Chapter 32: Breaking Through the Ranks

It was true—the viewer was right. The enemy’s city core was, in fact, Bunnyrun.
Though it seemed unbelievable, since Peppe had confirmed it, there was no choice but to accept it.

Well, it’s a world where people are evolving into a new breed that doesn’t need sleep.
So, it wasn’t strange that a former support player could become a game’s central core.

“You managed to become a city core. Did Bunnyrun also develop games or something?”
[You’re about to get stoned by a hundred thousand support players, you know?]

“Support is a wonderful position. And besides, Bunnyrun wasn’t just a support but a true supporter.”
I put an end to Bunnyrun’s subtle attempt to disguise herself as merely a support player.

After a brief pause, Bunnyrun hesitated and finally spoke.
[Hey…]

“Speak your mind.”
[About my old nickname—shortening it is fine, but don’t say the full thing, okay?]

“Of course. I respect people’s privacy.”
When I responded confidently, Bunnyrun let out a sigh and answered.

[You already spilled it, didn’t you? Did it slip out while you were chatting with Peppe?]

How did he know? What a sharp intuition.

[Still, since the nickname itself isn’t a problem… I mean, I do like bread.]

“Of course! That’s what everyone assumed.”

[…Did you also tell them about how I liked older sister characters?]

“I think you’d be great at deduction games, Bunnyrun.”

Moss only guessed correctly by luck, but Bunnyrun was the real deal.

If Moss isn’t happy with that assessment, he can challenge me to another deduction match.

“Anyway, congratulations! You’ve officially become my first-tier fan.”

[Be honest. You knew it was me, and that’s why you put me in the first tier, right?]

“Nope.”

Honestly, I didn’t know it was Bunnyrun.

The Bunnyrun I knew was a support player who roamed Summoner’s Rift with incredible reflexes.

She wasn’t the type to evolve into a patient and tactical core.

And how would I even guess? Her current nickname is ‘LightBringsYou’—there’s not even a hint of ‘Bun’ in there.

“My evaluations are always fair. I don’t give anyone special treatment, not even friends.”

[Then why am I first-tier?]

“Because I felt the love.”

How should I put this… Hmm.

Describing it in detail might embarrass her, so I’ll leave it at that.

Regardless, my judgment wasn’t wrong.

Satisfied with my conclusion, I decided to ask something that had been on my mind for a while.

“If you were skilled enough to become a pro-level city core, why didn’t you play carry roles back then?”

[I didn’t know I could perform this well.]

“Someone as talented as you, unaware of your own abilities? That doesn’t make sense.”

[Even pros switch roles sometimes. It’s hardest to know your true talents. Besides, I was desperate.]

Listening to Bunnyrun’s explanation, I began to understand.

Her dream had always been to become a professional gamer. From the start, she aimed at becoming a pro, carefully choosing positions that offered the best odds. Her mindset was simple: “As long as I make it to the pros, that’s enough.”

It was only after experiencing life as a trainee that Bunnyrun came to a realization.

Even though the arena was filled with top-tier players, oddly enough, Bunnyrun found it manageable.

No, more than manageable—it felt like she had everyone beneath his feet.

Once she was sure of his abilities, Bunnyrun switched to a carry role.

And then, the game she was playing shut down.

What would you have done if Eternal World hadn’t launched, Bunnyrun?

[See? I was always meant to be a carry.]

“That’s not true.”

[You leave me no choice. 1v1 city-core duel. The loser grants a wish.]

“A wish?”

[Yep. Any wish. No objections allowed…]

Mid-sentence, Bunnyrun hesitated, as if something had crossed her mind.
Could it be? Did she guess what my wish might be?

What’s so wrong with wishing for her to cosplay as a character I designed?

After a long pause, Bunnyrun cautiously added,
[…As long as the wish doesn’t cause any public scandal, it’s a deal.]

“Did you really think my wish would be that problematic? Although, I guess the fans wouldn’t be happy.”

[…I could at least do a cosplay of one of your game characters.]

So, she did guess my wish correctly. This is why she’s the true detective, not Moss.

I was so impressed by this rare moment that I glanced at the chat. Had the viewers caught on to this too?

“She’s granting his childhood friend’s wish, huh…”
(V-TV mascot licking emoji)

Seeing that everyone in the chat was on the same page, I immediately opened a custom game lobby.
Bunnyrun, get ready.

You’ll be cosplaying Ily from Accel Busters instead of Thierry.

[What’s your pick?]

“Pick whatever you want.”

[Aren’t you worried? You just started this game recently.]

She was implying I lacked both knowledge and mastery of the characters. But I answered nonchalantly.
“No worries.”

