"───Before we begin the debriefing, I just want to say that you all did a fantastic job."

Woooaaahhh─!

The large room, which had enough beds to accommodate around twenty people, was filled with applause and cheers. It was late Saturday night, with just an hour and a half left until midnight, yet their voices were still full of energy.

Thanks to the soundproofing, there was no need to worry about disturbing anyone.

Yujin stood in front of the nineteen pairs of eyes, her expression unwavering. Her signature sapphire-blue eyes calmly surveyed the room. The Korean national team, gathered on the beds, were all listening intently to her words.

For some reason, it felt like a scene from a distant memory. Yujin allowed the cheers to die down on their own, not bothering to stop them.

This déjà vu resolved itself in an unexpected way.

"Captain Yujin, why are we doing mental training at this hour? Should I write a complaint letter?"

"Haha, you idiot."

"Hey! Get rid of him! Kick him out!"

"Aaahh! I’m sorry...!"

Watching the chaos unfold, Yujin let out a quiet sigh. Meanwhile, Dais, who had no military experience and never would, blinked in confusion, merely observing the antics of those around her.

Once the commotion had died down, several holograms lit up in the air. They displayed the achievements of the Korean team throughout the day, showing how much they had improved compared to other countries and the previous year.

There had been many systematic challenges, and with them came improvements in skill.

Today's results encapsulated all of that.

"The analysis engine has already sent you individual emails detailing your strengths, weaknesses, and areas to focus on. Be sure to check them later."

Yujin glanced around the room.

Not everyone looked upbeat. Some people were likely confident in their performance compared to others, while some probably judged their own skills to be lacking in comparison.

The Asian Qualifiers were a celebration for viewers, but for the participants, it was a brutal competition. Even for Korea, which had produced the best results this year, there were no exceptions. Fifteen out of the twenty participants in this room would have to try again next year.

It wasn’t a sad or particularly hopeful atmosphere—it was just reality.

Observing this, Yujin spoke up quietly.

"Did anyone feel overwhelmed or fearful during the matches today?"

It was a sudden and puzzling question, but none of the nineteen other people were foolish enough to respond with a question of their own. Instead, they all began to reflect on the matches.

Some wondered if they should raise their hands, even if they hadn’t experienced such feelings, but as it became clear that most hadn’t, the mood lightened again. After all, this was a game—a tournament.

With millions of people cheering them on, why would a pro player fear their opponent?

But on the flip side, the fact that most people hadn’t felt fear meant that there were a few who had.

Swoosh.

Amid the light-hearted atmosphere, a few people tentatively raised their hands. Surprisingly, they were the ones most likely to advance to the finals—the top performers in Saturday’s Asian Qualifiers.

Yujin’s eyes swept over the five raised hands.

Silence followed.

"That is the weight of combat."

"...What?"

"The higher you climb, the more refined and sharpened the blades of the top competitors become. The spark that flies from their clashes is no longer something that can be contained within the category of a 'tournament.'"

Even if it was just a game—that was the essence of combat, the fundamental truth of taking another’s life.

Her explanation continued seamlessly.

"Before the Asian Qualifiers began, I reviewed the match data from everyone who advanced to the finals two years ago and last year. I realized why so many of you fell short. There could be various excuses—the weather was too cold, you weren’t prepared enough, or you weren’t used to traveling abroad..."

With a single motion, Yujin turned off the holographic screen and added,

"...But the ultimate reason is that you treated the finals like just another tournament. I expect those who understood my question earlier to grasp what I’m saying now."

It felt like a bolt of lightning struck their minds.

She was right. The finals—the championship—wasn’t just a tournament. To rise to the top, one had to perceive the opponent not as another player or competitor but as prey, as someone they had to kill to survive. Only by pushing their limits beyond what they thought possible could they earn the right to climb higher.

The combat they experienced wasn’t something that fit neatly into the label of a "tournament." What Dais, Michael, and the others felt today was the essence of combat—the pressure that came with knowing they had to kill their opponent to survive.

Questions arose. How did Yujin know all this?

But that didn’t matter.

The silence ended.

"Understand and get used to that pressure."

A shorter debriefing followed after that.

