Tournament Entry
Dokgo Jun, a partner streamer on Ppajijik, was in serious trouble.
As a major streamer who easily cleared an average of 10,000 viewers, he was currently caught in a very large headache.
“Aagh! Damn it, what the hell is wrong with those idiots? My head’s killing me.”
On Ppajijik, they regularly held friendly tournaments by gathering streamers together for special events.
This time, Battle Island had been chosen as the game, and since it was a title he already played plenty in his spare time, Dokgo Jun had signed up without hesitation.
Because it was a squad match, he needed to bring in three more teammates, but as a big streamer with his own crew of broadcaster friends, recruiting people had been no problem at all.
The problem was that two of the streamers he’d brought along had caused an incident and then declared that they wouldn’t be participating.
“Hah. I had a bad feeling about them even before this.”
The two of them were both variety-game streamers who liked to highlight their skills, so they spent a lot of time around each other, and because one was male and the other female, there had been a noticeable air of flirtation between them.
Then, just yesterday, the man got hit with a huge scandal involving a female fan and vanished from the scene, saying he’d be laying low for a while.
On the female streamer’s side, she went beyond “just flirting” and tearfully admitted on stream that they’d actually been dating in secret for a long time, claiming the news had shocked her.
He could understand being mentally wrecked, but did they really have to announce it on stream and stir up a scandal?
Who knew she really was that fucking insane...
The truly shocking part was that after that, three different people came forward to say they’d been in private relationships with her as well.
Once KakaoTalk logs and recording files were posted as proof, the female streamer uploaded an “explanation” notice—but it was such a bizarre jumble of words that it wasn’t really an explanation or an apology, and then she disappeared too.
It was impossible to understand what she’d been thinking when she publicly confessed to dating a man while secretly juggling four relationships at once.
The fact that all of it had happened within twenty-four hours was astonishing enough on its own.
In any case, whatever the mystery was, the one whose head was about to split open over the two empty seats was Dokgo Jun.
Because participant applications would be finalized the next day, he needed to fill the vacancies quickly.
There’s no time, so I guess I have to pick from the crew after all... but the other guys have rank issues in Battle Island too... damn it! Fine. I’ll think about it tomorrow.
The roster submission deadline was 4 p.m. tomorrow, so he decided not to torment himself any longer tonight.
He’d had a headache all day and didn’t want to think anymore.
Dokgo Jun climbed into the capsule and launched the game.
Even if he was resting, he couldn’t just do nothing, and he planned to run a few practice matches before the upcoming tournament and then call it a night.
He picked Battle Island and logged in on a secret alt account so no one would recognize him.
His main account was Gold 1.
He usually hovered around the lower end of Gold, but after grinding hard and practicing with real intent, he had managed to climb to Gold 1.
Still, because the tournament used a point-based system, he also had to balance the average tier of his teammates accordingly.
So he put off pushing into Platinum and instead had been practicing quietly on his alt account where no one could see him.
I could just play normal matches, but real practice is in ranked.
Thanks to a bit of luck, his alt account’s placement matches landed him in the upper ranks of Silver.
After that, he went on a tear and before long had reached Gold 2.
At this point, even if he applied as Gold, his actual skill should probably be considered Platinum-level, shouldn’t it?
Ha. If it kept going like this, I really thought we could win.
This Battle Island tournament limited participants from Bronze to Diamond.
But given the point system, the average level was around Gold, which effectively meant only one top-tier player could be included.
That was why, after much agonizing, he’d built the team with himself as the Gold-level anchor, one popular streamer who wasn’t good at games but had plenty of draw at the Bronze level, and then one player each from Diamond and Platinum to round out the roster.
And the two people who’d blown up on him just happened to be the ones meant to carry the team.
It was only natural that Dokgo Jun was tearing his hair out over it.
“Hiss! No matter how I think about it, this is driving me nuts.”
Still, being angry about it was his problem, and since the queue had popped, he had to focus on the game for now.
The squad had been assigned through random matchmaking, so their coordination wasn’t likely to be great, but once his own team was reassembled they wouldn’t have time to practice together either, so the difference wasn’t that big.
Ugh! Stop making my blood pressure spike...
Even so, the game went better than expected.
His skill was clearly on the rise, because Dokgo Jun racked up two straight wins in an instant.
He decided to run one last match before finally eating the dinner he’d been putting off because he’d lost his appetite, and queued again.
The result was an absurdly lucky run and an equally absurd performance.
He managed eleven kills by himself, beating his own personal best.
At first, two of his teammates died and he figured a win was out of the question.
“Oh! Looks like we’ve got the supply drop.”
“Wow, it’s been forever since I got to loot one of these.”
