The Answer Will Be Revealed in 60 Hours!

The internet was on fire.

Sniping is a form of performance art. The ultimate goal is to fluster the streamer and share the laughter with the viewers. In other words, not to make myself famous, but to make the broadcast more entertaining. Even when sniping, a true professional never crosses the line. Because that sense of balance is second nature to me, I didn't go full villain even after sniping MoovGun. I kept it just fun enough. My goal was to stop right after hearing the highest praise.

So the moment I heard that one line from MoovGun, I considered my modest goal achieved.

I do badmouth him in my head all the time, but that didn't mean I had any reason to ruin the stream's atmosphere by tormenting him relentlessly. Besides, I had to start paying attention to MoovGun's viewers. They might be laughing at my prank for now, but at their core they were on his side. If he actually got angry, they'd be thinking who is this person? and sharpening their knives. Especially since MoovGun's viewer base came from the pro scene. They had strict standards. If you couldn't read the room and kept acting up, it was only a matter of time before you got buried.

If you make too many enemies, some of them will follow you for the rest of your life. When I was just an ordinary basement sniper, it didn't matter how many enemies I had. But now I was a proud employee of Parallel, the company founded by the boss. Of course, if the boss was evil, forced us to work overtime every day in a black company environment, and kept delaying our already measly paychecks, I could always turn on my mic and declare that no one should ever work at a company that starts with P and ends with L. But Parallel was the place where sharing an office with the boss counted as the best employee welfare. It was my dream job that I could never let go of.

Therefore, instead of earning people's hatred here, the secret to a long career as a corporate troll was knowing when to step back and play the likable guy. Besides, from this point on it didn't really matter if I won or lost the bet. The reason I sniped him today was to see MoovGun's skill with my own eyes, and the reason I made the bet and provoked him was to draw out his true effort.

Gunfire erupted nearby with a rattling burst. The short barrage was quickly answered by the surrounding area as the whole zone filled with the sound of gunfire. So that was the current hot zone. Time for me to join in!

I excitedly ran toward the gunfire and immediately landed a perfect shot on the back of the head of the guy I spotted down the slope.

Wondering what just happened, I turned my head to see MoovGun had already caught up and was sliding past me. He even looted the goodies cleanly, then walked back over with a triumphant stride and said:

He was willingly jumping into the mud pit? ...In that case, I had no choice but to get serious too.

*

FamousMomoAnti was, among all the snipers MoovGun had faced so far, top tier in both skill and psychological warfare. He even gave the impression that he knew MoovGun well, as if he could perfectly predict how MoovGun would react to any given action. If his target had been someone with a weak mentality, they might have been completely manipulated by the mind games and self-destructed.

But MoovGun was a pro. He had experienced far worse mental breakdowns during tournaments. Besides, now that the bet had begun, it was time to throw politeness out the window. Back in his active days, MoovGun would do anything to win as long as it didn't break the rules. In other words, he wasn't that far removed from FamousMomoAnti's rude kill-stealing behavior. He had simply chosen the best possible method to win the bet. There was nothing wrong with MoovGun copying that method completely.

Moreover, when he checked the leaderboard in the upper right, the number of survivors was no joke.

The squads were popping like crazy at an absurdly fast rate. This was the pace of a normal match. Even people who habitually played passively and calmly in ranked games tended to just charge in and throw everything at the wall in normals. After all, rank didn't change based on performance. In other words, now was not the time to worry about being polite.

There was no telling when the thirty-five survivors would become ten, or five. Once the absolute number dropped too low, you couldn't raise your kill count even if you wanted to. Pros had to be polite? What a joke. Professional gamers were the most cold-blooded and greedy creatures in the world when it came to victory. Even MoovGun, who usually seemed like a decent guy, became a victory-obsessed beast at times like these.

The reason MoovGun and Momo started trading curses at each other was because of a tournament. In a prize-money event, he got so heated about winning that he accidentally cursed at Momo while she was messing up. He apologized afterward and they became real friends, but it showed just how serious MoovGun was about games.

"Hmm."

"Nice."