There was discussion about how to approach various maps, how to best utilize terrain and revolution mechanics, and debates over individual strategies prepared for the next day. These twenty different threads of conversation stretched on until midnight, bringing the long but brief debriefing to a close.

October's Saturday slipped into the darkness, and as everyone slept, Sunday arrived.

"...Hey, are you asleep?"

"...No."

"...Then why aren’t you sleeping?"

Rustle.

"...I just can't believe that Yujin’s avatar is real..."

Of course, not everyone had fallen asleep.

"───Just like yesterday, please give a big round of applause for our competitors who’ve come such a long way!"

Woooaaahhh─!

The applause was even louder than yesterday, a roaring show of support. But unlike the day before, the competitors walking out onto the central stage today did so with an air of confidence. It's amazing how much a person can change in just a day.

Naturally, the first to walk out were the Korean players. Their more confident demeanor compared to yesterday filled everyone with a sense of trust and belief.

There was another reason for that, though.

"...Why do they look so tired?"

The Korean players whispered among themselves as they observed the competitors from other countries stepping onto the stage.

To the untrained eye, there didn’t seem to be any major problems. But with their keen instincts, the Korean team noticed that the players from the other four participating countries—Japan, Russia, China, and Taiwan—looked slightly fatigued.

Of course, the Koreans had no way of knowing the exact reason for this. There were too many potential explanations. Maybe they had stayed up late studying strategies or discussing countermeasures, but in the end, the truth was only known to the people themselves.

In other words, the participants knew.

'...Could this be another one of Korea’s mind games?'

Surprisingly, and somewhat amusingly, this was all because of something Yujin had casually agreed to the day before—"eating together with everyone."

The very decision that Dais, Harmony, and Yujin had made without much thought had led to a situation where the Russian, Japanese, Chinese, and Taiwanese players all witnessed Yujin’s true form. It had caused an unexpected ripple effect.

Simply put, their reaction was:

'...Is that really her?'

Naturally, the revelation had created psychological unease among the foreign players.

Globally, revealing the identity of an awakened individual was strictly forbidden. It wasn’t because any one organization had enforced this rule, but rather because it had become a natural part of how society functioned over time. Regardless of the reason, players weren’t exempt from this restriction.

In other words, the players had to be careful not to let anything slip while outside the game, adding an extra layer of mental effort.

The ironic thing was that this wasn’t even Yujin’s intention.

'...Could you really be Yujin...!?'

'Yes, that’s right. It’s nice to meet you in person.'

If her goal had been to cause trouble, Yujin would have behaved very differently. But instead, she had greeted every single one of the eighty foreign competitors with a handshake and friendly conversation. That wasn’t the behavior of someone trying to mentally pressure others.

In that sense, it was a relief. If anyone asked what it was like to meet Yujin, they could honestly say she was a nice person.

Though, it might sound more like a fan meeting than an Asian Qualifier.

In any case, time marched on regardless of their thoughts.

The goal was clear, and everything was proceeding like clockwork. After brief greetings and introductions, the players from each country took their seats, and the maps were selected.

After Saturday’s matches, there had been countless discussions, preparations, and strategy reviews.

For everyone except the Korean team, the strategies they had painstakingly prepared were on the verge of being overturned within a single day. They had no choice but to find a solution within the time limit.

It was time to deliver results.

"-The first map is the California Gas Fields!"

The acrid smell of flames and smoke stung the air.

-Now, one hundred players are being dropped into a burning mountain range. Only one can escape by helicopter. Who will emerge victorious? The Sunday matches of the Asian Qualifiers are about to begin.

From the transport plane soaring across the sky, silhouettes began to scatter, landing one by one on the ground.

The flames below flickered as if they were alive, welcoming the 100 players who had descended into the gas fields. The circle of fire slowly closed in.

Some players made a beeline for the areas where the fighting would be most intense, while others headed to more isolated spots, their weapons at the ready as they scoured the city and forest for opponents.

There was no need to worry about finding weapons—there were plenty scattered across the map.

At least, there should have been.

-Notice: The current area has been designated as a skill activation zone. Activation will commence in 5 minutes and 20 seconds.

"...Hmm."

Skills.

