Fenrir Translations
"Ah, and just like that, ChickenLateNightOneTrick is obliterated in an instant! A literal devastating death! Not just one, but hit by four .50 BMG rounds and ejected straight to the lobby!"
Gambit and Michael exchanged glances, briefly thinking, ‘It wasn’t the hammer and anvil—it was more like getting crushed between two anvils,’ though they were glad no one heard their blasphemous thought.
The crowd of hundreds erupted into cheers. It was an event match, so the outcome didn’t matter too much—although, if the national team lost, there’d certainly be a lot of talk. However, if the match turned out dramatically, the narrative would change.
Eugene’s powerful opening strike grabbed everyone's attention, and Dice’s perfect cover fire filled the gap it left behind. The streamer team's attempt to capitalize on the dispersed focus of the pro gamers was completely thwarted, though losing a team member was still a painful blow.
"Wow, they picked one off within 40 seconds."
“Well, they put the first- and second-ranked players from KSM on the same team, so it makes sense.”
Conversations like this buzzed around the audience.
The results were now etched into the minds of the viewers. Besides the hundreds of live spectators, there were tens of thousands of viewers watching the livestream, and the edited video that would later be uploaded to YouSpace was sure to get even more views.
The message was clear: these two were proving in real-time why they were called the national representatives. At least, no one watching this scene could dispute their skill.
Meanwhile...
"They're so in sync, maybe from working together so much. I don’t think I could keep up if I ended up on the same team as them.”
“It’s crazier that Dice can keep up with Eugene like it’s no big deal.”
It was impressive, no matter how many times they watched.
But their concern wasn’t unfounded, given how the teams for event matches were formed in a unique way. Four players had appeared on the televised interview program, and not a single one would be left out from forming a team.
The first team was Eugene and Dice, but in the next round, any of them could be teamed up with Eugene—or with Dice, or Gambit, or Michael.
One way or another, teaming up with Eugene at some point was a given.
"The score is tied! The pro gamers are launching an immediate counterattack!"
"But it's not going to be easy. With the handicaps of no sprinting, no throwing weapons, and no skills, the actual power difference might be more or less equal. For instance, the portable cover set up by the streamer team is giving them a significant advantage in this engagement."
───Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
Crrraack!
However, the massive-caliber sniper rounds that were fired repeatedly at the cover broke it down in mere seconds, despite it being wide enough for two people to hide behind.
Before the analyst could continue, caster Phoenix couldn’t hold back his laughter as he chimed in.
“Haha, looks like that’s not quite the case. The streamer team is losing their advantage in an instant!”
“Overwhelming firepower is hard to beat, especially from a position with a firing angle.”
The match entered a standoff.
However, time was on the pro gamers’ side, and what many had anticipated quickly became reality.
It didn’t take long for Cartographer and Espia to be cornered by Dice, who continually repositioned the Barrett and M6 to create new firing angles, before being shredded by the Norma Magnum rounds from the machine gun.
It was a brutal massacre, brought about by a straightforward and stable strategy.
How much time had passed?
"Sorry. I tried to flank, but I just got wiped out."
“You lost to a natural disaster. No need to apologize.”
“Yeah, seriously. If I’d known it’d turn out like this, I would’ve suggested a handicap like taking away one of their arms.”
This was inevitable.
No matter how high the tier, a single decision could change everything. But in the end, the gap between paid pro players and amateurs was stark—or maybe it was just that Eugene and Dice were absurdly good.
Either way, it wasn’t ChickenLateNightOneTrick’s fault. Their tactic wasn’t bad—trying to take out Eugene wasn’t a bad idea. They had anticipated that two of them might be taken out. But whether it was one or two, the plan was to inflict significant damage on Eugene, which had failed spectacularly.
Once ChickenLateNightOneTrick had been pulverized into ground meat by the .50 BMG without achieving anything, the match had already begun to tilt in the pro gamers’ favor.
Meanwhile, preparations for the second round began, regardless of the winners or losers.
Everything was reset, including the teams. Eugene and Dice, who had performed the near-impossible, were now split up into individual players, and the draft wheel started spinning again.
But none of that mattered. They were free now, and all that was left was to go on stream later and give a long, detailed account of how Eugene and Dice had obliterated them despite the handicaps.
Meanwhile, the new teams were announced.
