Just a Minor Trick

"It's just a minor trick, really."

Whatever the case, I didn't have the right to refuse.

It wasn't like I could just refuse to play when I had come all this way for a test.

Thinking about it calmly, there was no reason to refuse anyway.

Hero was a player who had retired a long time ago.

Since she no longer played solo queue, just facing off against her like this was a massive opportunity.

Regardless of whether I won or lost, the feedback I would receive would undoubtedly be invaluable to me.

So, first, let's calm down.

When a game starts, the very first thing to do is understand the matchup.

I couldn't let myself get intimidated by the opponent's legendary name before our weapons had even clashed.

No matter how legendary Hero was, she didn't receive any special treatment from the system.

If anything, I was the one being favored right now.

The battlefield was the Frozen Plateau, which was practically home turf for a Berserker.

On top of that, the Geas increased the action speed of all characters in the arena by 10%.

This environment was so advantageous to me that it felt like Hero had intentionally given herself a handicap.

While Hero would be feeling slower than usual, I was faster than ever.

Moreover, the Knight class wasn't performing very well in the current meta.

In terms of raw stats alone, I held a significant advantage.

Pure, unadulterated weight class power.

That was the only thing I could rely on in this match.

So, the moment I encountered Hero, I boldly launched an attack.

The classic "strike first, win first" strategy!

There was no reason to hand the initiative over to someone who was clearly superior to me.

I figured I could worry about everything else after I secured the upper hand with a preemptive strike.

But the moment our axe and greatsword clashed for the first time...

I couldn't hide my bewilderment.

What? I lost a contest of raw strength? Is that even possible?

It wasn't an overwhelming difference.

Just a tiny bit. My axe lacked just a fraction of the necessary force, causing it to be deflected outward.

The problem was that even this "tiny bit" was completely outside my calculations.

A deflected weapon meant the space in front of my body was wide open.

Naturally, I had only thought about pushing forward, never considering what would happen if the opposite occurred.

Hero's greatsword slipped right into the defenseless gap that had so easily opened up.

Was this the caliber of a World Champion?

Her positioning and angle were exquisite.

It was too late to pull my axe back, and trading blows by taking the hit to counterattack would cost me far too much.

Ultimately, I was forced into a binary choice.

To avoid this attack without taking damage, I would have to pull my body back significantly.

But doing so would leave me in no position to attack, meaning I would lose my tempo.

Hero would then be free to chain her next attacks at her leisure.

On the other hand, what if I tanked the hit and counterattacked?

Hero would be the one forced to retreat, and I would get to dictate the next move.

But that meant taking a greatsword straight to the body.

My ancestors weren't going to magically restore my lost HP.

No. Either option leads to defeat.

I had learned one crucial lesson from my match with Havoc.

You must never yield the tempo to an opponent who surpasses you in experience, technique, and skill.

Otherwise, you will just get dragged along and slowly bled dry until you're forced to make a desperate, crazy gamble.

But would my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gamble even work?

Against Hero, of all people?

Betting everything on such low odds would be madness.

In that case, I had to choose a third option.

A card I could only play because this was a game, not reality.

A way to forcibly tip the scales in my favor when choosing to counterattack.

I burned a precious active skill.

Even if we traded blows, I would come out ahead in the short term.

As Hero's body fluidly slipped away, it seemed like my plan had succeeded.

At least, until a sudden spinning back kick slammed right under my chin.

She must have used her greatsword as a counterweight while pretending to retreat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of her blade sweeping low.

It was a strike that slipped perfectly through the blind spot of my thoughts.

My head was forced upward, my vision tilting toward the sky.

A pathetic gasp escaped my mouth.

"Wh-ack?!"

There is a world of difference between taking a hit you expect and one you don't.

The failure to tense your muscles to absorb the impact, the psychological shock of an unforeseen blow...

In real-world combat sports like boxing, the likelihood of a knockout varies wildly depending on whether the fighter saw the punch coming.

It wasn't much different in Infinity Realm.

An unprepared-for attack yielded far more painful results.

As my vision reeled, I was left completely defenseless.

My thoughts ground to a halt for a split second, delaying my reaction.

A player like Hero was never going to miss an opening like that.

Before I could even recover my stance, her greatsword slashed deep across my body.

The chunk of HP sliced from my bar was far more devastating than I had braced myself for.

