Chapter 26

After the Rank Match, I called Shin Aram over to talk.

Why had this change occurred?

She hadn’t seemed like this kind of person when I was doing my preliminary research on which team to join.

“So, the reason I changed my Orders was…”

According to Shin Aram, her original Order style was closer to what she had shown today.

But after a losing streak at the start of the season, she began to wonder, Am I really heading in the right direction? It seemed the changes she made herself had led her down an even worse path.

“How were my Orders today?”

“Honestly, they weren’t bad. No, for the Second Division League, they were actually high-level.”

That was the problem.

That they were high-level Orders.

High-level also meant that they were difficult for others to understand immediately.

The veteran players of Super Sylph, now gone, must have known that Shin Aram had the makings of a good shot-caller, having been on this team for a long time.

That’s probably why they designated her as the one to give Orders, despite her being a woman of few words.

The problem was that to demand higher-level movements from players with Second Division-level vision, skill, and mindset, you needed to communicate well.

A top-tier player in the First Division League would instinctively know why such an Order was given, why they had to enter at that timing, and even what kind of calls would be exchanged at that moment.

It was similar to how I had just synced up perfectly with Shin Aram a moment ago.

But most people couldn’t do that.

Jung Yunseul was a prime example.

A little while ago, in the final set, when Shin Aram shouted that she would block the entrance and create a path through the side building to break through.

I had a feeling that’s how the flow would go and naturally threw myself into action, but Jung Yunseul hesitated with a “Huh?” and jumped in half a beat too late, giving up a kill.

‘This is Jung Yunseul’s first time working with Shin Aram, and she probably didn’t know why she had to move that way.’

Since Shin Aram wasn’t a talkative player either, the game must have been incredibly difficult for Jung Yunseul, who had just debuted this year.

When I pointed that out, Shin Aram spoke with a sorry expression.

“I know. I should have explained in more detail since we were new to working together. I knew it in my head… but it wasn’t easy. And it was Yunseuli’s debut season. I couldn’t just force her to understand my thinking and raise her level.”

Deciding that this wouldn’t work, Shin Aram ultimately chose to change her Orders herself.

Though she probably didn’t know that it would end up ruining the flow of the existing team members as well.

Hwang Jua and Kim Dain, being a Supporter and a Sniper, respectively, and having worked with Shin Aram for a long time, would have followed her Orders well.

But what happens when the Order style—or more accurately, the level—is lowered?

A discrepancy in judgment would have occurred.

They had spent the entire off-season getting into a rhythm with Shin Aram as their Leader, figuring out her style, only for it to be disrupted in an instant.

On top of that, various other factors, like players’ slumps, overlapped, and in the end, Super Sylph finished the season with a dismal 8th place.

“You know, it feels like it’s been a really long time since I felt a game went as well as it did today.”

Of course.

I’m on the team, after all.

If the Orders had been an unimaginable mess, I would have been like, “Huh?” too, but Shin Aram’s Orders were perfectly fine.

That’s why I could move comfortably.

The very fact that her Orders felt standard and decent to me, a former First Division League player, seemed reason enough not to change the shot-caller.

“You make the decision, Dami. That was the condition of the contract. I don’t mind if I’m not the one giving Orders.”

And then, Shin Aram clamped her mouth shut and waited for my answer.

Without needing to think for long, I gave my reply.

“Unni, you keep doing it. The Orders.”

“…Really?”

“But we do need to work on it a bit. From what I can see, I’m the only one on this team who can properly understand your Orders.”

Shin Aram had a tendency to handle everything—her positioning, her Orders—instinctively, without words.

It was true that in a game where win or loss could be decided in a split second, there wasn’t much time for leisurely conversation, but Shin Aram needed to talk more.

It wasn’t just Jung Yunseul; neither Kim Dain nor Hwang Jua seemed to be moving with a 100 percent understanding of her intentions.

