The Tournament
I hadn’t watched a Rell tournament in a while.
Honestly, what was the point of just watching a game?
Especially something like Rell—you had to play it yourself.
“Tsk.”
Still, though.
Looking at it from a high-tier perspective, it was surprisingly entertaining.
“That decision just now was pretty disappointing.”
I called out the player who’d just died from a mistake.
It might have looked like ordinary play to most people, but through high-tier eyes like mine, the error was glaring.
“It didn’t work out, did it?”
Truth be told, this Wayo cared more about process than results. But in the pros, wasn’t the result everything?
And from the look of things, this was a critical match deciding second place—exactly the kind of moment where that judgment felt lacking.
“I’m not even a Seoul resident. And this is a neutral room.”
They’d called me a powerhouse glazer, but right now it was a matchup between the second- and third-place powerhouses. So calling it neutral was fair enough.
Besides, openly rooting for a specific team on stream was a double-edged sword. Sports always came with fandom wars, and the last thing you wanted was to cheer one side only to get dogpiled by the other.
Well, Wayo’s stream was a tiny one, so the odds of getting dogpiled were basically zero anyway.
“Hey, I’m not a pro, okay?”
Telling me to go try it myself? That was like watching the World Cup and telling the guy giving commentary to go kick the ball himself.
I wasn’t a pro.
And pros were the specialists whose job was to deliver the plays that lived up to everyone’s expectations, weren’t they?
“Still, the level’s pretty high.”
Anyway, the skill ceiling really was up there. So this was what top-tier teams looked like when they clashed?
“Is it because it’s a tournament? The coordination’s so good it’s almost enviable.”
The seamless teamwork especially made me jealous. From the perspective of a solo-queue warrior who never even ran five-stacks and just ground ranked alone, it was a little enviable.
“Is that so?”
Hmm, fair point. Having a pro as shot-caller versus an amateur really was a different story, wasn’t it?
If this Wayo were the one at the top, though, I was pretty sure I could move the team like a single body.
“I’m confident, though?”
For reference, this Wayo had once been the leader of a crew. Commanding four people in Rell didn’t even feel like that big a stretch.
“I’m so confident that if I joined it’d break the balance, so no.”
“I’ve said this a hundred times—I’m not your average Emerald.”
Streamer tournaments usually priced players by tier. If a fake commodity like me walked in, I’d be nothing but a walking liability.
“Hmm, I’ll think about it.”
I still gave a positive answer for now. I wasn’t usually into big servers or tournaments, but the last big server had been pretty decent.
“What, you trying to start something right now?”
I was so speechless. Why were they so desperate for a fight?
“Just watch the match. It’s intense.”
Even while we were tossing around tournament bait, the game itself had kept rolling. From a quick look, one side was comfortably stomping the other.
Seoul was playing well. Should I start rooting for them from here on?
“When you’re Korean, it’s gotta be Seoul, right?”
“I live nearby, though.”
It was the capital region, so roughly rooting for Seoul should be fine, right? I liked that they were a strong team.
“Yeah, good luck finding me.”
The non-Seoul capital region population was what, around ten million? If someone actually tracked me down from that, I’d have Aseong buy them a meal.
“Just grab a cup ramen and get lost.”
Anyway, even while we bantered like that I kept watching the intense match.
“The game’s actually pretty fun.”
As they say, the more you know, the more you see. The longer I watched, the more of a feast it was for the eyes.
These were the real pros, all right.
“How good is the first-place team?”
“Really?”
For that to be true, the gap between Seoul and Suwon looked pretty wide to me. Ah, right—they were all mineral-tier eyes, weren’t they?
Come to think of it, spotting that difference probably required an eye for the game at about my level.
From what I was hearing, Busan was currently in first place. The league’s first- and second-place deciding match was being held in some big rented hall.
“Watching that live would be fun.”
“Excuse me? I’m Wayo, the Busan specialist streamer.”
I didn’t say it out loud, but my dad was from Busan. So that meant I was allowed to root for the Busan team, right?
“One, two, three—Busan fighting!”
And they were the first-place team, no less. My affection for Busan was skyrocketing.
Yeah—if you were a real man, you went with the ocean guys. If Hansungwon from our Haenam crew were still around, he would’ve rooted for Busan too.
