Brain Over Brawn

It was a few days after the guerrilla collab for Darkness Deception. “To be honest with you all, in terms of pure physical ability, none of our Winter team stands a chance,” I declared one day after wrapping up a stream, having summoned my fellow 6th generation members. “Therefore, let us set our sights on winning through brainplay instead.”

“Brainplay… you mean winning with our heads?”

“Precisely.” I nodded elegantly. In any game, three elements reign supreme: physical ability, brainplay, and sense play. Physical ability refers to reaction speed and mechanical control. Demanding such things from my beginner peers was clearly impossible. Sense play, on the other hand, occupies the realm of microscopic decision-making—deciding whether to dodge an incoming attack to the left or right. Those with only strong reflexes simply evade without thought. True sense play is the ability to instantly calculate which choice yields the greatest advantage when multiple options appear. For instance, retreating toward the nearer exit. This too was beyond what I could reasonably ask of my colleagues.

That left only brainplay. Brainplay governs the macroscopic domain: establishing grand objectives and overarching direction, then reading the flow of battle to construct detailed game plans. “Narrowing the gap in raw game experience and skill will prove difficult. Our seniors have been playing Labyrinthos far longer than we have, after all.”

Yet there existed one crucial factor we could overcome. Both teams possessed roughly equal understanding of Arcade Mode, since the mode had only recently received its patch. “Thoroughly researching and analyzing Arcade Mode is our sole path to victory.”

“Research and analyze it thoroughly…? Isn’t that impossible?” Sora tilted her head in confusion. “The victory conditions change every match, and the maps are different each time. How could we possibly research that?”

“Why, through collective intelligence, of course.”

“So that means… we have to play Arcade Mode every single day until the tournament…?” Inagika looked horrified.

I shook my head. “Even if the four of us scraped together data, how much could we truly gather? Besides, a proper duchess knows how to command others rather than dirty her own hands.”

“B-but we’re not duchesses…”

“Have the viewers send us screenshots and information about Arcade Mode through a Google Form, if you would.”

All of us 6th generation VTubers boasted subscriber counts in the four digits. Not everyone would respond, naturally, but the volume would vastly exceed what four people could collect alone. On top of that—

By combining the data we gathered through personal play, submissions from our viewers, information from the Labyrinth Gallery, and broadcasts from other streamers, we amassed an impressive collection. Analyzing it all fell to me.

“The Guardian Deity should be perfectly soloable.” After creating several custom rooms and defeating the Guardian Deity multiple times, I reached my conclusion.

“S-soloable…?”

“Indeed. However, not every character can manage it.”

The other boss monsters appearing in Arcade Mode weren’t particularly difficult either. After all, Arcade Mode was fundamentally a 3v3 game. The difficulty had to be set so three players could defeat them without excessive struggle for the mode to function. Thus, while time-consuming, two players could handle them, and certain characters could even solo.

A Monk would allow for stable solo clears.

The Monk functioned as a sub-tank. Its defining feature was the “Counter.” When activated, the Monk became invulnerable, and any attacks received during that window were parried back at the attacker. It possessed numerous invincibility skills, solid damage output, self-healing, excellent evasion, and decent mobility. It might sound like an overpowered character, yet its weaknesses were clear: its melee nature left it at a disadvantage in range, it had few crowd control options, and its reliance on Counter made it somewhat passive.

“Inagika, you shall practice the Monk.”

“M-me…?!”

I nodded. I wasn’t asking for anything overly complicated. While the Monk certainly rewarded skilled piloting against other players, fighting monsters that followed set patterns ultimately came down to learning. Given Inagika’s timid nature and tendency to freeze under pressure, leaving her alone with a boss monster would actually prove more stable.

Thus, in the first round of the opening match, I claimed the Monk—the most critical pick—as planned. The remaining two simply needed to draw aggro and hinder the enemy. Assigning the highly mobile Hunter to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Chell and the disruptive Dark Knight to Sora would allow Inagika to defeat the Guardian Deity alone.

“Next we’ll conduct the winner interview! Winter team, please come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the stage!”

At Veronica’s announcement, the 6th generation members ascended the platform. Oh Lora moved with graceful, aristocratic steps, followed by a nervous, fumbling Inagika and an expressionless Chell.

“Hm? Where is Sora?”

“Ah, well… Sora is…”

“Hic… sob… I’m sorry…”

Inagika’s trembling voice overlapped with Sora’s tearful one.

“Sora started crying… and the VR capsule automatically logged her out…”

“How strange. To think shedding tears would cause a logout.”

“W-well, doesn’t the capsule automatically log you out if you need to pee…? Tears are kind of similar…”

“One must strive for elegance. Refrain from using such crude terms as ‘pee,’ if you would.”

“S-sorry…”

Even during the winner interview, the 6th generation members were having that sort of conversation. Rinko, watching via her phone, let out a small chuckle.

“How youthful.”

Come to think of it, they had named their group AoiS. She had thought the name felt slightly mismatched since all the 6th generation members had fantasy-world backstories. Many of their image colors were also far from blue. Yet seeing them now, they truly did seem young and full of passion. The group name suddenly felt perfect.

I’m jealous.

It was only a friendly tournament, yet winning had moved them to tears. There must have been a time when she too burned with such passion. She had felt it as recently as last year’s Labyrinthos Streamer League. But now it seemed only ashes remained, her sensitivity having completely dried up.

“They really prepared a lot. Sora worked hard, Inagika worked hard, Chell worked hard.”

And Oh Lora possessed undeniable star power. This event had proven many things about the 6th generation. It felt like a changing of the guard. And strangely, it didn’t feel bad at all.

“Then I suppose I should go decorate the finale in a suitably spectacular fashion.”

Rinko pushed herself up from the bed with some effort. A rookie VTuber who had defeated one of EYEAI’s flagship talents. From today onward, that label would stick to Aurora. The fact that she found herself looking forward to it was proof of her own weakness. As expected, she still longed to enter a wuxia world. Just before her one-on-one exhibition match, that thought suddenly crossed Rinko’s mind.