It felt like they were vaguely following along based on the experience they had accumulated over their time together, but they didn’t seem to understand exactly why a certain Order was given or why they had to move a certain way.

In other words, Jung Yunseul’s game vision level was squarely in the Second Division League.

Kim Dain and Hwang Jua were at a 1.5-division level.

Only Shin Aram and I were thinking like we were in the First Division League.

When she asked how we should work on it, I suggested we first align our perspectives on the game.

To paint the same picture and move in the same direction.

I was someone who believed this could be achieved through sufficient conversation and training.

“Let’s all get together and talk. That’s the only way we’ll be able to achieve our goal next year.”

It went without saying, but the goal I had set in my mind for next season was to win the championship.

This time, I wasn’t just transferring alone; I was planning to make the entire team fly.

The day after I signed with Super Sylph and had my first training session.

An article went out online announcing that I had found a new home for the 2075 season.

「Second Division League Team Super Sylph Recruits the ‘Heaven-Defying Monster’ Seo Dami.」

「Seo Dami, Who Played the Role of the Family Breadwinner Perfectly. Looking Forward to What She’ll Show Next Year.」

-I heard a few First Division teams sent her offers, but she ended up going to the Second Division?

-Honestly, considering the hype around her popularity is a bubble, the Second Division is the right fit.

-Seo Dami? If she had actually transferred to the First Division, she probably would’ve hit a hard wall.

-I am curious, though. Does she really have as much potential as the reporters are claiming?

-I’m an avid viewer of the Third Division League. Congrats on the transfer, and let’s never see each other again.

-Ecosystem-disturbing species, out….

-Super Sylph did this with Jung Yunseul, and now they’re recruiting another prospect.

-They were a pretty decent team back when they had their veteran players.

-These days, they just seem like a team that scratches lottery tickets.

-Still, Seo Dami is worth looking forward to. Jung Yunseul was a complete rookie, but this one has experience.

-Anyway, welcome to our team!

-Let’s enjoy some of the attention a popular star gets!

-General Seo! We’re counting on you to lead us to victory!

The public’s reaction after seeing the articles wasn’t bad.

The Super Sylph fans’ reactions were good, too.

There wasn’t much fuss about attaching a moniker like ‘Heaven-Defying Monster’ to a Second Division League player.

It seemed to be thanks to the recognition I had built by appearing in the papers almost daily.

But just one article.

That one article was exerting a not-so-good influence.

「Super Sylph’s Seo Dami Confirms 700 Million Won Contract, Including Options! Proves Her Worth as the Top Free Agent in the Second Division.」

An annual salary of 700 million Won a year.

Of course, half of that was tied to the very difficult-to-achieve option of winning the championship, but the public focused only on the points they wanted to see.

-700 million…!?

-So you’re saying Lee Chaewon and Seo Dami are on the same level? LMAO

-The media play is worth it, I guess. If you keep pushing the viral marketing, your value skyrockets~.

-But we don’t know, she might actually be that good, right? It’s too early to say for sure…

-STFU;;

-You think Lee Chaewon is a pushover?

-Where are these kids spouting baseless nonsense crawling from?

-It’s obvious. They’re the ones who watched the Third Division. They’re looking down on the Second Division just because the player they stan dominated some trash league.

Lee Chaewon.

She was the player who had made a huge contribution to leading the Second Division League team Super Planet to victory this season, earning them a direct promotion to the First Division.

Her position was Attacker, the same as mine.

Coincidentally, her annual salary this year had been 700 million Won, which was why I was now facing this pointless criticism.

You just came from the Third Division, and you’re getting a top-tier Second Division salary?

That pisses me off. Should I leave a hate comment?

It was a feeling of, Let’s see how good you are. If you can’t live up to that 700 million, I’ll tear you to shreds.

From my perspective, it was utterly absurd.

In reality, a significant number of the guys criticizing my salary in the community weren’t even Super Sylph fans.

I could at least understand if our team’s fans were worried, asking the Front Office why they were wasting money.

