Transcription
Former pro gamer Havoc was a domestic league champion.
Although he had never won an international tournament, he had never gone down without a fight.
His final international match was widely considered one of the greatest games of all time.
Anyone who witnessed his fighting spirit back then could never look down on Havoc's prime.
But... yes.
Looking strictly at his career achievements, Havoc wasn't a particularly illustrious player.
At the end of the day, he hadn't lifted many championship trophies.
Even his appearances in international tournaments were few and far between.
Even now, the professional league was filled with monstrous players.
Star players who swept domestic trophies time and time again and achieved incredible results on the international stage.
Then, as now, the league was always full of brilliant stars.
So many players had faded into obscurity, eclipsed by their blinding radiance.
Yet, the name Havoc remained a vivid memory for me.
The way he played during his prime. That overwhelming presence!
I knew him all too well—a man who shone brightly even in the shadow of those superstars.
Not just me, but most esports fans would probably remember him by one title:
'The hope of the underdog.'
Havoc had never belonged to a powerhouse team.
From the beginning to the end of his career, he stayed with bottom-tier teams.
The "upset" that overturned a hopeless gap in strength.
The "clutch" play that turned the tide in a crisis—these were the words that defined him.
How could a championship won by such a man be dismissed as just a single victory?
Winning a championship is never guaranteed, even when playing with the best teammates on the best team.
The fact that he achieved such a feat from the very bottom proved how great Havoc's prime truly was.
A player whose very name instilled a sense of dread that the outcome of the match was entirely unpredictable.
I was about to face a man whom even the fans of long-standing powerhouse teams remembered as a great rival, right here in the finals.
Though this wasn't the professional league.
And though he was now retired, and I wasn't even a professional gamer yet.
I didn't need anything more to make my heart swell with excitement.
I couldn't let this thrilling moment go to waste.
To prepare for a formidable opponent, it was only natural to study them first.
Today, once again, I was reviewing Havoc's matches.
The tablet felt warm in my hands, having been turned on for far too long.
'Before a major attack, his left foot always steps forward.'
His signature class was the Destroyer.
A class characterized by slow but devastating attacks using a massive warhammer.
Stepping forward with that left leg was the preparatory motion to put his full weight behind a single strike.
Tap. Tap-tap.
I tapped my fingers on the desk while watching the video.
One and a half beats of an 80 BPM metronome.
The attack would land approximately 1.125 seconds later.
'Tensing his body isn't a defensive stance; it's the prelude to an attack. The average duration he holds that posture is...'
Skills honed to the absolute limit eventually converge into a consistent timing.
Time is rhythm. With melody and rhythm, the skeleton of a musical score is formed.
Ever since the day we made it to the finals.
I had been transcribing Havoc.
In front of the screen where the Challengers Cup broadcast had just begun.
A woman cracked open a can of beer on the sofa.
She looked incredibly laid-back, almost like a slacker.
With practiced hands, she tore off a strip of dried squid.
After gulping down the beer, she even let out a satisfied, "Ahhh!"
If not for the coach's uniform she was wearing, she could easily have been mistaken for a ten-year unemployed slacker.
However, skill and seriousness do not always go hand in hand.
Without a doubt, there was no one in the Infinity Realm esports industry who didn't know her name.
Although she was currently working as a mere coach, her career as a player had been nothing short of legendary.
One World Championship victory.
Two victories in the Prelude, the mid-season international tournament.
One Korean League championship. Five North American League championships.
She was the pro gamer who had once elevated the North American league to the best in the world.
In this industry, not knowing the name 'Hero' went beyond incompetence—it was practically a joke.
Even now, long after her retirement, her legendary reputation had not faded in the slightest.
The Tomb of the Death Squad, huh?
Hero chewed on the squid as she chewed on her memories.
That battlefield was modeled after the Battle of Thermopylae.
The place where King Leonidas and his Spartan death squad were wiped out by the Persians.
Fittingly, the map consisted of a narrow plain with an even narrower side path cutting through it.
The area Hero was focusing on was that side path.
Although the overall flow of the game would be decided by the firefight on the plains, she wasn't particularly interested in the match itself.
After all, the Challengers Cup was ultimately an amateur tournament.
By Hero's standards, the level of play was far too low.
And as for watching it for fun... she didn't really feel like it.
She had already spent her youth in fierce, grueling competition before retiring.
She was finally enjoying a relaxed life; was she supposed to spend her free time watching Infinity Realm broadcasts too?
As a human being, she couldn't commit such a crime against herself.
On her days off, catching up on dramas was the right thing to do.
In other words, her watching the Challengers Cup was born out of a certain 'necessity.'
Hero wanted to see how Yu Nabi would fare against an opponent of professional caliber.
The flow of the game was simple.
Yu Nabi's team had the advantage in this match.
The opposing team leader, Fallen Leaves, had spent too many points bidding on Havoc.
As a result, his teammates' skill levels were low, and their main force's composition lacked flexibility.
They had no counter to match Siz's Artilleryman in long-range skirmishes.
In team fights, the side that felt rushed was always the one forced to initiate.
The team with the upper hand in a standoff had no reason to play into the opponent's hands.
Naturally, it would turn into a scenario where Yu Nabi blocked the side path and Havoc tried to break through.
The moment Havoc, having run a long distance, came into view.
Yu Nabi began to charge forward fiercely.
The commentators implied she had chosen to attack when she should have stalled.
Hero clicked her tongue.
"This is the problem with amateur tournaments. This is why they need professional commentators."
In Hero's eyes, Yu Nabi's choice was correct.
It was true that the Berserker had to play the role of a defender in this match.
But if you lose the fight and die, what good is defending?
Yu Nabi had pushed forward specifically to secure a slightly more advantageous position.
She must have deduced Havoc's build based on the size and shape of his weapon, as well as the time it took him to arrive.
She had scanned her surroundings beforehand and chose her battleground the instant she spotted the enemy.
Nabi hadn't wasted a single second of her preparation time.
She understood her role and capabilities perfectly, and she had thoroughly researched the key enemy player.
This meant she possessed the right mindset for facing a powerful foe.
Hero gave her a passing grade on the first test.
"But it's still too early to tell. Having the basics down is useless if you can't actually fight."
Indeed.
This was where the real test began.
When Hero first saw Yu Nabi on Hanul's stream, she hadn't paid much attention.
Her assessment that Nabi's technique was unrefined had been genuine.
She wasn't expecting some irregular, god-tier technique, but it was true that Nabi fell far short of the professional standard.
But her opinion changed after watching her other fights.
The clips that were constantly uploaded to the community forums.
People watched Yu Nabi attack relentlessly until the brink of death and labeled her as "pure madness."
But to Hero's eyes, what Yu Nabi possessed didn't look like "madness," but rather a form of "conviction."
The belief that she had chosen the absolute best move.
The calculation that she wouldn't die even if she took this hit.
If those calculations lay at the foundation of her play, then Yu Nabi's combat style was far from that of a madman.
In that case, unrefined technique was no longer an issue.
She could just teach her step-by-step.
Technique is the easiest thing to improve, provided the player has the will.
Reaching the absolute peak was a different story, but getting her on the right track wouldn't be difficult.
Conveniently, her team was currently short on Bruiser trainees.
"So, show me what you've got. It's been a while since I've taken a direct junior under my wing."
The most critical gaze in the world locked onto Yu Nabi.
...Even if that gaze smelled faintly of beer.
"Ah, this squid is actually pretty good."