Fenrir Translations
"Alright, the match is about to begin in earnest. The volcano has formed at the southernmost point of the map. As the eruption intensifies, the southern region will gradually be covered in lava, and the outskirts of the island will begin to flood due to the explosion's aftereffects. Only the top predators will earn the right to survive the wrath of the volcano!"
"And right as we speak, the eruption begins. Lava is pouring out from the northern slope of the volcano at the southern tip of the island. This will have a significant impact on the early competition. What kind of battles do you expect?"
"First, we need to consider the player distribution between Lapland Town, which is adjacent to the volcano’s northern slope, and the city of Keraunos above it. If more players gather in Keraunos, those in Lapland Town who activate their skills will likely push through in large numbers, and those without skills will be at a disadvantage."
It was a psychological battle.
The number of players lingering in Lapland Town, where the skill activation zone appeared first, and how many fortified their defenses in Keraunos, would determine the course of the early game. If the situation were reversed, with more players in Lapland Town, the number of early eliminations would skyrocket.
Players could disrupt others in the skill activation zone, but exposing their position might make them a target for another player. And, of course, battles could erupt between players who had already activated their skills.
It was a vicious cycle of bloodshed.
The fighting soon began. Due to the map’s compact size, skirmishes broke out all over, and multiple pop-up windows of engagements appeared one after another, like a broadcast within a broadcast.
One of them popped up, and the commentary continued.
"And we have a fight happening in the lower part of Lapland Town. Xi Impressive’s Whale is up against Blank K1KERS’ Chariot. A fierce battle is underway, and now would be the perfect time to get Yujin’s thoughts on this situation!"
"Neither of them can be said to be engaging in a proper fight. Fighting openly in the most densely populated facility suggests that they might be hoping for another player to intervene and break things up."
"Now that you mention it, it does seem that way. Look, Chariot seems to be avoiding direct engagement with Whale! He’s widening the battle radius as if he's feeling the pressure of the situation!"
"In cases like this, the longer the fight drags on, the worse it gets for both players. The engagement will likely fizzle out soon."
And sure enough, after about a minute, Whale ended up in a battle with a third player who had heard the noise, while Chariot, half-beaten, hurriedly escaped the building.
A question from a donation came through.
<Q: How would you have handled that situation?>
"If the goal were purely to take them out, I’d maintain a certain distance and keep following them without firing. Control is about who reveals fewer weaknesses."
Tracking without firing puts immense pressure on the opponent. If they try to fire back to shake off their tail, it exposes their position to other enemies.
More engagement windows popped up. The game was truly underway now, and sometimes, fights would break out before one could even finish commenting on another.
It was all new and fascinating. Some players used tactics I hadn’t even considered. When I was a player, my focus had always been on eliminating every opponent in my path. But from this vantage point, overseeing the whole field, the perspective was completely different.
"It’s really something to hear such vivid insights from a player. I’ve played Apex Predator a few times myself as a caster, but watching such skilled players go head-to-head like this—it’s mind-blowing. It’s like there’s an entire game of chess being played beneath the surface."
"Exactly! And just as we’re talking, battles are breaking out all over the place! Near the skill activation zones, the strength of the nanomachine defense walls increases significantly, so it’s bound to turn into utter chaos!"
"…At this point, predicting who will survive is meaningless. Considering survival rates drop to less than half in these zones, of the twenty players nearby, half will either be sent back to the lobby or barely crawl out, clinging to life."
I added my voice to the rapid-fire exchange between the two casters as best I could.
Since I was now an observer and not one of the players, I couldn’t afford to lose focus. In a way, I was being forced to jump into the energetic commentary of those around me.
"I imagine many viewers are wondering how one survives and climbs to the top in a situation like this. What decisions shine in such chaotic moments?"
"With the nanomachine barriers being stronger than before, concentrating firepower in a short burst is crucial. You’ll need plenty of grenades, accurate throws, and precise shooting skills, along with the ability to pick off solitary enemies."
"Thank you! Yujin, you often emphasize the importance of grenades. Could you elaborate on that?"
"If used correctly, grenades can force an enemy to absorb the equivalent of an entire magazine’s worth of damage in a short time. Plus, the explosion and shockwave disorient their senses, giving you the upper hand. When properly used, grenades are one of the most effective weapons in modern CQB."
Unlike normal zones, where concealment, cover, and risk management were critical, the skill activation zones allowed players to move more openly thanks to the reinforced barriers.
But dragging out the fight for too long led to a bizarre stalemate where no one could kill each other, and soon enough, the nearby chain turrets would wipe out any moving entity.
So, there wasn’t much else I could add at this point.
"If I had to guess, I’d say that Ebler, a user from Arcadia Games known for his kill-catch abilities and grenade usage, might stand out in this zone."
"Oh, you mention a specific player but seem unsure. Any particular reason for that?"
"Simply having those skills doesn’t guarantee survival here."
The viewers were ecstatic.
The matches were chaotic, filled with unpredictable outcomes from the countless variables at play. Even the most seasoned players could only predict what might happen based on proven stats and probabilities.