After that, the two of them spent about fifteen minutes in a fierce back-and-forth of stealing and being stolen from. Finally, the zone had shrunk as much as it possibly could. There was almost no space left to hide.

Three players remaining. Since MoovGun and FamousMomoAnti were in the same squad, there was only one enemy left. And only then did MoovGun check the scoreboard.

At this point the viewers' curiosity about FamousMomoAnti had reached a fever pitch. Just who was this person who could fight MoovGun so fiercely in the mud like this? Hearing about a sudden brawl at a mud festival might normally go in one ear and out the other, but when one of the fighters was a pro, it was only natural to wonder what the other one did for a living.

That collective anticipation from the viewers came right back as mission money.

MoovGun felt the same way. Just who was this sniper that he could play this well? He didn't seem like a pro, but he was clearly at the top of the amateur scene. He wanted to reveal the guy's identity and invite him to customs.

If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have used the flare for this custom match.

But he already had a prior engagement, so winning the bet and at least getting his contact info would be good enough. Then he could invite him whenever a spot opened up in customs.

I have to win this bet first.

MoovGun fiddled with his sniper rifle while watching FamousMomoAnti.

Just as the viewers said, he wasn't making any particular movements. He was simply waiting in cover. It looked like his plan was to let MoovGun engage the enemy first, then snipe from the side for the kill. That wasn't going to work.

Checking his inventory, he still had five smoke grenades. That was more than enough to cover two-thirds of the now-cramped battlefield. Without hesitation, MoovGun began throwing smoke grenades toward the area where he estimated the enemy would be. Soon the wide area was completely filled with smoke, making it impossible to tell what was where.

In this state, even if MoovGun found the opponent first, it would be impossible for FamousMomoAnti to steal the final shot. On top of that, the weapon MoovGun was holding was the bow he had looted earlier. Since ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it made no sound when fired, it would be even harder to pinpoint where MoovGun and the enemy were fighting. If he used the ultimate ability of the character he had just reached level for on top of that, he would be able to locate enemies even inside the smoke.

MoovGun charged forward. FamousMomoAnti did not follow. He did poke his head out from cover, but he simply stared blankly in MoovGun's direction.

What? Did he give up?

It didn't take long for MoovGun, who was sweeping through the smoke, to find the enemy. The first arrow struck the head. Two-thirds of the enemy's shield disappeared. The second arrow hit as well. With a shattering sound the shield broke, and the enemy's remaining health dropped below half. The moment the final arrow would end the bet in MoovGun's victory—

Bang——!

A sharp single pistol shot rang out within the safe zone. A rainbow-colored panel spun in the center of the screen, announcing the results of the match.

MoovGun immediately checked the final kill log.

The one who finished the enemy was still FamousMomoAnti, standing at the very edge of the smoke cloud. He had pierced through the thick smoke and accurately aimed for the opponent's head.

One viewer offered a plausible theory.

"No."

However, MoovGun immediately shot that theory down.

"It wasn't stream sniping just now."

No matter how much of a stream snipe it was, the angles were different and there was a three-to-five-second broadcast delay. It wasn't a situation where you could calculate all of that in a short time and land an instant headshot. There should have been at least a few misses. In other words, this was pure skill. Or a hack.

"FamousMomoAnti, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sir. Did you really shoot just by listening to the footsteps?"

FamousMomoAnti replied.

MoovGun let out a sigh. Since the minimap showed where he was looking with a droplet icon, the sniper must have inferred it from the enemy's footsteps. But this was closer to luck than skill. While it was possible to estimate the location, MoovGun's professional experience told him it was impossible to accurately aim for only the head and hit it inside smoke where nothing was visible.

"You got lucky. I lost."

But as if to say MoovGun's perception was wrong, FamousMomoAnti spoke.

In truth, MoovGun had been waiting for those words. If it wasn't a hack, he was dying to know what kind of magic the guy had used inside the smoke.

"...Then could I watch you play sometime? I'd like to invite you to a custom match."

But the suggestion, made with the dual purpose of exchanging contact information, was coldly rejected.

"? What do you mean by that?"

The words that followed from FamousMomoAnti were full of riddles.