-[Notification: You have died. Moving to the lobby.]

"Wow."

Labokun, who had proposed the handicap, truly believed they would win this time.

Though it wasn’t so much about winning by skill as it was the weight of the handicap. Even so, they had thought that with such a handicap, they would at least stand on equal footing or even gain a significant advantage.

But that was a misconception.

No matter how much the battle between pros and high-tier players can turn on one variable, in the end, it's the pro gamers who can identify and exploit those variables more effectively.

Perhaps that was the gap between national representatives and mere high-tier players. Labokun could only reason it out that way.

‘...No, there’s more to it than that.’

Even considering that, Dice's Time-to-Kill (TTK) was ridiculously short.

The damage log showed that in less than three seconds, a single grenade and an entire magazine from the ASh-12.7 had been dumped onto him. What can you even call that? Getting hit with compressed damage all at once without a chance to counterattack—it was an instant death.

Perfect grenade cooking, flawless stealth, and the skill to control the wild recoil of the massive assault rifle. Of course, if you practice nothing but that—even skipping meals to train—you’d end up playing like this.

His eyes wandered across the screen.

“Pros really are on a different level… wow.”

Labokun had been praised as having the skill to debut as a pro gamer by some viewers. Occasionally, when playing ranked matches, they would end up matched against pros' alternate accounts, sometimes even on the same team.

Because of that, Labokun had uploaded videos to their YouSpace channel with titles like “Matched with a Pro in Ranked! Got Praise, LOL” or “MoH Tier? Easy with this Trick!?”—clickbait that was actually somewhat true.

But now, facing them for real, he hadn’t expected to be utterly crushed without even being able to breathe.

‘They’ll be here soon.’

The scene unfolding on the screen was a time-attack between four players within a cave. Catwalk, trying to sneak up and bash Michael from behind, was stuck two-thirds of the way through the cave. Meanwhile, RamenAndGimbap, stumbling from the effects of an explosion, was being approached by the reaper... Dice.

In simple terms, it was Catwalk - Michael - RamenAndGimbap - Dice. Michael started running, trying to shove RamenAndGimbap away after the grenade hit.

But the stark difference between equipment and armor was difficult to overcome.

───Rat-tat-tat-tat!

Michael was armed with nothing but a Glock.

Under normal circumstances, he would have trusted in the shield and armor from his Icarus gear, but since the shield's effectiveness scales with the quality of your armor, not wearing any made the shield as thin as paper.

Michael, curled up like a turtle behind his shield, let out a high-pitched scream. His light brown hair quivered, and his ears, which poked out from under his hair, twitched. He looked incredibly vulnerable, triggering a protective instinct.

The shield, now just an 11kg slab of metal, wasn’t going to last much longer. And his desperate hip-firing with the Glock wasn’t making much difference either.

Michael collapsed. His HP plummeted as bullets tore through his unprotected body.

Death was near.

However,

“…You sure took your sweet time.”

Bang-bang-bang!

A heavy, almost metallic sound echoed through the cave. The enemy was shredded. The shield broke before a full magazine was even emptied. A grenade was thrown right after the enemy fell.

Just as Michael, lying on the ground, covered his body with his now useless shield,

───BOOM!

The explosion echoed throughout the cave, loud enough to burst eardrums in real life.

Michael's shield shattered into pieces, and his HP dropped below 10%. He was barely hanging on. As the explosion cleared, Dice approached, the sound of footsteps crunching over debris.

Michael, barely managing to get up, extended his hand.

“…Thanks. You almost killed me.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you? Besides, it’s not over yet.”

“What do you mean it’s not over!?”

“There’s still one left.”

No looting of bodies was allowed.

The only weapons they had were Michael’s Glock, two magazines, and his body. He wasn’t some action movie hero like Keanu Reeves, but Michael quickly gave up on complaining.

At least the movie gave the protagonist a bulletproof suit.

“…If we don’t win after all this, I’m seriously going to be pissed.”

“Sorry, I can’t make any promises. I’m not wearing armor either. Just block the skills for me with your body.”

“With my body!? You’re still using me as a meat shield!? Who came up with this brutal handicap!?”

Sorry. I did.

Like all brilliant ideas, it had been an unintentional flash of inspiration. Yet somehow, it had become the worst handicap ever faced by pro gamers in any event match.

At least it would make for a great story.

“Let’s go. I can’t believe I’m going into battle with just a pistol and going up against someone with skills. It feels like a punishment squad.”

“Well, at least you’ll have a rare experience. Now duck.”

“What!?”

───Bang-bang-bang!

Catwalk appeared from the other side of the cave just a beat too late, and Dice’s gun roared to life.

The two of them slowly began retreating. As the timer ran out, the team with more players left would win, so Catwalk had no choice but to engage.

It was a fully armed Medal of Honor player versus two lightly armed players with no armor. Normally, people would compare it to David versus Goliath, but the problem was, David won in real life too.

Despite everything, they hoped Catwalk would put up a fight—they really didn’t want to lose.

"───And just as I’m saying that, Dice takes down Catwalk by a hair’s breadth! Using Michael as a shield and spending every last bullet in her magazine, Dice pulls off a hard-fought and shining victory!"

Whether you’d call it fortunate or unfortunate, the fight ended with Dice’s victory. But even in defeat, Catwalk managed to drop Dice’s HP below 30%, fighting to the very end.

As cheers flooded the stadium, Dice staggered down from the battlefield, muttering,

“That was damn exhausting…”

Even for national representatives, they had their limits.

"That concludes the event match! A victory interview will take place shortly, so please stay in your seats!"

“Haha, rather than a victory interview, it’s more like a re-interview, don’t you think?”

“That’s a great point. Thank you for that insight!”

