Sniper? Sir

He couldn’t read every single line, but he still answered the chat whenever a few comments stood out at a glance.

According to the schedule he had discussed with Choi Pinam, Yeongho launched Battle Island.

He said we’d stick with Battle Island ranked for a while, right?

In truth, the game Choi Pinam had first recommended had been a different genre altogether.

“Whatever Hyeong-nim does, people will be shocked, but if we want to grow fast, we should go after the biggest market. That means we’ve got to start with LoW, of course.”

Legend of War.

The game with the largest player base in the entire world.

Yeongho had lived so long without any room to care about games that even he had heard the name now and then. That was how famous it was.

“But you said you’ve never played LoW, Hyeong-nim. So let’s start with something familiar first—Battle Island—and study up a little when you’re not on stream.”

LoW was a game where you didn’t fight alone, but in teams of five, each person needing to hold their position and carry out their role properly.

Depending on the situation, there were countless strategies and tactics, and there was a long list of things to consider: champion matchups, item paths, and more.

It was by no means a game you could win just because you were mechanically gifted.

“Of course, with your level of ability, Hyeong-nim, you’d mash most opponents into paste. But I want to see you show the world just how brutally untouchable you can be. So let’s do a little preparation before jumping in.”

So for the time being, they had agreed to stream Battle Island, the game Yeongho was at least familiar with, and to spend the gaps watching the videos Choi Pinam shared so he could learn the basics of LoW.

“Then today we’ll be doing Battle Island ranked. For now, I’ll be queuing as a duo squad with Choi Pinam.”

In casual matches, there were plenty of light players who came just to enjoy themselves, but ranked games were different; everyone wanted to climb points seriously, so the difficulty was naturally higher.

That meant that, for smoother gameplay, they could fill the empty slot with random matchmaking or recruit someone from the viewers.

Listening to Choi Pinam over voice chat, Yeongho gave a small nod and relayed the notice to the viewers.

Even though he hadn’t played much Battle Island, Choi Pinam had still reached Diamond once. He was skilled enough to pull his own weight and then some in the lower tiers, and as for Yeongho—well, the stream had already shown enough to make that point.

The two of them alone could easily perform better than a full squad of four.

So, to make a more dramatic impression on the viewers, they decided not to fill the slot.

Normally, because of the point difference, a Diamond player couldn’t team up with a newcomer who had no ranked record at all.

Unlike normal matches, ranked mode imposed tier restrictions on squads. Bronze could team up with Silver, one tier above, but once you got to Gold and beyond, you couldn’t queue together anymore.

Hearing Choi Pinam grumble at the viewers’ teasing, Yeongho let out an awkward laugh.

He had hit Diamond around two years ago, but after that, as season resets came and went, he hadn’t touched Battle Island at all.

Naturally, he had no ranked record for this season either, which meant the account had to go through placements.

Since it had been dormant for more than two seasons of ranked play, it was considered a sleeping account, which allowed it to squad up with Yeongho, a complete newbie, without tier restrictions.

Usually, when a higher-tier player with a restriction-free account helped lower-tier friends through placement games and carried them up, people would call it a dirty trick—something not much different from account boosting scandals in old-school games.

But everyone who had come over today had already seen Yeongho’s skill, whether live on stream or in replay clips.

No one mistook this for some boosted sleeper account taking advantage of a cheat player’s carry.

Once they formed a team and queued, a mission notification immediately popped up.

As soon as one mission was registered, other viewers refused to be left behind and began piling on missions one after another.

In no time at all, the mission total climbed into the thousands of coins.

Even if the viewer count was in the thousands, donations and missions couldn’t be huge every time—but the people who had gathered today came with high expectations, so even though it was the first broadcast, they were opening their wallets readily and sending missions with surprising enthusiasm.

If I can’t live up to the expectation here, then my goal of quickly establishing myself as a streamer will get a lot further away.

Now that he was in the spotlight, he felt a little pressured, but none of the missions looked impossible, so he soon eased up.

As long as he played the way he always did, that would be enough.

Then a rather unusual mission appeared.

Ten thousand coins!?

It was a huge sum, amounting to ten million won.

It was the arrival of a so-called whale.

As Yeongho’s eyes widened, the chat reacted in surprise too, though not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every response was friendly.

Long-range sniping was easier said than done; in actual play, firefights at kilometer distances were rare.

Even the cowardly “snipe from a secure perch” style usually didn’t assume targets beyond 500 meters.

And that already stretched to twice the effective range of a typical assault rifle.

Unless you had specialized training, hitting a person from more than 500 meters away was difficult.

That was even more true in Battle Island, a VR game that stayed close to reality and didn’t provide much in the way of artificial assistance.

