The Scar on the Back Is the Double Barrel's Shame (1)

The reflection post Pino had left on the detention bulletin board was closer to a transcript of the mindless screams of someone spiraling into a panic attack. It was nothing but the same sentence repeated over and over, yet somehow you could almost see a dark aura rising from the screen.

“This isn’t an eight-ton truck. This is a twenty-ton dump truck.”

Wondering if it really was that bad, I pulled up the model I had saved on my phone and examined it carefully again. Maybe because Dora had poured so much effort into it, the overall result was flawlessly pretty. The gap between the little witch look when she wore the robe and hat and the short office worker once they came off was genuinely fun. Hadn’t my own sensor reacted instantly in the first place? After realizing the owner of this model was me, the super-alloy barrier had slammed down, but that just meant anyone else could have been flattened by the speeding truck without warning.

Still, it wasn’t exactly my fault. I had simply told them I was coming to work as usual. The civil war was something MoovGun invited me to, so I just played hard. (I did get a tiny bit of revenge, sure.) After that I really had only focused on promotion and left.

The people covering their ears and insisting it wasn’t true were the problem. Above all, I found the whole situation a little amusing. Because while Pino does take on the work, he always delays it for other jobs, pushing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it back and back until the absolute last moment—right when the deadline is breathing down our necks—before finally delivering and tormenting us in the process.

I still remembered how much our boss had suffered when we commissioned Komari’s rigging. He would respond to messages, but only sometimes. Tell him something and he would forget it the next day. Deadlines meant nothing. So it dragged on for nearly three months before he finally started. The surprising part was that after all that stalling, the actual work took less than a week. The planning team, who had budgeted two weeks on average, was genuinely shocked. And the result we received after worrying he might have rushed it? The current Komari. A cute elf who spoke little, stayed serious, yet knew exactly when to flash an endearing expression had been born from Pino’s hands. The quality was so perfect that even the boss—who had spent three straight months cursing him—had no choice but to quietly accept it.

Of course the same thing happened again with Komari’s new costume, so the boss was now exhausted and seriously considering handing the next one off to someone else.

Anyway, the fact that a guy like that had willingly walked into the trap was something I could only be grateful for.

…Still, I should call him on the cafe and scold him a little. I knew life was hard for him, but that was his own business.

After I left it at that for a moment, the other side exploded in desperate pleas for mercy.

But I was a heartless judge. The original sentence had been a full year; the fact that it had been reduced to one week was already thanks to it being a sting operation. Let’s follow the law.

Administrator: Wait until the boss delivers her verdict.

I met the boss in front of the PC bang and immediately told her about Pino.

“When did you even post on the gallery again…”

She started by scolding me. As expected from the boss.

“It lets us catch the worst offenders with almost no effort.”

“Of all people, it had to be Pino-nim…”

“Anyway. I got a promise out of him. He says he’ll meet deadlines from now on.”

The boss let out a small laugh and muttered, “If he were the type to keep promises just because he made them, he would have been keeping them all along. Seeing how cornered he is, it might actually be more effective if you showed your face on stream regularly. Just keep the seven-day ban.”

Then, as if realizing she had slipped up, she flinched and carefully changed the subject.

“Of course, you don’t have to force yourself to stream just because of Pino-nim. You never said you’d stream, right?”

“That’s true. Though it does look like I’ll be showing up on the kids’ streams from time to time.”

“Why? Did you already get roped into another promise?”

“Komari asked me to join her on Now We’re Talking.”

“Ah, Now We’re Talking. Yeah, that makes sense. None of the first generation does it, so Komari always seemed a little disappointed.”

We sat down, finished ordering food, and I double-clicked an icon I normally never touched.

Night of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Legend. The world’s top-ranked TPS hero shooter AOS. A game I had never once played in my entire life, not even watched a single league match of. If someone pointed out that I had watched it whenever Komari streamed, I would have no defense. Maybe because it was a national game, but every time she streamed Now We’re Talking the stream was flooded with toxic backseaters. I had been so busy focusing on conversation, watching the chat, issuing warnings, and managing the ban list that the actual gameplay had barely registered.

The boss, who of course knew how to play Battle Colosseum, asked with a puzzled look, “You’re playing Now We’re Talking today?”

“Yes. I was hoping you could teach me, boss.”

“Huh?”

“I know you’ve never done it on stream, but you’ve played it a few times in private, right?”

The boss blinked. She looked like she could hardly believe what she was hearing.

“You want me to teach you Now We’re Talking?”

“Yes.”

The reason the boss found this so absurd was our entire gaming history. Not just Battle Colosseum—every single joint stream she had ever done, I had shown up to snipe her and always overpowered her with pure skill. Since the boss loved FPS games, that was obvious. Whether it was the physics-based brawler Teddy Bear League with its floppy animal characters or the legendary fighting game Fighting Spirit, if it looked fun and she was bad ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at it, I would instantly snipe her and grab her by the hair.

So the fact that I was now asking her to teach me anything must have been a complete shock.

“This is so random.”

“I still have some pride when it comes to games. I don’t want to get roasted by Komari.”

“…And you’re somehow able to say that to my face?”

“Because even if you know, you won’t scold me for it.”

The boss made a slightly sulky face, opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. She could be scary when she got angry, but our boss was usually this nice.