As the environment shifted once again, the familiar studio setting returned. A stage large enough for eight participants and hundreds of multi-tiered seats filled with a lively audience—it was a familiar sight.

The seating arrangements were the same as before, with the four players in the middle and the two MCs flanking them on either side.

The atmosphere was far more relaxed than at the beginning.

Partly because they had spent more time talking and bonding, but also because the pros' sheer display of skill had thoroughly impressed everyone. It was a clean sweep. Despite the variety of handicaps, nothing could stop the pros’ undefeated streak.

Out of six matches, the pro gamers hadn’t lost a single one. Compared to last year, when the win rate was fifty-fifty, it was a dramatic improvement. Of course, the lineup had a lot to do with it as well.

By now, the pro gamers had changed out of their initial gear into much more casual attire. There was no longer a need to project an image of strength.

A question followed.

"That was truly an incredible performance. Throughout this entire broadcast of Starry Night Stories, we’ve never seen the pro gamer team achieve a perfect record! Many of us, including ourselves, were shocked. Is there a secret to your success?"

“There’s no particular secret. As operators, we’re trained to assume we’re always in a disadvantageous situation, so I just kept that in mind and tried to find a breakthrough, and it naturally led to victory.”

“What a wonderful answer! How did you feel about the performance of those who participated in this event match?”

“They were good.”

Good.

Under different circumstances, such a statement might seem a bit underwhelming, but coming from Eugene, it carried a different weight.

The applause was deafening, with none other than the streamers and skilled amateurs who had participated in the event match leading the ovation. After a brief moment of surprise, their faces brightened, and they all stood up to bow in response.

After the enthusiasm subsided, the conversation continued.

“Haha, Eugene's words seem to have a certain magic. Let's move on to the next question, and I’d like each of you to answer this one.”

Four identical questions appeared before Eugene, Dice, Gambit, and Michael. Upon seeing them, they all seemed to fall into deep thought. As a brief silence settled, the announcer's representative directed the next question to Eugene.

<Q: What was the most difficult handicap you faced in this event match?>

“When sprinting and running were restricted, and we could only walk. That was the most challenging.”

“That’s an unexpected answer. Why?”

“I couldn’t respond to rapidly changing combat situations, so as time went on, we would inevitably fall behind. If my weapon handling had been less proficient, we would have lost.”

Of course, despite that, she had still dominated the match using just Mjolnir, but that was beside the point.

The question then moved to Dice, who, as expected, pointed to the weight restriction without hesitation.

“Hahaha, it did look like you and Michael had a particularly hard time in that match. Was it really that difficult?”

“If I hadn’t taken out Labokun, we would’ve lost. The penalty of not being able to wear armor due to the weight limit was utterly absurd.”

“I see! Congratulations on overcoming such a tremendous handicap!”

More applause followed.

Gambit’s answer was the same.

“I also think the weight restriction was the hardest penalty in this event match. But personally, I had a feeling Eugene would never choose this one.”

“Ah… oh, I think I know what you mean.”

Seriously, who gets faster the less weight they carry?

Gambit recalled a past event. There had been a weight restriction of 10kg when he was on a team with Eugene. It was much stricter than the one they faced today, and he had considered rejecting the match outright, but Eugene had agreed to split her weight limit with him. That meant Gambit had 15kg to work with, which allowed him to comfortably carry a gun and a bulletproof vest into battle.

So what had Eugene done with her 5kg limit?

“…That’s when I realized what 'run-and-gun' really means.”

A Chris Vector with a few attachments and four drum magazines.

Eugene had zipped through the battlefield like a madwoman, easily outpacing Gambit despite his full sprint. Her ammunition wasn’t all that powerful, but it was enough to take down two opponents before she ran out. After that, she’d pulled a tactical hammer from her multipurpose pouch, which was more than enough to finish the job.

Although Gambit had taken care of the last enemy, he still remembered being a little scared of Eugene, who had sprinted across the terrain with a sledgehammer, moving at 25km/h.

Finally, it was Michael’s turn.

“As a shield user, I have to say… the weight restriction was the most brutal handicap of this event match. It was like having my arms and legs tied.”

“Wow, many of you are mentioning the weight restriction. It seems that it might go down in history as the worst penalty in an event match!”

The live chat and audience reactions were similar.

After a brief discussion, the MC spoke again.

“Though the weight restriction was a clever handicap that hasn’t been seen in a while, it seems that it will be toned down in future events. While these matches are meant to showcase skill, they also need to provide entertainment for everyone.”

Entertainment…?

That thought passed through everyone’s minds.

But it was a bit premature to think that, as there was still one more event on the schedule.

“Now that everyone’s warmed up, let’s move on to the main event of the day: the 2v2 scrim! But first, let’s introduce the prizes!”

The lineup was revealed.

And right at the top, the prize that caught everyone’s eye:

“The winner of today’s 2v2 scrim will receive a luxury department store gift card worth a whopping 7.5 million won!”

Wooooooah!

The audience erupted in cheers, but amid the chaos, the four pro gamers shared a somewhat indifferent look.

As the crowd cheered them on, the four pros created a secret chat room and began exchanging messages.

-[Michael: Should I start buttering up to Eugene now? My washing machine is about to die.] -[Dice: Nah, don’t bother. It’s all going to food anyway.] -[Gambit: My air conditioner is on its last legs, please help.] -[Eugene: So I should spend 7.5 million won on hammers?] -[Gambit//Michael//Dice: Gasp, sorry!]

It was their little secret.

Even as the draft wheel spun for the scrim, their chat continued.

“Congratulations on winning the Starry Night Stories scrim! May we ask how you plan to use the 7.5 million won gift card?”

“I’ll probably treat everyone who participated today to a nice meal.”

Of course, the outcome was already predictable.

And so, the day was coming to a close.