But Yujin’s approach was different. Instead of spouting stats like MOA values, hit percentages, or average movement distances, she offered clear, simple explanations that everyone could understand, focusing on what it took to succeed in the moment.
And all her statements ended with definitive conclusions—yes or no. Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like just another opinion, but Yujin’s reputation added weight to her words.
Meanwhile, the broadcast continued.
Time was flying by.
"The battles in the lower regions are wrapping up. In the meantime, the western, eastern, and northern edges of the island are being hit by a tsunami. With pyroclastic flows accompanying the volcanic eruption, nearly two-thirds of the southern area is now an uninhabitable wasteland."
"The circle is closing in around Luau Lei Shopping Center, one of the island’s largest complexes. Despite the lethal hazards throughout the map, the final showdown seems to be shaping up to be a pure test of physical skill. Twenty-five players remain, about a quarter of the original count. It’s going to be a brutal, bloody final battle."
The casters subtly turned their attention to me.
Over the course of just a few minutes, a nonverbal understanding had formed between me and the other casters. It was a silent question: "What do you think?"
I hadn’t fought many battles in this facility, but I’d played this map more than twenty times during tournament and qualifier ranks. Coupled with my experience as an operator, I added a bit of building structure analysis to my answer.
"It all depends on where the final circle lands and how the weakened structures collapse. A single rocket to one of the already damaged pillars could bring a building down, so I’m sure someone will take advantage of that. With the tournament rules allowing heavy weapons here, the buildings are likely to be partially destroyed."
As the chat veered toward predicting the winner, I took a brief breath and added:
"…Why does everyone think I’m going to predict who’s going to win?"
Ah, the wonderful world of the internet.
<AngelThree donated 1,000 won.>
"Sigh."
"Ah!"
Bang!
Yujin used the interview feature to pop up the avatar of the viewer who sent the donation, a girl with striking white hair. With a swift chop of her hand, she crushed the avatar’s head like a balloon.
As the avatar vanished with a bizarre scream, a slightly flustered Liquid asked me:
"…Is that okay?"
"They’re a regular in my stream."
By now, they were probably stunned, but it wasn’t painful. Ever since virtual reality had become widespread, allowing people to engage in various activities without physical limits, even reactions like this had become possible—something Harmony had explained to me once.
It was part of the package.
After metaphorically "planting" the head of one viewer into the floor, the chat, of course, didn’t quiet down. Instead, they kept going wild, yelling about rewards and making all sorts of inappropriate comments. I eventually threatened to lock the chat, which finally got them to simmer down.
The number of players left had now dropped below twenty. I studied each name carefully before speaking again.
"I’ll do my best to explain everything until the very end."
Now it was time to finish strong.
"…Why does it feel like I’m being judged even though I came in first?"
I had barely managed to secure first place after defeating countless enemies who blocked my way.
Dodging bullets, fighting through the rubble and ruins of collapsing buildings, I survived against enemies equipped with shields, drones, and all kinds of skills.
I had played cunningly and recklessly at times, adapting my strategy to the situation. In the end, I achieved a decent result, standing as the sole survivor amid the ashes.
Now, it was time for the interview with the winner. Normally, this moment would have filled me with overwhelming joy, a tingling sensation reaching the tips of my fingers, followed by the pleasant dilemma of what to order for a victory feast.
Yet, somehow… it didn’t feel like much of a win.
With those thoughts, I ascended the stairs.
"And now, the player who secured first place in the Atakaia Volcano Island match is stepping up! Gambit from Clear Sky has claimed the title of Apex Predator!"
"Everyone, please give a round of applause!"
However, the moment I stepped onto the stage where two, no, three casters were waiting for me, an overwhelming roar of applause—far beyond anything I had experienced before—shook my avatar.
"Wow."
Only that single word escaped my lips.
That was all I could manage to say, as a rush of emotion welled up from within. Looking up, I couldn’t even see the top of the massive stadium. Giant banners, light sticks, and the applause of 150,000 people filled the air.
How could anyone not fall in love with this? How could anyone walking this path regret or complain about it? Thinking of how pro gamers feed off the love and support of their fans, I knew I’d never forget this day.
As the overwhelming emotion melted through me, only a faint sound escaped my lips.
It felt like walking through a dream. The distance between each step blurred.
Before I knew it, I was seated, holding a microphone.
The interview had begun.
"Haha, you seem a bit shocked. We had an even larger audience today because Yujin was here. I hope it’s a good memory for you."
"Ah… yes, I’ll never forget this, even if I die."
"Exactly. Anyway, congratulations on winning first place. I’m sure you already know, but all the players in this session were watched by an audience of 150,000. Out of all of them, you’re the one whose name will be most remembered. Take pride in that."
"I’m deeply honored, haha."
"But it doesn’t end here. There’s an additional honor reserved for the first-place winner."
Click.
At that moment, the two casters parted to the sides, and one more person cautiously stepped forward.
The very reason the relationship between the winner and the interviewer had been flipped from player and judge to something much more intense.
"We now invite today’s special caster, Yujin, to join us as the judge!"
"…Why does this honor feel a little heavy?"
That offhand remark may have been the most honest summary of the situation.