"Maybe I ate too much meat yesterday, my stomach... ugh."

"You sure did eat a lot."

"Every time I meet you, I end up eating an absurd amount of meat."

That’s a fair point.

Lunch and dinner on briefing day, and last night’s dinner. I’d met Dice in real life three times now, and each time we’d eaten meat. So, it made sense.

Plus, given the Korean preference for premium Hanwoo beef—where the more marbled the meat, the better—it probably felt like she was greasing up her tongue, throat, and stomach with every bite. While I could handle it, Dice was likely struggling.

And like they say, watching a mukbang makes you eat more than usual. Dice probably overate, even more than usual. I just hope she didn’t throw up in the taxi on the way home.

I made sure to put her in a luxury cab to make sure she was comfortable.

“That’s why I told you to just sleep over.”

“…Now that I think about it, I probably should have.”

But regrets are always too late, and tomorrow’s schedule waits for no one.

Unfortunately, Dice, who was making strange croaking sounds every 30 seconds, and I were no longer in the real world. We were in VR. Monday had disappeared into history, never to return, and Tuesday—the day when Korea’s first-tier players would compete—had arrived.

Like an orchestra seating plan, the seats were divided into five sections. Centered around the host’s podium, each section contained 20 seats, with five sections in total. Behind them, the seats radiated outward in a fan-like pattern.

The reason for the 20 seats was simple—each country was allowed to send a maximum of 20 participants. Including Dice and me, 20 Korean first-tier players were seated, waiting for the scrim to begin.

“It’s been a while since I’ve sat this comfortably in a chair.”

“…Oh, right. You said you disabled your tail data.”

She was right.

The official reason was for fairness. However, while physical interaction with the tail was impossible, the data still remained visible to spectators, and I could still control my balance and steering with it.

This meant I could now sit in a chair with a backrest in VR. It had been a long time since I’d felt this. It’s rare in real life to sit back and relax like this.

Time flew by quickly, especially with so much to review before the match. We had to go over the strategies we had planned once more. Naturally, since we were placed far apart to prevent teaming, our movement paths were especially important.

A quick glance to the side revealed the second-tier players from other countries gathered in their sections. Our eyes met a few times. They looked determined.

Given that they had just barely missed making their national teams by a narrow margin, they were opponents to be wary of. Sure, the plan was to crush them as quickly as possible to avoid leaking information, but nothing in this world is ever that simple.

The host walked in, and the atmosphere grew far more solemn than before. It wasn’t time for cheers. That evoked strange feelings. It almost felt like I could hear phantom cheers echoing in my ears, as if millions of voices should be roaring in celebration.

The host took the microphone and scanned the room before speaking.

“Welcome, everyone. It’s a pleasure to have you all here. By now, I’m sure many of you have arrived in Korea. Japan, Russia, China, Taiwan... It seems the time has come to face off against the titans of Asia.”

One week.

At the latest, all national representatives would arrive in the host country within a week of the qualifiers. In other words, somewhere in a hotel in Seoul, the representatives of Russia, China, Japan, and Taiwan were all staying.

The host’s words seemed to vaguely hint at this.

But contrary to what one might expect, there wasn’t a long, drawn-out motivational speech following that.

Instead...

“You all know the rules of the match better than I do, so there’s no need to hold you here any longer. I wish you all the best, and I hope you give it your all.”

And just like that, the host walked off, after delivering a message shorter than any typical principal’s speech. Curious about this unusual brevity, I glanced around.

Dice didn’t seem to care much. Naturally, that led me to a conclusion—this was normal. I looked around some more, and more than half the people didn’t seem particularly fazed.

Those who had competed in last year’s Asian qualifiers already knew how this went.

I needed to change my question.

“What’s the next item on the schedule?”

“Well… we’ve got about 30 minutes before the scrim starts, so maybe some light mingling?”

“Mingling?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s just among the first-tiers, but usually, people go around and greet players from other countries. Even if you don’t know them, the second-tier players definitely know you.”

That’s a bit intimidating.

Feeling like I needed to mentally prepare for this, I asked.

“So, when does the mingling start?”

“Hmm…”

An ominous silence.

