Chapter 31: Fold

The serious practice began the next day.

Just yesterday, in a strangely cheerful atmosphere, there was a suggestion to play a casual match together.

However, due to my condition and the schedules of a few members, it naturally fell through.

We concluded to regroup around lunchtime today to get in sync.

So here we are now, deciding to pull out our confident picks through a casual game.

“I’m about to lose my shield. If I do, I’ll back off for a moment.”

This was the briefing from Raimtak, who was playing as the tank.

His chosen character, the steel robot Will, was successfully absorbing the enemy’s harassments with its energy shield.

Perhaps because he’s a returning player, he was playing quite solidly for someone in Silver rank.

Occasionally, he would miss his skill shots, but expecting perfection would be asking too much.

Considering his rank, performing at this level was already exceeding expectations.

“I’m going to stack some before I go in.”

Cheonhun’s Renok was swinging his sword while charging up the unique gauge required for his ultimate ability.

From behind, an urgent voice called out as pings were frantically placed.

“There’s an assassin behind us! I’m going to die; someone help me out!”

This was the support request from Hakchuu, who was playing the mage.

It seemed that the assassin had infiltrated through the backline.

Hakchuu’s chosen character, Kasia, was very vulnerable in such situations, as expected of a mage known as a glass cannon.

If they could establish their position and deny entry, it would be fine, but that’s precisely what made assassins such a dreadful counter.

As Hakchuu screamed, sensing death, he made it clear he was in danger.

“I got the assassin! If I had arrived a bit later, Hakchuu would have really died!”

“Wow, I had 30 health left. That was so close.”

Hankang, who arrived late, managed to take out the assassin and save Hakchuu from danger.

As a diamond-tier player, he clearly understood what was important.

Even if Cheonhun and he successfully struck the enemy’s rear, if our backline collapsed, it would all be for nothing.

It was impressive how he deliberately positioned himself in the center of the formation, supporting wherever personnel was needed.

Should I call it a libero role?

Only those with a high understanding of the game could pull off such plays.

Hmm… why are these people so good?

Honestly, it was unexpected.

In tournaments like this, when teams are randomly formed, it’s common for players not to sync up and various minor issues to arise in-game.

That’s generally common sense.

Yet these people were breaking that mold in real-time.

Of course, it was just a casual game, but casual games shouldn’t be taken lightly either.

In Abyss’s casual matches, it’s not uncommon to encounter bizarre players who only play casuals or high-tier users practicing in casuals because their rank is too high.

In any case, everything was going incredibly smoothly.

[Pretty smooth.]

[I just saw another team, but I think this team is the best?]

[Raimtak doesn’t seem like a Silver-level player. Is he a returning user?]

[The balance seems good overall.]

It seemed the viewers thought the same, as they quickly sent positive reactions.

Our team appeared to be the strongest, with the championship prospects looking sharp.

The entire practice process was being broadcast live.

This was also part of the broadcasting process and the charm of the tournament.

While I was alternating between checking the current situation of my teammates and the chat, a viewer raised a question.

[Are you not doing anything, teacher?]

“Oh, I’m intentionally sitting this one out.”

Currently, I was positioned a step away from the battlefield where my teammates were.

I was cleaning up the creeps and only dealing with the incoming soldiers, maintaining minimal defense.

The reason for this was to assess the practice and skills of my teammates accurately.

In the previous match, I stood on the battlefield with my teammates, but the game just didn’t flow properly.

When I played as I usually do, my teammates ended up with nothing to do.

Hankang, a Diamond-tier player, was also refraining from directly engaging in battles for a similar reason.

He, too, could easily dominate if he wanted, so he took on the role of helping allies in crisis.

[Is this really practicing?]

[We should probably scrim against another team from the next match.]

[Won’t that leak our strategies?]

[Let’s find some streamers who match our tier for a scrim.]

[For now, we’re just getting a sense of each other’s playstyles, so casual matches are fine.]

[Other teams need high-tier players to carry in casuals too. Haha, our team is pretty strong.]

