Chapter 31: Scrimmage

With the team name decided, I thought the meeting was about to wrap up.

But then, Director Jacky brought up an unexpected suggestion.

“Uh? Everyone, hold on a moment. Oh… Panoro’s team is asking if we’d like to scrim. What do you all think?”

A sudden scrimmage proposal.

Come to think of it, does our director have some connection with Panoro’s team? It seems they were also having a team meeting like us.

Maybe scrimming came up as part of their discussion.

“I’m all for it. Even one match could help us get a better feel for things,” said Tex enthusiastically, paving the way for others to chime in.

“I think it’s a good idea. There’s not much time left until the tournament, and even a single match today could be helpful.”

“I’m in, too!”

“Yes… I’m fine with it as well.”

The overall sentiment leaned towards agreement.

Ah, I’d been planning a quick end to the meeting followed by a swift stream shutdown.

Now, there was no avoiding it. My plan to punish my teasing viewers with an abrupt stream end had just been thwarted.

When I also gave my approval, Jacky set about creating the match room.

“Who’s on Panoro’s team again?”

“I think their tier lineup is pretty similar to ours.”

“They’ve got a Master, a Diamond, a Gold, and two Silvers.”

“We’re just *slightly* outmatched. But the gap isn’t huge.”

The team began discussing the Panoro roster.

I too racked my brain, trying to recall their lineup.

Who was on their team again?

Suddenly, a name popped into my head.

“Oh.”

A quiet exclamation escaped me as a memory surfaced.

O Dae-sik.

Dae-sik was on Panoro’s team, wasn’t he?

Not long ago, I had devoted myself as a mentor, passionately teaching my apprentice.

Fond memories of that time came flooding back.

Nostalgia washed over me as we prepared to face Panoro’s team.

Let’s see what you’ve got.

“Wow, a scrim! A scrim!”

“Are they any good? Who’s their highest-tier player?”

“Isn’t Mollru the Master?”

“I think we’ll do better than them overall.”

Meanwhile, in Panoro’s team, Dae-sik was cradling his head amidst his teammates’ growing excitement.

“Dae-sik, what do you think about Mollru? Are they really that good?”

“…A demon.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, uh, they’re quite skilled.”

Dae-sik brushed off the question with vague praise and watched the unfolding situation.

Why, of all times…

Why did our director have to be friends with Jacky? Why did this scrim have to happen today?

When Dae-sik first spotted Mollru’s name on the tournament roster, he’d shivered with dread.

And now, here they were, inevitably brought face to face.

Mollru’s absurd skill level was well-known, but due to their similar tier rankings, being on the same team had never been a possibility.

With a resigned sigh, Dae-sik cracked his knuckles and joined the scrim lobby.

– Panoro_: Hello.

– Zoph: Hello.

– TACS’: Good evening.

The two teams exchanged polite greetings while waiting for everyone to join the room.

Mixed into the banter were subtle undertones of rivalry.

– Park Yang: We’ll be taking this win easy~

– Kim Ryu-ah, Fist of the Flaming Palm: Hahaha, you wish. We’re going to win.

– Hyaru: There are only two unranked players on your team… haha.

– Jacky_: It was all part of the strategy.

A small jab that didn’t cross the line.

Just like how fans go wild over trash talk before a match, this level of banter felt natural.

However, Dae-sik remained silent, typing nothing in the chat.

His teammates, who were used to his usual antics, found this unusual.

But Dae-sik was quietly staring at Mollru’s message, tense.

– Mollru: ^^

What did that smiley face mean?

Was it a declaration that they’d crush him?

In reality, Mollru had nothing specific to say and had sent a casual smile, but Dae-sik wildly overanalyzed it, filling himself with dread.

[Why is this guy so scared?]

[Dae-sik… are you scared of Mollru?]

[Honestly, I get it.]

[This is like Pavlov’s dog experiment.]

[After taking hours of beatdowns, of course he’d be scared.]

[Dae-sik, let go of that high school trauma.]

[Why’s Mollru smiling?]

[Dae-sik’s about to get shredded.]

Amid the taunts and mock sympathy from viewers, Dae-sik quietly prepared for the match.

– Cheolwoo-lee: Let’s begin.

Finally, the game started.

The battlefield was set in the heart of an urban area.

Not a single civilian was in sight, as if they’d all been evacuated.

The map was a sprawling cityscape lined with shops and facilities.

It was an objective-based control map.

Apparently, tournament maps were chosen randomly.

This wasn’t Mollru’s specialty—a team deathmatch map requiring infinite respawns and target kills.

Relieved, Dae-sik picked a mage with a balanced mix of survivability and damage for his dealer role.

With the sturdy shield of his frontline tanks as cover, he slowly advanced.

His team, assigned to attack first, moved toward the opponent’s control point.

The defenders, Mollru’s team, had taken their positions to guard the point.

Dae-sik immediately scanned for Mollru’s location.

When he realized Mollru was nowhere in sight, he spoke up.

“There’s a high chance they’ve picked a sniper. Let’s stay behind the shields for now.”

