First Preliminary Round (2)

The streamer known as KimchiNinja was an assassin player famous for his unique style of play.

He was something of a minor figure domestically, yet a genuine talent who had posted strong results in the card-game scene as well. True to that reputation, he had carved out a following with eccentric tactics and psychological warfare—among a rather toxic brand of viewers, that is.

His usual creed was that every person ought to know how to respect their opponent. It sounded like common sense at first glance, but the meaning he packed into it was different. To him, respect meant that whoever got matched against him had to show a respectable level of skill. Put the other way around, anyone who suffered a crushing defeat at KimchiNinja’s hands had failed to respect him. If you entered a match without proper preparation or thought, you had to pay the price—that was his favorite line.

Which was why the main content of KimchiNinja’s streams consisted of “humiliation in every flavor imaginable.” He had enough fighting-game experience to pull out every bizarre method under the sun; it was not uncommon to see him swinging a toy gun or a squeaky hammer in the middle of a sacred duel.

And yet… this was the first time that same streamer had been dismantled so helplessly.

Both of his daggers were bound without resistance. He never seized the initiative in any exchange; every gap he finally spotted turned out to be an obvious trap. Each time he lost the mind game, the kick that followed felt like a scolding.

No—calling it “losing the mind game” was already absurd. Combat, stripped down, was basically rock-paper-scissors. Yet whenever he threw paper, his opponent threw scissors a half-beat later, then said something like, “Oh, I won? Guess you have to take a hit according to the rules.” Who had ever agreed to those rules, and when?

In any case, from KimchiNinja’s perspective he was exactly half a beat slower than his opponent. Frustrating as it was, that was entirely possible. He had always assessed his own skill with cold clarity. Crowded games attracted monsters in equal measure; among them there would always be players whose physicals outstripped his—the so-called geniuses.

No. Let’s be a little more honest. Most players in the absolute top tier had better physicals than KimchiNinja. He had never been the type to crush enemies with overwhelming mechanics or reaction speed in the first place.

So the real problem was not that he was half a beat slower. The real problem was that he was always half a beat slower.

“Is this… is this even possible…?”

“What? You’re fighting well. Impressive, actually.”

He barely managed to keep his teeth from grinding. This was blatant toying. Viewers might still only see “getting pushed around one-sidedly,” but KimchiNinja himself felt it with painful clarity. The enemy assassin was completely playing with him right now.

Whether he sped up or slowed down, the opponent’s reaction speed stayed constant. Even when he threw out gambles or feints, the response came at almost the same tempo. While swinging his daggers he felt not merely read, but as if the opponent had been waiting for him in advance.

There was only one scenario in which that was possible: an unbridgeable gulf in skill between them. In other words, the opponent was playing house with him the way an adult matches hands with a child. The most infuriating part was that there was nothing he could do about it. No matter how hard a five-year-old swung their fists, they were never going to beat a UFC fighter.

Should I just give up? If what they want is to mess with me… quitting on my end would be the best counter.

The thought rose naturally, but he could not put it into practice. The chat atmosphere would not allow it.

To viewers, game streaming was a hobby. That made it easy to forget that for the streamer it was a legitimate business. Every streamer running an internet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠broadcast was expected to fill a certain role or deliver certain reactions.

KimchiNinja did not aim for clean streams. But ignoring a heated chat and simply giving up would be self-contradictory. Especially for a broadcaster who specialized in teabagging, there were times you had to accept the karmic bill. The rising anger was something he would simply have to endure himself.

“What are you thinking about? Zoning out in front of me hurts my pride.”

“Ha…”

A blade skimmed past his throat with a sharp hiss. A shallow cut. Not fatal, yet a chill ran down his spine. If the opponent had wanted it, that attack could have ended everything.

Who the hell was this? Even against pro gamers he had never felt a wall this thick. In the preliminaries, opponent nicknames were not displayed. They were only revealed after the match ended—yet the other side somehow knew he was streaming. Had the muttering he did before the start been the problem? He had thought the distance was too far to hear.

Is it Ga-wol after all?

The way they toyed with people, and the sheer mastery of the assassin class—there weren’t many users like that. Even with nickname and face hidden, it wasn’t completely unreadable. But he couldn’t be certain. Plenty of male pros used female characters. And with auto-translation technology as advanced as it was now, a foreigner couldn’t ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be ruled out either.

Fine. Whoever the opponent was, what did it matter? Right now he was essentially a hostage to his viewers. If he suddenly quit or died too anticlimactically, public sentiment would shatter. For now he had no choice but to play along with whatever they wanted.

His resolve proved pointless; the opponent’s attitude changed. …This wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Not very fun.”

I lay down on top of the corpse sprawled across the ground, overlapping it. I planned to stay like this until the next opponent was found. There was a lot of dust around. Other users probably couldn’t feel it because their immersion rates were lower, but on sandy maps like this my throat always felt scratchy. I could even feel the grit of the dirt clinging to my clothes.

Yet the dead streamer’s body was softer than expected. Because it wasn’t metal armor like the warriors wore? Resting my head on the chest area made for a surprisingly comfortable position. Closing my eyes for a moment, I felt I could take a nap right there.

This one was pretty disappointing. I wanted to see something uglier.

Skilled streamers tend to have strong pride. Smash that pride to pieces and the stream collapses easily; nothing is more entertaining than a streamer who has lost the crowd. It feels like watching a star fall from the sky all the way down to the cliff where I stand.

But the opponent had unexpectedly fought to the end, so my interest cooled fast. I never want to do what a streamer wants. So I killed him in one go.

My Infinity Arena schedule was sailing smoothly. Barring anything unusual I would win the next match as well and advance to the second prelims. Work had delayed me a bit, so the second prelims would start in just two days.

I wanted to meet Luce soon. From the main tournament onward the official channels would even broadcast the matches. She was the only star I acknowledged. If I could play against Luce and have the footage remain, I was certain it would feel like flying.

While I was still wriggling around on top of the dead male character, the distinctive low tone of a completed match sounded.

Because I had been so leisurely waiting for the match, I had no idea what was happening on the internet.

Infinity Arena was an event tournament. Therefore death penalties did not apply even if you died inside. Moreover, if you did not press the confirmation window after dying, you could still watch what your opponent was doing on the empty battlefield from a third-person view.

Right after his defeat KimchiNinja had been busy managing chat and had no attention left for the game. So his screen never left the battlefield, and the image of Ga-wol left alone was being broadcast. The small assassin girl wriggling around on top of the male character’s body was shown without any filter.