But why were they making a fuss about another team’s business?

I didn’t bother to think too deeply about the reason.

I just figured they were jealous that a young player was doing well.

<Maybe some of them are Star Prism fans.>

‘That’s plausible.’

Thanks to the tea Park Chaerin had so refreshingly spilled on her broadcast, Star Prism fans now knew why their team’s recruitment status this season was so sluggish.

The transfer market, an opportunity to reinforce their roster.

This year, Star Prism had missed out on both fish—me and Park Chaerin—and was still wandering the market.

Good players are usually snatched up early, and by the time they needed a replacement, there were no suitable players left on the market.

Because of that, the prevailing opinion was that Star Prism’s performance next season wouldn’t be as good as this year’s.

Considering the skill of the remaining players on the market, it seemed it would be difficult to fill the void left by the retiring player.

Of course, none of this was my fault.

First, the Star Prism Front Office and Director were at fault for making me a contract offer but then neglecting me, their eyes fixed on Park Chaerin.

Second, Park Chaerin, who, after losing to me, just said, “I’ll just do broadcasts!” and promptly ran away, bore a large part of the responsibility.

And yet, their fans seemed to be tearing only me apart all day.

It seemed they just hated me.

‘Well, I don’t care. They shouldn’t have given me the cold shoulder.’

<That’s right. We did nothing wrong.>

‘Like team, like fans. When we meet Star Prism next year, let’s not even let them breathe.’

They needed to learn what happens when you pick a fight with the wrong person.

And to do that, the first thing we needed was to have a lot of conversations among the team members.

‘From now on, we’re going into intensive care for Jung Yunseul.’

<Why Jung Yunseul?>

‘Dami, do you hate Yunseuli…?’

<No?>

‘Is it just me? You seem to get prickly whenever we talk about Yunseul…’

<It’s just you.>

‘Anyway, to explain the reason.’

Jung Yunseul had the worst vision level on this team.

That didn’t mean she lacked talent.

If she did, they wouldn’t have thought of recruiting a kid who was just about to debut for the hefty sum of 150 million Won.

Jung Yunseul was a fairly well-known name among prospects under 16 aiming for a pro debut.

And Super Sylph had taken a big leap of faith and invested in bringing her in.

In fact, even from my perspective watching her, she had enough potential to be worth developing.

The part that needed fixing was unifying her vision level.

If the direction and height of the team members’ vision were aligned, this team’s level would rise exponentially.

‘If we can just get Jung Yunseul’s form up, we can consider the hole plugged for now.’

Once we got to the First Division League, other problems would pop up, but for the Second Division, that seemed to be enough.

Once we had a direction, daily replays began.

Why I played the way I did.

What my teammates were thinking when they moved at that moment.

How we could have gotten a better result.

Pulling out the thoughts I had kept in my head and sharing them with my teammates was a necessary task.

“Unni. You have to explain. In the game just now, why did you run to the right at that timing? You remember Hwang Jua died then, right?”

“Uh… well.”

The replay sessions did not go smoothly.

What we all learned while analyzing the replay together was that Shin Aram was a more instinctive player than we thought.

In other words, she showed movements that were close to the right answer, but she was the type of player who couldn’t theoretically explain to her teammates why it was the right answer.

What was the basis for her play?

<Does that mean she made the play without really knowing why herself?>

‘It’s because she has no basis for her judgment. A lack of knowledge.’

It was highly likely that Shin Aram had acquired this First Division-level vision through acquired effort.

She did say she frequently watched First Division League matches.

It was reasonable to assume that as that time accumulated over the years, one day, her eyes were opened.

It was a good thing.

There were players who could watch high-level games their whole lives and never have that realization.

It was difficult for such players to become good, no matter how hard they tried.

A player who lacked the mindset to think for themselves, who lacked creativity, would either have to rely on Orders or only make pre-determined plays, and either way, their ability to respond to variables was bound to be weak.

And the minute delay caused by this gap often became a fatal weakness in engagements between top-tier players.

