Fenrir Translations
[General] Damn, so many damn ads.
<Dark Zone KSM ads plastered all over the subway station>
Stop this Dark Zone domination, you assholes. The inferiority complex is ridiculous. How are those losers playing low-tier games like Terra supposed to survive? Stop hiding behind money and fight fair based on the game’s merit, you pathetic bastards.
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"…Don’t we only need to be here by noon? Why’s everyone already gathering?"
Chatter, chatter.
In real time, it was only 11:20 AM. Which meant there were still two hours left until the pre-briefing would start in virtual reality, yet over 50 participants were already lounging in the soft chairs of the briefing room, chatting away excitedly. A quick glance around revealed a sea of familiar faces, enough to make one’s head spin.
It wasn’t like there was no one to talk to, but somehow, this didn’t feel like the right place to be just yet. Still, even as Dice quietly slipped away, nearly half the crowd was happily engaged in conversation.
The topics were varied.
"Ah, you survived! Doesn’t the air of the top 100 taste sweet?"
"Haha, no need to say it. It sure does."
They bantered, congratulating each other for qualifying for KSM.
"As long as we don’t get any weird maps, I think we’ll be fine…"
"If we don’t get screwed over by RNG, I’m pretty sure we’ll make the top ranks. Honestly, I just don’t want to run into Yujin."
"I’ll pray for you to spawn right next to her at the start."
"No, please…."
These casual conversations naturally gravitated toward Yujin. Given her overwhelming impact on AP solo play, it was only fitting. In fact, you could almost divide the crowd in the auditorium into those who had faced Yujin and those who hadn’t.
The week of preliminaries had felt far longer than expected. Specifically, about half the participants had at least one encounter with Yujin—but with 1,600 competitors, some never even crossed paths with her.
Yet, her reputation loomed large.
"I’ve never fought Yujin before. What’s the big deal?"
"Do you think you could beat an armored vehicle in a fistfight?"
"What, is it that bad?"
"Don’t worry, you’ll find out during KSM."
Of course, that wasn’t entirely sincere.
Pro gamers’ bread and butter was analysis and review. Yujin’s gameplay had been recorded and dissected more than anyone else’s. Anyone who couldn’t understand their opponents’ strength had already been weeded out during the preliminary rounds.
Which only intensified the fear among those present. Experience is the best teacher, after all. And Yujin’s ominous nickname—the "Pro Gamers’ Nightmare"—was no exaggeration. The combination of those two facts pressed down on each individual.
Some reacted even more strongly than others.
"…Hey, you okay?"
"Ugh, honestly, not really…."
With a long groan, Corvus buried her head into her fellow pro gamer’s shoulder, pretending to sob. But it was hard to say for sure that there wasn’t some truth in her act. Her long, raven-black hair slipped off her delicate shoulders like the feathers of a crow.
Ink, glancing at Corvus, shook her head. Her silver hair swayed with the movement. She understood the struggle. After all, she had nearly died to a fire axe in her last match.
Even a watered-down memory was still enough to stir up tension.
"…Do you think we could win the finals?"
"That’s something we should be aiming for."
"I don’t know. It’d be great if just one of us makes it out of the 19."
"19? There are 20 participants in the Asia prelims… Wait, hey! What’s going on with these people!?"
Looking around in disbelief, she found only one person slumping deeper into their chair, shaking their head. The others didn’t seem to care, and Ink’s astonishment was rapidly dissipating, but there wasn’t much point in reacting any further.
Yujin had reduced pro gamers to nervous wrecks, and this was the result—especially among those who had faced her directly. The worse the defeat, the worse the aftermath.
Time passed as these stories were shared among the group, and more people trickled into the room. The higher the tier, the more the player pool shrank, leading to a tightly-knit network of relationships. As each person entered, friendly greetings were exchanged, a clear sign of these bonds.
