaming down there.

Common sense dictated dismissing Professor Hwang as senile. But when he'd heard NoName's adoptive father's name, Kim Seok-il couldn't shake the unease.

Cheon Kyu-jin. Formerly Cheon Byeong-ho.

The Yamim Noraim War of the early 2020s—or the Fifth Middle East War. Korea had been one of the participating nations. Young folks nowadays might not know, but thirty years ago, several were hailed as war heroes. Like Ham Chorong, the 21st century's greatest genius, along with Park Tae-seok, Kim Ung, Gu On-yu, Cheon Byeong-ho, and others. All but Ham Chorong were forgotten names now, but Kim Seok-il, who lived through that era, knew how extraordinary they were.

Why ghosts of the past were resurfacing, he couldn't say. He set down his tea and refocused on the young players' squabble.

"Nami..."

"I'll play better. You just do your usual, Sia."

"Got it! Let's go all the way!"

They'd banned Asteria every game until suddenly freeing her in the finals. And with Joy-Rel plus Nautilus support, the enemy was marking me hard—exploiting our team's weakness perfectly.

"Coming in undefeated and eating a 3-0 in finals would suck."

The enemy bot duo's childish taunt, showmanship style. Teams with one win pattern had limits. We were at a disadvantage, so Sia ground her teeth quietly, but I saw no reason to back down.

"Wouldn't losing win-streak after win-streak feel way more unfair?"

"Hohoho! NoName, you're so cute! Even if we lose this one, don't hate us too much—maybe collab stream sometime? Or I got LCK tickets; wanna go next week?"

"Don't you target Nami! Quit talking to the kid and scram—shoo shoo!"

Sia, in her stocky champ, grabbed my leg and shoved the enemy away. Thirty seconds later, voice chat would close, and laning would kick off for real. I took a deep breath and asked myself: Nervous? Anyone would be. So ignore emotions. Focus on immersion. No more room to retreat—engrave it cell-deep.

"For a date, try someone older than me."

Voice cut, and the arena's roar shook the earth.

Keep thinking, keep affirming. I'm not NoName—I'm Asteria. Every action solely to raze the enemy nexus.

The six minions clashed mid-plain. I rolled my eyes nonstop, cramming every scrap of info into my brain: minion distances, targets, champ gaps, directions, mana, health, speed, range—even their eyes.

"Hoo..."

Breath barely out, I called Sia and dove in. I'd been too obsessed with "don't die," fixating on enemy jungler. Time to flip it. We're not perfect; neither are they. Go aggressive from level 1.

Enemy eyes flashed panic. Chicken game: first to stop attacking gets forced into disadvantage. They knew, so health whittled away steadily.

"Position's too deep!"

Sia's advice echoed. Last game, I'd pull back here—but I shoved the wave forward. Time to gamble. Push so hard they think we'll counter-gank if jungler comes. Dodge turret lasers, stack Celcore passive. 30%. Not enough. Isolate myself deep to lure them out. Victory needs big uncertain gains, not petty sure ones. Team won't wait for small plays. Adapt to them.

"What, this pressure...!"

Enemy retreats, slips between turret and wall. Can't miss.

"Sia, now!"

With their movement locked, I pierced turret fire for the kill. Aimed 'Star Destroyer' barrel point-blank. Possession at 90%—near 100%. Calm, steady. Three autos: two on support, one on ADC. At 100%, drop W for escape. Tiny error lets them flee. High-risk gamble. But Asteria lost her family, blinded by revenge. No-backseat play is her essence.

Starlight poured from the sky. Winds whipped cheeks, dust swirled. Limited vision, but prey locked. Recalled scattered star shards, lunged body-first at their heart.

Don't fixate present—think future. Me in 5 seconds, 10, a minute. Ponder where future-me belongs, absorb shockwave whole when I downed them.

Enemy support flashes out on a sliver. Go again? Calc quick.

Turret's five-stack laser. Healed spell returns same time. Precisely 550 HP off—survived.

"Top, mind jungler spot. Mid reaches side bush in 6 seconds."

Order out, enemy jungler bursts bot. Came to check after camps, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ate dive—desperate to recoup. In range, no smite. No spells confirmed.

"Catchable. Keep pushing."

"This HP? Aaaah, whatever!"

Sia at 320 HP, me at 19. Enemy at 445. Means...

"Enough."

All skills plus two autos—one cycle kill. They E-shield max. HP dances 3-50, precarious. Killing intent shifts to me from the tanking champ. One last hit anyway.

Flash—they blink me as Sia skills. Final auto misses.

"Hup!"

Q grounds left or right. Read eyes. Split time microseconds, predict next hit. Instant I halt, plant champ.

Spike erupts beside me.

"Predictable."

Mana bolt to their stunned forehead.

"Shouldn't have fought at lvl 1—my bad."

"Avoid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that, we're good."

Can't win lane without snagging their ranged DPS sans Asteria. NoName's Asteria mastery means she bites if freed—easy ban-pick counter. So set 4 starts with sides swapped.

"Why's Asteria so broken! Total BS champ—why no more nerfs?!"

"No... I've played LoL over 10 years, never seen a tank eat 4 autos and die?"

Asteria the culprit again. Final set 5.

[11...]

Countdown ticks under 10. NoName's final pick to end the long Fall Tournament journey. Some say go Asteria for the five-set complete; others cry for Tristana mustard.

[2...]

[1...]

One second left—NoName's champ stuns the hundreds of thousands.

"Huh? Irelia? Wait—mid Irelia and ADC Trist?"

"Yup. Top's Azir. But Mi-Ro-King never played Irelia in scrims—hope it's fine."

"Wait—swap didn't happen...? Observer bug?"

"Wha-wha? No way—ADC Irelia?!"

"Mid Trist, ADC Irelia! Game's proceeding like this—yes!"

"Woooah... wooo... WOOOOOAH! NoName's insane!"

"Fall finals set 5—ADC Akshan vs ADC Irelia...!"

"Whichever wins, MVP's bot duo—bold prediction!"

"Agreed! Wow... NoName. Unpredictable player. Remember beating Payso's Irel-Fiora 1v1?"

"That VTube-torching mad movie—no one missed it! Set 5 starts now—big cheers, everyone!"