I'm Destined to Be a Pro Gamer (1)
Physical: S++
Mental: S+
Judgment: S+
Competitive Spirit: S++
Teamwork: S
※ Possesses the qualities to become the greatest player. However, an even brighter future might await in a different career path...
The text floating above my head in the mirror. It was unmistakably my status window.
After grinding games for over seven years, I'd finally lost my mind.
I slapped my cheek hard, praying to wake up from this dream.
It hurt like hell.
Not a dream, then?
I examined my status more closely.
I could see detailed explanations for each category. Not that I needed to—they were obvious enough.
Physical: Encompasses macro play, micro control, reaction speed, focus, etc. Begins gradual decline around age 25. Largely unaffected by external factors aside from injury, but drops fastest without consistent training.
Mental: Ability to maintain form regardless of circumstances. High values mean players don't give up in tough spots, avoid slumps easily, and recover quickly if they hit one. Influenced by results, personal life, relationships, etc., and heavily impacts judgment.
Judgment: Map awareness and game sense. High values enable favorable engages, knowing when to fight or retreat, and devising unexpected paths to victory. Heavily influenced by mental state; poor team synergy negatively affects it. Essential for captains.
Competitive Spirit: Strong drive means diligent practice and full effort in every scrim or pub game. Accelerates growth compared to peers, but excess can harm mental, judgment, or teamwork—requires balance. Influenced by rivals and team environment.
Teamwork: Avoids internal conflicts and mediates others'. Embraces selfless play and sacrifices for team wins without needing to be the star. Excess focus can hinder personal physicals or judgment. Affected by coaching style and team results.
All my stats were S-rank or higher, with Physical and Competitive Spirit hitting S++. I didn't know the exact stats of my rivals from my pro days, but this was top-tier anywhere.
I was still at the peak even at 28, after all.
But one line caught my eye.
※ Possesses the qualities to become the greatest player. However, an even brighter future might await in a different career path...
Of course I had the qualities—I'd proven it with my career.
But brighter in another path? Was it telling me to ditch pro gaming, study, and become a civil servant or something?
"Kang Yuseong! Get your butt to the table before your food gets cold!"
Mom's shout snapped me back. I headed to the table.
Amid the endless questions and mysteries, I ate and showered.
In the shower, a wave of frustration hit me.
Damn it, I just won the season major a few days ago! Didn't even spend a dime of the prize money—what the hell is this? That beggar in Paris... was that crystal ball really a cursed magic item?
Carrying that unresolved mystery, I finished my brunch and rushed to where my pro career had begun.
A massive capsule hotel in Seocho-gu, Seoul.
Over 300 capsules dedicated to Eternal Combat.
Hundreds of aspiring pros and dozens of team reps had turned the place into a total madhouse for the open test.
"Those testing, sign up here!"
"Check your groups over there!"
"Coming through!"
Staff shouts mixed with the rookies' chatter—it was deafening.
I scanned the panel for my name.
Kang Yuseong - Group 7 (Seat 33)
Never imagined the once-world's-best, retired pro would be back here as a civilian for a test.
Not that I minded. Kinda nostalgic.
Restarting from square one after a lifetime of it stirred some indescribable thrill.
But my situation was way better than back then.
I'd been a noob gamer like everyone else; now I had seven years of vet pro memory intact.
Just a 21-year-old amateur shell with a 28-year-old world champ soul.
The ace mid and main carry of BlackWings, the undefeated world champs with 11 domestic titles, 3 season majors, and 3 TIC wins—that was me.
Tough luck for my groupmates. I'd crushed this place before, and now they'd face a seventh-year world-beater.
Mid seat 33. I sat, and soon the other Group 7s filed in.
"Hey."
"Hi."
Awkward greetings all around. No familiar faces among the other four—probably never made it big. Bummer.
"Uh, anyone wanna captain?"
One glanced around nervously.
Captain: in-game main caller, heaviest responsibility.
In deep-strategy Eternal Combat, captains were crucial—and always rising in importance, even this early.
But they were political targets if things went south.
Most avoided it in solo queue; even pros clashed over it.
No takers. Rookies, clearly.
"I'll do it."
They sighed in relief, like I'd saved them.
"Cool, thanks."
"Groups 7 and 8, prep for match!"
We donned headsets.
Pick screen up—team tensed hard. Loss meant pro dreams dashed.
They wiped sweat, sipped water. I just chilled.
Made sense. I'd played TIC finals with 100k crowds multiple times.
All ten in capsules. Game on.
"Enemy mid's Hive Assassin. What we picking?"
"...First pick Elementalist."
Silence. Then gasps over mic.
"Wait, Hive Assassin? It's a lane bully—Elementalist gets mana-drained!"
"It's fine."
No rebuttal to my calm tone.
"I'll win for sure."
The other four thought:
Great, a one-trick psycho.
Entry test and he's forcing mains? These guys throw if you don't babysit.