"-The second team! Dice and Michael will face Catwalk, RamenAndGimbap, and Labokun as a duo!"
“I can already sense what kind of handicaps might come out. But on the flip side, Michael can also predict this. Something like disabling the use of shields won’t be too effective.”
“True, but Michael’s shield is still incredibly powerful. If they can’t disable that, it’s going to be quite the challenge.”
What would they come up with?
The map was generated. It resembled part of the NBV desert base, with sandstorms blowing outside, making it impossible to venture out. The multi-layered structure and artificially carved caves made the layout complex and disorienting.
In the middle of the hangar, the streamer-civilian team looked extremely confident.
They opened their mouths.
“The handicap we propose is... the combined weight of the pro gamer team’s equipment must not exceed 12kg.”
What?
In that moment, their minds raced. The weight-to-stamina ratios they’d calculated automatically while playing Dark Zone started running through their heads. But the harsh reality of that constraint gripped them like nothing before.
Even a basic ballistic vest, with its magazines and grenades, weighed about 10kg. Add a fully-equipped weapon, and 12kg was impossible. They’d have to forgo high-performance armor, which in itself would be a massive penalty.
Moreover, Michael’s shield use was effectively sealed off. In full gear, including the shield, Michael carried over 25kg.
The chat, the audience, even the MCs couldn’t hide their shock.
This wasn’t a simple, one-dimensional limitation like restricting a body part—it was a high-level, wide-reaching restriction. Dice and Michael’s faces tightened.
One thing was clear: the pro gamer team was going to be heavily burdened this time.
“That’s a brilliant handicap no one could’ve anticipated. Pro gamer team, do you accept the penalty?”
“…Give us one more kilogram.”
“That’s acceptable.”
“The streamer-civilian team has accepted the request. The penalty is now in effect, and both teams have five minutes to adjust their tactics!”
With that, the negotiations were settled.
As everyone, including Eugene and Gambit, eagerly awaited the next round, Dice and Michael began discussing with serious expressions.
An unpredictable future was looming.
“Sit down. I’m about to share an amazing idea.”
“…Did you learn that phrasing from Eugene too?”
“What are you talking about?”
At the same time, the conversation continued.
“I’ve thought of a basic tactic. The reason they imposed the weight restriction is mainly because of your shield use. If you went up against them without a handicap, you’d draw aggro for a long time. Even if you only took out one of them before dying, that wouldn’t be a bad trade.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Hearing that from the person who shattered my shield in the last match means a lot.”
“Yeah, so let’s make use of that. Could you carry just the shield and a pistol with no other equipment?”
“…Are you out of your mind?”
“Of course not.”
Their gazes met.
Dice seemed to be trying to look serious, but why did it seem like flames of madness were flickering behind those eyes? Naturally, he didn’t say that out loud—after all, this was the runner-up of KSM he was talking to.
In any case, Michael decided to hear him out.
“The ballistic shield weighs about 11kg, so with five Glock 17 magazines, you’d just barely stay under 13kg. At least you’d have some ability to suppress them.”
“Five magazines, huh? That’s tight. What about you? Normal loadout? Or the insane big-caliber stuff?”
“The latter would limit sustained fire, but I’ve got a workaround for that.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll also have to double as my ballistic vest.”
Absolutely crazy.
A month of hanging around Eugene, and now Dice had become just as recklessly extreme—but they had no choice. Without such a drastic plan, their chances of winning were slim. This penalty was by far the worst they had faced in any event match.
Dice selected his weapon: an ASh-12.7. No ballistic vest. Just a tactical vest loaded with as much ammunition and explosives as he could within the 13kg limit.
Seven large magazines with 14 rounds each. Five grenades. The MOLLE system of his tactical vest allowed for quick attachment and detachment of gear.
Once they were ready, Dice spoke.
“We’ll probably get one chance. They know that too, so they’ll likely stick together. But we have to separate one of them no matter what.”
At the same time, Michael marked several points on the map.
“These are the rendezvous points. If I pick off one of them and we equalize the numbers, we’ll need to regroup at one of these spots. Since neither of us has armor, our best odds are to stick together. Just hang around here and draw their attention if they show up.”
“What if all three of them come at me?”
“The map’s big enough for you to escape right away. I’ll be scouting nearby, and once they split up, I’ll take out at least one. Just buy some time.”