Then, an equally ominous sound—the environment began to shift as the space reconfigured. The auditorium turned into a vast hall, and over a hundred players began scattering. In a casual tone, Dice announced:

“Right now.”

Thud, thud, thud.

At the same time, I heard the sound of heavy footsteps. The ground seemed to shake. This wasn’t just one or two people—it felt like dozens of them were heading my way. With my snake’s senses, tuned to detect vibrations, I immediately realized where they were headed.

No doubt about it. They were coming for me. A quick glance confirmed it—countless players were rushing in my direction. With avatars of every imaginable color and design closing in on me, I was starting to feel dizzy.

It seemed the preference for female avatars wasn’t unique to Korea. Every avatar, even those of players who were clearly men, was a brightly colored female character.

In other words, at least they all looked good.

So, what were these hordes of cute girls rushing toward me for?

“Where’s Eugene? Where’s Player Eugene!?”

“I’ve always wanted to meet you! Is your tail real!?”

“There she is!”

…?

It all happened in a flash.

The cacophony of footsteps halted in front of me, and I couldn’t help but feel flustered. What was happening? Then, the one at the front cautiously extended a hand.

A handshake?

“I’ve watched your plays and always wanted to meet you! You’ve been such a huge help.”

“…Thank you. Are all the people behind you here for the same reason?”

Nods all around.

They were all from different countries, but their reactions were the same. I was a bit dumbfounded by the amount of attention I was receiving. But it didn’t bother me. What mattered was that they were showing me goodwill.

It wasn’t the tense atmosphere I had expected for the Asian qualifiers. Maybe because these were second-tier players who weren’t under as much pressure as the first-tiers, they could afford to be more relaxed.

But the truth didn’t matter much. What was more important was that the mood felt more like a festival, and I decided to go along with it.

About 25 players stood in front of me.

If you didn’t count the Korean players I already knew, almost half of those participating in this scrim had come to greet me. In moments like this, it seemed better to just go with the flow rather than speak too much.

After about 10 minutes of handshakes and greetings, I finally returned to Dice, still somewhat dazed.

“I thought the scrim for the Asian qualifiers would have a more cutthroat atmosphere, but it’s not like that at all. What the heck just happened?”

“Haha, it’s normal for this to happen the first time. It’s a bit rare, but I had a feeling you’d be the target this time, Eugene.”

“You seem like you knew this would happen…”

“Hehe.”

Then, she explained.

“It’s not uncommon. As you know, pro gamers often watch and analyze the gameplay of better players, and through that, they sometimes become fans of them.”

“…So that’s what that was about.”

“You’ve been the talk of the town lately, Eugene. Honestly, it’s more surprising that you weren’t aware of this before. That’s so like you, though. Still, you should start paying attention to your reputation a bit more.”

Ugh. I had no response to that.

As I sat back down, Dice gave me a small laugh and added:

“Well, everyone has their own stance. It’s not the finals, and it’s not like you’re going to spend hours analyzing how everyone plays. If you just do what you always do, people will love it.”

“Do what I always do?”

“Just beat the crap out of everyone you run into. You’re the best at that.”

- [Alert: Scrim begins in 3 minutes.]

“The way you say that sounds a bit weird.”

“Haha, only now? Anyway, just do your thing. No need to overthink it.”

“…I guess you’re right. Let’s get ready.”

“That’s more like you.”

- [Alert: The first map is the High-Value Research Facility.] - [Alert: Movement will begin shortly.]

We had about two minutes of preparation time.

Soon, it was time to part ways with everyone, including Dice. My vision brightened. The map, which I knew so well that I could navigate it with my eyes closed, came into view. I quickly ran through a few potential movement routes in my head. Of course, I’d have to adapt based on how the Juggernauts moved, so nothing was set in stone.

The clock ticked down.

I could almost taste the dust of the battlefield.

'Finally.'

Finally, the time had come.

But I couldn’t exactly voice my excitement. Saying something like “Now’s the time to witness Eugene’s true skills” would make me sound like a character from an anime.

But still, it was remarkable that everyone here—except for the 20 of us—was likely thinking the same thing.

It was understandable. These were second-tier players who had missed the top spots by a hair, and they had come too far to simply be overwhelmed by a stronger opponent now.

The anticipation was inevitable.

