The Heavenly Demon Coaches (6) "Enry"
Even in his game avatar, Bae Min-hwang looked ready to collapse at any moment. He spoke to Enry in a weary tone.
“Do you really think Hwaryeong will keep grinding us until we actually get hurt?”
“Probably,” Enry replied. This was the first time he had seen Ara like this, so he couldn’t say anything with certainty. Still, he guessed that way because, when it came to teaching combat, Ara never wasted time on unnecessary things.
Enry didn’t think Ara was perfect. She had plenty of flaws to match her strengths. But when it came to teaching battle, she was different. When she fought herself, she relaxed, played around, and moved according to her mood. When teaching others, however, she pursued extreme efficiency. Enry, who had been rolled around by Ara countless times, knew this better than anyone.
“Seriously?”
“I never thought I’d actually prefer getting screamed at.”
“It feels like being bullied by a truly vicious sniper.”
As Enry spoke, complaints leaked out from the rest of the team. After three hours of unreasonable violence from Ara, resentment was inevitable. While the teammates were bonding over gossip about Ara, Enry gave a bitter smile—until Dalbit cut them off.
“Only two minutes left in the break. Let’s try a different strategy.”
Dalbit had joined about thirty minutes after the sparring with Ara began. Every time the team took their three-minute rest, he tried to find a way to wound her. But the gap between Enry’s team’s martial prowess and Ara’s was so vast that strategy itself became meaningless. The teammates who had somewhat listened to Dalbit earlier were now only half-hearing him.
“Coach, you’ve never fought Hwaryeong yourself. She’s unbeatable.”
“We don’t even have any strategies left to try, do we?”
“Still—”
“What’s this? Are you all ready to give up?”
Ara’s voice cut through their grumbling. Everyone who had just been badmouthing her flinched and glanced at her, but Ara merely smiled as if she didn’t care.
“I said I’d let you go once you meet my condition.”
“That condition is ridiculous!”
Nabi-rin, pushed to her limit, shouted at Ara.
“This is just one-sided bullying!”
“Nabi-rin’s words are a bit excessive, but I agree,” Bae Min-hwang added. “There’s no point repeating something with zero chance of success.”
The rest of Enry’s team nodded in agreement. It was the same thing they had been saying over and over.
Ara crossed her arms and let out a small hum.
“Hmm. I see. It must have been difficult for you all.”
“Right?”
“Then we’ll stop here.”
“Fine. I’ll add someone to help you. Dalbit?”
“Yes?”
“Join the fight.”
Ara left without another word. Those who had been hoping for the end of the sparring felt a pang of disappointment, yet they decided to be satisfied that the condition had improved. If Dalbit, a former pro who had once made a name for himself, joined the team, they should finally be able to wound Ara.
Dalbit had been actively competing at the pro level until recently. Though he had announced his retirement and switched to streaming, he was the kind of player who could have continued his pro career if he wanted. Now that he was on the team, the situation would surely change. Enry and his teammates looked at Dalbit with hopeful eyes, believing he would end this long, painful sparring.
“Dalbit.”
“Coach.”
“We’re counting on you, Coach!”
Under the weight of their expectant gazes, Dalbit forced a bitter smile.
This just became a matter of the coach’s authority.
Dalbit’s mind grew complicated the moment he heard Hwaryeong’s words. It wasn’t that he lacked confidence in beating her. It wasn’t even a one-on-one fight—it was six against one. And all they needed was to land a single hit. Could a former pro really fail at that? He had achieved results even in the pro scene, where only monsters beyond human limits appeared. No matter how great Hwaryeong was, he was confident he could manage this much.
Yet he hesitated because of the chat window.
Dalbit found the expectations directed at him burdensome. He feared the moment he failed, those same people would flip their masks and curse him. It hadn’t been like this when he was an active pro. No matter what criticism he saw, he hadn’t cared. He believed that proving himself with skill was enough. But now it was different. Ever since he started streaming, those criticisms had become terrifying. He didn’t know why. Was it the difference between reading posts on a community board and receiving real-time abuse?
In reality, after ruining an auction because of his own mistake, Dalbit had been criticized by viewers all day yesterday. Their insults poured in through chat and donations alike. A few offered sympathy, but most treated him as a punching bag. The criticism had been so intense that Dalbit felt suffocated throughout the entire stream. That dreadful sensation lingered long after he ended the broadcast and still hadn’t faded.