“Match’s over.”
In the end the game finished with Seoul’s victory. Watching the players’ mixed expressions of joy and despair in such a high-stakes moment, I closed the window.
“Shall we head out now?”
I’d finished watching Rell, so time for the main game, right? Whew, that tournament ran pretty long.
“Hey now, the tournament brought in jack shit for viewers, so what are we leaving for?”
Deep down I’d hoped streaming the tournament would pull a few people in, but nope—absolutely nothing.
From now on it’d be better to just stick with Last Exit.
“The ending? Still a long way off~”
I said that while sorting the guns in the warehouse. The warehouse was stacked high with gleaming rifles.
They all belonged to other players, actually. Ah, the Lord’s grace~
“Hm? Oh, I’ll use these later.”
For reference, I stashed every single one I collected into the warehouse without touching them. True prayer had to be done empty-handed.
Only those who held out with the budget rice-farming guns you could buy in the shop for around a hundred thousand won would receive the true protection of Jerusalem.
“Alright, let’s go pray.”
With those words that would’ve made my mother proud, I hit the matchmaking button.
“Well, I’ll use them when we go to the Laboratory, right?”
And the guns actually did have a purpose. In Last Exit there was a place called the Laboratory—a special map packed with expensive loot.
With its tight spaces and fixed farming spots it was famous as a sacred ground for fights, so of course these gift-like guns had to be saved for there.
“After I level up more and unlock the shop.”
Of course, right now I didn’t have many good rounds, so I couldn’t go yet. In Last Exit a gun was basically nothing more than a high-penetration ammo launcher.
“...Want me to put on some Yeongdo at least?”
“We’ll start from 5,000 won.”
“If the price is low they just spam weird crap.”
“Think of it as protection money and I’ll raise it even more.”
Matching...
While I was saying that, a match finally popped. Ever since I’d bought a paid VPN last time, both the ping and the matchmaking speed had gotten a lot better.
I still didn’t really understand why using a VPN made the game feel so much smoother for players, but I just went with it.
“Alright, time to lie down~”
Once I loaded into the map I sprinted to my usual camping spot like always. Some of the old points weren’t paying off anymore, so I’d developed a few of my own. The one under the planter by the building I was hiding in right now was a pretty sweet spot.
If I matched my outfit to green, they absolutely couldn’t see me.
Viewer sentiment had recovered at some point too. The reason was none other than…
The video currently playing on the left side of the stream. A music video from some Japanese VTuber I couldn’t even identify was rolling.
“Ah, yes, I’ll fix my posture.”
Still, this was relatively tame. At least it was a song, right?
It was a bit bouncy and far from my taste, but not completely unlistenable.
“One second.”
Anyway, while watching the Yeongdo I heard footsteps, so I quietly muted the sound.
“Because I felt like it~”
If I mentioned the footsteps I’d just get accused of faking it. I held my breath, sat under the planter, and waited for them to come.
A short while later—
Tak, tadak!
One enemy showed themselves, and then—
Tadadadak!!
Tak!
A full-kit five-stack strolled right past me.
“....”
“How am I supposed to shoot people?”
Shit, I almost died. What the hell was a full-kit five-stack doing here?
“Those guys are here to farm the whole map. We’re out.”
Last Exit usually matched eight to twelve players per map. A five-stack in that meant every other user was just prey.
There was nothing for me to loot here anyway. Taking the full brunt of the viewers’ mockery, I sprinted straight for the exit.
Five-stack? Just go straight to the extraction and call it a day~
“Conveniently the exit is right nearby...”
As I was running toward the extraction—
Suddenly nicknames I didn’t recognize started popping up one after another in chat. What was this? Something going on?
“What is it?”
I slowed my sprint and stared at the chat window. Messages started flying up at a rare speed.
Huh?
From the look of it, Cheolton-ssi—who I’d crossed paths with on the last big server—had mentioned me. I was briefly startled by the sudden news, but then Wayo’s character scrunched her brow so hard it was visible on screen.
“You Tas-cuckoo bastards want to die?”
What the hell was with the whole pack of them calling me a Tas cuckoo?
I stopped extracting and banned every last one of them.