But the situation changed once they secured the supply crate, which contained rare and powerful equipment.
What Dokgo Jun pulled was none other than Lynx, the strongest anti-materiel sniper rifle in the game.
He was already confident in his sniping, so it felt like heaven itself was helping him win.
If I can just take a good position, this win is mine!
There had been a time when he really believed that.
That was before he ran into some crazy bastard charging straight at him with a sniper rifle.
Dual pistols? What a try-hard poser, running at me like he wants to die.
The guy had an absurd weapon loadout, and on top of that he was sprinting head-on even after seeing an anti-materiel rifle that could end everything in one shot.
Dokgo Jun decided he wasn’t dealing with someone taking the game seriously and pulled the trigger.
???????
And yet, instead of tearing the enemy apart, the bullet vanished as if the shot had never happened at all.
At first he thought he’d missed and hurriedly fired a second round.
But the second attack was also nullified midair with a burst of sparks.
He blocked my sniper... by shooting my bullet back with a pistol?
Only after seeing the same impossible scene again could he finally grasp what was happening.
Honestly, he couldn’t believe it at all, so calling it “grasping” the situation was kind of ridiculous.
“You bastard, you fucking-”
It had to be a bug.
Some vile rat abusing a bug to farm ranked matches.
That was what he thought, and the instant he spat out the curse—
—he died with a bullet through the head.
“No, seriously, what the hell is wrong with today?”
Back in the waiting room, he fumed for a long time.
If the match had at least ended on a good note, it would have helped settle his mind after the way he’d suffered all day.
But what was this, running into a bug abuser at the very end?
Even in this game, bugs were extremely rare.
Still irritated, he filled out a report.
A few minutes later, he got a reply saying the report had been received and was under investigation, and only then did Dokgo Jun manage to cool off enough to start thinking about dinner.
There. I have once again upheld justice.
With that self-satisfied thought, he waited for the food he’d ordered.
Before long, his phone rang, and when he checked it, he saw that a friend was calling him for the first time in a while.
“Huh? What’s up with this punk calling me out of nowhere... wait a sec?”
Come to think of it, hadn’t this guy been playing Battle Island too, at least for a bit?
He remembered that the guy was naturally good at games, had reached Diamond, and then stopped there.
He preferred single-player games over team-based ones and had a clear style of his own, so he hadn’t joined the crew and they’d just maintained a decent friendship.
But if he could sweet-talk him enough, maybe he’d be willing to do at least one tournament with them.
The more he thought about it, the more that guy seemed like exactly the kind of savior his team needed to fill the missing carry role.
“Hey, Pinam. What’s up?”
With that thought in mind, he connected the call.
And as he did, Dokgo Jun’s expression gradually shifted into confusion.
“Y-yeah. Of course hyung can help. I’ll talk to him. But you’re gonna owe me one too, alright? Yeah, okay. Go on in.”
After hanging up, he started thinking furiously.
It wasn’t hard to contact the platform staff and ask them to look into a report.
But why did this story sound so familiar?
A streamer’s teammate had been wrongfully banned because they were too good at the game?
And it had literally happened just now.
No way?
On a hunch, he searched the streamer’s channel and confirmed it was the same player he’d reported.
SJ DAD.
So he was a streamer too.
Dokgo Jun’s face darkened at once.
There was no way a streamer broadcasting live would abuse a bug, which meant that it had really been skill?
But how could you possibly block bullets with bullets?
His head was spinning, but the conclusion was simple enough.
It seemed he’d made a mistake, and the proper thing to do was apologize.
Of course, the ban itself hadn’t happened because of him alone, but Dokgo Jun was a fairly conscientious person, not the type to pretend he hadn’t done anything wrong and just let it go.
“Sigh... looks like I’m cursed or something.”
Still grumbling, he searched the community’s reactions to the rookie streamer.
There weren’t many posts, but every single one was praise.
In particular, the topic of him reaching Platinum 1 through his placement matches was sitting at the top of the trending list.
Apparently today had been his first broadcast, and he was already showing signs of explosive growth.
Sure, maybe Choi Pinam had helped push him, but Dokgo Jun, a top-tier streamer himself, knew better than anyone that results like this didn’t happen from that alone.
As he rewatched the stream while eating dinner, he had no choice but to admit there was a reason people were reacting so strongly.
“A monster’s just popped out of nowhere. Just look at that placement match buzz—he’ll be climbing to my level before long. If he gets promoted better... wait a second?”
Half-muttering to himself, he suddenly had an idea that struck like lightning.
Though no one else knew it, he still owed a debt in his heart because of his mistake.
And those two empty slots.
There was the obvious skill of Choi Pinam, who needed no introduction among streamers, and then there was this frightening rookie whose actual level was impossible to gauge.
