Main Tournament Group Stage (5)

After wrapping up my little rant, I bought a bottle of soju from the convenience store.

Even this was a luxury I could only afford now that my wallet had gotten a little fatter.

Sitting on a bench with a cool breeze blowing, I took a sip—and the taste was revolting.

"Ugh. Euugh?"

My reunion with soju after several years was an absolute disaster. Had soju always tasted this weird? It wasn't like I'd ever drunk it because it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tasted good, but the difference in how it hit me now was so stark it left me flustered. The chemical tang unique to alcohol was hard to stomach. If it at least had a strong sweetness to it, maybe...

Ah, so that's why women drink those fruit sojus?

I felt like I'd stumbled onto some uncomfortable realization. I never expected to feel the changes in my body even in a place like this. Still, I'd already bought the booze. I wasn't about to throw it away.

As I drank, the community was full of posts about me here and there. They seemed to expect I wouldn't win. I thought things might change after I took down Rime, but apparently I still fell short of Ripper's reputation. Well, European teams had been strong against Korea for a while now. Given everything that had built up over time, I could understand. From that foundation, all sorts of ridiculous pledges were popping up.

I screenshotted the posts and went back to gulping down the soju.

I'll make sure you guys eat those words.

"Hmph. I can win. Who in the world is unbeatable?"

Am I a lightweight? Whether the alcohol was hitting fast or my emotions were surging, something rose up hard. Before I knew it, the soju bottle was already showing its bottom.

Looking back, my friend really was a monster. The first opponent who made me feel that sense of hopelessness. I couldn't even begin to figure out how to beat him. I felt despair, but soon I was desperately searching for a way to win.

Just poking from a distance, charging in like a rabid dog, overtraining to bulk up and getting scolded for it...

I really tried everything I could. Every time, every single one of my openings was dragged out into the open and I lost, of course. Then I'd shore up those weaknesses and charge in with a new approach.

Reaction speed, dynamic vision, strength, stamina, agility—physical stats? Obviously ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I had to keep up. If even one fell short, the whole conversation fell apart. Those were the basics. Since my opponent wasn't human, I had to at least reach the absolute limit of what a human could be.

Next, I had to see the things I hadn't been seeing. No matter how strong the opponent, they can't hide everything. Before you pull your arm back, the muscles in your back move first. Before you throw a fake, you have to check the attack position in advance. Mind games ultimately came down to who gathered more clues.

From pure power struggles to endurance battles, psychological warfare, brawls... by picking fights in every domain, I started catching up in some areas. So what I'm best at isn't a setup that simply relies on physicals. It was the opposite. My entire pro career was time spent figuring out how to beat opponents who surpassed me in every ability. A playstyle like Ripper's—finding and stabbing at the opponent's openings—was exactly the direction I'd been pursuing since my player days.

"Pfft..."

I was in a strangely good mood today. Must be the alcohol, obviously. So I did something I normally wouldn't. I logged into an account I'd created but never used, and immediately hit the post button.

Today's order had the losers' bracket matches before the winners' bracket that included me. In Group E, a furious Rime took down Fury and won. One person eliminated, one person got a new chance. After the last losers' bracket match, it was my turn.

The casters raised their energy the moment they saw my name.

"Next up... the match you've all been waiting for. It's been rapidly gaining attention since yesterday, right? The match between Ripper and Ga-wol."

"An already thrilling match has drawn even more eyes for external reasons. I'm curious how this will play out myself."

The casters must have seen the post I made. My face was burning, but I calmed down quickly. I can't beat Ripper with my mind elsewhere on weird stuff. Once I slowly settled my heart, the casters' voices faded away. I finished my final check for any mistakes and prepared for the battle ahead.

The battlefield where I'd fought Camellia in the second preliminaries. Lots of tree branches, making concealment and aerial mobility easy, and a place where mana recovery speeds up. Even among assassin-type classes, I had the advantage in the scouting phase. It's a difference that can be overcome, but knowing Ripper, he won't step into a fight that's disadvantageous for him. If I can eliminate one of the opponent's advantages from the start, that's already a gain.

Sure enough, thick fog had settled in the middle of the great forest. He'd given up on completely hiding himself and was instead trying to lure me into the fog. But I have a different answer. I've analyzed you thoroughly—have you done the same for me? I decided to throw out a light question.

This is the second time using it in the Arena, but I haven't been letting the Chain-Sickle gather dust. I've been practicing continuously because I thought it would make a good card. Just like you avoided a dangerous scouting battle, I have no intention of walking into that dangerous fog. If you can dodge it all, go ahead and try. I'll swing wildly, so.

I slammed down one of the assassin's few area-of-effect skills like a bombardment. Pitch-black chains pounded the earth endlessly, strand after strand, and the ground turned into a red-green mire. My Chain-Sickle cut through the fog and roughly found Ripper's position.

Hit. Along with the system message, a tingle ran through my fingertips. The chain that had tasted the enemy's blood growled. Yeah. It had to turn out like this. An attack I threw out so hastily that even I, the user, couldn't fully track it all. With the mana recovery rate boosting me, dodging ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all of this after seeing it is just not possible.

I immediately adjusted the skill's position toward where the chain had resonated. A little further forward than the expected position. He'd want to close the distance right away, after all. The moving chains started being reeled back toward me.

The Chain-Sickle I use is different from reality—it utilizes the blade attached to the end of the chain. So it has overwhelming range, but no weapon in the world has only advantages. If the situation turns into close combat, responding becomes difficult. Exactly a situation like this.

"Fast."

"......"

"I'm not late either, though."

From the edge of the fog, Ripper's form appeared even faster than my chains. The boy who had briefly shown himself and vanished was already charging toward me. His target was from the neck to the heart. The chilling blades of his claws came flying without mercy.

No need to dodge. From the hand not holding the chain, I lightly flicked out a dagger. I thrust it forward playfully—and the two weapons stopped with only the thinnest of gaps between them. Ripper's form vanished into fog like a lie, and shadow chains stabbed into that spot. The Fog Mage who had disappeared appeared above me and stretched out his claws once more.

I leaned my waist back to dodge the attack, waited exactly half a beat, then parried. Kaaaaang—! With a clear ringing cry, the reeled-in chain aimed for Ripper's head. The chain missed, but the opponent's attack range was also over. Ripper seemed to recognize that as well and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠obediently backed off, maintaining a suitable distance.

A smile was playing on the lips of the now-revealed Ripper. He looked like he was having fun, so I smiled along with him. Of course, we didn't forget we were aiming for each other's lives.

"Something funny?"

The fog took the form of a giant and swung a hammer at me. The shadows of the trees sprouted like thorns, aiming for Ripper's body.