Offseason (5)
The match between the North American team Devils Nest and the Filipino team Agent5.
The colosseum, packed with hundreds of thousands of in-game spectators, was filled with deafening cheers, jeers at the opponents, and chants for the favored team—loud enough to make your ears ring.
It was so intense that if you didn't focus, you couldn't even make out the voice of the person sitting right next to you.
Of course, communication among our team was no problem. We'd set up a group channel that minimized all external noise except for conversations between group members.
Watching the first match of the TIC 2052 Wildcard Round, our players sat there with their mouths agape, unable to close them.
"Whoa... how is that even possible?"
"No way. Even in a game, can they really move like that?"
"Did you see that skill combo just now? It's like their minds are linked or something."
"You see how Agent5 used their items? How are they all looking at the same angles?"
"Damn... they're good."
The players wore shocked expressions, watching a level of play that was leagues—nay, dimensions—above their own.
Even if it was just a wildcard match, these were teams that had qualified for TIC. Their skill level was fundamentally different from ours.
Both teams instinctively knew exactly what the other needed at any moment. They had the judgment to spot the most optimal items for each situation and the reaction speed to use them at the perfect time.
The moment they spotted even a tiny opening, they'd rip into the enemy for a kill. And sometimes, they'd bait by sacrificing one player, turning the tables to devour the foes instead.
The dazzling movements of all ten players in every teamfight were more than enough to captivate everyone's eyes and ears.
It was the kind of match that made you utter, "TIC" without thinking.
The best-of-three series, which lasted nearly two hours, ended with Agent5 taking a 2:1 victory. An all-announce alarm rang out, signaling that the next match would start in 30 minutes.
"Alright, everyone. You took good notes on the key stuff during the match, right? Transfer the data you jotted down to your capsules, print it out, and head to the meeting room."
The players grabbed their memo data and tapped at the interfaces floating in front of them.
The notepads in their hands dissolved into data streams, and one by one, the players vanished from the colosseum.
I logged out briefly and headed to the meeting room. Soon after, the players arrived holding printed sheets from their capsules—notes they'd taken in-game.
"We've only got 30 minutes, so we can't cover everything. We'll save the deep dives for after today's schedule. For now, during breaks, just share the points you thought were most important. Ha-young, you start."
"Ugh... me first?"
"You wanna play the school guessing game, peeking around to avoid being called? Spill it."
I'd felt it as a pro too, but most players sucked at this kind of free discussion. They'd always just watch for cues, praying not to get picked, and even when they did, they'd regurgitate the same generic crap.
Stuck in rigid thinking, mechanically memorizing lines—that's why teams got wrecked internationally until BlackWings showed up.
Ha-young looked reluctant, but once called, she had no choice. She explained the key points from the match as she saw them, what she thought the basis for both teams' decisions was at those moments, and what she'd do in their shoes.
After her presentation, I had everyone share their thoughts on her points. Blind agreements like "yeah, same" got shot down. I kept the discussion going by tossing in sudden questions to draw out their own ideas, making sure everyone contributed at least one original thought.
The debate raged nonstop for the full 30 minutes, only halting when the next match was about to begin.
"Ugh, that was exhausting... We gotta do this after every match? Haven't used my brain this hard in ages—my head hurts."
"Yep, every match until TIC ends. If debating makes your head hurt that much, Eunjae, you need to start using it more often."
"Heh, that's why you should've always had answers as clear as mine ready in your head."
"Seona, you need to use yours differently! How does every conclusion from you end up 'we should've attacked'? If that always won, every scrub would win TIC."
"Hing."
###
The TIC schedule ran for about nine hours. During every break, we'd debate the previous match, and once the day wrapped, we'd pull up the screens next to us for two hours of in-depth analysis.
After that, I'd pick a few matches from the day that seemed most helpful, load the data, and have the players replay them.
Once from the blue side, once from the red. To help them embody the key points they'd discussed, turning words into action.
I left the opponent AI difficulty untouched, so our team got absolutely demolished playing against them. Afterward, we'd discuss why we lost, what we lacked compared to the real pros, share feedback on fixes, and call it a day.