[Set it to 1v1. The rule is simple—first to get a solo kill wins.]

The 1v1 setup automatically sets both players’ characters to level 6 from the start.
Huh, that’s a cool feature.

Since it was a blind pick, I thought for a moment and went with the one that caught my interest.
The game began.

[Is that what you wanted?]

“What do you mean?”

[I picked a decently aggressive character, but you went all in. How’d you know to choose that kind of character?]

“Victory requires cold logic.”

With that mindset, I demolished Bunnyrun, picking a highly strategic character that ensured I wouldn’t lose as long as I didn’t make any mistakes.

It was a best-of-five match, so now I only needed to win two more rounds.
Easy.

In the following rounds, Bunnyrun tried picking strategic characters too, but his attempts were clumsy.

Her plans were predictable, and I countered them thoroughly.

[How do you always manage to pick the perfect characters?]

“I told you, I’m just that smart.”

I decided to save the wish for later. Since more games would be released, it felt a bit wasteful to use it now for a cosplay of a character from the already rising hit, Accel Busters.

I’d rather use it for promoting an upcoming release.

Bunnyrun sighed.
[It’s nice to play again after so long.]

“Hmm.”

I almost said what was on my mind but swallowed the words.

The viewers, however, held nothing back.

“Looks like you’re really his top-tier fan, huh?”

“Maybe your criteria weren’t as arbitrary as you thought, lol.”

If I let this continue, Bunnyrun’s face might turn as red as a ripe tomato. Time to wrap things up.

“I had fun too. When I have time, I’ll come watch one of your matches.”

[Wanna duo? I saw you played with Pepe.]

“Duoing, huh…”

[What’s the issue? You don’t care about people calling you a freeloader.]

The only thing that mattered to me was the quality of my own gameplay—not what others thought.

Honestly, aiming for Challenger was mostly for content.

The idea that you couldn’t speak unless you reached Challenger was half-joking, half-serious.

If I didn’t make it to Challenger, it wouldn’t really bother me.

So, even if people spread rumors about me hitching a ride with pro players, I didn’t care.

But still, some things were non-negotiable.

I calmly explained, “Bunnyrun, you can’t keep up with my tempo.”

[What tempo?]

“I’m going non-stop until I hit Challenger. Can you really keep up? If you mess up your performance from exhaustion, people will trash-talk you.”

[It’s fine. Even pros have intense schedules. All we do is scrim and solo queue with barely any sleep.]

Bunnyrun didn’t seem to understand my point.

Neither did the viewers. The chat was flooded with, “Do you think being a pro is easy? lol”

Well, if they won’t listen, they’ll just have to experience it firsthand.

People only know the difference between Pepsi and Coke once they taste them.

“Fine, but if it gets too much, you better quit, okay?”

[Got it.]

Bunnyrun answered confidently, as if ready to tackle the entire training course.

That confidence disappeared exactly one day later.

[…Hey.]

“Yes?”

[Aren’t you sleeping?]

“I told you—I’m going non-stop until I hit Challenger.”

[Wait… doesn’t non-stop streaming just mean keeping the stream on while you sleep?]

“Not my version of it.”

[You haven’t even reached Master Tier 2, and you’re saying you won’t sleep for a whole week?]

“More like five days without sleep, I guess.”

Bunnyrun had tapped out. A shame, really—she was doing well, even outside his main role.

Holding back my tears, I kept grinding.

Even with teammates dropping out, the training had to continue.

When someone yells at you for abandoning your comrades, what choice do you have?

Bunnyrun, I’ll remember you.

By the third day of my non-stop grind, I hit Master Tier 2.

The viewers congratulated me with messages like:

“You’re still gaming after sleeping? No way.”

Another day passed, and I reached Master Tier 3.

The day after that, I made it to Grandmaster.

That’s when something weird happened with my matchmaking rating (MMR).

Despite being in the upper ranks, where points are usually scarce, I was earning absurdly high scores—like a fresh account playing placement matches.

This was because my win rate had become that ridiculous.

On the sixth day:
Morning—Grandmaster 1.
Afternoon—Grandmaster 2.
Evening—Grandmaster 3.

And just before midnight, I reached the pinnacle: Challenger, a rank held by only 100 players in Eternal World.

Satisfied, I ended the stream with a cheeky remark:
“Should I keep going and aim for the top spot while I’m at it?”

The chat exploded: “Please, just go to sleep already!”

“Alright, I will.”

And with that, I finally ended the broadcast.

It was mid-May, just three days before the first half of Eternal World’s solo rank season came to a close.