Second Preliminaries (6)

"See that? The order is a little different from what we watched earlier."

"There's cast time before the skill actually fires, so she reeled the opponent in with the Chain-Sickle first."

"If you look closely, Ga-wol's own viable positions were pretty limited too."

"Landing a combo this precise is impressive enough on its own, but I'd give even higher marks for the way she constructed the whole setup."

"Huuu…"

A satisfying sound kept rolling out of the video I'd left playing. Nobody had noticed before, and I'd been quietly disappointed about that — so it felt good, finally, to watch my effort catch the light.

I'd practiced hard for this too. The effect on the new item had looked promising.

Still, I had no intention of bringing the Chain-Sickle out again for a while. Weapons like this only accumulated more counters the more often you showed them. I'd stamped its existence into people's minds; that was enough. Factoring in that the main bracket ran as a group stage, I needed to save it. Whoever I met then would come loaded with analysis. The more cards I had left to play, the better.

"Do we even need to cover rounds two and three?"

"They were a bit lacking next to Camellia, weren't they?"

"I'll just hit the highlights."

"Honestly, this side felt like pure physical stomping."

The opponents after Camellia really hadn't been anything special. Not bad players — just no particular flavor to them. Even their nicknames were needlessly complicated, the kind that refused to stick in memory.

And just like that, it was already round four.

By now Sulbbang and Elderin had probably started their stream, filling the dead air with small talk. At first the idea of my matches being broadcast had made me pretty nervous, but I'd gotten used to it — used enough that I could even watch other people's footage while I waited for a match to pop.

Truthfully, this was more comfortable than watching the two of them live. Different weight. Thinking about all those numbers as people who'd come specifically to watch me made something lurch in my stomach. I much preferred checking the reactions after a broadcast was over.

Obviously I wouldn't look if I lost. And I wouldn't look if the reaction seemed bad, either.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn't used to be this fragile. Maybe I'd spent too long living alone.

If I won this tournament, would the thirst ease a little? I didn't know. Part of me was afraid it would just be like drinking seawater — making everything worse.

No. Once my thoughts started sliding that direction, there was no end to it.

I cut the spiral off on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠purpose, but I was going to have to admit it sooner or later. My mind wasn't as solid as it used to be. I startled easily, sank easily, got swept up in feeling easily. Too much of it was already rusted through or rotting — hard to even know where to start fixing.

…Right. I'd told myself to think about something else, and here I was digging the same hole again.

Fortunately, a whisper from Elderin arrived at exactly the right moment and snapped the thread.

"It's fine. I haven't even entered the match yet. What's up?"

"Luce? The pro gamer Luce?"

That alone was enough to pour tension back into my slack nerves.

There was nothing to think about.

Luce was going to watch my match? With her stream on?

My eyes went wide on their own. All I needed was a little composure — just enough control over my face and voice that the excitement wouldn't show.

"I don't mind. Tell her thanks."

Of course. I was going to win no matter what.

A dark, damp space. The moment combat began, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠torches mounted on the walls cast a faint glow.

A search phase opened — both of us hunting for the other first. By now the opponent would be slipping between the shadows looking for me too. I moved carefully, giving nothing away, sometimes clinging to a pillar or the ceiling as I inched forward.

True to its name, Shadow Hall was a battlefield of stark light and dark. All outside light was sealed off; without some other means, you had to rely entirely on the torches. And those torches could snuff out at random, or plunge the whole map into absolute black without warning. Staying calm under constantly shifting light was the whole game. With both of us on assassin-type classes, a single flicker of chance could decide everything.

Have we already crossed paths once? Or is she somewhere nearby?

If you walked carefully, the floor of Shadow Hall made no sound. That didn't mean there was nothing to go on. Dust, for instance. Ash from the torches settled into faint footprints.

I stopped moving and held my breath.

I had the edge in this first search. A Kunoichi traded away part of an Assassin's kit for ninjutsu. In stealth and close-range traits, I should have the advantage — assuming no variables got in the way.

"…!"

"Tsk."

Every torch on the battlefield flared at once. Light roared up, every shadow vanished, and both of our positions lit up clear as day. The enemy was much closer than I'd expected — a revealing outfit half-covered by a fluttering white ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠robe. We spotted each other at a distance a single leap could close.

Ambush was off the table. I closed the gap immediately, batting her thrown weapons aside with my daggers — a clean parry. I knocked all three shuriken away, but one of the ones that glanced off had a talisman stuck to it. A small explosion went off, and the blast pressure shoved my body back.

This was exactly why a small body was inconvenient. The damage I'd just taken was maybe three percent of my max HP — a scratch, once you factored in natural recovery. But my frame was so light that the blast had shoved me clean back. Closing the distance on the Kunoichi failed.

For an assassin-type class, that was more than enough time to set up a real skill. To make matters worse, half the torches went out and swallowed her silhouette. Great. I needed at least a glimpse of what was coming next if I wanted to answer it. Battlefield luck was clearly not on my side today.

"This time… just call it bad luck."

Her voice came from behind me. The calculation in my head finished at the same instant.

One hit like this wasn't going to kill me. If the attack was hard to dodge, better to close in further and at least protect my vitals. I offered up my right shoulder and counterattacked from the other side at the same time. Heat bloomed through the stabbed shoulder like a branding iron. Fine. Manageable.

What mattered more was the feedback in my left dagger. Thigh or side, probably. I couldn't see it cleanly, but it didn't matter. From here on, petty wounds like that were going to stop mattering.

Fine. Let's make this a mud fight. I'd make her regret closing the distance so carelessly.

I shoved my whole body backward until the Kunoichi and I were pressed flush together. At this range, neither of us could fire off a main skill. Anyone clumsy enough to waste that cast window wouldn't have made it this far.

The hunger for victory lied to my senses like a drug. Something hotter than the dizzying pain in my shoulder set my blood boiling.

"Got you."

"You lunatic—!"

I twisted, seized her waist, and dragged us both to the floor. My own waist took a few stabs, but I carved a long line from her ankle up through her thigh. At some point my right arm stopped moving — a tendon, maybe, or some other critical hit flag rendering it useless. From the feeling of it, everything from the wrist through the forearm was gone. I'd disabled her left arm in the same stretch, so it was a fair trade.

"You can call it bad luck too!"

Why was I like this? Every part of my body was screaming, and still my mouth was smiling.

Point-blank now — no way to separate. Both of us still had weapons in hand, and neither could defend. All that remained was a carving contest that wouldn't end until one of us died.

With a sickening sound, daggers — kunai — tore into flesh. Protect the vitals somehow, land one more hit, just one more. My left hand felt the nauseating give of meat and muscle parting. At the same time, something horrible and foreign wedged between the ribs on my right side. The pain that came with it made it hard to breathe. Every time a blade sank home, both of our HP bars hemorrhaged at a mad rate.

And then — at last — my dagger punched through the Kunoichi's throat. A blood-slick kunai stopped just short of my own neck. Her lifeless arm went slack and dropped, the weapon clattering across the floor. Only then could I stop my own arm.

"Pffheh…"

All the pain vanished as if everything up to that point had been an illusion. Even so, I stayed down for a long time, clutching my trembling arms.

And yet.

Even so.

I felt so good I could have floated away. I hugged both arms tight against myself and laughed.