The real practice started the next day.
Just yesterday, for some reason, everyone was in a cheerful mood, and someone suggested we play a normal game, but due to my condition and a few people’s schedules not lining up, it naturally fell through.
So around lunchtime today, we all gathered again to try and sync up.
And here we are, deciding to pull out the champions we’re confident with in a normal game.
“I’ll lose my shield soon. If that happens, I’ll fall back for a bit.”
This was LimeTack’s briefing as the tank. His pick, the steel robot Will, was fully blocking the enemy’s harass with his energy shield.
Maybe because he was a returning user, his play was surprisingly solid for someone in Silver.
Sure, he occasionally missed some skill shots, but expecting perfection would be a bit too much. Given his tier, this was already more than satisfactory.
“I’ll stack up before going in.”
Cheonhun’s Lennok was swinging his greatsword, filling up the special gauge for his ultimate. Suddenly, a frantic voice came from behind, and pings were flying everywhere.
“Behind, behind, the assassin’s come in! I’m going to die, please help me out!”
This was Hakchu’s support request as the mage. It seemed the assassin, Dan, had slipped in through the backline.
Hakchu’s pick, Kasha, was quite vulnerable in situations like this, living up to the name of a glass cannon.
If we don’t set up properly and allow the enemies to engage, nothing could be more troublesome. Yet ironically, that’s what gives rise to the fearsome counter known as an assassin.
Just as Hakchu screamed, sensing imminent death, he announced he was about to go down.
“I took care of Dan. If I were a moment later, Hakchu would’ve really been dead.”
“Wow, I had 30 health left. That was close.”
Han Kang, who arrived late, took out Dan and rescued Hakchu from the brink.
Clearly, he knew what was important, like a true diamond-tier core player.
Even if they successfully engaged with Cheonhun and dealt some damage to the enemy’s backline, if our rear collapsed, it would all be for nothing.
It was impressive how he placed himself intentionally in the center of the formation, supporting wherever it was needed.
Should we call it a libero role? Only those with a strong understanding of the game could pull off plays like this.
“Ah, Hana. This is play only those with a high understanding of the game can pull off.”
Hmm… Why are these people so good?
Honestly, it’s unexpected. When you run these kinds of tournaments and randomly assign team members, they usually can’t sync up, and all sorts of minor issues arise. That’s common sense, right?
Yet these people were shattering that common sense in real-time. Sure, it’s a casual game, but you can’t just ignore casual games either.
In the Abyss’s casual games, it’s not uncommon to run into a mysterious weirdo only playing casuals or a high-tier user practicing in casual due to their rank being too high.
Anyway, everything was going smoother than smooth.
[Pretty easy, huh?]
[I just watched another team and this one seems to be doing the best?]
[LimeTack’s skills aren’t silver-level, right? Is it because they’re a returning user?]
[The balance is good, at least.]
The viewers seemed to think so too, quickly sending in positive reactions. Our team is the strongest? Are we on the winning path?
All practice sessions of the team were being broadcast live. This too is part of the broadcast and the essence of the tournament, I guess.
While alternating between observing the team members’ current situation and the chat, a viewer raised a question.
[Teacher, aren’t you doing anything?]
“Oh, I’m just intentionally staying out.”
Right now, I was positioned a step away from the battlefield where my team members were.
There, I was just clearing creeps and dealing with the incoming soldiers, maintaining a minimal defense.
The reason for this? To let my team practice and accurately assess their skills.
In the last match, I joined the battlefield with my team, but the game just didn’t flow right. When I played like I normally do, my teammates had nothing left to do.
The same logic applies to Han Kang, who’s a diamond tier player and wasn’t openly participating in battles.
He, too, could easily rampage if he set his mind to it, so he took on the role of helping allied players in crisis.
[Is this really practicing though?]
[We should probably scrim against another team next round.]
[Isn’t that leaking our strategy?]
[Let’s find tier-matching viewers and scrim.]
[For now, I’m just figuring out playstyle, so casual games are fine.]
