"What the…? You’re already here? Why are you here so early? There’s still 30 minutes left before the scrim starts."

"I came to rest, just to rest. I’ve been soloing and practicing with the squad every day. If I don’t take breaks like this, I’ll burn out in no time. You guys should take note of that."

"You’re talking like some old veteran. These days, even soldiers with just three days left in the army get dragged around. And with so little time left before the start, you’re thinking of resting…."

Thud.

The sound of someone flopping into a soft chair echoed.

Inside the debriefing room of the scrim session, which hadn’t opened yet—SSM’s professional gamers were gradually filling the seats, and with them, the volume of their conversations was steadily increasing.

Instead of sitting scattered around, they were huddled quite closely, exchanging various remarks. Naturally, most of the discussion was about the upcoming match. With the tournament just around the corner, it was no surprise, given their profession.

The twelve members had split into three groups of four. The groups weren’t spaced too far apart, so they could easily exchange opinions.

The reason for this seating arrangement was simple: most of them were AP squad players who also did AP soloing.

No matter how popular Dark Zone was, and no matter how much profit teams made through esports tournaments centered around it, there were always budget limitations.

Moreover, there was no need to run separate solo and squad professional players within the same game, as it would be a waste of budget.

Of course, this also meant there were exceptions—like those who consistently delivered results beneficial to the team or had enough star power to act somewhat independently.

One of those exceptions was none other than Dice.

Unlike other sports where teammates could cover for any weaknesses, in AP soloing, where you have to rely solely on yourself, it was extremely difficult to maintain a steady career.

This meant that many professionals, even those who shone like supernovas in other areas, could be quickly replaced in this one, while those who consistently performed well would achieve immense glory.

Perhaps that’s why she was quite the topic of conversation among her fellow professionals.

Specifically, she was such a hot topic that it came up even in situations like this.

"By the way, where’s Dice? He usually shows up around this time. What’s he up to today?"

"Maybe he’s practicing? He got wiped out in 85th place on the research facility map yesterday. He’s logged into Dark Zone right now."

"Do you think he’s feeling motivated because of that Yujin person?"

"That’s possible."

Naturally, the conversation shifted in that direction.

Not just the four members of one team, but the other teams also joined in, freely expressing their opinions.

"Where do you think she’ll go? Do you think she’ll come here?"

"SSM joining her after Dice’s wildcard got rejected by the higher-ups? Not a chance… Xi, TK1, or Reaper Infected probably snatched her up long ago. Don’t you know how many backup rosters those teams have?"

"Who knows? Maybe she’ll bomb in today or tomorrow’s scrim, or in the qualifying ranks, or at KSM. Other teams are probably thinking about that too."

"By that logic, how do you know she won’t crush the qualifiers and show up at the main event?"

"I mean, she hasn’t shown much yet. Sure, yesterday was her first scrim, and I’ve seen her track record, but we’ll need to see how she does in the long run."

"She placed first in 15 out of 23 matches, and you still think we need to wait and see?"

"Alright, alright, I concede. Damn it."

A heated debate ensued.

The fact that she hadn’t shown much left plenty of room for speculation, but still, everyone agreed that her skill was extraordinary.

Out of the hundred participants in the scrim, over ten were professional gamers, and the other participants’ tiers ranged from Medal of Honor to TIER 1. TIER 2 players were merely there to qualify for the scrim.

That’s why they were particularly eager for today’s scrim.

Was what Yujin showed yesterday just a fluke, or was it the beginning of a bold statement?

As the start time approached, their curiosity about her and the increasingly late Dice only grew.

And as the scrim was about to begin—

"Ugh… I don’t think I can do the scrim today…."

"Not a chance."

Everyone had to suppress their shock when they saw Dice, slumped like a yellow jellyfish, being carried in on Yujin’s back.

-[Notification: Gas grenade detonated. All personnel, move to zone XA2.]

-[Notification: You are being tracked.]

"…."

Despite the numerous patches, the core of AP remained unchanged.

No matter how the terrain changed, how new guns were introduced, how damage and accuracy rates fluctuated, or how new variables were added, the essence of battle royale never faded.

Instead, these patches weeded out those who could quickly adapt to changing situations, aligning perfectly with the genre’s purpose.

After all, the reason to adapt was survival, and survival meant victory.

It was just after the drop phase had ended, but the area was already filled with gunfire. Every time muzzle flashes flickered, another player was eliminated.

