The 0.25% Defeat

I can’t hold back anymore, Lene. For real.

It was strange. Why did things keep turning out like this? I had attacked at the exact moment. No, at the perfect moment, yet my warhammer didn’t even graze the hem of his clothes. It only sliced through empty air. The result was two straight set losses. In fact, the only proper hit I’d landed was that single attack right at the very beginning.

The chat window was buzzing with all kinds of theories about my current situation. Of course, nobody expected me to win. After getting crushed that badly in two matches in a row, that was only natural. Still, their chatter wasn’t what mattered right now. What I needed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to figure out was why my attacks weren’t connecting with him at all.

Almost as if refusing to give me any breathing room, the great bell of the arena rang out again. The moment that message appeared, he charged straight at me once more. The counterattack I’d used at the start wouldn’t work anymore. That had only been possible because I’d exploited preconceptions about weapons and the field itself. Once it’s predicted, it stops being a variable.

So once again I had no choice but to backpedal and receive his assault. …Now.

The warhammer tore through the air with a vicious shaaak. It was a perfectly timed, perfectly aimed strike, one that should have been impossible to dodge after reading his movement. Yet—

“Hmm.”

Once again, my attack didn’t even graze his clothes. It simply cut through empty space. And I was forced to pay the price. No matter how much I accelerated, I was still equipped with a warhammer and full plate armor. I couldn’t possibly be faster than him in his light gear with just knuckles.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Because I’d missed a single attack, I had to eat three in return. The result was roughly ten percent of my HP shaved off. A heavy price for one small mistake. But in this situation, it was the only way I could hope to beat him. I had to retreat, block as many of his strikes as possible, and swing my warhammer the instant I saw an opening.

It would have been nice to seize the initiative, but right now—when I still knew nothing about my opponent—doing so would only be declaring that I wanted to be toyed with even more one-sidedly. Just what was the problem here? It would have been easier if he had believed in his advantage and rushed in recklessly. Instead he moved with careful, precise steps, as if he refused to miss even a single twitch of my movement.

Well, I suppose that level of focus is what lets someone become rank one and win tournaments. “Mmm…”

Before I knew it, my HP had dropped to twenty-five percent. I still hadn’t found a way out. How should I describe this feeling? The most accurate way was probably fighting someone from an entirely different world…

“Hup!”

“…Ah.”

I’d been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lost in thought and reacted a moment too late. He had been standing just outside the reach of my warhammer; now he ducked low, closed the distance, and threw a punch. I knew it was already too late, but I still swung my hammer. And then—

“Huh?”

With a heavy thud, my warhammer grazed his shoulder as it passed by. Unfortunately it wasn’t a direct hit, so his HP bar only dropped by about two percent. Even with his posture slightly broken, he didn’t stop. He continued his combo, and my HP dropped another ten percent.

A two-percent-for-ten-percent trade. A clear loss. But that didn’t matter. The important thing was that my attack had finally landed.

Why? His reaction had been slower than all the previous times, so why did it work this time?

I turned my eyes away from the chat that was flying up the screen at blinding speed and thought about what had just happened. If I tried to recreate that attack, I could probably do it. But my opponent was someone called the pinnacle. Relying on that kind of coincidence would let him read my intentions and counter immediately.

That meant I had to turn that coincidence into something inevitable. I recalled his movements. How his shoulder had shifted. What stance he used to attack me. Which direction he had stepped in. Had I been concentrating too deeply? I hadn’t even noticed him closing in again. What I saw were his legs—his footwork. The thing people in martial arts called “stepping.”

“…Oh.”

Come to think of it, he did say he used to be a kickboxing athlete. “I get it now.”

I slipped back just enough to let his attack flow past me, then swung my warhammer upward from below. This time the timing was truly perfect.

BOOM!

A far heavier sound than knuckles striking plate armor rang out, and he was sent flying backward just like in the first set. Roughly fifteen percent of his HP vanished. I had taken a little damage myself because of my delayed reaction, but that didn’t matter anymore. I finally understood the trick.

He was pulling his rear foot back slightly while attacking, creating a tiny window that let him slip away from any counter at any time. Because of that, an attack I thought was perfectly timed actually ended up being half a beat too slow. I never imagined such a technique existed. So that’s why it felt like he was attacking me from an entirely different world.