“Well, Komari does tend to go full dark side when she plays ranked Now We’re Talking… but I doubt she’d do it to you.”

“Even I find ranked Komari a little scary.”

One of the reasons Komari’s ranked Now We’re Talking streams were popular was her reaction to random matchmaking and snipers. Because she usually spoke little and focused on skillful play, she would stay quiet until an ally or enemy did something bizarre, at which point she would explode. She never resorted to parent-bashing or double curses, but her brain was sharp enough that the way she tore into people was on another level. Listening to her could drive a person insane. If I played with her she would probably protect the newbie for a while, but that would only last about five games. After that I would be a newbie thrown into the wild jungle, constantly afraid of when the leopard following behind me would pounce.

While I was creating an account, the boss logged into Now We’re Talking first and asked me, “Then I guess I should start by asking this. What champion do you prefer?”

“Champion… if we compare it to Battle Colosseum, would it be like Legend?”

“Battle Colosseum splits into Assault, Controller, and Supporter. Now We’re Talking has four classes.”

Siege, Tanker, Dealer, Supporter. It was almost the same as Battle Colosseum, but the “Siege” class stood out strongly.

“What does Siege do?”

“You know the game ends when two teams destroy each other’s base, right?”

“Yes.”

“Siege champions are specialized in destroying that base. They push through tower damage that would normally be impossible to survive, tear down towers, and open paths so the allied demolition squads that spawn periodically from the base can attack the enemy main base.”

“Ooh.”

It sounded like a pretty interesting class. I had done similar things with the other classes in Battle Colosseum, but Siege? I had never tried anything like it.

“I’m not an expert either. There are two main strategies. Pick a character that can also help in team fights, push when you can, and join fights when they happen. Or ignore team fights completely, watch for openings while your team stalls, and tear the enemy base apart with insane demolition power.”

Even the gameplay looked fun. It was a class that could lead the game to victory without needing to understand Now We’re Talking perfectly or forcing myself into the team fights that took time to learn. Besides, I had always had trouble coordinating with a team. Wandering around alone destroying buildings sounded much better. I liked it.

“Then I want to try Siege.”

“Siege… let’s see. What would be good for a beginner… I’ve never played Siege either, so let me check the champion list…”

Maybe because the boss wasn’t an expert, her hesitation stretched on. Rather than just wait, I opened the character window myself and looked through the Siege champions one by one. Then, at the very end of the list, I found a character holding a very familiar weapon.

Double-barreled shotgun in both hands, white angel wings sprouting from her back, a shattered halo floating above her head. Occasionally a black silhouette with a grotesque expression would flash behind her, making my heart pound for no reason. And most importantly, the character was beautiful.

“What’s this double-barrel girl?”

“Ah. Aegipola? She’s exactly the latter of the two strategies I just described. The type that sneaks around destroying buildings.”

“I want to play this one.”

The boss looked reluctant. Probably because of the “Very High” difficulty written next to the character.

“Um… she’ll be pretty hard. Her body is really fragile compared to other Siege champions.”

Even after hearing that, I shook my head. I was the type of person who could never rest easy until I played a character I had become fixated on, whether it was trash or meta.

“Anyway, don’t we win as long as we destroy all the buildings?”

Besides, Aegipola even had a special building-destruction motion. She loaded special shells into her shotgun and blew up turrets. How could I possibly resist that?

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll win from the very first game.”

Despite starting with complete confidence, I ended up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠watching our base explode without destroying a single enemy building. From the beginning, my character Aegipola had barely stayed alive. The moment I ran to push a tower, a strategic airstrike would fall from the sky and flatten me. If I went to fight instead, two enemies would pop out of nowhere and gang up on me. Sudden engagements were familiar from playing Battle Colosseum, but not knowing the champion or the skills made it incredibly difficult. On top of that, the opponents weren’t firing straight-line bullets—they were doing horizontal slashes, vertical slashes, bomb throws, and area clears. Dodging like I would in Battle Colosseum was useless.

It would have been nice if there had at least been a smoke screen. Still, I did realize a few things. Unlike Battle Colosseum, I absolutely had to know the enemy’s position at all times. And if I ran into them, I needed to understand the exact distance where their arms couldn’t reach me if I wanted to survive. For someone like me, who used to charge straight at any enemy I saw and smash their head in, this was the first real trial of my life—especially since I had never cared about spacing even before picking up the double-barrel.

But there was no reason to give up. This was only the first game, after all. It was just the adaptation process.

As I prepared for the next match, the boss asked very carefully, “It might be better to do the tutorial first. I noticed you’re not using the adaptive skill at all.”

“Adaptive skill?”

“…Just turn on the tutorial. It’ll probably explain right away.”

Night of Legend had four types of skills: passive, combat skill, ultimate, and adaptive skill. I had thought the structure was identical to Battle Colosseum, but there was one extra. The adaptive skill was like choosing traits in real time; at certain levels you were given several options and could pick one skill. In other words, while you bought items with gold to raise basic stats, adaptive skills let you “buy” combat skills with levels instead.

You could buy one at level 6, then again at 12 and 18, but those restrictions meant nothing to me. Because Aegipola’s third adaptive skill had completely captured my attention.

This was a smoke screen. It felt like reuniting with a precious lost pet.