Into the Frenzy

Tick. Tick. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Tick. Tick.

The Challengers Cup was a fairly large-scale tournament.

With the regular pro league currently in the off-season, it could even be called the biggest event in the country.

Although the prize pool was on the smaller side, prize money was merely a formality in tournaments like this anyway.

If the true value of winning the pro league lay in honor, the value of the Challengers Cup lay in "recognition."

It was the largest amateur tournament.

At the same time, it was the largest streamer tournament.

The team captains of the Challengers Cup were all popular streamers, often referred to as "conglomerates."

The sheer number of viewers these captains could pull in was staggering.

For lesser-known, so-called "no-name" broadcasters, it was a genuine opportunity to turn their lives around.

"Welcome, viewers."

"Up next is Group B of the Challengers Cup. We have the match between Team Na Jia and Team Shredder ready for you."

The situation was no different for aspiring pro gamers.

A rookie making a name for themselves in an amateur tournament and signing a contract with a team to debut—players who followed this path had always existed, both past and present.

But in a sense, Nabi had already succeeded in making her name known.

A Berserker with a fresh build and exhilarating combat style.

Yet, a girl who froze up and couldn't move when the critical moment arrived.

For better or worse, Nabi was bound to be a hot topic.

"There are so many unique teams in this tournament."

"And the first match between Team Na Jia and Team Shredder is no exception."

"Team Na Jia has two pure support players. On top of that, they have a Warlock and a Chain Master."

"Neither of those are classes capable of actively carrying. You could call it a classic 'carry me' composition."

"Siz, who mains Artilleryman, and DoNotTalkToMe, who mains Berserker, really need to step up and do something."

The Warlock was a class specialized in disrupting the enemy.

From area-of-effect slows to defense reduction, and even curse magic that restricted various senses.

Rather than doing something themselves, their focus was on preventing the opponent from doing anything.

The Chain Master followed a similar logic.

While the Warlock imposed magical restrictions, this class specialized in physical disruption.

They could create temporary walls with giant chains to isolate enemies, or bind opponents by weaving chains together.

Although they couldn't influence the entire battlefield, they were a class that could unleash powerful disruption against a small number of targets.

Well, in the end, they were the same in that they were passive classes.

That was where Team Na Jia's problems began.

"On the other hand, Team Shredder is a team focused primarily on damage dealers."

"Their stability might be low, but every single one of their damage dealers is stylish."

"They're a very difficult opponent for Team Na Jia. If they aren't careful, they could get toyed with until the game ends."

"Especially since they've shown a lot of sluggish performances in recent scrims..."

A composition with four passive classes.

And to make matters worse, the crucial component—the Berserker—was broken.

The viewers' eyes were by no means blind.

They watched the game as passionate fans, and as fellow players.

This meant that obsessing over victory wasn't something exclusive to the players participating in the game.

Fundamentally, the power of esports came from the fans who went wild over the competition.

It was only natural, even expected, for people to look at Nabi with concern.

A cemetery drenched in pouring rain.

Old tombstones deflected the falling droplets.

As expected, the moment the game started, my heart felt like it was going to burst.

Right now, tens of thousands of people were watching the match from the outside.

Tens of thousands. It was a dizzying number just to imagine.

I already found it hard enough to keep up with my teammates' conversations, and thinking about all those eyes on me made it difficult to even take a step.

Yu Nabi had collapsed, unable to withstand this pressure.

I wasn't much different.

Weak thoughts were already filling my head, and my heart screamed that it wanted to run away this very instant.

Would it have been better if I had never started anything at all?

Perhaps dying in that hospital bed had been a stroke of luck in its own way.

At least I wouldn't have had to despair after making a fuss about trying to chase a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dream.

No. Stop thinking like that!

Slap!

A bit harder than usual.

I slapped both of my cheeks with my palms.

Thanks to consciously cutting off those thoughts, my mind felt a little clearer.

