Chapter 98

‘You think we can catch up enough in the next set, right?’

On the way back to the Waiting Room after Set 2.

Han Youngin said as much.

It was a thought meant for Kato, but Kato, who heard it, remained silent.

Was she upset because they lost a set?

Han Youngin thought so, but the reality was a little different.

The reason Kato was quiet was that she had entered a state of intense focus, analyzing what had happened in Set 2 just a moment ago.

<This doesn’t make sense.>

Kato Mikane thought so several times.

Han Youngin’s play in Set 2 was exactly that.

<A person can’t adapt that quickly…>

‘Huh? What did you say?’

<I didn’t say anything.>

The part she couldn’t understand was Han Youngin’s bizarre adaptability.

In the previous set, he had copied the tactics Korea brought out, the special skill Seo Dami had showcased, and confronted the opponent’s strategy head-on.

They had lost the set because they figured out the opponent’s intentions too late in the game and didn’t have enough time, but Kato Mikane had seen it clearly.

Even the opposing players were surprised by Han Youngin’s speed of adaptation.

If a skill could be copied simply by knowing its name and seeing it, why would pro players pour so much time and effort into practice?

They worked hard because it was that difficult to optimize.

But just a moment ago, Han Youngin had performed the feat of adapting to the opponent’s skill in real-time on the Battlefield.

That’s right.

The word ‘feat’ was truly fitting.

Kato Mikane had won the World Championship and a Gold Medal at the Asian Games, but she had never seen a player of this kind.

Just as Kato’s own Power of the Ley Line was overpowered, Han Youngin’s adaptation speed was also an overpowered ability by Pro Gamer standards.

<Then is Seo Dami’s good adaptability also because of this man’s influence…?>

Seo Dami.

The only player in Korea who used Gun Kata reasonably well.

She guessed that Dami had probably stolen and learned it after seeing her in Jeju Island, but if that influence had started with this man, it made a certain amount of sense.

<But why is he a no-name?>

This was the part Kato Mikane understood the least.

Since she herself wielded the Power of the Ley Line, it was plausible that there might be one or two players somewhere in the world who could quickly learn skills just by seeing them.

But for such a player to be a no-name with no titles was completely incomprehensible.

It was an ability that could have made him widely known in the industry, even if he were a lazy genius.

<His analytical ability isn’t bad either…>

Saying it wasn’t bad was too harsh an expression; in fact, it had to be said that it was very good.

While preparing for this tournament, Kato had watched how Han Youngin researched opposing teams and how much time he spent on it.

He was the type of person who probably would have done well as a scouting report analyst if he hadn’t become a player.

<And yet, he’s a no-name.>

He wasn’t even a lazy genius?

Then there was probably only one reason.

The player’s own physical capabilities were just too pathetic.

If a player who was fast at learning skills, good at analyzing opponents, and even had good Fan Service was a no-name, this was the only possibility.

<Physical is a crucial issue…>

If one were to score the various fields that make up the profession of a Pro Gamer, the one that would hold the highest weight was this very Physical.

But Han Youngin, despite receiving a failing grade in that most important element, was able to become a pro player because his other elements were so outstanding.

Having thought this far, Kato didn’t bother asking if his Physical was terrible during his active player days.

She had heard before that he was in a vegetative state in a hospital after some accident, so she felt there was no need to say such a thing.

Of course, Han Youngin’s physical capabilities weren’t to the point of receiving a failing grade as a Pro Gamer.

In the first place, Han Youngin had been an Ace in Korea, responsible for his team’s Carry, and had a fair amount of recognition.

By Kato Mikane’s standards, anyone without global recognition tended to be treated as a no-name, so it was more accurate to say her criteria were too strict.

While Kato was feeling a little sorry for Han Youngin in a corner of her heart, Han Youngin called over Nakano Ui, who was waiting on the Bench with her hands neatly folded.

“Yes! Unni!” she said, scurrying over. Han Youngin told her this.

“The opponent is very tired. In Set 3, your time to shine will come, so get ready. Got it?”

“Ui is moved…! Just leave it to me!”

Nakano Ui, who hadn’t had a chance to play a single game since the Group Stage, showed a look of deep emotion, thinking her chance to shine had finally come.

