Fenrir Translations
Click.
"Damn it… life really sucks."
After analyzing someone else’s gameplay that was so fresh it was practically boiling, and adding his own thoughts, the article was complete. Although it wasn’t properly revised or anything, after a quick check for possible typos and awkward sentences, it was uploaded with a brief plastic click.
Watching the upload finish successfully after a short buffering time, Park Woo-jin, a second-team pro gamer for Arcadia Games, collapsed onto his soft bed. He didn’t need to look elsewhere to see that the forum was flooded with posts.
Yujin. Yujin. Yujin… While there were some attempts to shift the topic or stir up useless drama, they were quickly swept away by the tidal wave of posts and disappeared below.
It was understandable. After all, she had literally obliterated a first-team player from a rival team.
To be honest, he couldn’t say he wasn’t envious.
How could he not be? After all, this industry was all about endless competition, and he, too, was someone who oscillated between the first and second teams, going up and down repeatedly.
He prided himself on being a player who had made a name for himself here and there while playing around in this scene, but still—when someone’s gameplay was so impressive that it spread on its own without any effort, it was natural to feel envious.
But that was as far as it went.
Jealousy and competitiveness only work when the other person is within reach. Beyond that point, it turns into something closer to awe or fear.
Envious. But nothing more than that. The further the gap, the simpler the emotions that fill it.
To reach the top, you had to focus so intensely that you could feel every hair on your body rise and crawl your way up with sheer determination.
Even at the starting point of the Asia Qualifiers, he was surrounded by people who were either slightly worse, just as good, or better than him. The world of competition was ruthless, and of the 1,600 people who barely filled up the slots with all available SOF 1 players, 1,500 would have to wait until next year.
Then there’s KSM. Out of 100 players, only 20 will advance to the Asia Qualifiers, and from there, the number will be cut down to a maximum of four.
Numbers were colder and scarier than any strict law.
But to think there’s a player with skills so overwhelming that they don’t even need to worry about such nerve-wracking competition… well. That’s why the only feeling he had toward Yujin was simple envy.
Nothing more, nothing less.
When he refreshed the page, waking from his thoughts, he saw that his post had already shot up to the popular posts section, as expected in such a bustling forum.
Without much thought, he clicked on it and began reading the comments. Instead of mindless insults or meaningless criticism, there could have been differing opinions, which were always welcome… but today, who knows? It didn’t seem likely.
And as expected, there weren’t any particularly insightful comments. Most of them were either expressing disbelief in their own language or agreeing with his analysis.
But amidst all that, there was one fatal issue.
‘-LOL, but seriously, what’s with the title, lololol’
---‘anal’
“…Huh?”
What?
Thinking he might have made a mistake, he hurriedly scrolled back up to the title—only to find that the three letters that should have completed "analyze" had vanished.
A word even someone who hadn’t studied much in school would recognize.
This was bad.
“No way… how could I make such a dumb mistake…?”
With a feeling like all the hair on his body was standing on end, he hastily corrected the title.
Of course, he didn’t forget to apologize to Yujin.
It was just another day in the life of the gaming world, which wasn’t all that uncommon.
“Nice to meet you. Even though it’s within virtual reality, this is the first time we’ve actually met. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. It’s not too bad. I’m actually a bit dazed, but the warm welcome helps.”
The room was simply and cleanly decorated. In front, multiple screens were flashing. Chat windows and gameplay videos were arranged for easy viewing, waiting for someone to look at them.
Hearing a voice beside me, I could only answer in a somewhat bewildered tone. I couldn’t say I wasn’t nervous. So many unexpected things had been happening lately.
Around 3:30 PM, just after my second match had ended.
I had received my first invitation from Unreal, with whom I had only communicated through messages until now, and I had suddenly found myself as a guest on his personal broadcast.
What surprised me a bit was that there was someone I hadn’t seen before sitting next to him.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Russ, the coach for Reaper Infected. I learned about you through Cartographer, so it’s a pleasure to meet you like this.”
“Nice to meet you too. I think we’ve crossed paths a few times during rank matches, but I didn’t know you were close with him.”
His self-introduction was helpful.
Moreover, thanks to Unreal briefly explaining the personal broadcast he had been running, I managed to avoid the disaster of not being able to follow what was going on.
However, for some reason, the number of viewers was starting to rise at an alarming rate. The broadcast, which had been holding steady at around 20,000 viewers, suddenly hit 35,000. Although the growth had started to slow down, it was still climbing.
Glancing at the screen, I noticed something that seemed to be a clip of my gameplay, probably uploaded by someone.
At this point, even someone who was completely clueless would understand why these two had sent me a sudden invitation code while I was trying to relax.
In short, it was probably something like a player interview.
Even though I hadn’t prepared any lines in my head, somehow things were moving along.
Unreal nodded at me, signaling the start.
“Congratulations on winning your second match! This is truly unprecedented in Dark Zone history. No one has ever won back-to-back matches in the preliminary ranks, not in the past two years. Before we dive into the main questions, could I ask if you have any secret strategy you could share?”
“…First of all, thank you for the congratulations. Unfortunately, there’s no specific strategy for winning.”
In a way, it was an obvious statement.
But whether it was obvious or not, there were still plenty of people who were hoping for a more detailed answer. Among them were even some players who, while waiting for their next match, had joined the broadcast upon hearing that Yujin had appeared.
As if expecting this, Unreal added a brief comment and then smoothly passed the floor to Russ.