What I needed to do right now was focus entirely on the game.

There would be plenty of time to regret and be afraid later.

For now, no matter what happened, I had to pick up my axe and fight.

The heavy sensation of steel felt perfectly snug in my hands.

"Let's move for now. Nabi, you go in the vanguard."

"But are we really going to do that? I've never heard of a request like this in my life."

"She said she was confident. Even if it doesn't go well, it's better to try something than nothing, right?"

"I suppose so... Ugh, alright. I really don't know about this. I'm only doing it because you asked, okay?"

"Yes. If anyone complains, I'll make sure to explain it clearly on my stream."

I heard Na Jia's voice, along with the worries of our anxious Warlock.

I didn't pay attention.

To be precise, I didn't have the luxury to.

My mind was already saturated just trying to endure my own anxiety.

The tiny bit of focus I had left was reserved solely for the game.

The ones I absolutely have to stop are those two: the enemy Martial Artist and the Dual Blader. I must never let them get close to our Artilleryman.

Neither our team nor the opponents had drafted a tank player.

If our team lacked damage dealers to carry, the other side had an excess of self-assertive damage dealers.

Even the melee-focused Martial Artist and Dual Blader were strictly classified as "damage dealers."

The enemy's firepower was superior to ours.

However, their defense was low, and their combat sustain couldn't compare to ours.

In that case, what I had to do was thoroughly hold the enemies back and buy time.

In other words, the standard play was to drag the battlefield into a war of attrition.

Fittingly, most of my allies' buffs were related to survival.

The Saint's crucial buff had been cast on me.

Since the team lacked a frontliner, a significant amount of support was being funneled my way.

At this moment, when I was at my most intimidated, my character was paradoxically stronger than ever.

Soon, I encountered two enemies amidst the heavy downpour.

No words were exchanged.

Fortunately, the opponents attacked me without saying a single word.

From the left, the Martial Artist's nunchucks kept me in check.

From the right, the Dual Blader's sharp thrusts rushed in.

This merciless assault was exactly what I had hoped for.

Ignoring both of their attacks, I swung my axe.

I took a significant amount of damage, but the enemy Dual Blader suffered even greater injuries.

You should have come at me with everything from the start.

If my stopping them was our team's win condition, the enemy team's win condition was killing me.

If I died, our team ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would lose its only shield and be slaughtered.

That was why the enemy probably expected me to play defensively.

In truth, their reasoning wasn't wrong.

I knew all too well that playing defensively was the standard textbook move.

But what could I do when my situation was far from standard?

Right now, I didn't have the capacity to read the opponent's intentions and grasp the flow of the battlefield.

I simply lacked the mental bandwidth for such high-level thinking.

Only instinct. The most I could do was focus on the enemies in front of me, letting my bones and flesh guide my movements.

Don't think.

Focus so intensely that my mind becomes too full to think of anything else.

If I couldn't overcome my flaw in the end... I just had to forget it for a moment.

Even as I pushed the enemies back with my axe, I glanced around, keeping track of their skills without missing a beat.

The Martial Artist is using an active skill. Descending Dragon. Pre-delay is 2.4 seconds. Cast time is 0.9 seconds. Post-delay is 0.55 seconds. As for the Dual Blader...

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

A faint metronome sound echoed in my head.

A metronome at 80 BPM ticks once every 0.75 seconds.

During this turn, I could dedicate up to five ticks of the metronome entirely to attacking the Dual Blader.

Once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠again, I ignored the slash wounds running from my shoulder to my abdomen.

Tanking all of the enemy's attacks with my body, I swung my axe.

Blood—both mine and the enemy's—splattered, soaking my body and clothes.

And my class was a Berserker.

A Berserker grows stronger in desperate moments rather than when everything is perfectly fine.

Once my health had been sufficiently shaved down and the panicked enemies took a step back, my teammate bestowed the promised blessing upon me.

Without hesitation, I surrendered my body to the madness.