Should've grabbed captain myself... Regrets and anxiety as the game started.
"Yo, mid Elementalist over there?"
"Lunatic? Hive out, and he locks Elri late?"
"You got this mid, right?"
"Hive crushes Elri. Don't worry."
But six minutes in, Group 8's mid aspirant dashed to lane with Hive skills—and froze in horror.
What the fuck is this guy?!
Monitoring room: team reps eyed multiple screens.
A coach spotted something.
"Director, check this."
Director and coach watched mid: Elementalist vs. Hive Assassin raging.
11 min: Elri 6/0/3, Hive 0/5/1. Level gap over 3, items insurmountable.
"Hive loses lane to Elri? Who is this clown?"
"Nah, that Elri's weird."
More watch confirmed it. Blazing skill swaps into combos—three-tree burst in under 0.5s.
Solo kill again.
Hive's supposed counter? This Elri ignored matchups, shredding effortlessly.
"Skills look ice tree?"
"Yeah. Ice tree's rare—I barely see it. Amateurs all flame."
Ice, lightning, fire: ice was niche and weak. Yet this rookie dominated Hive with it.
Other directors, coaches, scouts tuned into 7-8.
"Observer in, replay that lane."
64-strong, 32, 16—we steamrolled.
"Whoa, Yuseong's insane."
"How do you Elri that good? Mine always combos wrong."
"We winning the whole thing?"
Doubters from 64-strong now fanboys. 3 games, 0 deaths. 50+ kills, similar assists.
Quarters now.
"Group 7 vs. 16, prep! Quarters on stream!"
We geared up. Hours in, but wins kept us fresh.
Stream, huh. Been a while.
Heading to capsule, I noticed directors, coaches, scouts spectating me.
Picks done. Game on.
My Elri swept again, hard-carrying solo to a 25-min stomp.
High-fives with temps out—non-participants waited.
"Kang Yuseong?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Malicious Gaming, 3rd Division. Here's our card—internal test interest, hit us up."
3rd Division? Bottom-feeders scouting me? I pulled world-level First Division pay.
Swallowed snark, pocketed card. More reps followed.
Semis and finals left, but outcome obvious—they swarmed.
"No need to watch more. Invite that Kang Yuseong for internals regardless. He's a gem—not ordinary. But why are rival hyenas here?!"
BlackWings director Kim Seungmok—men's First Division hosting this—ordered his coach to snag Group 7's Kang Yuseong.
No doubt needed. Yuseong outclassed everyone massively.
He'd scouted countless pros and hopefuls since pre-launch and other games.
He knew talent. This kid was a towering oak.
True to his eye, Group 7 one-man-carried to semis, finals. Undeniable skill.
Kim notified all Group 7 winners: internals soon, dorm invites, contacts taken—except Yuseong.
"You called?"
Yuseong entered Kim and coach's room.
"Yes, Mr. Kang. Got a proposal."
"What is it?"
"You know you dominated. If time, join our pros for an internal scrim? Cool?"
First Division internals post-open test? Elite perk—not even for most trainees.
Dream for hopefuls, amateur candy.
But Yuseong shattered expectations.
"Sure."
I'd accepted the BlackWings scrim without thinking.
My lifelong team, massive successes there.
Playing confirmed: all my old moves and knowledge intact.
Even as rookie, I'd succeeded—now? TIC win this year easy. Why hesitate?
But...
Seven pro years, everything achieved, retired fulfilled.
Redo from start? Same grind? No more peaks to chase.
Empty.
Faster success, sure—but same path.
Plus that status line nagged.
An even brighter future might await in a different career path...
I pondered deep, decided.
No regrets left—I'd burned it all out.
Time gift unwasted on repeat; couldn't match old passion.
"Thanks, but no."
No more player goals.
Six months since declining BlackWings scrim. February now, winter gone.
I solo-queue dominated #1, tested opens for top First Division: Fanatics eSports, Centurion Club, Nostalgia.
Crushed all, got internals/scrim invites.
Declined all—no player goals.
Days after Nostalgia rejection, phone rang.
Unknown number—not prior reps.
"Hello?"
"Is this Kang Yuseong?"
Sounded older guy.
"Yes."
"Nice to meet you. Kim Ki-hyeon, manager of Shining Star pro team—prepping women's academy league launch. Got time to chat?"
"Sure... what's up?"
"We're starting a women's team. Think you'd be great fit—offering a position."
Women's team? Why me?
No player goals left.
But Kim's offer was similar yet worlds apart.
"Hoping you'd coach. Interested?"
Coach?
Lifelong player, no goals—vaguely wanted change, no plan.
They tossed one.
Guide players instead of playing...
Same game, different role.
My future meta knowledge? Huge edge.
Could I build a BlackWings-level—or better—team?
Surpass my player past as coach?
Curiosity sparked, competitive fire lit. And most of all...
[This is a career path with an even brighter future waiting!]
"...Can we talk details?"