Did she twist the blade mid-slash to widen the wound?

Well, that's one thing learned.

Regardless, the situation had turned incredibly grim off a single kick.

It felt unfair, but there was no use crying over spilled milk.

Dwelling on what was already lost would only drag me down into a swamp of my own making.

Right now, I had to do the best I could.

Once an attack ends, a moment of vulnerability inevitably follows.

For instance, the moment the opponent recovers their weapon.

Right after an attack, when they can't put proper force behind it, and their blade is still committed to my side of the field.

Paradoxically, now, with blood pouring from my body, was the perfect opportunity.

I hooked my axe onto her retreating greatsword and held on.

Though my HP was rapidly draining from the recoil of exerting myself while bleeding, Hero couldn't easily pull her greatsword back either.

I locked her greatsword down with my axe blade while using the shaft to protect my body.

I could do this.

I still didn't quite understand why my weapon had been deflected in our first clash.

However, my system stats were still far superior.

In a deadlock where we pitted raw strength against each other, I held the absolute advantage.

And once I seized control of the power struggle, I could decide when to end this clash.

I wasn't arrogant enough to think I could beat Hero in pure weapon technique.

Before she could pull any tricks, I quickly broke the lock.

I immediately delivered a side kick, pushing Hero's body far back.

A sufficient distance.

The matchup reset to neutral.

And finally, running out of time.

The only thing left for me to do was unleash the most powerful attack possible in this situation.

Through a vision flashing red with frenzy...

I leaped high into the air and brought my axe crashing down toward Hero with all my might.

Boom! The lightning-infused ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠axe surged rapidly toward the ground.

The destructive power was immense, but it failed to connect cleanly.

A greatsword thrust at an angle deflected its trajectory, and the price of a failed ultimate was death.

With the greatsword plunging straight into my heart, my vision faded to black.

I played several more practice matches with Hero after that.

In the first match, I had at least managed to land a kick, but from the next game onward, even such lucky breaks disappeared.

I lost. I lost utterly and miserably.

Even if she was the legendary Hero, she wasn't active anymore; she was someone who had retired years ago.

Yet, I felt a massive, insurmountable wall standing before me.

By the time I was dragged into a small meeting room, my mental state was on the verge of shattering completely.

It felt as though all the confidence and self-belief I had built up had vanished in an instant.

If Hero hadn't scratched her head and offered some comfort, I would have definitely cried the moment I got home.

"Don't be so down," Hero said. "There are plenty of active pros right now who still can't beat me."

"R-really...?"

"I decided to retire based on my own standards. It wasn't that my skills had completely deteriorated, but health reasons played a bigger part. Even now, I'm not someone who gets pushed around easily."

It seemed I really did look pitiful.

Hero massaged my shoulders from behind, gently soothing my frayed nerves.

Actually, seeing how she slyly pinched my cheeks, she might have just been treating me like a doll.

"Ahem. Anyway, that's enough for the in-game test. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Now, we're going to watch some match VODs together, and I'll ask you a few questions."

To be honest, I had no idea what was "enough" about it.

It felt like I had just spent the entire time getting beaten up, struggling, and then getting beaten up again.

I felt like just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠getting Hero's autograph and going home.

Ah, but she did say she'd take a photo with me too.

I guess I had to do what needed to be done.

While I was lost in thought, Hero brought over a laptop and tapped away on it.

Soon, my Challengers Cup match was projected onto the meeting room screen.

"You remember this scene, right?" she asked.

"Yes..."

"What was your reasoning for counterattacking here? You could have died if that hit."

"Uh, well... I definitely wouldn't have died. Can I write it down on paper?"

"Paper? Sure, do whatever you find comfortable."

This felt less like actual skill and more like a minor trick, but since she was asking, I had to answer.

"If you calculate my stat defense and remaining HP at the time..."

There was a concept called EHP—Effective Health Points.

It was a method of calculating the total amount of damage one could take by factoring in stats like defense, resistance, and evasion.

What I did was recalculate this value every single time my HP changed.

If I knew the theoretical maximum damage of the opponent's attack on top of that, the rest was simple.

By constantly crunching the numbers in my head, I could easily identify attacks that "absolutely wouldn't kill me."

"It's just a minor trick, really."

"I didn't realize it before, but you have a bit of a cheeky side, don't you, Nabi?"

"...Excuse me?"