“Hah.”
But then, his expression shifted.
“That’s my specialty.”
“Let’s get started, then.”
As soon as the match began, the barren scent of the battlefield filled the air. Sandstorm marks could be seen in the artificially created caves. As the sound of sand crunching beneath their feet echoed, Michael led the way with a shield in his left hand and a pistol in his right.
Their pace was extremely slow. Dice had asked him to keep watch, rather than advancing immediately.
Michael waited patiently, paying no mind to what was happening behind him. They soon reached the open area in the middle of the hangar. No signs of enemies yet. After surveying the area, Michael tapped Dice on the shoulder.
“If something happens, retreat back through the cave we came from.”
It was time to split up.
Dice left to scout the prearranged point, while Michael began surveying the terrain near the rendezvous point.
How much time had passed?
───Rustle.
‘…They’re coming.’
Under normal circumstances, Michael wouldn’t have been worried, but today felt different.
Three figures emerged cautiously from the cave across from him. They were scouting the area systematically. Preparing to retreat down the cave they had come from, Michael reported to Dice over the comms.
“…Enemy spotted. Approaching from the cave opposite Alpha Point, scouting at about 1 meter per second.”
“If it looks bad, retreat the way we came. Watch out for the three tripwires.”
What had Dice been up to while Michael was scouting? Apparently setting up traps. Crazy.
But there was no time for such thoughts now. The enemy was closing in. Michael knew well enough the distance he needed to maintain as a shield user, but now it was time to retreat, even at the risk of being spotted.
───Click!
“There he is!”
“It’s Michael! Throw a sticky bomb!”
Boom!
The bomb flew in almost simultaneously with the identification shout. Though the aim was slightly off, hitting something else instead of his body, it was still powerful. Without his shield, Michael was practically exposed, making him vulnerable to every kind of attack.
He fired his pistol rapidly, quickly gaining distance. Thanks to hours of practice, his hip-fire accuracy was impressive. However, it wasn’t enough—emptying an entire Glock magazine wouldn’t be enough to break their shield.
‘Damn it, I’m counting on you!’
Turning his back on the enemy while running wasn’t ideal for a shield user, but they could’ve at least given him armor. Without it, facing them head-on was impossible.
He sprinted back down the narrow cave. A perfect place for setting traps. But it seemed the enemy had no intention of letting him escape, judging by the long metallic sound that followed.
A Seeker Mine. If that exploded in the cave, it could destroy the tripwires Dice had set up.
It had to be stopped.
───Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Rapid pistol fire.
Bullets rained down on the rolling mine, only one of the twelve shots hitting its mark. But that was enough to disable most of its functions.
Boom! The resulting explosion sent a wave of fire, debris, and dust slamming against the shield. Michael felt the pressure of being pushed back but used the dust as cover to start running again.
“Ugh!”
Suddenly, one of the tripwires came into view.
He barely dodged it.
Three tripwires had been placed about 5 meters apart, with grenades hidden either on the floor or tucked into ceiling lights. As Michael thought about how he might’ve learned that from Eugene, he heard a sound from behind.
Dice’s voice came over the comms.
“One entered the cave. Another is flanking through the side tunnel. One’s waiting outside, but I’ll take care of him soon.”
“What?”
───Aaaagh!
Bang-bang-bang! Boom!
It was too heavy a sound to be called gunfire. But Michael recognized it—that same ASh-12.7 that had shredded his shield inside the burning department store on Atakaiya Volcano Island not too long ago.
The only difference this time was that instead of shredding his shield, it was grinding the enemy to pieces. Coupled with the sound of a grenade explosion, it seemed like a perfect ambush had wiped out the opponent in seconds.
Suddenly, Michael thought of Eugene. She had emphasized many times how important it was to shorten the time spent in the kill-capture process.
If they could eliminate an enemy in just 3 seconds...
‘…That’s some impressive learning.’
Boom!
The explosion from the tripwire snapped Michael out of his thoughts.
Dice had just dealt with the outside enemy, but now she needed Michael’s help. It was a race against time—would Michael get sandwiched, or would the enemy that had followed him get trapped?
Of course, the answer came from Dice.
“I’ll be there soon.”
For a moment, Michael thought that maybe this round would end easier than expected.