However, the cheers grew louder with every unfamiliar face, as these newcomers were expected to lead the next generation of AP play. Of course, it was worth noting that every one of them entered the room accompanied by first-team mentors from their respective squads.
Amidst this, another notable figure finally arrived.
"Hey, isn’t that Dice?"
"Yeah, it’s her!"
"Get her! Pile on her!"
"What the hell, guys!?"
She might have escaped unnoticed the first time, but there was no chance of that happening now.
Though it might have sounded strange, the sight of beautiful girls piling on top of another was far from graceful. Dice, struggling through the overwhelming welcome, barely managed to break free and collapse into a nearby chair. As she let out a yell, her teammate Blooming, also from SSM, sat beside her.
Of course, within ten seconds, the surrounding area became packed with people. It was no surprise, really, given how many questions everyone had. Word had spread far and wide about Yujin’s personalized training programs for SSM gamers, and the first question they asked was about that.
But answering questions and receiving them were two different things. Dice, who was playing it cool and responding with, "I’ll just log out if it gets too much~," was slowly calming the crowd down.
"…Why do they have so many questions?"
Dice was genuinely confused.
How much death and terror had Yujin spread during the preliminaries to leave everyone in a state of panic and awe? In truth, Dice was fortunate—she had never encountered Yujin during the preliminaries, not even once. They hadn’t even been in the same match.
Maybe it was because she’d already met Yujin in both personal and professional settings so many times. But whatever the case, she considered herself lucky. After all, if she had faced Yujin, she might have been given extra homework after the match.
After answering as many questions as she could and deflecting the rest, Dice glanced at the clock. It was 11:55 AM in the real world, meaning the in-game briefing would begin in 15 minutes.
Everyone had the same question on their minds at this point—but Dice didn’t need to answer it. She didn’t even need to think about it.
‘Only a fool would worry about that.’
She would be here soon enough. And even if she didn’t show, it wouldn’t matter.
But, as always, things don’t go according to plan.
The atmosphere shifted.
Clap.
Clap clap.
Clap clap clap clap clap clap!
Suddenly, applause echoed throughout the room.
One person’s clapping turned five heads, and those who saw the cause quickly joined in, their applause spreading like wildfire. Soon, everyone except for Dice and Blooming was clapping.
And at the center of it all, receiving both admiration and fear, stood none other than—
"…Is this some kind of hidden camera prank?"
Yujin’s greatest weakness:
Embarrassment.
"Welcome to all of you Apex Predators. This is the place where only the top 100 players in Korea can reach."
The host opened the briefing with bold words.
And they weren’t wrong. Everyone here was among the top 100 players out of the millions—perhaps tens of millions—of gamers in Korea. Sure, it was limited to AP solo players, but considering that the tournament’s motto was “Only the strongest survive,” it wasn’t exactly inaccurate.
But just as there is always someone below you, there is also someone above. Only one would be left standing in the end—meaning 80 of the 100 gathered here would be eliminated.
The host was coldly declaring that fact.
"However, unfortunately, only 20 of you will have the chance to move on to the next stage. Sixteen matches, spread across Saturday and Sunday, await you."
Sigh.
Dice, sitting next to Yujin, glanced around. There wasn’t much difference compared to last year. Only the number of matches had increased, and a new map had been added. The scoring system was similar as well—but she could tell. This time, there were more matches than even the Asia preliminaries and the final championships.
The Asia preliminaries had twelve matches, and the final championships had fourteen.
So the motto of this year’s KSM was…
"Last year, we had twelve matches, the same as the Asia preliminaries, but this year is different. This will push you all to your limits. Under the motto that true strength shines brightest under adversity, the number of matches you’ll face has increased compared to last year."
Breaths, difficult to interpret, echoed throughout the room.
Was it because the plans they’d made were now up in the air? Or for some other reason?
"Now, let’s go over the agreed map order."
Whatever the reason, the pre-briefing had begun.
It was the afternoon before the tournament.