…Well, that makes sense. The other world developed magic rather than these minute technical skills. Even though I’ve already been back on Earth for over a year, it seems my brain still defaults to thinking in terms of that other world. If I had remembered from the start that he used to be a kickboxing athlete, I would have noticed much sooner.

All right. Now it’s my turn.

In the first set, when I landed the counter and he fell, I hadn’t immediately followed up because I’d felt something off. Even though the timing should have made it impossible to defend, he had still managed to reduce the damage. But now I knew exactly why. There was no longer any need to avoid a direct confrontation.

“Huuu…”

I took a deep breath, stepped forward, and accelerated. He raised both hands in front of his face, clearly inviting a counter. I ignored it. As long as I understood the foundation of the movements I had seen, I could handle any variation he threw at me.

I knew it wasn’t fair to compare, but… even if his technique was better, the Holy Knights of my order were on a completely different level when it came to pure speed.

Whoosh!

The moment the distance closed, I slipped past the incoming fist, took one more step, and brought my warhammer straight down toward his head without hesitation. He forcibly twisted his whole body to block it somehow, but the effort completely destroyed his posture. And I had no intention of letting that opening slip away.

“Ugh?!”

Hearing the shock in his shout, I continued the assault. Faster. More accurately. At a speed that left no room for a counterattack. It didn’t matter that he was somehow still blocking my strikes. Even if his defenses succeeded, the limits of light armor meant his HP was dropping steadily.

90 percent. 80 percent. 76 percent. 63 percent. 50 percent. 43 percent.

I could win. No—I would win. It was clear he had no more tricks left, at least not right now.

30 percent. 25 percent. And the instant his HP fell to 12 percent—

“Ah…”

He seemed to lose focus completely and fell backward. Blocking was no longer possible. If I brought the warhammer down now, his remaining HP would disappear entirely. Just before my weapon could connect with his head—

The result was a message announcing my defeat. My remaining HP was 11.79 percent. His was 12.04 percent. A loss by a mere 0.25 percent.

What a shame. I had it in the bag. […Thank you for your hard work, Miss Lene. I’m sorry for the sudden request, but thank you for accepting.]

“N-no, not at all. If anything, I’m the one who gained valuable experience… Thank you…”

[I have a schedule coming up soon, so I’ll have to leave first. Is that all right?]

“Ah, yes. Take care…”

[Thank you. …And I’ll be waiting.]

As soon as we moved to the PVP waiting room, he—Gaeun—logged out of both New Dimension and Miss Code with those final words. A pro gamer at the very top must be incredibly busy. …He really was insanely good, though. If that last set had continued, I definitely would have won, but that was only because Gaeun panicked once I saw through his hand. Since he used to be a kickboxing athlete and is now a pro gamer, that definitely wasn’t all he had. So if we went to a next set, wouldn’t I have lost after all? So that’s the level someone needs to reach to win a world tournament.

“Mmm… The ending was a little disappointing. I could have won…”

“I was genuinely surprised myself…”

At my words the chat exploded with praise for Gaeun, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. It was nothing but praise for Gaeun, on and on. …

…That’s a little ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠annoying. I know he’s amazing, but this is still my stream. And honestly, I was the one who won at the end. There had been so many people saying an A-grader could never take even a single set off him, yet after I showed this much, shouldn’t I get some praise too?

“Ahem. Ahem… Everyone…? —? —Yeah —I want to PVP Gaeun too.”

But saying that outright would be too embarrassing, so I tried to hint at it indirectly.

“Still, I basically won at the end, right…? My opponent was the world champion Gaeun, and I’m only A-rank… Um…”

For some reason the chat was flooded with laughter at my words. Why? What is it…

“…Yes. I want praise. How did I do…? I looked cool, right…?”

“H-hehe…. Hehe…. Pffuuu…. Right? I looked cool, right? Heehee…”

While I replenished my self-esteem by reading the praise from my dear viewers—

“Hyup?!”

The sound effect I had set for donations over fifty thousand won suddenly rang in my ears. I had prepared it just in case before the stream, but I never expected to actually receive one. It startled me so badly.

What the— Why are they like this all of a sudden? …But earlier. What did Gaeun mean by “I’ll be waiting”?