[But the other team needs high-tier players to carry in casual too, lol. Their team seems pretty strong.]
However, not every team member was breezing through the game.
Not every team member was seamlessly playing the game.
– Gongpal Gongpal (Shan) // Riri (Haven)
“Ah… S-Sorry…”
Bronze. Riri, the lowest tier in the team and the designated AD carry, was fulfilling her role as the team’s weak link to perfection.
Watching her, I finally felt my common sense kicking in properly, and thought to myself: Yeah, this is how it should be. The game had been too easy for a while.
What I expected was a despairing group project, but this was just too optimistic.
There should at least be one weak link; if the team is too perfect, it becomes boring.
But it wasn’t something the person involved could just brush off cheerfully.
Since we were currently live broadcasting, she must be receiving quite the backlash from the viewers. Given the competitive nature of the event, the criticism would undoubtedly be harsher than usual.
Perhaps because of that, Riri’s mistakes continued, but once the balance of the game was broken, there was no sign of it coming back.
– Victory!
The same result as the last match emerged. Different processes but the same conclusion.
Should we really be scrimming, as the viewers suggested? It seems like the only thing we’ll get from playing normally is a boost in morale.
“Sweet, sweet. We’re doing great, aren’t we?”
“It’s fun when we all play together.”
“Should we go for another round?”
“But is this even practice? It’s too easy.”
The atmosphere was lively. Probably thanks to our consecutive victories.
However, amidst this cheerful vibe, there was one person who remained silent.
Riri, who had hefty failures in the previous matches, looked overwhelmed even by the normal game.
And then, it happened. The quiet Riri finally opened her mouth.
“U-Um…”
“Oh, yes! Riri!”
“Can we take a quick break?”
The team members were generally nice people. Aside from Riri, they were all quite talkative and bright.
It was no surprise since many bubbly personalities usually start streaming. In that sense, Riri and I were a bit of an odd case, and if I had to classify my personality, I would say I’m closer to Riri’s.
“Um, well…”
The shy Riri merely stammered while all eyes were on her.
Isn’t this too introverted? How in the world did she start streaming?
Aren’t we being a bit introverted here? How on earth did we start this broadcast?
But among us, there was no one who could rush Riri to hurry up and express her frustration, and she hesitated before finally speaking up.
“Is it possible to practice individually?”
“Individual practice?”
“I’m not performing well at all, so I wouldn’t be able to keep up if we practiced together….”
[What do you mean personal practice?]
[You should be doing that off-air, duh;;]
[A girl who can’t even play suggesting ideas?]
[I’m really tempted to smack her, lol.]
[Hmm… things were going well until you just killed the vibe.]
[Oh my.]
[Lower your standards, please.]
[The influx from the tournament is terrifying.]
“Please read the broadcast rules and come back later.”
I muted my mic for a moment to curse out those bad viewers who were trash-talking Riri without the team hearing.
It’s definitely the tournament vibe bringing in all these super invested people.
I filtered out the viewers like a gardener trimming off abnormal branches in a strange growth.
“Oh, yes. That’s totally possible! How about we also do some individual practice? Or maybe we can do more scrims…”
As soon as Riri said this, most of the team members nodded, planning our next steps.
“Uh, and…!”
Riri raised her voice, as if she hadn’t finished speaking.
What could she possibly say now? I was still dealing with the malicious viewers but perked up to listen.
“Kayak, could you help me…?”
I blinked in surprise at the unexpected call.
“Me?”
*
I had anticipated a situation like this might arise at least once while participating in the tournament and practicing.
After seeing Riri struggling, I was planning to suggest feedback soon if she agreed.
Who would’ve thought she’d bring it up first? She’s definitely a dedicated student.
Like Niang before her, it seems I have a knack for attracting promising students.
“Uh, what do you think…?”
But that’s that, and this is this. No matter how cute the student, I still had to speak my mind.
“Um…”
Riri seemed tense, waiting for my response after playing a few ranked matches.
This might be a shocker for her.
I thought about it for a second before speaking up.
“Riri, it looks like you might need to drop Haven.”
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