It could be called baseless confidence, but the data they had gathered from analyzing my gameplay was probably comparable to what they would have collected from directly competing against me a few times.

In other words, they weren’t certain. They could only guess based on what they’d seen. But after today, they’d know for sure if their assumptions were true or false.

And the honor of being the first to test that was given to the 22nd-ranked Russian second-tier player, Tochka.

In other words, he was both lucky and unlucky to be the first to encounter me.

'There she is!'

A faint silhouette flickered in the distance.

My tail, which was twisting and writhing in the dim lighting of the High-Value Research Facility, stood out from behind me as I moved slowly in a certain direction.

His calculations began automatically. The distance between him and me, the weapons and explosives in his possession, the condition of his controls, escape routes, the surrounding combat situation—he carefully measured everything.

If there was a downside, it was that he couldn’t use CQC, or close-quarters combat, which he had painstakingly trained for.

Or perhaps he should say that he absolutely had to avoid using it.

His calculations were complete.

But then,

'…!?'

I turned my head suddenly, and my eyes locked onto his. Was it a trick of the mind? The eye contact lasted only a split second, but I had definitely looked straight at him. How?

His calm thoughts suddenly turned turbulent.

It would take him much longer to realize that I wasn’t actually looking at him, but rather following my personal habit of “quickly checking all potentially vulnerable spots for incoming attacks,” based on past experience.

But that realization would come later.

For now, he still believed he had the advantage, and he wasn’t entirely wrong. That’s why Tochka took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. His plan was to hit my head first to weaken my shield—then his chances of victory would increase.

His finger twitched.

With the muffled sound of a silenced gunshot, the bullet hit its mark.

—Bang!

A direct hit to the head.

My body staggered.

But the recovery was absurdly fast. As soon as the bullet struck, I disappeared from sight and took cover. It almost looked like he had shot into thin air.

The first shot had landed, but the plan—that the following shots would also hit—began to fall apart.

“Blyat…!”

He cursed under his breath in Russian and quickly moved to retreat.

But unfortunately for him, hiding behind a large potted plant may have been his downfall. The rustling sound caught my attention, and moments later, a barrage of bullets tore through the foliage.

The bushes scattered as three bullets hit his body.

Even though he knew it was only suppression fire, the accuracy was stunning. Unable to focus on external stimuli, Tochka was caught off guard. In that brief moment, I closed the distance between us.

In other words, I had capitalized on the exact moment when his mind was preoccupied and not paying attention to sound.

'When did she get so close!?'

A distance of around 70 meters, with complex terrain to boot. When had I closed the gap so much? It was maddening.

It was like literal teleportation.

This was the same phenomenon that others who had fought me all described.

But still, Tochka was ranked 22nd.

He had enough experience to grasp a rough idea of what was happening. His guess wasn’t far off the mark. I had taken advantage of the moment when his focus was elsewhere to approach rapidly.

But if you asked him how to deal with that… well, good question.

How do you deal with it?

“Damn…!”

—Ratatatatatata!

His positional advantage and the fact that he had known my location in advance were melting away like ice cream left out in the summer heat. The ensuing battle became a raw clash of strength.

In other words, it came down to who could shoot better, who could position themselves better, and who had superior accuracy in both moving and suppressing fire.

Though the outcome was already half-decided, Tochka had no intention of surrendering to fate—and he succeeded in holding me off for a full 1 minute and 31 seconds after the raw firefight began.

While he couldn’t take me down with him, he did manage to draw enough attention from the surrounding players.

In this rare moment, despite the scrim’s competitive nature, I spoke directly to Tochka as I pointed my gun at him.

“The Asian qualifiers really are on a different level.”

“I agree…”

Bang.

As a flash of light filled his vision, Tochka heard footsteps approaching from nearby.

He had caused enough commotion for others to catch the scent of blood. Surely someone would take advantage of the ABC meta—where A and B fight, and C swoops in to reap the rewards. And maybe, just maybe, one of them would succeed.

Though he didn’t know who those players were, Tochka wished them success as he was sent back to the lobby.

“Wow… is she even human…?”

And Tochka’s wish was only half-fulfilled.

During the two-minute battle, three or four players had shown up to take advantage of the situation, but I had successfully cracked all of their helmets.

The scrim had only just begun.