If You Have the Confidence

It was only one match.

I used to be fine playing games all day long, but after just one match, my mental energy was completely depleted.

At least it was a relief ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that I hadn't gone into a full-blown panic ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like before.

Perhaps the combat in the game was finally melting into my body and subconscious.

Even when my thoughts froze up, my body moved naturally.

Thanks to that, the game itself was an easy victory.

At the very least, rumors like "Yu Nabi is throwing games" wouldn't start spreading.

In a way, I had actually felt my own growth.

At my current rank tier, I could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dominate the battle even if my mind wandered a bit.

To begin with, the way I played the game was based on numbers and calculations.

It didn't require complex philosophical thinking, but it did drain a lot of my concentration.

It felt as if my brain capacity was sucked dry in an instant, producing an effect similar to meditation.

Focusing on the battle itself meant I could free myself from the gaze of others.

After all, social anxiety stems from the fear and apprehension of other people.

If I couldn't even consciously perceive them, the symptoms were bound to ease up.

Though I wasn't entirely sure if I could call this true growth.

Whew. That was close.

Normally, I would have queued up again right away.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it, so I shut down the game for now.

Playing a game when your mental state isn't sound is the worst possible move.

Whether you're on a losing streak, diplomatic tensions are escalating toward war, the world might end tomorrow, or a stranger just tried to talk to you.

Humans inevitably make mistakes when their anxiety is pushed to the limit.

And Infinity Realm was a game where a single minor mistake could lead to fatal consequences.

If your mind wavered, your losses would inevitably pile up.

After all, climbing the ranks wasn't something that happened just by playing a lot of games.

When you wanted to raise your score, the ratio of wins to losses was what truly mattered.

Still, I don't want to just sit on my hands.

Normally, this was the time I should be focusing entirely on practice.

With our first scrim just around the corner, I had no intention of slacking off.

If I couldn't play ranked matches right now, there was only one path left.

Review.

First, let's look back at my own play.

When you want to improve your skills, reviewing replays is an absolutely indispensable process.

Not just watching my own replays, but also studying the matches of pro gamers or high-rankers who play the same class.

If you analyze them with a calm mind, you will always gain something.

In team-based competitive games like Infinity Realm, information is the most important resource of all.

Typical examples include the assassin's location, or things like line of sight and detection range.

Once the game starts, an information war inevitably erupts—where we must hide our own information from the enemy while uncovering theirs.

Some information is stolen, but some is guarded to the very end.

The outcome of a team game depends on how you utilize this limited information.

In other words, even in a winning game, you can never know everything about the enemy.

Uncovering that hidden information is the purpose of reviewing replays.

If you want to play "well," you have to consistently dedicate time to this.

Ah, the enemy's guard gauge was almost empty here. When did it drain so much?

Oh, it was when the ice magic dropped on my position. Our side landed a counter.

I missed it because I was focused on dodging... but playing it back, it wasn't in my field of vision. I heard the sound.

Since the only gun-using class was on our team, I could have deduced it.

If I had known this, I could have pushed more aggressively and made the game much more advantageous.

Had my improved skills also enhanced my learning ability?

It felt like I was gaining an exceptionally large amount from the review today.

Every time the progress bar indicating the match time advanced, realizations stacked up in my mind one after another.

They say the ranged damage dealer is the life of the team.

If so, the bruisers and tanks must be the body.

The layout of the battlefield changes dozens of times within a mere tenth of a second.

There is no time to discuss opinions one by one.

If you can't think it through with your head, the movement of your arms and legs ultimately becomes the team's decision.

Should I dive into the enemy lines and initiate the fight?

Is it a winnable battle? If it is, who should I target?

What about the enemies whose locations aren't identified yet? What is the expected value of stepping back instead?

The engagement that risked the fate of the entire team was highly likely to start from my hands.

Therefore, I was the one who had to watch the game and develop the eyes to judge the advantageous moments.

I had started this review simply because I had nothing else to do.

But now, I couldn't stop for a completely different reason.

At some point, my goal shifted to reviewing all of my recent matches before the scrim.

SnowWitch originally conducted scrims quite frequently.

Because of their strong standing within the IKL, scheduling matches with other teams was easy, and the team itself placed a high value on experience.

If the internal schedule hadn't already been packed, I would have been thrown into scrims much earlier.

Of course, just because they were routine didn't mean they were taken lightly.

Pro gaming is an industry that values skill to a brutal degree.

While that skill ultimately refers to performance in official tournaments, to even get into those tournaments, one first had to perform well in internal scrims.

For a trainee like me, it was no different from taking a major exam every few days.

The scrim was held in SnowWitch's dedicated private room.

While the first and second teams probably used the headquarters' internal network, the third-team trainees didn't live in the team house.

Thus, we used the custom game system provided by the game developer.

My vision shifted in an instant, revealing a dedicated space emblazoned with the SnowWitch logo.

And there were well over ten people gathered there.

They were probably all trainees like me.

Naturally, this was the first time I was meeting them in person.

However, some of their avatars were familiar, having popped up occasionally in high-tier match highlights.

As I stood there dazed, half-anxious and half-excited...

Right at the scheduled time, Hero spoke in a businesslike tone.

Since she had only ever shown me her easygoing and warm side, she felt somewhat unfamiliar now.

"Alright, since we have a newcomer today, we'll go with the most basic rules. Class selection is free. The format is fixed to winner-stays-on, and I will adjust the team compositions arbitrarily after each match."

"If there's a class you've been practicing, you're welcome to show it here. It'll be a good opportunity to prove your class pool. However, we will evaluate the level of mastery as well, so you must take responsibility for the results. If you aren't confident, stick to what you usually play."

Hero stepped forward and tapped the main lobby display.

"You all saw the video uploaded a few days ago, right? This scrim may also be used in the footage. That's why the director has joined us today, and a few first-team players are spectating as well. Please keep in mind that this scrim is more important than ever."

The moment she finished speaking, as if on cue, the eyes of the trainees all turned toward me.

I flinched. My body trembled naturally, and my head bowed down.

I—and by extension, Yu Nabi—was highly sensitive to the negative emotions of others.

Especially when it came to jealousy or sticky, lingering desires, I reacted even more sharply.

Among the gazes directed at me, there was intense competitiveness, but envy was mixed in as well.

Only then did I realize that everything Hero had said so far was directed at me.

Why was today's scrim rule set to winner-stays-on, which tested one-on-one skills?

It was to establish my hierarchy among the trainees once and for all.

The Corridor of Duel was an environment where players could clash purely based on skill, without any external interference.

Losing and making excuses would only make one look pathetic.

The mention of using other classes was the same.

If you have the confidence, bring out your sub-class and dominate me.

That performance would be featured in Climb to Glory, and it would leave a good impression on the current starting players.

Hero was essentially saying this in front of everyone:

'If you have the confidence, devour Yu Nabi. Take away the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠opportunity the newcomer has. But if you lose, you will be the prey.'

My fists clenched tightly.

It felt as if predators were licking their lips around me.

I was afraid, but for some reason, I wasn't shaking that much.