"The event match has ended! A 10-minute break will now commence before the remaining four matches of Saturday begin!"

The mountain is a mountain, the water is water, but who am I, and where am I now?

Last year, I was barely managing between the first and second divisions, but now, after diligently attending lessons, I’ve suddenly become a KSM participant? If this was an advertisement, people would call it viral marketing or even false advertising. Well, not that worse ads don’t exist.

As I wavered between reality and dreamland, someone I could barely even imagine approaching tapped me on the shoulder.

"What are you doing, Lumina? Time to get ready for the match."

"Ah, right. I should."

Dice.

In other words, the driving force behind SSM. Or perhaps, its lifeline wouldn’t be too far off either.

I always wonder how someone with this much skill ended up tied to such a terrible team. If SSM hadn’t gotten greedy when her contract expired last year, she’d probably be with a top team like TK1 or Xi by now.

The reason I say this is simple. SSM’s biggest strength and weakness lies in its large lower league. In contrast to other teams, they invest less in their first-string players and more in scouting new talent. Dice was one of the gems discovered through this scouting process.

However, this system also meant that as players rose through the ranks, the support they received was relatively lacking compared to other teams, which diverted some of the funds to invest in prospects.

"You’ll be moving up soon, too."

"I hope so... but I doubt the same reckless plans will work again like they did earlier. Still, I’ll give it my best shot."

Is that supposed to be humility?

Anyway, 10 minutes. After that, we’ll once again be separated into our respective areas, just like before. The only reason we’re even able to chat now is because we’re on the same team. Talking to pro gamers from other teams? Out of the question.

The next map hasn’t been revealed yet, but we can make a good guess. Starting this year, we have to play on every map both Saturday and Sunday.

In the first set, we had Port City Tannhäuser, NBV Desert Base, Karman Nuclear Waste Facility, and California Liquid Gas Storage Facility.

So, the remaining maps are Aurora Power Plant, High-Value Research Facility, Poplar Ridge Correctional Facility, and Atacaya Volcano Island. Each of the remaining four maps has its own unique gimmicks, like those with and without Revolution or those with and without high-altitude drops.

What should I do...

"Do you think I can blow everything up and figure things out from there?"

"It worked once, but it won’t work again. The remaining maps aren’t places where those kinds of gimmicks will fly… Maybe Aurora Power Plant has something like that. But you’re not the type to just blow things up without a plan, like me."

"Yeah, that’s true. Haha."

"You’re not supposed to agree with that!"

"Ah, my bad."

It was a slip of the tongue, but it wasn’t entirely wrong either. To put it bluntly, Dice did act without much thought at times. On the bright side... no, actually, Dice was essentially a living wild card, an unpredictable player who could toy with opponents through erratic moves. This tricky playstyle had earned her quite the attention since last year.

Of course, after meeting Eugene, Dice had her head smashed in—but thanks to Eugene’s ‘glue’ method, she broke down her old patterns and emerged far stronger than before.

So, what should I do?

While Dice had a specialty, what kind of style could I claim as my own?

That question had been troubling me for some time now.

"Don’t get too hung up on that. Sure, the fourth match was kind of a bust, but the second one wasn’t even intentional on my part. I was cornered, and in my desperation, I just said ‘to hell with it’ and set everything on fire before making a run for it."

"That’s... quite the vivid way of putting it."

"Anyway, the basics are what matter in the end. Just stick to what you’ve learned. Whether you believe in your skills or not, your enemies aren’t going to wait for you to figure that out, right?"

"True."

Did I make it too obvious?

But I couldn’t help but wonder. Playing it safe had its advantages, but this was KSM. Simply making it through a match without issues wouldn’t guarantee high scores.

Yet, waiting another year felt like such a waste. I had come this far, and I wanted to learn as much as I could. Who knows? Eugene or Dice might not even be here next year. AP was that kind of game, after all.

Of course, it wasn’t realistic to think those two would just fade away due to skill issues. More likely, they’d take a break after reaching the top. That was more plausible.

But still, a year was a long time.

"I don’t have much to tell you. Just focus on the basics. At the very least, shouldn’t you be able to shoot as well as Eugene?"

"How is that even possible?"

"Yeah, fair enough. What I’m saying is, just do what you’ve learned. This isn’t the time to define your style. You’ve already got enough on your plate just trying to apply what you’ve been taught."

An infuriatingly simple answer.

But I knew it too. There wasn’t some magic trick that could flip everything I’d done up until now or skyrocket my skills in just 10 minutes. I knew that getting this far was more due to luck than anything else, and that I still had a long way to go before I could rise any higher.

Thinking about it like that, it felt a little depressing.

So I asked,

"Is it worth sticking with Eugene’s coaching?"

I wondered what her answer would be.

What’s the gap between Dice and Eugene? As expected, her response was exactly what I imagined.

"Follow? What do you mean follow? It’s more like she’s dragging me by the scruff of my neck. It’s exhausting."

"Haha."

Of course.

I expected that answer, but I couldn’t help laughing. There was still a long, long way to go.

-[Notice: Juggernaut patrols have commenced. Identity checks will soon begin, so please carry proper identification. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.]

"So, it’s this map after all."

The beginning of everything.

The start of the scrims.

Although it was hosted by Xi Impressive at the time, Eugene ended up heading to SSM. Through this very map, and through Dice. Looking back, it seemed only natural that playing on this map brought a sense of nostalgia.

