Cataclysm (1)
"Can you see it? The way your forces are spreading. The chaos and slaughter they create. And yet, as nourishment, they obtain the fuel to keep running. It is a sight that will repeat endlessly, from this point on."
"..."
Agares sounded deeply pleased. I, however, couldn't bring myself to answer him. Right now, I was on the way to the stadium in a car with my teammates.
Because I had my earphones in, his voice could only reach me, but if I answered him here, I’d be officially insane.
Anyway, once something had grown to a certain point, it tended to run on auto mode well enough on its own. For the short time the match would last, it was fine not to watch.
"Everyone, don't be nervous. It's nothing special."
Coach Park Yong-bin, seated in the front, tried to reassure the teammates who were clearly on edge. Hearing him, I quietly rubbed my chest as well.
The feel of the new team uniform was awkward, yet familiar. I was nervous too. There were certainly far worse things happening in the other world on the screen, but in the world I actually lived in, this was the most important thing right now.
"We're here."
The car entered the basement level of the building where the stadium stood, and soon after, we got out and headed for the waiting room.
Since this wasn't the playoffs or the finals, there would be no pregame ceremony; once the match began, each team would enter and the game would start right away.
"I’m a little worried. The boys seem really tense."
Before we went up to the waiting room, though, Park Yong-bin called me aside to the smoking area.
"You know this already, but when people get nervous, they never play to their full ability. There’s a reason people call it practice-game syndrome. Even veteran players have a huge gap between scrims and official matches. And team events... you can't compare them to solo queue."
"Right."
"I feel bad putting this on you, but once you're in the game, help the guys loosen up, all right? At the very least, keep them from freezing up so they can't make the bold plays they showed in practice."
I wasn't especially worried, but Park Yong-bin seemed to take the rookies' psychological pressure very seriously.
He wasn't wrong. Even I had spent years stressed out because real matches never went as smoothly as practice.
"Don't worry. At least while they're playing, the boys won't be nervous. They'll do fine."
"Huh?"
Maybe I sounded too certain, because he scratched his head. But I had that much confidence.
Of course, I couldn't show that kind of leadership through words or gestures. The countless forces I'd once "led" had been legions that never knew what it meant to be nervous, no matter what orders they received.
Still, if I used the power I’d used to command them, I could draw out unity from my teammates whether they were nervous or not.
"...Thanks. Even just saying that helps."
"We'll win this one 2-0 without a single variable getting in the way, so please go ahead and prepare the victory interview in advance."
Going a step further, I even used a more brazen expression on Park Yong-bin, who was muttering with a dazed look. It was the kind of thing a normal person wouldn't dare say lightly, but if I had confidence, I figured I needed to leave this kind of impression to gain an advantage later.
"They're saying it's time to go in."
"You guys think it over too. I don't know who'll take it, but prepare what you're going to say for the victory MVP interview."
And I spread that confidence to my teammates as well.
Was it still a little lacking in justification? The boys all wore dumbfounded expressions after hearing me.
But if we kept winning after this, then these words of mine would clearly become a reliable help rather than empty hype or nonsense.
"You hear me clearly?"
"Yeah. Everything's fine."
We entered, sat down immediately, and did one last check of our headsets, mics, and other equipment. This first-division arena was at least twice the size of the second-division stadium I used to play in.
Of course there were that many more people, and the crowd of fans cheering for the teams was on a completely different level from what I'd known in the second division.
"If it feels overwhelming, just focus on the game. You can greet them later."
Their gazes, and the countless emotions packed into them, felt somehow more naked and vivid. It was more intense than when I had detected Im Chan-gyu's hostility toward me.
That was surely another effect of the increased Synchronization Rate.
There were plenty of people who supported us sincerely, but there were also still quite a few who looked at us with suspicion. To them, we were unproven, and as fans, it was only natural for them to worry.
"What's the only way to convince the doubters? Crumple them up completely and win so overwhelmingly they can't say a word. Don't overthink it. This is war. A war where you gain when you win and lose when you fail. So think only about what you can gain by winning."
"Isn't that... a little too terrifying a mindset?"
But people’s stares no longer had any effect on me. I had already been met with hatred and rage far worse than this.
"It's starting."