I’ve never even used a sniper rifle before.

Since it was effectively a mission with a very low chance of success, there were plenty of viewers who remained lukewarm despite the huge payout.

Yeongho himself had no experience handling sniper rifles, so he didn’t act as though he could confidently guarantee the mission.

Ten thousand coins is incredibly tempting, but I shouldn’t obsess over it. I need to focus on showing my own play.

No matter how much streaming income could change in scale thanks to whales, he didn’t want to chase missions at all costs; he wanted to show the viewers a good performance.

He had started this to make money, yes, but he didn’t want to be dragged around by it.

So he simply thanked the sender for the generous mission, then took his eyes off the chat.

Before long, the queue popped, and the game began.

Hyeong-nim! Should we head near the shopping center over there?

“Sounds good.”

Their pattern was much the same as during previous collaborative streams.

They didn’t panic and run to the outer edges just because they were short-handed; instead, they took a position near a large looting area.

But they also avoided clinging too close to the center, so they wouldn’t get swallowed by a chaotic early fight.

It was, in its own way, a strategically minded move.

Either way, teams will definitely follow us.

The outskirts near a major city drew a lot of people, and if two players landed nearby, at least one or two teams would notice they were a duo and come after them.

Those quick-witted one or two teams would almost certainly latch on, but Yeongho judged it unlikely that the number would climb as high as three teams.

If it felt too crowded, people would simply head into the center where better loot spawned; they wouldn’t bother starting a brawl on the edge for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no reason.

So if we’re only dealing with one or two teams, there’s nothing to be afraid of.

They’d be outnumbered, but they could make up for that with skill.

Unless two teams openly teamed up against them—and the odds of that happening from the start were close to zero—it wasn’t a problem.

Common sense said that if another team was nearby, they’d find 4 enemies more threatening than 2.

If they wore each other down while trying to keep tabs on one another, Yeongho could strike at the right moment and turn the whole thing into a chaos-filled wipeout.

And if one team got impatient and rushed in too early to finish off the two of them, Yeongho was confident he could put a bullet through their heads.

Choi Pinam called this a human farming strategy, didn’t he?

A plan to lure in one or two teams from the very start, wipe them quickly, and shorten their own loot phase as a result.

Even if the enemy had the numerical advantage, they were unlikely to come barreling in completely naked; they’d probably grab at least a little loot nearby before attacking.

The idea was to seize the resources of a single point, then move on and catch even the other teams that had started looting from the center of the city.

If everything went according to plan, that round would basically be one step away from a locked-in victory.

Of course, it was a strategy that only worked if you were absolutely confident you’d win the early fight.

Two are coming! Let’s quickly loot that detached house over there and fight there!

“Understood!”

As they touched down under their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠parachutes, Yeongho looked back and, just as Choi Pinam had said, saw two teams landing nearby.

He quickly discarded the locking gear and rushed into the house, grabbing one room each and starting to loot.

A long firearm lay in the corner, and he snatched it up immediately.

Good. At least this isn’t the worst-case scenario where all I get is a melee weapon.

Any experienced gamer would have recognized it at a glance, but Yeongho was still a newbie, so he had to inspect the weapon info before he could identify it.

Winchester Model 1894.

A sniper rifle.

...Of all things?

He’d already been a little uneasy because of the 10,000-coin mission, and now, like some cruel twist of fate, his first weapon was a sniper rifle.

If he could have picked, a familiar handgun would have been much better.

Still, he wasn’t in a position to be picky, so he came out into the living room with the gun in hand and found Choi Pinam there, having finished his own looting.

“I got a shotgun, but Hyeong-nim is... oh, damn!”

“Haha, a sniper rifle.”

The sniper rifle, a grim reaper at long range, and the shotgun, a brute that ruled close-quarters combat.

The two extremes formed a combination with obvious strengths and weaknesses, and the pair stared at each other before bursting into dry laughter.

Yeongho could slaughter enemies with even his sidearm pistol because he was able to plant bullets quickly and precisely into vital spots.

But with a sniper rifle, whose shots were powerful yet slow one by one, it was hard to make use of that advantage.

Still, I have to win.

Being in trouble was one thing, but giving up was not an option. The two of them quickly moved to the window and took position.

The two teams that had followed them seemed to have finished only the most basic looting, and once Yeongho concentrated, he could feel their presence approaching from all sides.

How should he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fight to create the best possible opening?

After a brief simulation in his head, Yeongho crouched and moved beneath the window frame, then spoke to Choi Pinam.

“Cover me if I rush them.”

“...Huh? Hyeong-nim? What kind of rush—”

Thoom—!

Choi Pinam’s voice, asking whether he had heard wrong, was swallowed by the heavy report of a gunshot.