Offseason (4)
The International Championship. TIC.
The largest Eternal Combat international tournament ever, with prize money alone exceeding tens of billions. As BlackWings' midlaner, I'd participated and notched the one and only three-peat win among pro teams worldwide—but that was before my regression.
Right now, we were just distant spectators.
I pulled up the list of TIC participating teams, scanned their rosters, and racked my brain to recall their playstyles and strategies from back then.
Next to each team name, I jotted down their tendencies as they came to me, then built a checklist of what we could incorporate into our own game.
Having adjusted our schedules ahead of TIC's start, we all hit our rooms around 9 p.m. for sleep and regrouped in the practice room before 5 a.m.
The players, unaccustomed to this rhythm, shuffled in with half-closed eyes.
"Alright, game's starting! Shake off the sleep, or go splash some water on your faces if you have to."
Groaning about how tired they were, the players trudged to the bathroom as told, washed up, and returned with brighter expressions before logging back in.
But instead of our usual battlefield server, we tuned into the spectator channel.
Dozens of thousands of us—including our crew—clustered freely in the open space. All players from around the world gathered here purely to spectate TIC in-game, regardless of nationality, race, or local time zones.
"Whoa, so many people. It's 5 a.m., don't they sleep or what?"
"Um... Eunjae, those are foreigners. Time zones differ, so it might not be dawn for them."
"Oh? Really? Hayoung's so smart!"
Even though our bodies were just game data, they felt real enough in here, and the spectator lobby was packed to the brim, no room to breathe.
"Ugh, it's cramped. How long do we have to stand like this?"
"Come to think of it, this is your first time spectating as fans, right? Audience seats will pop up soon—just hang in there."
I stuck close to the players amid the crowd, holding our spot.
That's when a foreigner nearby eyed Seona up and down, whistled loudly, and said,
"Jesus, what a boob. Hey busty baby, do you wanna hang out with me and have some fun out there?"
What the hell?
It was clearly aimed at Seona, but I couldn't make out the meaning. I'd been to plenty of overseas tourneys, but English was my weak spot.
Seona's face twisted into something terrifying. She glared daggers at the guy and shot back in a low, menacing tone.
"What did you just say, you fucker?"
Seona rarely swore unless she was seriously pissed, so whatever he'd said must've been vile.
She marched right up to him and unloaded.
"Hey, you piece of shit, say that again!"
"What the..."
No way he'd understand Korean curses, but Seona kept raging, cheeks flushed, then kicked his shin with all her might.
Lobby actions were limited, but a joint kick was fair game.
Even with pain dialed down in-game, a bare shin kick hurts like hell.
The foreigner clutched his leg, hopping around and howling.
"Fuck my leg! You bitch!"
He glared and swung a slap at her—or tried to.
Sensing it coming, I shoved between them and grabbed his arm.
"What the hell are you doing to my player?"
"What are you? Back the fuck off."
"What'd he say?"
"He said get lost."
Hayoung translated for the fuming Seona.
The guy struggled to yank his arm free, but I was stronger and bigger—futile effort.
"Seona, why'd you kick his shin first?"
"That fucker catcalled me!"
"Cat what? He said you look like a cat?"
"He was talking about my boobs and sexually harassing me. Asked if I wanted to go out and have some fun with him. That's catcalling—straight-up harassment."
"Oh~ So that's his game? Total scumbag, huh?"
I tightened my grip on his arm.
Even as a non-player now, I'd trained relentlessly day and night to drill the girls properly, kept my body in top shape. My physicals outmatched most pros; his face contorted in agony as I squeezed.
"You harass my player and then try to hit her? I'll give you one chance: shut your mouth and slink away. Or I'll report you to the tourney admins and get you banned from spectator seats on the spot."
Hayoung relayed my words. Realizing he was outmatched, the guy muttered "fuck" and "bitch" under his breath before vanishing into the crowd.
Only after the harasser was gone did Seona calm down and turn to me.
No way she'd say something like, 'You grope my boobs and now complain when some guy harasses me?'
"Thanks."
"If you'd told me, I'd have handled it. Why kick first and start shit? What if he'd actually hit you?"
"I knew you'd have my back, Coach."
"Smooth talker. Anyway, how'd you clock the harassment right away? Hayoung gets it 'cause she's book-smart, but you?"
"Ah..."
Seona's eyes darted around at my question.
"Just... Dad made me study English hard at home. Picked it up that way."
"They teach harassment phrases in English class now?"
"Argh! I just learned it while studying, okay?!"
"Seona, you're good at English? I thought you were a dummy like me."
"Huh? Eunjae, you messed up? Why would I be a dummy?"
"Duh? You always dive in thoughtlessly and die—that's dummy behavior. Puhuhu."
"Sis, I'll get revenge later. Just watch."
"Alright, game's starting. Everyone huddle up and hold position."
Soon after I spoke, the surroundings shifted.
The ground beneath us morphed into seats, then thrust upward like an earthquake in reverse.
"Whoaaa!"
"It's the stadium generating. No fussing—sit down."
Once the cinematic spectacle of structures erupting from the ground ended, we sat in one section of a massive circular colosseum.
At its center loomed a familiar forested battlefield, bisected diagonally by a river. Five players waited at each end.
"Whoa... In-game spectating's like this? Insane."
"Group invite incoming. Accept so we can watch on the big screen together."
Once all five had joined, I clenched then spread my fingers. A massive, crystal-clear holographic match screen unfurled at my gesture. I tapped and resized it to a spacious 16:9 perfect for all six of us.
"Coach looks kinda cool... Like a secret agent or something."
"Hayoung, since when do you butter people up?"
"It's not buttering up..."
"Anyway, first time seeing top-of-the-line Division 1 matches live, right?"
Everyone nodded.
"From now on, burn every move into your eyes. The gap's huge—you won't get it all at first. Just track their actions without missing any; that's success. Don't zone out—think about their decisions, the key moments. I'll summarize post-game breaks, but build the habit of analyzing yourselves."
"Got it!"
Before the match, a feed of the TIC venue appeared on the colossal screen hovering over the colosseum.
A sprawling harbor, bustling market-like crowds, rows of skyscrapers with stunning night views, and amid it all, a glowing white building topped like a UFO.
"That's Seattle?"
Seona had barely spoken when subtitles popped up.
"How'd you know it was Seattle at a glance?"
"Uh, well... As pros, we check basic TIC info! Saw it was in Seattle during vacation research."
"Impressive, Seona. I didn't look into any of that."
"Ah, haha..."
Next up: TIC 2052 Wildcard Round 1. Not the 14 confirmed main event teams, but a double-elim among four wildcard squads—two snag the last mains spots, two become Seattle tourists.
Weakest among TIC entrants, sure, but leagues above us now, top-tier globally.
The first clash between our future benchmarks had begun.