However, not every team member was playing the game smoothly.

• Gongpal Gongpal (Shan) // Ririyang (Haven)

“Oh… I’m so sorry…”

Ririyang, who was in Bronze and the lowest tier in the team, was fulfilling the role of the team’s weak link.

Watching her, I finally felt my sense of normalcy kicking in.

Yes, this is how it should be. The game had been too easy so far.

I had expected despair like in group projects, but this was too hopeful.

There should be at least one weak link; if the team is too perfect, it becomes uninteresting.

However, it was a different story for the person involved; she couldn’t just brush it off cheerfully.

Since we were currently streaming, she was likely receiving a fair amount of criticism from viewers.

Given how crowded the tournament was, that criticism would surely be more intense than usual.

Perhaps due to this, Ririyang continued to make mistakes, but regardless, the balance of the game that had once crumbled showed no signs of returning.

• Victory!

The result was the same as the previous match.

The process of securing the victory was different, but the conclusion was the same.

Should we really scrim, as the viewers suggested?

It seemed like there was nothing more to gain from casuals, except perhaps boosting morale.

“It’s sweet, isn’t it? We’re doing so well!”

“It’s fun playing together.”

“Should we play one more match?”

“But is this really practicing? It’s too easy.”

The atmosphere was good, probably due to the consecutive victories.

However, amidst this cheerful mood, there was one person who remained silent.

Ririyang, who had made significant blunders in the previous matches, looked overwhelmed even in a casual game.

Then, unexpectedly, Ririyang finally spoke up after being quiet all this time.

“Um, excuse me…”

“Oh, yes! Ririyang.”

“Shall we take a break for a moment?”

Generally, the team members were nice people.

Except for Ririyang, everyone was quite talkative and cheerful.

It was quite common for people with such personalities to start streaming, so it was somewhat expected.

In that regard, cases like mine and Ririyang’s were rather unusual, and if I were to categorize my personality, I would say it’s closer to Ririyang’s.

“Uh, well…”

The timid Ririyang hesitated to speak as all her teammates’ attention turned toward her.

Isn’t this a bit too introverted? How did she even start streaming?

However, there was no one among us who would rush her to speak up, and after a moment of fumbling, she finally opened her mouth.

“Can I practice alone?”

“Practice alone?”

“I feel like my skills have dropped too much, and I can’t keep up even when I play with you all…”

[What do you mean practice alone?]

[You should do that off-stream;;]

[You’re proposing something when you can’t even play well?]

[I’m about to give a smack, haha.]

[Hmm… The atmosphere was nice, but now it’s awkward.]

[Oh dear.]

[That’s a bit harsh.]

[The new viewers are scary.]

“Please read the streaming rules and come back.”

I quickly muted my mic to vent about Ririyang to those who were criticizing her.

It’s definitely because it’s a tournament that so many people are getting overly immersed.

Like a gardener pruning unwanted branches, I mechanically filtered out the viewers.

“Oh, yes. That’s absolutely fine! How about we do some individual practice then? Or more casual matches…”

At that moment, most of the team members nodded along with Ririyang’s suggestion and began to plan what to do next.

“Um, and…!”

Ririyang raised her voice as if she hadn’t finished speaking.

What else is she going to say? I tuned in, having just dealt with the troublesome viewers.

“Could you help me, Kayak…?”

I widened my eyes in surprise at the sudden request.

“Me?”

Given that we were participating in a tournament and practicing, I had anticipated that this situation would arise at some point.

After witnessing Ririyang’s struggles, I had considered giving her some feedback if she agreed, but I hadn’t expected her to ask first.

She was a dedicated student.

It seems like I do have a knack for being a mentor, considering my previous experiences as well.

“Uh, what do you think…?”

But that’s one thing, and this is another. No matter how charming a student might be, I had to give her my honest opinion.

“Well…

I would evaluate Ririyang after she plays a few solo ranked matches.

She waited for my response in a nervous tone.

My answer might come as a shock to her.

I thought this to myself before speaking.

“Ririyang, you should probably quit playing Haven.”