Protagonists of the Stage
The golden vacation slips by in a flash, and Siwoo returns to the team headquarters as always.
The dorm is empty. His teammates haven't come back yet.
It's still early morning, so they'll probably show up after lunch.
"Phew."
Siwoo lets out a deep breath and sinks into the sofa in the dorm living room. It's a spot he's never really paid attention to because his teammates always hog it, but now he's got it all to himself.
Is this why they say the early bird catches the worm?
Or maybe not.
Anyway.
Back to the grind starting today.
Siwoo hardens his expression and shifts into mindset mode.
Even if the only opponent left is GZ, the moment he steps back into headquarters, his world narrows to practice, analysis, and studying.
With a perfect first-round record within reach for the first time, he has to push even harder.
Time to prep for the next match.
Siwoo turns on the TV and queues up GZ's games.
The selection screen pops up, showing the players' picks.
Shield Defender – Rifle Attacker – Rifle Attacker – Orthodox Healer – Shield Supporter
A textbook lineup.
They're going for stability.
Stable picks like rifle attackers come to mind. Unlike close-range or assassin types, rifle attackers don't have to charge the front lines.
Influence of Shin Jin-woo?
Shin Jin-woo's style is to keep dealing damage without dying until the end.
Rifle attackers fit that perfectly.
GZ's comp was likely built around their ace attacker, Shin Jin-woo.
Rifle attackers have limited variables, so let's check other games too.
Rifle attackers are stable, but that limits fluid play. They can't dominate the game like assassins or close-range types.
Of course, with top-tier skill, a rifle attacker can lead, but the returns are lower than assassins or close-range—no crowd control.
Overlant lets you pick traits, but they're divided by position and role. No rocket punches for rifle attackers.
Anyway.
Siwoo cues up the next game.
Shin Jin-woo's pick this time: assassin attacker.
As he watches.
Shin Jin-woo prefers stable rifle attackers at heart, but he handles close-range and assassin types too.
Actually, he's good at them. His solid mechanics and instincts let him excel regardless of pick.
Need to watch out for this.
Siwoo narrows his eyes, focusing intently.
Shin Jin-woo doesn't go lone wolf. He flanks enemy backlines with his team's charge defender and shines in teamfights.
No classic assassin backline sniping. Probably tied to his playstyle.
Then comes the jaw-dropping moment.
He bursts forward in an instant, slicing through seven incoming bullets with perfect precision—no margin for error.
It's artistry, even rewinding multiple times. Not just shooting; he's a sword master too. Must've put in serious study.
This is the top domestic attacker's skill.
Watching him play feels different from Choi Woo-jin or Ryu Jin-seok.
Those two are wild, instinct-driven beasts. Shin Jin-woo? A combat machine with every body part replaced by AI and gears.
Every move fits in a calculated framework.
Pure skill-wise, all three are close, but Shin Jin-woo's a cut above. Even peak-condition Ryu Jin-seok could barely match him.
But Shin Jin-woo has no slumps. Every game is peak performance.
Siwoo's brow furrows.
Way better than I thought.
But for some reason.
It doesn't look that tough.
Think I can handle it?
That memorable scene—charging while batting away seven bullets—feels somehow replicable.
Lunchtime.
His teammates return.
"Have a good vacation?"
Kim Ho-jong asks.
"Eh, it was alright."
"Meet up with that friend?"
"Yeah."
"How'd it go?"
"How d'you think? Same as always."
"...Hmm, really? Was waiting for that update. Bummer."
Ho-jong shrugs, lips downturned in disappointment. Waiting for what?
Anyway.
"Hey, hyung, got a question."
"Shoot."
"Why does skill drop off with age?"
A question he'd always wondered. Physical decline isn't the issue—why do pro gamers burn out so fast?
It's not like old PC games, just sitting; no wrist strain either.
Even veterans like Rayker played past thirty before retiring.
"Lots of reasons."
Ho-jong's face turns serious.
"First, distractions pile up. 'Retirement's coming—what next?' That's one. Then self-doubt: 'Time's passed—what've I achieved?'"
Siwoo nods attentively.
"And VR's more precise than you'd think. Sensory stuff gets hypersensitive. Age hits focus and reaction speed, and it shows starkly."
Normal brain aging. Not just 'degradation'—changes in structure and function alter info processing speed and style.
