Do Dreams Come True Just by Dreaming? (3)
In the footage, a black axe swung toward Traveler's shield.
The glancing edge of the blade hooked the shield and wrenched it aside, and in that same breath Kelberos's hand clamped down on it. A raw contest of strength locked them in place while the merciless axe hammered again and again against Traveler's spear shaft.
The health bar did not drop.
But the far more precious guard gauge was beginning to crack.
This is where the gap opened…
I nudged the playback speed a little higher. What looked at a glance like a stagnant exchange was, in truth, a careful trade of blows. Between the heavy strikes, one or two trivial skills slipped in—attacks that absolutely had to be blocked, and attacks so minor they could be ignored. The crucial point was how thoroughly those razor-thin intervals exploited the game's systems.
Kelberos's main class was Dark Knight. Opposite the defensive bent of a Paladin, it was a role stacked with debuffs and magic-damage gimmicks. Agility was not its primary stat, so the attacks never looked especially fast. Compared to an Assassin or a Warrior line they were downright sluggish—yet Traveler, on the receiving end, never found a single moment of breathing room. That was because of the hair-thin timing windows Kelberos kept forcing.
The combat state never resolved. So the spent guard gauge, mana, and health never came back. Traveler never fully restored a single point of guard he had burned for the rest of the match. Attacks that openly forced the gauge down. Either submit to the war of attrition, or wither by inches under the Dark Knight's debuffs. A meticulously calculated two-choice hell kept stretching out its claws.
Once Luce finished polishing her current form, wouldn't she play something like this?
"That was an impressive interview. I watched it carefully. Dreams, was it…? More of a romantic than I expected."
"Well now, I'm honored!"
"My apologies. I didn't mean it as sarcasm."
Not that Kelberos's pure combat power was low either. The distance sense that kept him exactly where he held the advantage. Attacks that found the most awkward trajectories, as if he could see precisely how he looked to his opponent. Skill usage so layered it felt like fighting two people at once. Traveler had clearly come ready to grind his teeth; he landed a few solid counters. But still—honestly, the weight class was different. There were moments when he chopped a huge chunk off Kelberos's health, yet not a flicker of relief that the situation had improved ever appeared.
"I genuinely thought it was a beautiful story. That you'll surpass me someday—that kind of fighting spirit is exactly what a pro needs."
"Ha! So you're going to throw the match for me?"
"Hardly. Beauty and reality are different things."
In the end the spear knight, unable to endure the attrition, collapsed. His shattered shield skittered across the floor; his arm took the next hit and he could no longer even grip the spear. The hand that reached for a secondary weapon was stopped almost at once.
"Do dreams come true just by dreaming them?"
"Not at all."
"You understand well."
That was the moment Traveler's journey ended.
Today the sky outside hung dull and cloudy. It looked ready to rain any second, yet the heavens seemed to have no intention of following through; only a hollow wind blew. I sat with a vacant expression and stared out the window. A faint dampness rose. The sticky air made even my mood feel clammy. Still, watching the outside had a strange addictive quality, so I kept spacing out.
Come to think of it, a lot of good things had been happening lately. I was finally competing in the tournament I'd longed for, and I'd even appeared on stream, if only indirectly.
I even had a meal with Luce and got a gift.
After Traveler's 2–0 loss, anxiety in the domestic community hit its peak. While Luce's match was being prepared, every type of person showed up: the relieved faction saying this was already a good showing, the despair faction declaring it was all over. A tiny minority still hoped Luce would beat Kelberos and take the title. Sadly, the despair camp held the clear majority. Korea's international results so far had never been especially hopeful. Luce, in particular, was a player whose strength showed more in team play than in dazzling individual performance.
In the thick of that despair, Luce lived up to the meaning of her own nickname. Luce—Italian for light, and if you stretch the biblical sense, a bright future and hope. The holy sword she drew at the decisive moment split the fog and settled the match.
The Arena finals bracket was set. All four semifinalists were confirmed: Kelberos and Luce. Me and Crow. After the semis a few days from now, the grand final would follow with only a single day's grace—a brutal schedule. The silver lining, if there was one, was that I already knew Luce inside and out. But there had been an upset I never saw coming.
The match that had followed mine in the round of eight. Crow, a necromancer from Europe's second division, had completely torn apart the South American veteran. With a favorable bracket and no first-division pedigree, he had flown under the radar. Yesterday's game, though, had sent his stock soaring overnight. The community was already pairing his name with mine in all sorts of speculation.
So every problem came down to that Crow. Necromancer itself was a fairly niche class, and as a player who had only debuted in the second division last year, there simply wasn't much footage. Preparing for Kelberos after the semis would be too late. Yet I couldn't half-ass the prep for Crow either. Get ready for a final I hadn't even reached yet, then put on a disgraceful performance in the next match? That would be too humiliating.
Anyway. Unless I grew a second body, time was going to be short, so I needed help. Right on cue, the sound of the door-lock code being punched in came from the front entrance. Five electronic beeps, and a familiar face appeared.
"You're here?"
"Yeah. You been doing all right?"
"Same as always, I guess."
The person who walked into the room was, of course, my master. It couldn't be helped. My circle of human relationships had shrunk to about this size. I couldn't even lean on my online friends. Elderin was on leave after a recent trip, and Sulbbang was buried under the flipped siege schedule. Contacting Traveler… even for me that felt a little—no, a lot—too awkward. Even if Traveler offered support, he would probably side with Luce rather than me. That would be more efficient anyway. The next person to face Kelberos wouldn't be me.
"You asked for help so I came, but what exactly do you need me to do?"
"Uh… same thing I said on the phone. I'm prepping for the tournament and there's just too much to handle alone."
"Well, if it's something I can do, I'll help. But I don't know the first thing about games—is that okay?"
"Just watching the weapons and body mechanics is enough. I'll handle the game side myself."
"In that case, I'll give it a shot."
My master had a vicious face but was sharp at analysis. A national-team coaching seat wasn't something you earned just by being good at sports. Every method I used to read opponents, I had learned from him.
"Daeun. What's that black thing that keeps popping out? Can he use it forever?"
"That's a skill. See the seventeen written here? He has to wait that long before using it again. I blocked it this time, but next to it there's—"
"Complicated. Looks like I need to understand this first before anything else makes sense."
"Hang on. I should have something organized."
True to form, Master adapted quickly and didn't let me down. While fielding the occasional question, I scrubbed through Crow's footage second by second. Eye movement especially needed attention—where he looked before casting which spell. I had to understand the thought process that produced each decision. This was why I hated mages. Even against a favorable matchup they were a pain in every direction.
I was gradually organizing the material when Master stared at me and let out a short laugh.
"Your face looks a lot better."
"Uh… does it?"
"Yeah, kid. Of all the expressions I've seen lately, this one's the best."
I wished I had a mirror right then. The only one in the house was above the sink, so I couldn't check my face on the spot.
"Have you eaten, by the way? If not, let's order something."
"Oh… what do you want? Soup rice? Spicy pork? Or pork cutlet?"
"Pizza. Extra cheese."
"Master, your tastes are still weird…"
"What am I supposed to do when brats like you always want the same thing? Delivery food is for eating stuff you don't normally get."
Still, wasn't pizza a bit greasy? Cheese never really agreed with me.
—or so I thought, until I ate that pizza so deliciously it nearly brought tears to my eyes.