NoveLight ™
The finals were definitely unlike anything before. There were a variety of events before the match itself began. A few days prior, they called us in for trash-talking sessions, took video clips, and captured photos from multiple angles.
For me, it seemed like ground techniques were especially popular. They showed footage of me holding a camera orb between my thighs, stabbing with a dagger while covering my eyes. I’d never acted before, so I wasn’t sure how it would turn out. My tense expression, frozen with anxiety, actually came across as cool and composed.
But looking at it now, it felt a bit suggestive, almost awkward to hear my own voice overlaid. Ah, well. It’ll be fine.
I thought these things were scripted, but they made me do it on the spot, which was tough since Kendo doesn’t have a trash-talk culture.
Still, it was a fun experience. I didn’t want to come off as too weak, so I went all out, and the staff seemed to love it. When the guest performer’s show finally ended, I heard the announcer’s voice.
《Hello, everyone! At last, the Infinity Arena Finals are here! Broadcasting live from our special stage, I’m caster Hoeun.》
The pre-match polls were pretty clear—about 80% predicted my loss. Understandable. Even though I had beaten Reaper, Kelberos was a whole other level. He was a player everyone respected, and just in terms of class matchup, I was at a disadvantage.
But considering that, 20% betting on me wasn’t bad. An underdog upset is always exciting in sports.
Next was the player introduction with highlight reels, much like during the group draw ceremony. My reel included that archer getting dunked in the ocean and even Haruka caught in my traps—how they found that, I have no idea. And they brought up that “Korean Tea-bagging Girl” nickname again. I guess they don’t plan on letting it go anytime soon.
The English-speaking crowd still seemed to find that meme hilarious. I probably only reignited interest by fighting Muse when people were starting to lose interest. I know I brought it on myself, but could we just... not?
Luckily, this was the finals. There were far more highlight-worthy moments this time.
The first round against Rime, where I baited his weapon break with my decoy. The opening skirmish with Reaper, exchanging daggers mid-fight. The ground game against Muse, and then the recent undead bombardment in the snow.
The video ended with Crow’s perspective, showing me approaching to finish him off. After a beat of silence, I walked onto the stage.
《Yes, who would have guessed this! An unknown assassin from the Far East has made it this far—welcome, Gawol!》 《She’s toppled North America’s spear, scattered England’s nightmare, conquered South America’s rising star, and hasn’t lost a single set along the way.》 《Can anyone still call her a mere trickster or dark horse? She’s clearly established herself as a formidable player. Let’s see what strategies Gawol has in store for us.》 《And next up...》
Then came Kelberos, the frontrunner, who calmly walked onto the stage. He looked as if he were merely retrieving what was already his, with unwavering steps.
Last year’s mid-season international champion, a multi-time European league winner, and an MVP contender whose name was never missed in discussions. Traveler and Luce had both fallen to his feet.
Thinking about that was enough to make me furious.
It wasn’t like I was the biggest fan of Luce. But as a fan, it was only natural that a sense of vengeance would well up within me. The right amount of anger is fuel. With determination in my heart, I took the stage and faced Kelberos.
Kelberos, the cause of it all, smirked and asked, “I recently did an interview again. I wonder if you saw it.”
“I did. Why?”
“Just wondering if you think I finally understand your skills now.”
“Hah... looks like you do. I’ll give you that.”
Ah, that dulls the sense of vengeance a bit. But that doesn’t mean I plan to go easy.
Pro gamers always shake hands before a match. It’s a tradition, like a formalized duel, which I kind of liked. I wasn’t thrilled about having to look up at him, though.
Who does he think he is, looking down on me?
[Infinity Arena Finals – Match 1] [Battlefield: Where the Storm Sleeps] [vs. AT Kelberos (Dark Knight/Spellblade)]
As soon as I entered the battlefield, rain lashed against my body. A ship swayed in the current, and twisted trees seemed to cry out. Under the gloomy night, I took my first step.
Choosing the Spellblade class—was this a warm-up match for him? It seemed likely he was testing the waters, gauging me before committing to a full battle. Spellblade allowed for more versatility than the Dark Knight.
‘You’ll regret it. If that’s how you want to play, this match is mine.’
Swinging from the ropes, I moved through the wreckage. In this stage, the darkness obscured sight, and the rain muffled sound. Tracking an assassin moving without magic was nearly impossible.
He’d have no way of spotting the ambush. The only thing that mattered was how much damage I could do.
As soon as I spotted Kelberos, I pulled myself forward on the rope. Launching from the bow, I rode the centrifugal force, releasing the rope mid-swing to drive my dagger toward his neck.
“Ugh...!”
His reaction speed was unbelievable. He twisted his body just in time, and my dagger only managed to pierce near his shoulder blade. An icy chill of a frost spell immediately targeted my ankle.
Quick stabs, but narrow targeting. I pulled back, leveraging my lowered stance to strike upward, only for his arm to intercept. His sword, recovered, glinted with a freezing aura. I’d seized the tempo, but should I attack?
No. I wasn’t well-positioned to counter any retaliation. Exchanging hits would put me at a disadvantage. I had to be content with a shallow wound on his extremities.
“Too bad. I thought I was prepared, but it seems avoiding the first ambush entirely is impossible.”
“If blocking worked every time, no one would bother with assassins.”
“You’re not wrong. But not everyone can succeed like you have.”
My master and I had reached the same conclusion about Kelberos: this guy wasn’t just a gamer who played in his room all day. I didn’t know his past, but he clearly had formal martial arts training.
It wasn’t surprising that he’d trained in martial arts. Combat in Infinity Black was all about movement. Naturally, pro gamers received various forms of training, and many former athletes entered the scene. But even with that in mind, Kelberos’ proficiency was exceptional. I doubted he’d only recently started training.
[You are affected by ‘Ancient Sage’s Chill.’] [Movement speed reduced by 15%...]
[‘Arterial Cut: Enhanced Damage’ effect triggered.] [The target is affected by enhanced bleeding poison.]
Every attack was tricky. Up close, his superior reach threatened me with kicks and blade strikes; at a distance, he’d rain down spells. A single slip could shatter my footing, making things unbearably tense.
Kelberos was excellent at locking in his advantageous positions. I absolutely couldn’t let him push me into a corner.
Still... I seemed to be gaining the upper hand, at least for now.
Using my cloak, I shielded myself as I blocked his longsword. He couldn’t see me from his angle. I switched to my throwing weapon and aimed at his foot.
He dodged smoothly, but it was clear he hadn’t seen me yet—meaning it was a matter of prediction rather than reaction.
“Quite the lower body strikes you’ve got there.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“It’s curious, though. The form is polished, but your lower attacks are especially vicious.”
“Hmph.”
He retaliated with an ice spike that flew towards me. I leaped up, expending some of my guard to block his strike. I hurled a couple more projectiles, and Kelberos blinked away to gain distance.
That was a perceptive remark. In sports kendo, lower strikes weren’t utilized.
They called it the “one-step kill zone.” When you step into striking range, lowering your stance exposes your head, the most critical target, to your opponent’s blade.
But this was still a game. Sticking strictly to kendo’s style only hindered my growth. I’d developed my unique lower stance technique out of necessity since an injury to my left leg would put me at a disadvantage.
So while lower strikes consumed less time than upper or middle strikes, it didn’t mean they were weaknesses—far from it.
“So? If you’re confident, prove it.”
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TL note:
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