But this time, thankfully... no, it wasn’t really a matter of luck. Thankfully, this time, no one was there to block Dice’s path—they’d already moved on, thanks to early selection. No matter how intimidating things got, she wasn’t one to give up.

But the problem was...

"Why are there only these kinds of guns?"

The 6P62, a 12.7mm assault rifle.

And the CQB-barrett, a short-barreled Barrett used by Eugene to tear through Juggernauts all day long. She also carried an ASh-12.7 among other things. Now that I think about it, didn’t Eugene say the first place she entered had a high-caliber weapons cache, and she just grabbed whatever she found?

She used those?

That woman really is something else.

"The best I can manage is this?"

.50 Beowulf magazines.

The bullets packed a punch. Next to it was an AR-15 based rifle. That’s about as good as it gets. It’s still better than nothing, I suppose.

I picked up the gun and adjusted the stock. After hastily stuffing 10 magazines into the pouches on my body armor, I grabbed another magazine rolling on the floor and slapped it into the chamber. The slide clicked, feeding a round into the chamber.

Each magazine held 14 rounds, looking like a curved AK mag with how long and banana-shaped it was. I let out a sigh, but what could I do? If something better came along later, I’d switch it out. Plus, I needed to get used to the recoil of high-caliber weapons.

─Ssshhh.

"...!"

As soon as I was about to head outside, I heard footsteps outside the door.

The heavy clunk of boots slowed down, then stopped just outside. Scenarios flashed through my mind. No one would be reckless enough to just start clearing a room without knowing who was inside.

Most likely, a grenade would be thrown in first.

I stood right in front of the only door leading outside, careful not to make a sound. Unless someone was insane enough to blindly fire through the door, I was probably safe standing here. The door handle rattled, and the door opened very slowly.

Just wide enough for a grenade to be tossed in.

"Not a chance."

In that moment, I kicked the door open and charged out, flipping the fire selector to full-auto and unleashing a volley into the enemy’s torso. The recoil was so intense it felt like a horse was kicking my shoulder, the barrel shooting straight up into the air.

As I struggled to bring the gun under control, I noticed something—he was holding a grenade. By the time I realized it, it was already falling to the floor. No chance to avoid it. I had to take the hit.

─BOOM!

"Urgh...!"

I curled into a ball, but the grenade’s shrapnel and shockwave were brutal. My nanomachine shield was completely shattered. And here I was, with barely any healing items at the start of the match.

After pulling myself together and surveying the scene, my opponent had already turned into a pile of items. Nothing much worth taking. His gear wasn’t great either. I grabbed a couple of healing items and kept moving.

But there was something I’d overlooked.

"Ugh!"

Ratatat.

The sound of a grenade echoed through the building, and unlike the wide-open spaces of Tannhäuser or the California Gas Storage Facility, this map was much smaller. Combine that with narrow corridors, and it was no surprise that someone had heard the grenade and come running.

From the end of the hallway, a figure opened fire. I barely had enough health left to survive a few hits, so...

There was only one option.

Run.

"Why is there no easy game...!"

Muttering obvious truths during a moment of extreme tension, I dashed through the twisting, narrow underground corridors. The research facility was a maze, designed to confuse anyone unfamiliar with the layout. The air smelled of concrete, and the ceiling was crisscrossed with red and white pipes leading who knows where.

And then there were the KEEP OUT signs plastered on every door, making it clear that no one was supposed to be here.

─Clunk, clunk!

"They’re still following me?"

Normally, people would’ve given up by now, but this one was persistent.

Then again, it made sense. My nanomachine shield was down, and a little pressure was all they needed to score an easy kill. I really need to rethink my anti-grenade strategy.

Dodging bullets as I ran down the dimly lit corridors, I suddenly remembered the first scrim. I had been in a similar situation, playing a psychological game in a 90-degree corridor, only to get utterly destroyed by Eugene.

Wait a minute.

Maybe I can turn this to my advantage.

─Scrape.

At that moment, the sound of boots on concrete stopped.

I quietly pulled a grenade from my pouch. Back then, I had lost because the enemy heard the pin click, but that’s not the point right now. The important thing was to take in the entire situation.

I was facing my opponent in a 90-degree corridor standoff. It seemed like they had stopped moving as well, probably afraid of peeking around the corner and getting shot.

Time for the second round of fishing.

"Phew..."

Carefully, without making a sound, I pulled the pin, disarmed the safety, and gently placed the grenade right at the corner.

At the same time, I made a show of loudly pulling out another grenade from my pouch. I even added some wrist action to make sure the pin rattled as much as possible. This was highly effective, like a rattlesnake’s warning.

─Thud, thud, thud!

The heavy sound of boots echoed as my opponent, hearing the rattling, immediately rushed in. The distance between us must’ve been closer than I thought because a flashlight beam flickered just ahead of me.

But when they rounded the corner to face me, it wasn’t me they saw.

It was the grenade.

─BOOM!

"Oof."

A satisfying explosion. But the surprise wasn’t over yet.

With my finger on the trigger, I stepped out from behind a stack of boxes and fired 50-caliber rounds into the staggering opponent. They crumpled to the floor, polygons breaking apart like ground beef.

Controlling the recoil on the second volley was easier than before.

That was my second kill of the match.

Now that I think about it, what did Eugene say back then?

"Rest in peace… was it?"

She has such strange tastes.

And so, the curtain rose on the fifth match.