The pieces fit perfectly.
If we go into the tournament together, it’ll help the rookie build recognition too. And on my end, I’d be recruiting the exact talent I need, right?
He hurriedly searched their IDs and checked their rank tiers.
Both of them were Platinum right now, comfortably clearing the tournament’s point restrictions.
Of course, from the way the videos looked, if they played just a few more matches, they’d probably both move up into Diamond.
If I just ask them to hold off until the roster is locked, that should be enough.
Tomorrow at 4 p.m.
Once the application deadline passed, the point restrictions would no longer matter.
Any rank changes that happened before the tournament itself wouldn’t count.
In other words, if someone who applied as Platinum dropped to Bronze or shot up to Predator, the tournament would still recognize them as Platinum.
Not that a change that extreme would actually happen.
“I have no idea what this guy’s gonna do, though... no, whatever. I should at least ask.”
The more he thought about it, the more he felt it was a true win-win arrangement.
Having made up his mind, Dokgo Jun quickly picked up his phone and tapped the call log.
* * *
“Hyung-nim! Let’s enter a tournament together!”
“A tournament?”
“Yep. It’s not a huge one—just a friendly event for streamers only—but it’s a great opportunity, so I think we should take it!”
“I see. Then let’s do it.”
After a successful first broadcast the next day, Yeongho nodded in agreement when Choi Pinam brought up the idea.
When it came to broadcasting matters, he figured it was best to trust Pinam’s judgment.
He’d shown more than enough reliability, and the actual results had been better than expected.
“We’re still continuing with Battle Island, right?”
“Yep! Since it’s a Battle Island tournament, there’s nothing else we need to worry about. For now, the team will be like this—”
As he listened to a few details and the schedule, Yeongho prepared for the broadcast.
It was still early in the day, not even time for lunch yet, and since he had trouble concentrating for too long, today he planned to try a schedule with two broadcasts in one day.
One short stream in the morning.
Then after lunch, he’d rest well and go live again in the evening, in the same style as yesterday.
- Huh? You’re streaming at this hour?
- Good morning to the God-father, haha~
- I thought you were only coming on in the evening?
Because it wasn’t yet an official schedule, the morning broadcast started without any advance notice.
Even so, people flooded in almost instantly to greet him.
Followers got notifications whenever he went live, so even without an announcement, plenty of people came to check in.
The viewer count quickly passed 1,000.
“Good to see you all. I’m seeing you in the morning and again in the evening today.”
- lol the regulars are always home anyway lol
- We’re domestic security guards haha
- If you want to watch streamers you like, you have to be on standby 24/7!
“I’m grateful for the excessive love. Though I’m a little worried—does domestic security pay well? There are a lot of people donating, so I’m concerned you’re all managing okay.”
- LOLLLLLLLLL
- Like hell it pays, lol
- Sir, why are you roasting us so gently T_T
- It’s fine, it’s fine. We don’t have much to spend money on if we’re just staying home anyway lol
The stream began calmly with small talk.
He chatted with the viewers while reading the messages, and when he launched the game a little later, their interest surged sharply.
- Are we going Crown today?
- Show us your profile history!
- You’re not even Diamond yet, why are you talking about Crown?
- Still unbelievable that your placement match gave you Platinum 1, seriously.
- At this point Diamond is basically one match away, so God-father should be aiming for Crown now.
Watching the viewers already throw out Crown clear missions, Yeongho explained the schedule in his calm, gentle voice.
“Ah, we’re not doing ranked games for the morning stream. Choi Pinam has his own schedule too, so I’ll run ranked later this evening.”
- Aw, normal matches are boring.
- Come to think of it, I wondered where Choi Pinam was.
- One point and you’re Diamond, so why not?
- Can’t you just run it alone? It shouldn’t make that much difference anyway.
Some people sounded disappointed when he said he wouldn’t be playing ranked.
Still, there was nothing he could do about that.
He’d been asked to keep his tier fixed until the roster was finalized for the tournament, so he’d been told not to raise his points any further during the morning.
“For now, I’ll be playing normal matches with three viewers. I’m opening participant recruitment.”
So for the moment, he planned to run squad games with viewer participation.
As soon as Yeongho finished speaking, the chat window began thrashing like mad.
- Huh?! Viewer participation?
- Me me me me me!!! Please pick me!
- Wow, is this my chance to hop into the God-father taxi?
- I skipped looking for a job and watched the stream all morning for this exact day. I’m the winner here lol
- This is absolutely mandatory!!
- If it’s the God-father, it’s not even a taxi—it’s a jet plane lol
The disappointment from a moment ago was gone, swept away by a wave of excitement.