Actual playtime took a hit from all the talks and reviews, but in exchange, our team was sharpening their game sense and learning operations.
And so time passed until Thursday, when the TIC Group Stage wrapped.
A scrim was scheduled against a men's Division 3 team. Even at the same league tier, men's and women's leagues had a noticeable skill gap, so men's teams rarely scrimmed with women's—but we were different.
After all, we'd pioneered the new meta, birthing all sorts of wild strategies.
This scrim was a perfect chance to gauge how much we'd grown operationally after a week of heated TIC discussions.
Men's leagues were generally rated a grade higher than women's, and the skill reflected it. Holding our own against a men's Div 3 team meant we could compete beyond Div 3— even in Div 2.
So today's scrim was a crucial check-up for the team.
"Alright, show me how much your operations improved watching TIC this week. Communicate actively like in discussions, always recall how TIC teams handled situations, got it?"
"Yes!"
The scrim began.
As expected, the men's team had superior mechanics, and we struggled from laning phase.
Their attacks hit us hard, but ours barely landed as effective blows.
"Guys, we can't keep laning like this. Hmm... their carry's getting too fat, right? Yuna-unnie, what do you think?"
Ha-young's question got an immediate response from Yuna.
"Don't even. They're pressuring me so hard I can't do shit."
"What should we do?"
"Bet we're thinking the same. Wanna shove that lane hard?"
"Got it!"
Ha-young grinned and pushed the lane big with Eunjae and Sera. The enemy offlaner, spotting rare CS, stuck near the tower gobbling minions.
But they didn't forget team calls.
"They're suddenly shoving—probably timing a recall. Watch for their supports roaming mid after."
"Roger."
At the offlaner's call, the enemy mid went on guard, playing safe.
But we weren't recalling then.
"Remember when Black Orcas skipped recall, popped smoke, and all rushed the enemy carry lane?"
"Yeah. They won't handle it. Just in case, Eunjae, shoot your arrow then ward from backline?"
"On it!"
"You'll see if they know from their movement. If not, Sera, save ult!"
"Okay."
It was a similar spot from one TIC match.
With lanes pushed in, Black Orcas skipped recall, detonated smoke—a consumable granting area stealth and movespeed—leaving carry and supports to dive the enemy carry with their offlaner for a 4-man.
Sure enough, the enemy hadn't anticipated it. Mid backed off, but our target carry lane farmed obliviously.
By the time Eunjae's moon arrow pierced from the fog, it was too late.
"Gasp! What the—why are they all here?!"
"Crazy, they smoked and came straight here?!"
"Fuck, too late. Can't save it—run if you can, ditch the rest!"
True to men's Div 3 form, they knew when to cut losses. Carry and main support died, but sub-support peeled back, minimizing casualties and snagging some XP from afar.
"Their roam's wide. Watch the opposite lanes too."
"We're alive. Portaling back—recover HP in the meantime—arghhh!"
"...Huh!?"
The enemy carry and main support portaled back—only for Sera's ghost illusions (as her champion) to spawn behind every enemy champ. Ha-young and Eunjae emerged from the fog again.
"Th-these psychos didn't recall—they were waiting?!"
"Fuck..."
Even with our reduced HP from tower dive, we had Ha-young's healing Holy Knight, and numbers were 4v2. The carry and main support died again right after reviving.
"Goddamn annoying. Hey, shove the offlane hard. They're camping here, ignoring that lane."
"Got it, shove then recall...?"
The enemy offlaner couldn't finish.
Sera had ulted during the top dive. Her ghost clones should've expired seconds ago.
Yet the Race was still there.
Meaning...
"Fuck, the real Race is bot?!"
"What? So she ulted, blinked to the sub's spot down there?"
Exactly—Sera saw them portal back, ulted to light vision and chip for assist, then teleported to her bot ghost clinging to their offlaner.
Perfect dive, CS gulped before wave hit tower.
TIC pros' baseline ops—but rare in Div 3.
The enemy gritted their teeth, muttering low.
"This game's fucked..."