As if confirming his prediction, a gunshot rang out.

A teammate narrowly saved their life by ducking behind the shield.

“That’s brutal. But as long as we watch out for the sniper, the rest seems manageable. Their frontline’s almost broken. Let’s go in when I signal.”

The streamer Park Yang, the second-highest-ranked player on the team as a Diamond-tier user, provided support and made the callouts.

“Now! Move into the control point with shields up. Zoph and Dae-sik, keep the flanks clear.”

Thanks to their earlier harassment, the opposing tank had depleted much of their energy.

Seizing the perfect timing, Park Yang ordered the team into the control point.

Cheolwoo’s ironclad tank fell, and Tex and Papizoa, who had been sticking to him, were swept away.

Only Ryu-ah, who had stayed behind to fend off attacks, remained.

But even she couldn’t hold out for long and was taken down by Dae-sik’s fireball.

“This is going smoother than I expected.”

“Our coordination is really good.”

“It looks like their team isn’t syncing up.”

“We can push with ultimates next time.”

Within the first minute, they had captured one of the three control points.

With nine minutes left to attack, things looked promising.

While the team enjoyed the match casually, Dae-sik couldn’t shake a strange feeling.

What’s going on?

Why is this so easy?

The term “complete disaster” came to mind as he watched the opposition struggle.

“Ahh! I need healing, heal me!”

“Ah, flanked. I got taken out…”

“Tex, you’re overextending! Come back!”

“The frontline’s breaking! We need to pull back!”

Jacky, our coach, had told us to pick the characters we were most comfortable with, regardless of team composition, to observe how we played together.

I was confident with most characters, so I filled the role I thought the team lacked—a sniper. This allowed me to deal damage while observing the battlefield from the rear.

Through the scope, I had a clear view of my teammates scrambling chaotically.

Bang!

A fireball from Dae-sik struck Cheol-woo, our lead tank, reducing his gauge significantly.

Cheol-woo muttered something, but his voice was drowned out by the game’s sound effects.

Our team was struggling, unable to handle the pressure, and without proper support, the situation spiraled out of control.

The enemy team huddled tightly behind their shield, leaving me with few viable options.

My only contribution was disrupting Dae-sik’s casting to prevent him from dealing free damage.

Tex, who had chosen a demolitions expert, should have been breaking their shield.

However, Zoph from the opposing team countered him so effectively that Tex couldn’t fulfill his role.

Meanwhile, an assassin flanked us and took down Papizoa.

The delicate balance of the battlefield crumbled instantly.

Cheol-woo, who had been tanking, eventually fell under sustained pressure.

With the tank gone, our team in the control point was wiped out, leaving only me alive.

At this point, even calling out strategies was meaningless.

Ryu-ah, who had become the main shot-caller in my absence, panicked and called for a retreat.

Papizoa got taken out yet again during the retreat, further delaying our respawn synchronization.

We were at a point where it was better to give up one control point and regroup.

While waiting for Papizoa’s respawn, Tex spoke up.

“I’ll take out their mage. Hold point B for me.”

“Huh? Can you really pull that off? You might just—”

“It’s better than sticking to bombs and doing nothing.”

Tex switched to an assassin and attempted to infiltrate the enemy’s backline.

It didn’t seem like a good idea.

The enemy was tightly grouped behind their shield because of my presence.

There was no way they’d fall for a flank.

Predictably, Tex was eliminated, and we lost the C point as the enemy claimed another victory.

The scrimmage, played as a single round, ended with our defeat.

The opposing team left the lobby with a brief “GG.”

Silence filled the Discord voice chat.

“Uh… um…”

The loss must have hit hard; no one dared to speak.

It *had* been a crushing defeat.

Everyone here, more than just streamers, were also gamers.

A loss this heavy was bound to shake their spirits.

It reminded me of my past when I’d dreamed of going pro.

Back then, losses like these left me deflated as well.

Defeat was bitter and heavy, but there were always lessons to be learned.

What mattered most was picking yourself up quickly.

Revisiting this lesson, I decided to break the awkward silence.

“It’s fine. Losses happen. By the way, Papizoa, why is your nickname ‘Papizoa’? I’ve been curious since earlier.”

“Huh?”

Trying to shift the mood, I threw out a random topic.

Papizoa, caught off guard, let out a confused sound before understanding my intent and replying.

“Oh… it’s just a shortened name. Nothing special.”

“Shortened from what?”

“It was originally ‘PineapplePizzaJoah’ (I like pineapple pizza), but it felt too long, so I shortened it to Papizoa.”

Ugh.

In my attempt to lighten the mood, I took some internal damage.

Still, I couldn’t outright react negatively to a nickname like that.

As I sat there, biting my lip, the others chimed in.

“Oh, I like pineapple pizza too.”

“Me too. A lot of people hate it, but I think it’s great.”

“Really? All my friends hate it, but I love it.”

All three of them… shared this horrifying sentiment.

Was this… hell?

The mood lightened as the team bonded over their love for pineapple pizza.

Unable to ruin the vibe, I sat quietly, trembling with internal distress.