Even small differences matter hugely in VR, where reactions are faster than reality.
"Ways to compensate?"
"Hm..."
Ho-jong strokes his chin before answering.
"Build stamina, clear your head. Study to gain positional or setup edges over others. Gotta offset the sensory lag."
"Hm."
Siwoo taps the table slowly with his index finger.
Raising Ho-jong's game seems tougher than expected. Not fixed by grinding hours.
At least Park Chan-seong's mechanics won't fade anytime soon.
We've got time, though.
First round just ended.
Chan-seong might need more time to peak, but Ho-jong's different. He was Masters-title contender in China at his prime.
If he regains that memory.
Or just that skill level.
We can win it all.
The fix for Ho-jong is simple.
I shoulder more burden.
Create an environment where he can play freely.
Reduce that 'if I'd pushed harder' regret.
"Alright, since we're talking—practice with me."
"What? I just got back."
"No excuses."
Siwoo grins faintly.
"We're gunning for the win."
"..."
Ho-jong blanks for a split second, then smiles and nods.
"Yeah. We're this far—might as well aim for the top."
Bloody practice begins.
Time passes.
Match day arrives.
Today, they face GZ, the other undefeated team like Kaiserst.
This decides if they stay perfect in round one—which could clinch the title.
Playoffs exist, but GZ's domestic dominance is no joke.
"Okay, guys. Last game of round one."
Player lounge.
Coach speaks.
"This match matters, and we've got time, so lemme say something else."
He sits on a lounge chair, speaking deliberately.
"From the start, when we formed this team, I shared my goal. My dream's no small fry—you know that. We're the youngest blood in OCK. Clear reason: I want max potential, not average. Explode our talents to reach the ultimate heights."
Players around twenty.
Mechanics live up to expectations—top-notch.
Oldest, Ho-jong, maintains his through endless practice.
No one knows how long he can hold back time's flow.
"Now, my loftiest goal—might sound insane."
Coach eyes each player.
"League results, playoffs, painful losses—doesn't matter. First milestone: Masters Tournament quarterfinals. Show our strength to the world, make 'em notice us."
Masters quarters—not just a result, a team-defining stamp.
"It'll be hell. Pure agony. But when we achieve it, I know: unbreakable trust fortress among us."
Faith in each other takes root. Siwoo nods.
"Belief we can do it becomes reality's proof, transforming us. 'We pulled this off—so next is higher.' Powerful expectation for the future dominates you."
Potential.
No fuel burns humans hotter. Some get lost in their spark, ignoring reality—it's that potent.
"With that trust, lift the Masters cup. Ultimately, on Worlds stage, stand as top contenders chasing the crown."
Siwoo holds his breath, absorbing the vision.
"Truth? I envy players on stage. Can't play myself, so I wanna make you protagonists of this era's epic. No side roles, no extras."
Coach chuckles self-mockingly.
"Sounds absurdly big? Nah. Odds aren't low. But wishing won't cut it. 'Hope it happens' gets you nowhere."
True.
"Not a lottery—buy cheap, pray. No effort. I hate relying on fate without grind. Despise it!"
Players nod solemnly.
"Future talk ends here."
Snap! Coach flicks his fingers like slicing air.
"Why scare you now? Warning: today's a bloodbath. But payoff? Beyond imagination."
Siwoo clenches his fist under the table. Nails dig into palm.
"Scared 'what if no reward?' We grind hard, but it flops? That fear means no challenges, no purpose."
Spot on.
No challenge, no gains.
Life's endless challenges.
Choosing pro gamer path. Mom facing cancer surgery.
All challenges.
"But we've proven it. Bones-deep: this dream's real. Survived hell to round one's end, miracle perfect streak—one game left."
Coach's gaze on players: steel-unshakable. Siwoo swallows hard.
"Win today, league title odds explode. Playoffs locked. Get it?"
Coach demands firmly. Siwoo bites his lip, focusing.
"We can do it."
Clap! Coach claps thunderously.
"Let's go! We're the stars! Others are just backdrop!"
Thrusts hand forward powerfully.
"Hands in! Hot fight chant— one, two, three!"
─Fight!
Coach grins brightly.
"Perfect! Let's show we're champs with round one sweep!"
The number one showdown begins.