She was truly grateful to Kato (Han Youngin), who had taken care of her and even helped her practice after she became a Japanese National Representative.

Nakano Ui had been very worried before joining the national team.

Kato doesn’t understand other people’s feelings.

Because she’s outstanding on her own, she can’t understand why others can’t do it, and so on.

Most of the rumors surrounding her were not very good.

But the Kato Mikane she saw in person was different.

Despite being Japan’s best player, she knew how to take care of those around her, a truly angelic person.

Nakano Ui couldn’t tell what kind of trashy people were spreading such slander, but it made her think that you have to experience people for yourself to judge them.

“Ui ui. I will definitely carry for Unni!”

“Stay calm. As long as you do what we practiced, there won’t be a problem.”

“Yes!”

After informing Nakano Ui of her participation in the next set, Han Youngin also called over the team’s Supporter, Haruna.

“You saw me use a new skill just now, right?”

“Yes. Unni.”

“It uses a lot of Mana. The Tailwind Skill itself doesn’t have a high cost, but I also have to use Acceleration, and I’m using a lot of Mana for various things. You know what I mean, right?”

“Yes.”

“I need Mana support. I’ll need a Mana Regen buff.”

“Yes! Leave it to me.”

“Sena, Misaki. You’re playing well. The two-person cell play was good, so keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Rina, your Aim is good today. You’ve got a good feel for it, so keep it up. If possible, keep putting pressure on the opponent’s Attacker Duo.”

“Yes!”

After giving the necessary instructions to his teammates, Han Youngin gathered the players and roused their Fighting Spirit, telling them to finish it for sure.

With their resolve thus hardened, the players stepped onto the Set 3 Battlefield.

Han Youngin had hoped for Nicaea Research Lab to be chosen for the Set 3 Battlefield, but in the end, Boundary was decided.

He didn’t know.

That Korea had also been hoping for the Research Lab or Enterprise.

For the Korean team, whose Stamina was already depleted, a Deathmatch Battlefield that required them to run for a full 15 minutes was practically a death sentence.

To make up for the already disadvantageous skill gap, Korea had squeezed out every last bit of their remaining strength in the late game of Set 2.

If they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been able to protect their lead on the Point Gauge.

If Japan had also charged in with the resolve to drain their Stamina, the Win-Loss result of Set 2 might have changed, but when the teammates asked what to do, Han Youngin instructed them to move on to the next set, and so the final showdown was pushed to Set 3.

The Boundary Battlefield, where grabbing the central Mana Pack is the key to victory.

Realizing that Korea’s Stamina was low, Han Youngin ordered an even more aggressive attack.

Seo Dami and Kim Seunga’s Stamina was relatively okay, but even they were being pushed back by Han Youngin, who was receiving the effects of the Earth Vein.

On top of that, during Set 3, Han Youngin ordered a Substitution, replacing Attacker Shimizu Misaki with Nakano Ui, driving the final nail in the coffin.

As the Korean team’s players started getting picked off from all sides and the Score gap widened, Seo Dami’s eyes welled up with tears.

The Korean fans who had been immersed in the game, watching the Close Battle with Japan (though it wasn’t actually a Close Battle), felt a lump in their throats seeing Seo Dami’s tears.

How much must she want to win to be like that?

They wondered if there was another friend as sincere about national team matches as Seo Dami.

Of course, it was true that Seo Dami was sincere about the match, but the reason was a little different.

Tears welled in her eyes because she wouldn’t be able to save Han Youngin in this Olympics.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask him to lose.

Seo Dami couldn’t understand Han Youngin at all, why he was playing so hard.

If she couldn’t defeat Kato like this, he was fated to die.

‘Oppa, why are you really doing this? You’ll die if you stay there!’

Wanting to prevent Han Youngin’s death somehow, Seo Dami squeezed out her remaining strength until the very, very end.

Even when the Team Leader, Kim Seunga, had thought, ‘This is over,’ and let go of the game.

However, Seo Dami alone was not enough to change the outcome.

There was no way for Korea to stop Han Youngin, who had even learned Tailwind, the secret trump card hidden within the Power of the Ley Line.

And so, the game Score was 87 to 39.