These were combat tools that could elevate Dark Zone players to a higher level. Comparable to firearms, or even more effective when used correctly, skill zones often became the focus of intense competition.

Players could either avoid them completely, swarm them, or let the winners of the zone walk away with the spoils. However, once a zone was designated for skill activation, the spawn rate of weapons in the area would drop drastically.

At the moment, the best equipment available was a couple of rifles, and more commonly, just handguns. Given the presence of shields, these wouldn’t be enough to deal significant damage.

Case quickly moved away from the area, thinking through his options.

'Will Yujin come to this zone?'

Judging from her past matches, she didn’t care much about skills. She never went out of her way to activate one of these zones. Not just yesterday, but throughout her entire play history, she’d shown the same pattern.

Even though the Korean players had improved remarkably, as long as Yujin wasn’t here, he was confident he could control the situation—though the Russians, who had started to gloat toward the end of yesterday, were a concern.

He needed to rack up kill points and knock them down as much as possible. With that in mind, Case headed for a building that offered a clear view of the surroundings.

It was a mistake.

Time passed.

Player names popped up in the kill feed as people were eliminated and sent back to the lobby. However, despite being only two minutes away from skill activation, there was an eerie lack of movement.

Even as the timer ticked down to one minute, nothing happened. Suspicion grew. But that wasn’t something Case needed to worry about. If no one else came, he would have won the standoff and could secure the skill before leaving.

Swoosh.

He carefully descended the stairs.

The sound of a transport plane’s engines could be heard overhead. A large crate, attached to a parachute, blinked with a red light as it slowly descended from the dark sky.

With a thud, the crate landed, kicking up a cloud of dust before automatically disassembling itself. The pieces scattered into hundreds of parts, which moved to the nearby building’s walls, forming a sort of structure and camouflaging themselves.

It was as if the skill activation zone had always been part of the building’s architecture—that was his target. Case cautiously began to move. He had checked numerous times, and there was no sign of anyone around. Still, he remained vigilant until the very last moment.

There was a reason for that.

Rustle.

'Bingo.'

He wasn’t alone.

Someone was just hiding.

And whoever it was, they were more impatient than him. However, it wasn’t time to make a decisive move yet. The weapons he had on hand weren’t powerful enough to guarantee the complete elimination of an unseen opponent.

So, he waited. Waiting was the virtue of an operator.

Using the light from the approaching wall of flames as cover, Case watched as a figure moved cautiously in the shadows.

They moved with professional precision. Tactically, there were no flaws. Their face was concealed, making it impossible to identify them, but as a beam of light briefly illuminated their shoulder, the patch of a Russian flag became visible.

That detail didn’t matter. The important thing was killing them before they could acquire a skill.

It was time to act.

"...Huff..."

The movements of a seasoned tracker.

Keeping a measured distance, Case closed in on the activation zone. Fifty meters. Twenty-five meters. Ten meters. Five meters... Even with his subpar weaponry, if he emptied a magazine into their back from this range, it would surely kill them.

His rifle was already set to full-auto.

Standing twenty meters behind his target, just a few meters away from the skill activation zone, Case braced himself for the recoil, pressed the stock against his shoulder, and placed his finger on the trigger.

But before he could pull it, the darkness to the right of his target seemed to tear open, and something rushed in, swallowing them whole.

Whoosh!

'What the...!'

From right to left, like a vacuum, something swept through the space and snatched his target away, disappearing from sight in an instant. It was an unprecedented, impossible situation. As tension surged through him, Case heard a dull, sickening sound.

Thud. Crack.

It was the kind of sound no one wanted to hear in real life.

But before he could process it, a shadow moved swiftly in the darkness. Even though Case had silently drawn a grenade, it wasn’t enough.

He saw it.

"...My luck's been terrible lately."

Light armor.

Aside from the pistol, they weren’t carrying any other firearms. They were probably in a similar situation as him—maybe even worse off.

In the faint light, Case caught a glimpse of long hair and blue eyes. In their right hand was a fire axe. It was all the confirmation he needed of who his opponent was.

Rat-tat-tat-tat!

The muzzle flashed as Case unleashed a desperate barrage while retreating.