The Power of One

Right after the game ended.

The waiting room erupted in cheers.

"Whoa—!"

"We won!"

"Nice!!"

Thanks to Lee Siwoo's overwhelming performance, his friends were jumping around and shouting without a care.

'Can't blame them.'

The main squad fight had been tough, no doubt about it. Even if Park Jongsu was top-tier Grandmaster, he couldn't close the gap with Kim Do-hyun.

The others—Kim Jeongin, Lee Jinseong, and even Han Jiyeon—had been completely overwhelmed by the trainees. It was basically a loss already.

But it flipped.

All because of one Lee Siwoo.

"Siwoo! That was insane—I told you! You can dominate pro stages too!! No different from ranked games, right?!"

Of them all, Han Jiyeon was the most thrilled.

"...Yeah. Turns out it wasn't a big deal after all."

In contrast to his excited friends, Siwoo was dazed. He smiled indifferently, as if it hadn't fully sunk in yet.

It had been way easier than expected. Even if the opponents were still trainees, he hadn't thought the game would feel this straightforward.

'...At this level, pro stages seem doable too, huh?'

Honestly, he'd been a bit scared.

Even with talent, he hadn't properly learned team games. His playtime was short too. He'd anticipated struggling on pro stages.

But nope?

Despite facing trainees competing for pro spots, he'd crushed them with raw mechanics. No need for team play—he'd won purely on skill.

Squeeze.

Siwoo clenched his fist.

His confidence was surging.

"Next map's set: Mekatera City. Mode's Deathmatch."

In the meantime, the next set's concept was locked in.

Mekatera City was a classic urban map, demanding complex fights.

And the mode? Deathmatch.

In Deathmatch, teams rack up kills with constant respawns until time runs out.

"This'll be rough. Total chaos."

It wouldn't be easy, for sure.

Without Siwoo, the skill gap was clear.

"Even if we lose set two, we've got set three. Let's play it safe this time, manage stamina. Deathmatch favors them anyway—Kim Do-hyun's a monster at it."

Park Jongsu spoke up.

He knew it too.

Without Siwoo, Kim Do-hyun's edge would've meant a clean loss in that game.

"Sounds right."

"Yeah, Deathmatch in Mekatera City? Way too much."

The others nodded along.

It was a cautious call, but smart. Deathmatch focused on raw combat—if teammates bled points while Siwoo farmed them, it was pointless.

Still, Han Jiyeon turned to Siwoo.

"Siwoo, what do you want to do?"

Team Saseong's core was Lee Siwoo.

They had to build around him, not the other way around.

"I think we can go for set two."

Siwoo replied.

"They're good, but my condition's peak—I can bridge that gap. Trust me this round. I'll carry."

Park Jongsu glanced at him slyly.

"You sure?"

"No problem."

No hesitation in Siwoo's voice.

Before, he'd have imagined failure and felt fear. Not now.

He'd already tasted victory.

"Okay, then we build around Siwoo again. Strategy's our old Deathmatch setup—no wings, straight 1-4."

Han Jiyeon clapped her hands.

1-4 formation.

A speedy, survivable assassin attacker roams the edges grabbing objectives solo.

The main four clump in central Mekatera City fighting over the power pack.

The power pack was key.

It restored the whole team's condition in one go.

Mekatera City boiled down to a power pack scrum in the map's heart.

"Okay, no wings?"

"Yeah, too risky."

1-3-1 with wings to snag objectives was an option, but 1-4 fit better. Their main squad gap made it necessary.

"Feels like we're just busing for Siwoo."

"Right? We'd be screwed without him."

The friends chuckled awkwardly. From the round-robin on, they'd leaned on Siwoo.

"Not just us. Any team would've built around him. Pushing a sniper like that over Lee Sung-pil and Lee Jung-hyuk? Weird if they didn't."

Han Jiyeon shrugged.

"True, but..."

"Feels heavy."

"Yeah."

She was right, but the guilt lingered.

"...Don't sweat it, guys. You're doing great."

Siwoo said.

They were using strategies that burdened him, but he didn't mind.

The spotlight on him, friends trusting him? Felt good.

"I wouldn't be this good without you all."

Siwoo grinned lightly.

Without Han Jiyeon's pitch, the friends' cheers, he wouldn't even be here.

In a way, he was shining because of them.

"Damn, big SIU. I'm touched."

"Yeah, chin up—keep it going."

"Gotta be shameless anyway."

His words lifted their spirits.

"Alright, let's prep! Perfect score time!"

"Let's go!"

"LFG!"

At Han Jiyeon's shout, everyone steeled up.

Perfect score over Rising.

Tough, but worth chasing.

Team Saseong vs. Rising.

Everyone expected Rising to win.

Amateur teams of randos usually crashed out in qualifiers.

And Rising? Stacked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with prospects led by prized rookie Kim Do-hyun. Who'd bet on Saseong?

But an upset hit.

Saseong dominated.

"Saseong advancing?"

"Who the hell is Lee Siwoo?"

"Rising's dropping here."

The crowd buzzed with Rising's fall.

The chat agreed: Rising doomed.

And Team Rising, especially Kim Do-hyun, felt it most.

"Next map Mekatera City. Deathmatch. We have to flip this. Or we're out in qualifiers."

Kim Do-hyun said grimly.

"Sigh... not easy."

"That sniper's unreal."

"Guess that's real talent..."

But unlike Do-hyun's fire, his teammates looked defeated.

Talk of winning rang hollow—their eyes wavered.

Humans instinctively sense hierarchy.

Falling to someone you deemed inferior? Not just loss.

Humiliation. Ego crushed.

Especially in public.

The gap between expected win and harsh defeat.

It scars deep.

Head says no, heart knows.

This game's lost. Can't win like this.

Morale crumbling was inevitable.

And against unproven amateurs? They were trainees on the edge—undebuted, awkward limbo.

Inexperience raw, confidence shattered.

"Whew, snap out of it, everyone."

The morale booster? Team leader and ace, Kim Do-hyun.

"Their sniper aside, skills are meh. Defender's decent, but still below us. Mentality check."

Clap!

Kim Do-hyun clapped.

"Individually, their sniper might edge ours. But teamwise? We're better. They rely on him—heavy. Exploit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that."

Team Saseong's plans revolved around the sniper.

The main squads trading even? Thanks to constant sniper pressure.

"...True. Without him, we'd have won."

"Yeah, even under support fire, our mains edged it. Doable."

Teammates perked up.

Kim Do-hyun grinned at Lee Sung-pil.

"Sung-pil."

"Y-yeah?"

"Mentality. You're no slouch attacker—just off today."

Attackers cracked easiest mentally. Essential to prop Lee Sung-pil.

His face screamed self-blame from the 1v1 loss.

"...Got it. I'll lock in."

Lee Sung-pil nodded awkwardly.

With morale up, Kim Do-hyun hardened.

"Prep."

Overlant Championship Park.

Prep time. The central hologram screen showed the casters.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠commentator nodded.

Deathmatch was team org wars.

Beyond individual skill—who dies less, kills more.

Tighter strategy and cohesion wins.

The screen switched to game view.

Team comps.

Saseong: [Shield Defender – Rifle Attacker – Sniper – Sniper Healer – Shield Supporter]

Rising: [Charge Defender – Assassin Attacker – Melee Attacker – Standard Healer – Smoke Supporter]

Overlant's smoke was special—not user-tied, area denial.

Perfect sniper check.

Set 2.

Map: Mekatera City.

Mode: Deathmatch.

A game hinging on Lee Siwoo's hands had begun.