Even if you hid inside a building immediately after landing to maximize your survival rate, you couldn’t completely avoid skirmishes. All you could do was hope to delay your first encounter as long as possible… at least, that’s how it was.

Every player had their own logic for playing the game. Some would hide with minimal gear right after landing, while others actively hunted before the second round of skirmishes began.

As for me, I used to focus on avoiding unnecessary early-game conflicts, scouting the enemies’ positions, and hunting them down one by one. But like all tactics, this had its flaws.

This approach made me something of a tracker, which, in other words, meant I wasn’t good at direct confrontations.

It was a dilemma.

Since becoming a professional gamer, I’ve always struggled with whether I should work on this weakness or just sharpen my strengths.

The distance between me and the tracker didn’t grow closer or farther.

But if you think about it in terms of scrim logic, whoever was tracking me probably wasn’t looking to fight me directly but rather to gain some secondary benefit from following me.

If I didn’t move, I couldn’t avoid a fight, and if I kept moving, I’d increase my chances of exposure.

It was a catch-22 that I had to avoid.

Whizz!

The now-familiar sound of bullets whizzing past filled my ears. The sharp noise of gunfire and the sensation of bullets grazing my back were far from pleasant. My nanomachine gauge on the lower left plummeted at an alarming rate.

It was the worst-case scenario. I was being chased, and in my attempt to escape, I’d drawn the attention of an unwelcome guest.

Hunters are weakest when they’re being hunted.

"…Hah…!"

However.

Normally, I’d think of this as incredibly bad luck and try my best to struggle through it, but maybe because of my recent experiences—I was seeing more this time.

Keeping more possibilities in mind, focusing on what I could control, and staying calm in the face of the situation.

A single experience a few hours ago wouldn’t dramatically change everything. But recently, there hadn’t been a time when every moment felt as critical as it did then, and I had literally gritted my teeth to get through it.

Maybe, just recalling that memory would help.

Crash!

"…!"

The moment I crossed the skybridge and entered the opposite building, a bullet, silenced but deadly, zipped through the air and hit me, as if someone had been lying in wait.

My nanomachine reserves rapidly dwindled to near-zero. It might take minutes to fully recover at this rate.

With the distance between me and the tracker closing, even moving forward was becoming difficult.

I leaned against the wall, exhaling deeply. It was a situation where the slightest misstep could be fatal. Normally, at this point, I’d give up on survival and start preparing for the next match.

But.

Wasn’t that mission earlier meant to prepare me for exactly this kind of situation?

The enemies weren’t fools.

And if both of them knew my location… it was the worst-case scenario, but considering the upcoming situations, whether or not I could break through didn’t matter—I had to.

Static.

I heard the sound of a Seeker Mine rolling, followed by footsteps rushing in, likely from the person who had been lying in wait. It was another catch-22. If I tried to intercept the Seeker Mine, I’d be exposed to the following enemy, but if I prepared for the enemy, I’d take near-lethal damage.

But as long as it didn’t completely finish me off, that was enough.

As the Seeker Mine rounded the corner, I gritted my teeth and sprinted straight ahead.

A blinding flash and fire erupted.

-[Notification: Health has dropped below 5%.]

I dove into the corridor, aiming as I went.

My vision was blurry, and the screen was flickering erratically, but I could still vaguely make out the silhouette of the player charging toward me.

Because I had appeared a beat earlier than expected, the enemy was running toward me without even aiming. In an instant, I unloaded about 40 rounds from my MP7A1 straight ahead.

As the enemy fell, I quickly reloaded. It wasn’t a calculated action but a natural response driven by survival instincts.

At the same time, I yanked the trigger at the tracker, who had slowly entered the corridor, aiming at head level.

It didn’t take long for both enemies to fall lifeless.

Click.

"Hah…."

The moment I confirmed there were no more enemies nearby, the tension released.

The focus that had pulled together every last bit of my energy dissolved like a bubble, leaving me in a state of confusion. My vision darkened, then slowly began to clear.

My HP bar slowly refilled in this non-combat situation. After looting the bodies and injecting myself with healing ampoules, the recovery sped up.

Barely pulling myself together, I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my dizzy vision and exhaling deeply once more. If the previous breath had been a resolute one, this was a sigh of relief.

For some reason, I could almost hear the familiar voice of the Anaconda—Serpentia player—saying,

"That’s how you survive."

"…This is seriously insane…."

Skills improve when faced with limits.

Yujin was still tempering her students today.