Now the real game had begun. Through the white noise in my headphones, I could faintly hear the applause of the people cheering on the players.
[Hive Dominance (Passive)]
At the same time, I drew out my own ability to the fullest.
"Did Hajin really say that?"
"Yeah. Not even blinking, he told them to prepare for his first victory interview..."
"T-Then... I guess we'd better actually prepare for it."
In the booth where the coaching staff and managers were waiting, Team Fluke’s coaches watched the match with their minds blank.
The casters didn’t have a second to breathe. Team Fluke pressed forward with relentless fights, launching wave after wave of aggression with no room for hesitation, and in those absurd skirmishes they won each time through a miracle-like team synergy, maximizing every advantage.
"There are still plenty of shortcomings, both in macro and individually. But they’re covering all of it with fights. Why are these guys so good at brawling?"
Even coach Park Yong-bin was amazed by a destructive force that seemed no different from their practice games.
"To think they’d win from the laning phase onward... and with a bad champion matchup, no less."
"I heard they hit rank one in solo queue, barely ever play, and their scrims are monstrous, but I didn't think they'd carry that into official matches."
But those who didn't know Fluke’s internal circumstances focused less on the team's synergy and more on the one player who stood out in particular.
Among the young, promising rookies, Hajin—by far one of the oldest players in the league—showed a version of himself that was completely different from the previous season.
There was no mistaking the difference in skill in the way he kept attempting high-risk, high-reward gambles without the slightest opening, crushing the opposing side with sheer force.
"The game is over. An upset! A clear upset has occurred!"
Soon, with the caster’s shout, the game ended 2-0. In less than an hour, fast and one-sided.
The ninth-ranked team, a squad pre-season forecasts had placed second from the bottom and expected to top out at two wins, had taken down a sixth-ranked team believed likely to make the playoffs—the top six would advance—right from the very first match.
"And we're being told the MVP for the second game is also player Hajin."
And that day, in the MVP awards given once per game, Hajin swept both of them.
"Haa..."
"I'm exhausted."
"You did great, guys!"
As the players, drained dry, returned to the waiting room, Park Yong-bin and the coaches hugged them in delight.
"Seungchan!"
"S-Sorry. My body just... no, I'm okay."
In the middle of it all, one of the players suddenly faltered from intense fatigue and nearly collapsed. Luckily, Im Chan-gyu caught him before he could fall badly, but it did cool the hot atmosphere a little.
"You guys need to work out a bit more. Look at the legendary players who've stayed in the game for years. They all keep up with exercise."
No. That's not the problem.
Park Yong-bin assumed the cause was the players’ lack of stamina and exercise, but Im Chan-gyu—having seen his teammate's deathly pale face—thought differently.
He couldn't quite identify what it was. But the superhuman concentration Hajin had shown in actual play, along with the brainpower that seemed to spark and race like wildfire, was clearly not a normal condition.
"The interview's coming up. Let's get ready after we watch that."
That was when Hajin's solo interview began airing. Everyone focused on the screen and watched him, the one who looked perfectly fine while the others were visibly worn out.
"Interviewing is a skill too. Watch closely and learn from your senior."
In the meantime, Park Yong-bin told the players to take a lesson from Hajin’s example. He simply assumed Hajin would handle the interview well.
Of course, he had never actually seen Hajin do an interview before.
"See? He's good. No hesitation at all."
But Hajin really was good. As he had told Park Yong-bin and his teammates, he spoke with complete confidence in his own words.
"Then for our final question. You've gone against everyone's expectations with this win, and your strong momentum has kept you tied for first place for now. Could you tell the fans watching what kind of matches they can expect from you going forward?"
The female announcer serving as interviewer smiled while gesturing toward the audience seats where the fans were watching. It was a question meant to close things out warmly, with the right mix of ambition and spirit.
"As a player, I have only one thing to say. For victory, and victory alone, I will do anything. No matter who stands across from me, I'll break them without mercy and win."
"U-Um... that was a very impressive and spirited statement. Then we'll end Hajin player's interview here."
He didn't bother hiding his true feelings. It was a little extreme, yes, but it was a powerful answer, and at the very least, everyone there fell silent under the strange force carried in his words.
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