How to Build a New Team
"What are your conditions?"
Park Hyun-ah spoke as if conceding a point. But it was a blatant misstep—one Lee Chang-hyun had no intention of letting slide easily.
The payoff's worth it. I just need to squeeze every last drop out of this.
Lee Chang-hyun flashed a confident grin and laid it out.
"Sponsorship."
"Sponsorship? Isn't providing weapons sponsorship enough? Heck... we could even throw in personal sponsorship for player Lee Chang-hyun through our Moras Workshop Seoul branch. No need to worry about that. We're always thrilled to see a super rookie wielding our gear."
"No, not that kind of sponsorship..."
"...?"
"The team I'm joining soon. Team PER. I want you to sponsor them—become Team PER's sponsor."
Park Hyun-ah's triumphant expression soured in seconds, rotting away like spoiled fruit. And who could blame her? Team PER was the league's pariah.
Third division. Dead last. What fanbase did they have? Hell, they didn't even have sponsors. No one knew how the hell they stayed afloat.
"Why Team PER of all teams? Any other squad—even a mid-tier one—and we'd happily sponsor whatever team you're on..."
"No... that's not an option. I've already signed with Team PER."
Her face twisted like he'd spouted nonsense.
"Team PER? Sponsoring them won't boost our promo or brand image at all..."
"That's exactly why it balances the scales, isn't it? I'm handing over my full weapon-crafting expertise to your Seoul branch."
I knew the proposal was a bit shameless, so I had to hammer home what I was offering. It was a stretch, sure—but the terms I'd dangled were too juicy for them to ignore.
And Park Hyun-ah knew it too. She stood there pondering for a long stretch before shaking her head like she was dispelling doubts.
"Fine. We'll send a staffer to Team PER for the details. Work it out with them."
Only then did a rush of satisfaction hit me.
Honestly, she could've turned me down... but it worked out. It's just the first step toward building a real team, but still...
No denying it—this was a monumental milestone.
***
Alright... sponsorship and funding are sorta handled for now...
Next up: the team itself. Recruiting six players at once was a pipe dream. I needed to scout for any talent already on the roster.
That led me to the Hunters League Third Division stadium. Smack in central Seoul—not hard to find.
More people than I expected for third division.
Scattered crowds, but still a decent turnout. Let's see...
The match was just as I'd researched: PER vs. ESP. Dead last vs. ninth place derby. With ten teams, it was basically the Loserlympics.
Still, being an official pro league, the casters were spinning it positively.
"Y-yeah... their record's rough right now, but they can climb! Rock bottom means nowhere to go but up! Against ESP, they've got a shot. They need this one!"
"Stats-wise, both teams look evenly matched. The issue is the losing streaks—they're playing passive. But flip it around: this could be the game where they bare their teeth!"
Nowhere to go but up, my ass. Hit bottom and there's still the basement—infinite losing streak hell.
I got the casters' spin, though. They couldn't just call it a clown fight between bottom-feeders.
The arena lights dimmed, and the virtual reality match kicked off.
Unlike first division's real Tower dungeons, second and third play in VR... no real damage risk, yet they're still this timid?
What are they so scared of?
Losing teams just lacked confidence, I guess.
The game started lukewarm on both sides. The map was Lost Temple, a twisting maze of rooms.
Both teams farmed monsters steadily, no fancy strats—just converging on the central hall for a teamfight.
Standard growth into a brawl was a tactic in itself, so far so good... but...
Is that how you teamfight?
The second they spotted the enemy, one idiot charged blindly and died. No check on his team's position, obviously.
If that was it, fine—but the remaining six scattered like roaches, picked off one by one.
A 7v7 teamfight turned into a 7-0 stomp in seconds.
Haa... is this really pro level?
No diamonds in the rough, not even average play.
"Team PER loses the teamfight and retreats! Fall back! Fall baaack! Oh no... even that's botched. Total rout—the formation's shattered. It's over! Done for!"
"And that's how the teamfight ends. PER's biggest issue is zero team cohesion. Even in defeat, you gotta try something—but the loss streak's got them paralyzed. Man, what now for PER?! At this rate, zero wins by season's end."
I glanced at the team score and nearly choked.
Wins... zero?
For a guy who'd won titles like breakfast, it was unimaginable.
Doubt crashed over me.
Did I pick the right team...? Should I have joined a solid squad with good conditions and jumped to first division later?
I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them. Still pitch black ahead.
The die was cast—I was PER property. Hell, I'd locked in sponsorship on that premise.
No... can't back out now. Scour for salvageable players first.
At least sponsorship gave some budget. Positive spin.
I left the stadium.
It'll work out somehow.
Trying to calm down, but the unease lingered. Still, post-game, I headed to PER's home to check skills and stats—just in case.
Please, just one decent player...
Praying I wouldn't end up this team's babysitter.
***
PER's home—the apartment I reached after Coach Lee Jong-gyu, who doubled as scout, buzzed me in—was...
What kind of team base is a family apartment?
Pathetic. "Cozy family vibe" was the polite spin, but bullshit.
Memories from my pre-regression days surfaced.
My first team was the same—no real sponsorship, crashing in a cramped apartment like this.
Not a fancy building, just a tight flat for multiple people. That was my start.
Might not be so bad. I steeled myself and punched in the code.
"You fucking moron! If you hadn't pulled that shit, we wouldn't be fucked!"
"Oh yeah? You did great—tuck tail and run, get smashed from behind. Real pro move."
The door swung open to a headache-inducing barrage of shouts and curses.
Makes sense... with results that trash, no way there's harmony.
More shocking: Coach Lee Jong-gyu was right in the thick of it.
"Guys... no fighting. Talk it out. Calm down... just talk. It'll work."
"Fuck, I did talk! Did I hit him? Kill him? Speak up, Coach."
No coach authority, no hierarchy, no order even.
I watched the circus, wondering how far it'd go—until Jong-gyu spotted me like a lifeline.
"Oh right! Guys! New teammate's here. Lee Chang-hyun—you know, the Hunters Next Generation champ? Even if the vibe's off, the gu dan ju brought him in. Let's make it work! Our team can change... gu dan ju's investing more too."
Only Lee Geun-taek knew I'd basically bought the team, so the coach was in the dark.
Anyway... sighs all around.
No awe at the hotshot rookie—just more bickering, zero thoughts on winning next game.
Can't build with these headcases...
That much was clear. Replace the idiots or rewire their brains. One or the other, stat.
Time to go hard.
"Watched the match. You guys were great."
"...?"
They knew they sucked, at least. I added,
"Mastered the art of fucking up."
One guy blew up.
"Who the hell's this amateur raising his voice at pros? You nuts?"
I didn't stop—sped up.
"Rest of you sucked too. You, bowl-cut bro—exposed the ranged DPS on retreat. Back there, long-hair sis—ranged but no clue if to fight or flee. Zero judgment."
Some hung their heads in shame; others glared.
"And you, back there with the side-braid—same shit. Own it."
"Didn't... blame others..."
I'd rattled off what came to mind—reactions as expected. Chaotic, rift-filled team on the verge.
"Oh. New guy being harsh? Hurt feelings?"
Not my scene, but rot needed cutting.
"Then 1v1 me. Lose, I leave. Win, you go."
They hemmed and hawed—lukewarm.
So I hit 'em.
"Scared?"