That’s why I hoped that through this process of conversation, the players would be able to establish their own reasoning.

I wanted them to become players who could immediately pull their own weight without fumbling again when the team eventually went to the First Division League.

“Look closely. At this point, we had an engagement earlier, and Unni, you had cycled your Shield twice. You were low on Mana, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You must have calculated in your head how long you could hold out on your own.”

“Right.”

“That’s why you ran to the right. Because it shortens the distance to the Control Point. You were trying to close the attack distance before you went down.”

“I think that’s right.”

“Wait, wait!”

As I was breaking down Shin Aram’s play, Hwang Jua shot her hand up.

“Question!”

“What is it?”

“You could have run to the left, so why did you have to run to the right? Looking at the map, it seems like you could have used the left corridor as a barricade!”

Hwang Jua suggested that since a Heal Pack would soon spawn on the left, it would have been better to retreat to the left, replenish her Stamina, and go for a prolonged battle.

Hearing that, I shook my head.

“We need to get rid of this kind of amateurish thinking—that’s what I’m saying.”

“Hmph.”

“Hwang Jua. Right now, whose Stamina is the lowest?”

“Mine.”

“Then who should get the Heal Pack?”

“Me…”

“What are the chances you’d beat the enemy Attacker in an Acceleration duel and get the Heal Pack? Fifty-fifty at best, right?”

“Yeah…”

“But if you had gone right and up the stairs, it’s a guaranteed shorter distance to the Control Point, right? The Point Gauge fight after that is my and Yunseuli’s job, but you’d be back in Dain Unni’s support line. You could have received support. The corridor wouldn’t work because it has a roof.”

“Yeah.”

“This is what I think. The higher the level of play, the higher the win rate for the side that reduces uncertainty and takes what’s guaranteed. Of course, when the skill gap with the opponent is so large that nothing you do works, it’s right to take a gamble sometimes. But were we up against a team with that much of a gap? No, we weren’t. And Dain Unni, you too. Why did you move then? If the enemy Sniper’s skill had been just a little better, you would have been picked off there. Did you know that?”

The feedback session went on for a long time.

The bad habits that had become ingrained from a year of playing without addressing them couldn’t be fixed overnight.

Moreover, some players were defensive, while others were aggressive.

Sometimes, a situation like that arises.

A situation where, regardless of a First Division-level or Second Division-level judgment, both sides make sense.

A case where choices that could be split by a player’s tendencies open up simultaneously.

As I watched, I noticed that in these situations, the Sylph team’s movements were invariably split.

Shin Aram and Kim Dain often made defensive choices, while Hwang Jua and Jung Yunseul often made aggressive ones.

Usually, in a case like this, you had to align in one direction.

And in this case, my preference was to make the aggressive move.

‘Because getting good results defensively is much harder than showing a good performance offensively.’

The saying that the best defense is a good offense also held true in UA, and I appealed this point, ordering the players to be more aggressive.

Everyone nodded, and no one objected.

No one chided me, asking what a player who just came up from the Third Division knew to be so talkative.

Why? Because I proved it.

Because they could see right next to them just how good of a player I was.

Throughout our practice games, my teammates must have been thinking this.

Seo Dami really is a monster.

We can’t look down on her just because she came from the Third Division.

Since I presented my opinions while proving myself with skill, there was naturally no opposition.

If someone could find fault with my play even after watching it, they wouldn’t be a teammate; they’d be trash.

A second Kim Yujeong, should I say?

Fortunately, there were no such players on Super Sylph, and our skill improvement seemed to be proceeding smoothly.

Until we came face to face with the villain lurking quietly in the shadows.

“Dami.”

“Yes.”

December.

During training, Coach Bae Yungi quietly called me aside.

“I’d like you to stop provoking the others anymore.”

What in the world was that supposed to mean…?

Don’t provoke your teammates too much.*

Words I couldn’t comprehend flowed from the Coach’s mouth.