Chicken Game in the Alleys
Narrow alleyways wove through the labyrinthine city like a spider's web, tight enough for barely one person to squeeze through. A burly man in full plate armor hugged the wall, hands raised in a crab-like stance as he edged out. He scanned the street's end, the rooftops, every angle—bracing for an ambush that could strike from anywhere.
Just as he exhaled in relief, a shadow darted from the gap between buildings opposite. The warrior stifled a bitter laugh at the shield knight blocking the path to Yggdrasil. Of all things, a shield knight.
Shield knights fell under the sword-and-shield class, but in story mode, they were the ultimate counters to warriors—pouring everything into defense, stamina, and shield skills. The man had devised a sharp strategy, slipping behind the enemy base while everyone fixated on the Apia Avenue battle. Yet even this had been read by his foe.
In open wilderness, the matchup might favor the warrior. But in a space restricting lateral movement, it was a different story. The knight just had to hold with his shield to break even; the warrior had to break through. No choices left for the warrior. Time wasn't on his side. Above all, he wanted to wipe that smug look off the enemy's face.
Break through. He resolved and acted swiftly, yanking his greatsword back and charging full-force at the cross-emblazoned shield. Aura charge, heavy attack. He initiated the motion for Vertical Head Cut (Scheitelhauw).
As he rushed, he watched the shield knight's reaction. Unmoving. Refusing to yield the positional advantage. Textbook response. But both greatsword warriors and shield knights knew this cold.
The warrior changed first. Abandoning the spent qi, he canceled the skill. The shield knight held firm. Even from behind the shield, his calm seeped through. He'd block to the end, no doubt.
An unfair game of chicken. The warrior threw his gamble: Rising Cut (Unterhauw).
The knight's shield twitched. It signaled intent to use a technique for batting away distant heavy attacks—against a shield, no less. Caught off-guard by the unexpected move, the knight's response lagged.
A clean strike from Nabenhuet, through Ringen, ending in Einhorn. Action assist applied perfectly.
Clang—As expected, the attack met the sturdy shield. But the shield knight overlooked that Unterhauw could pressure foes too. The curse of specialization. A gimmick born because no human could master every class.
As the shield flew upward from the blow, the knight instinctively pulled it back with his body. The warrior's lip curled faintly. Complete the Unterhauw, and the blade tips upward at an angle.
The warrior activated his skill. Preceding Wrath Cut (Zornhauw) with 'Lightweight'. His heavy-armored body floated up about a meter. At the moment the sword cleared the alley wall, it regained horizontal freedom.
Sword flung back wide, rear leg bent. Diagonal Downward Slash. Something even sword-illiterates swung instinctively—but powerful enough to shatter other cuts with its tip.
The shield knight got caught in the backswing. The outcome was scripted.
Bam—The shield rocketed away from the mighty blow. A shieldless shield knight was a turtle stripped of its shell.
No stopping now. At the enemy's most vulnerable, the warrior chained his fastest attack—a frame he'd ignore with a shield present. Time to cure shield knights of their "block only heavies" bad habit.
Cling—Bam—Parrying a massive greatsword with a one-hander? Absurd. The warrior was certain of victory from this instant. The foe was already crumbling mentally and physically.
The knight staggered under repeated assaults. But the warrior pressed on relentlessly. 'Risk life on a parry? Or greed for a long-cast tech?' Neither was right.
Suddenly, the shield knight's hand went to his waist. Remembering he didn't need to win—just survive. Having heard of their main force's 5v5 victory, he chose retreat over shield.
He stepped back. Shieldless, he'd deflect what he could, tank lightly otherwise—avoiding lethals.
The knight unfurled a scroll with a rustle, but nothing happened. The warrior's feral glare mocked him.
Cornered players—bronze or master—always grab 'Blink' scrolls first.
"You're chickening out—no parry, huh?"
The warrior had anticipated, countering with magic nullification field. Then he roared.
"You damn bastard! Break you, and it's Challenger! Challenger!"
The warrior hoisted his weapon skyward. The gleaming greatsword absorbed sunlight, morphing into a life-reaping guillotine. Strength drained from his wrists. The hilt spun lazily, but the blade howled with fierce wind.
Resignation filled the knight's crumbling stance. Blood sprayed beyond the screen.
Having watched the touching saga unfold, I shut off the screen and took a break.
'They play intense.'
One viewing wasn't enough to parse every interface, action, or intent. But the man's burning Challenger ambition burned through to me.
Different from the game I'd imagined. No magic in multiplayer? That 'laurel wreath' sync magic must be single-player only. Scrolls couldn't cast everything either.
The game listed 128 magics to pick one from, but with 12 players—allies and foes—packing Blink, magic's viability was questionable.
"Nom." I popped the strawberry Professor Cheon speared and offered on his fork.
"Is that a game? Looks pretty brutal."
Fair—uncensored limb-severing and blood geysers might unsettle the faint-hearted. Easy fix for my playthrough: tweak settings.
"Under-15s see it different. Like this—bubbles bubbling." I wiggled my hands, twiddling fingers to mimic foam.
"Bubbling bubbling. And you can pop 'em like pop pop. Blood turns to cute soap bubbles, poof. Limbs don't sever; they go ghostly transparent. But Professor Cheon still looked uneasy.
"If you oppose it, I won't do multiplayer."
I replied in a wilted tone, but he was firm.
"Story mode's all-ages, right? No issues with Rora either."
Even seven-year-old Rora played fine. Cute backgrounds, easy difficulty—no brutality vibes.
Professor Cheon pointed at the screen. "What's the game called?"
"World of Arceria."
"Ah, I've heard of it. All the middle and high schoolers play it, yeah?"
Last resort: all-ages trailer. "It's an exploration game originally. See—academy enrollment, making friends, hunting together, stargazing at the observatory..."
The video showed an elf protagonist admiring constellations with academy pals under a starry sky. Ironic—city lights blot stars, but the game offered pristine night skies.
"Ooh... The backgrounds are gorgeous."
"Right? Right?"
"But solo? What's fun about that? Better with friends."
"I play fine alone. So, simple session till bedtime?"
"Fine, but no later than midnight sharp."
"Got it."
No issue—late nights mess school anyway. Rising to head to my room, Professor Cheon handed another fruit fork.
"Here, one last strawberry before play."
"Ahh~"