Displaying an overwhelming difference in power, Japan secured their spot in the round of 16 with a 2-1 set victory.

Following this, foreign media outlets poured out articles about Japan’s victory as if they had been waiting for it.

The speed was such that it seemed they had written the articles in advance, assuming Japan would win from the start.

Articles poured out in just one minute.

And a few minutes later, more articles came flooding in.

The difference in the articles that came out a little later was the photos.

Kato Mikane, smiling brightly and greeting her fans.

Her image, promising Japan’s victory once again to Viewers all over the world, decorated the main pages of the UA Community and Japanese portals.

-Oppa. They say I have to go back…

After the match ended, Dami, seemingly full of regret, sent a message with ellipses, informing me that she had to return.

If they had won today’s match, she would have stayed in the US a little longer, but since they lost, she had to pack her bags and go back.

Since she came as a member of the national team, it didn’t make sense for Dami to remain in the US alone.

Though I couldn’t see her face, her text was dripping with disappointment. I cheered her on for the future, telling her to keep working hard when she gets back and that I would keep watching.

-You have to stay healthy too, Oppa. I’ll definitely come to save you by winter…

I replied that I knew she could do it, then glanced at Kato.

For Dami to win, it was on the premise that the Kamui team would lose.

Fortunately, Kato didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what I was doing, either because she had other things on her mind or because she was sufficiently satisfied with Japan’s victory.

After asking Dami, who was now returning to her country, to say hello to Yunseuli for me, I looked at the tournament bracket.

Japan had secured its advancement first.

To win the championship, we only had to play four more matches.

Just four times, and I could hang a Gold Medal around her neck and make Japan, and Kato, the world’s best player.

‘I can do it. I can really win.’

A global tournament victory, something that was utterly impossible during my active days.

Although I was borrowing Kato’s body right now, it didn’t diminish the excitement.

No, if anything, I was filled with anticipation.

For a Pro Gamer, winning a world tournament was that kind of thing.

Besides, with this level of performance, I thought I might have contributed quite a bit to her achievements.

If we won and returned with a Gold Medal, Kato’s standing in Japan would become even more solid.

I couldn’t tell Dami, but honestly, it seemed more likely that I could do what I can for Kato and beg her to spare my life in return, than for Super Sylph to beat Kamui.

‘I can do it. Han Youngin! Just four more steps to the championship!’

Steeling my resolve, I headed to the Practice Room.

Savoring the afterglow of victory would have to be postponed until after the tournament was completely over.

For now, the goal was just to win.

It was time to run without looking away.

July 26th. Sunday.

Los Angeles, in the full swing of the Olympic fever, felt like one giant festival.

You could hear cheerful music everywhere, and it was easy to spot citizens and tourists with face paint.

This atmosphere was especially pronounced as it was a Sunday, but at that time, the citizens had no idea.

That this day would become a terrible day of nightmares, to be recorded in future history.

2 PM.

There was still a fair amount of time until the match started, but the Japanese team had already arrived at the LA Main Arena.

A Gaia match was currently being held in the Arena, and as soon as it was over, UA was scheduled to take over and proceed with its match.

Considering the waiting time and broadcasting situation, it was common for players in international competitions to arrive at the Arena in advance.

Today’s match was the Semifinals between Japan and the USA.

The USA was part of the UA’s four major leagues and, along with Japan, was mentioned as a favorite to win.

Han Youngin was once again reviewing the strategy they would use today with the players.

He had prepared to the best of his ability, but he felt more at ease holding onto the data until the game started.

As he was waiting in the Waiting Room for the staff’s call, Han Youngin’s ears perked up.

‘What’s that sound?’

<What sound.>

‘No, didn’t you hear something? I definitely heard it…?’

<Have you really become a ghost now? I didn’t hear anything.>

But a few seconds later, when the sound was heard again, Kato heard it clearly too.

It wasn’t just Kato.

The Japanese national team players, as well as the analysis team, Director, and coaching staff in the Waiting Room, all looked around, wondering, ‘What is that sound?’

While everyone was just blinking, Han Youngin shot up from his seat, his expression hardening seriously.

There was no mistake.

This sound, heard in succession, was definitely a gunshot.

The sound, presumed to be from a Rifle, was coming from somewhere in the Arena.