He was forcing a smile, but inside he was constantly anxious. What would happen if he failed? If he couldn’t even wound Hwaryeong and collapsed instead, what would people say to him? He couldn’t be sure of the exact words, but it was painfully clear they wouldn’t be kind or gentle.
“Coach?”
Snapping back to reality at Enry’s voice, Dalbit forced a smile at the worried gaze directed at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. More importantly, let’s figure out how we’re going to fight.”
Just like before, Hwaryeong appeared the moment three minutes passed.
“Are you ready?”
Dalbit answered by stepping forward. In his hands were two daggers. Sword Dancer—a speed-type character who wielded dual daggers. Its speed was so overwhelming that most people couldn’t handle it without assistance. But Dalbit was different. Having played Sword Dancer countless times during his pro days, he could utilize the character properly without any corrections.
“Then come.”
The moment Hwaryeong spoke, Dalbit moved. The maximum speed of Sword Dancer was difficult to follow with the naked eye. Only at the pro level could one react to such movement; ordinary players usually had to predict and respond. Yet Hwaryeong watched Dalbit’s movements with her eyes as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Dalbit didn’t panic even when he saw Hwaryeong’s gaze tracking him. This was expected. There was no way a monster who could dominate even at the pro level would fail at something like this.
Clicking his tongue inwardly, Dalbit swung his daggers at Hwaryeong. The strikes of a Sword Dancer weren’t simple lines. The relentless chain of attacks born from overwhelming speed combined line after line until they formed a single plane. Their swordsmanship was essentially a dance that painted a picture.
Dalbit believed his chain attacks, which worked even against current pros, would wound Hwaryeong. But he was wrong. His assumption had been far too optimistic. Hwaryeong dodged his daggers several times with pure movement, then began painting alongside him. On the canvas where only the sword-as-brush had drawn, Hwaryeong’s fists were added. As if scolding him for drawing lines that way, her increasingly refined and dazzling movements gradually narrowed the domain of his daggers. By the time the canvas that had once been filled with their combined picture became entirely Hwaryeong’s, Dalbit hurriedly retreated.
A little longer and he would have been hit. Definitely.
“You charged in alone, so I assume you wanted to test your own skill. How was it?”
“You’re like a monster.”
He meant it sincerely. To think this was the skill of someone who had only been playing Apis for a few months. Just how extraordinary was the talent inside that person?
Though it had been only a brief clash, Dalbit understood enough. Hwaryeong’s skill surpassed his own. If he clung to pride, he would be crushed by her.
“Everyone, let’s go with the strategy we planned.”
“Yeah!”
“Let’s win this.”
“I just want to rest now.”
“Me too.”
Their strategy was simple. Dalbit would stand at the front and confront Hwaryeong while the others continuously attacked her, overwhelming her with sheer density of attacks. In short, it was one evasion tank and five dealers raiding a boss. They had tried this approach before, but back then the one holding the front line had been the sword-and-shield knight, Bunny. Now it was Dalbit. The difference in stability between the two was significant. Yet even so, Hwaryeong remained unshaken. She stayed relaxed amid the waves of countless attacks. Her figure looked less like a surfer riding the waves and more like a miracle that split the waves to create flat land.
“Dalbit.”
Hwaryeong called out to him while dodging Nabi-rin’s arrow and deflecting Bunny’s sword with the back of her hand.
Dalbit didn’t answer. If he had time to speak, it was better to swing his dagger one more time.
“You’re not fully focused on me right now.”
He swung his daggers.
“I thought only Enry’s teammates were worried about the viewers, but I was wrong. You’re also distracted by something else.”
He swung his daggers.
“Fine. I’ll make sure you can focus on me.”
The hand that had been about to swing the dagger stopped. When he looked ahead, Hwaryeong was there. She was so enormous that it was impossible to guess where she ended. A palm descended from the sky, piercing through the clouds. That overwhelming presence looked like the palm strike of a Buddha. Dalbit couldn’t resist it. The thought of dodging, blocking, or breaking through—all of it felt arrogant. He gave up resisting and simply stared blankly at the palm trying to crush him.
Then, the moment the palm stopped right in front of Dalbit, he came to his senses.
What is this…?
“Now do you understand? That you have no time to worry about anything else?”
Dalbit silently nodded at the question. The chat window that had kept catching his eye was now invisible. The presence before him was simply too overwhelming for that.
“Then what are you doing? Come at me again.”