“Thank you for the answer. I suppose that’s to be expected. There’s no definitive answer in a game as variable as Apex Predator.”
“Then, may I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.”
Russ’s question.
With quick movements, he cleared away several windows and brought up the map I had just been playing on.
An abandoned research base in the middle of a desert. Given the setting of a simulated battle within virtual reality, it seemed like a map that was created by the game itself, rather than being based on any real-life experiences I’d had.
The main challenges and kill zones were the sandstorms and extreme weather conditions. The base’s turrets, explosives, and self-destruct mechanisms for self-defense were also a factor.
Unlike the Arctic Power Plant, where I had previously fought, this one involved a straightforward high-altitude drop for entry.
As I started to recall the map’s characteristics one by one, Russ continued speaking.
“Since I have my own position and job, part of my role is to analyze players’ styles. And from what I’ve seen… you’re quite difficult to predict, Yujin.”
Then the screen shifted.
Outside, a sandstorm was raging so violently that it completely blacked out the view, while inside the base, I was seen pushing an enemy quickly towards the outer perimeter.
Meanwhile, in another clip, I was seen carefully maneuvering during a firefight, avoiding the enemy’s line of sight, while setting up a simple trap using sand packed into a plastic bag inside the base.
The sand, slowly leaking from a small cut I had made in the plastic bag, was connected via nylon string to a heavy object. Once all the sand had leaked out and the object fell to the ground, the pin of a grenade attached to it would be pulled.
It wasn’t meant to kill anyone—just to create noise as a distraction.
As the chat erupted with amazement over the sand trap, Russ added a cautious comment.
“Sometimes, you set up very intricate traps, and other times, you execute aggressive plays like in the first video I showed. Is there a common principle that guides these actions?”
Reactions were swirling all around.
While most viewers were in awe of the clips Russ had shown, there were also some more serious reactions mixed in. From simple curiosity to attempts by members of rival teams to uncover my secrets.
They were as enthusiastic as, if not more than, the offers I’d received for joining teams.
I was now considering how much I should share. During my time as an interim coach for SSM, we had briefly discussed the extent to which I should disclose my training curriculum. Although it wasn’t fully verified how effective it was.
With that in mind… SSM provided not only theoretical instruction but also direct 1:1 training, so even if I shared everything here, it wouldn’t likely cause any major issues.
But just because I could didn’t mean I would.
I carefully crafted my response.
“Since many people seem curious, I’ll explain. My combat principle is… to prioritize neutralizing the enemy’s advantages or forcing them into a disadvantageous situation.”
The video that caught my eye at that moment was the first one Russ had shown, where I was quickly pushing the enemy towards the outer perimeter of the base.
Taking a small breath, I added more.
“Those who have played Apex Predator to some extent may know this, but when a sandstorm hits the Desert Research Base, it impairs your senses. This applies even if you’re inside a building.”
Naturally, the deeper you go inside, the less you’re affected.
Conversely, the closer you are to the perimeter, the more the sandstorm directly impacts you. Sand fills up the already damaged facilities, and even if that’s not the case, the machinery and damaged exterior shake, creating all sorts of noises.
Even if nothing else happens, the sound of the wind just beyond the wall is still there.
The enemy is driven into an area where it’s difficult to respond effectively, while I slowly close the gap, blocking out their senses. It wouldn’t be a pleasant experience for the enemy.
After a few minutes, I eliminated one without much trouble.
However, the key point wasn’t that part—it was the moments in between when the enemy misjudged my position that better supported my claim.
My gaze shifted to the clip of the grenade trap.
“The second clip follows a similar logic. It’s about creating variables that distract the enemy. In a terrain where it’s difficult to directly hit the enemy with a grenade, like in the example, this method can be more effective.”
With another gesture, I brought up the map of the terrain at the time.
The enemy’s location wasn’t far away, but it was on elevated ground made of stairs and railings. If I tried throwing a grenade, unless it was a sticky grenade like a Semtex or perfectly timed down to the second, it would likely just roll back down.
The clip played again. As the grenade exploded, the enemy had no choice but to take cover behind the railing, and I quickly moved to the opposite container.
For a moment, there was silence. The enemy cautiously peeked out to check the surroundings but didn’t notice anything unusual.
That’s when complacency sets in.
Thunk!
The second time they peeked out, their movement was bolder, more careless.
During that moment, I pulled out the Gephart M6 anti-materiel sniper rifle that had been slung across my back. The enemy needed to be dealt with in one shot, and since it was a close-quarters fight, I didn’t need to worry much about precision.
The massive bolt cycled twice within a second. The first shot shredded their nanomachine barrier, and the second round completely shattered it, with the remaining physical force slamming into their head.
Taking advantage of the enemy’s stunned state, I bounded up the stairs four at a time. Within seconds, I had closed the distance to the point where the enemy couldn’t escape my reflexes.
They had nowhere left to go, and within 30 seconds, they were ejected to the lobby.
Glancing at Russ and Unreal, I saw that the two of them, seemingly at a loss for words, were just staring at the screen in disbelief.
What could I say? I had made it sound like it was something anyone could do, but upon closer inspection, it turned out not to be the case.
I cautiously spoke to break the silence.
“…The latter part was just a method to quickly finish off the enemy, so there’s no need to pay too much attention to it. From that point on, shooting practice and positioning are crucial, so it would be good to focus on those aspects during practice.”
It might be a bit tiring to think through all this, but… I resolved that next time, I would use a more straightforward method of combat.