"This is insane, what the hell."

"Another victim has arrived. Let’s quickly open the notepad."

A user ejected into the lobby gasped for breath as they sat up abruptly on the bed. The person waiting in the room spoke casually, as if nothing unusual had happened, and the player, infused with reality's air, began to regain their senses.

A holographic screen projected on one wall, filled with a stark, inorganic light. It displayed Yujin's gameplay—this action was simple: to dissect the tricks that the participant had never imagined.

The wellspring of knowledge, which already seemed infinite, doubled as Yujin began using her skills, and the notepads of early exit pro gamers and coaches grew heavy with notes.

Especially when using skills that were considered off-meta, like today.

"Foam grenades? Wasn't the foam skill completely off-meta?"

"At least it’s certain that it’s off-meta no longer starting today."

"It can’t be that easy. If you don’t know the explosion range of the foam grenades and the expansion properties and angles of the polyurethane foam, you wouldn’t dare attempt such things."

That was precisely why Yujin stood at the top.

As if it was natural to handle foam with such ease, the outcome was anything but simple. Each time a canister or grenade exploded, unpenetrable defensive barriers sprang forth, trapping the enemy.

Not only that, but the moment she ignited the foam with incendiary or flash grenades, hydrogen cyanide gas would seep out, inflicting status effects on the enemies.

While it wasn’t without oxygen masks, it was impossible to calmly put one on while being chased—and even if it were possible, adjusting the positioning of gun accessories would lead to complications in aiming.

Only hollow laughter filled the air.

"It’s like fighting with a child’s wrist."

"Is this really the Final Championship?"

It could be, or it could not… The words that couldn’t be uttered flickered in their minds.

Despite the presence of seasoned veterans who had been through countless hardships and even served in deployment, they were all stomped upon so nonchalantly. The unpredictable variables shattered the frame of combat, turning the opponents into children who had just picked up guns for the first time.

And in that moment, everyone realized: her physical prowess was merely a secondary factor. The true strength lay in Yujin’s ability to assemble the battlefield as she wished—something the Korean representatives had already grasped months ago.

The simple phrase of achieving victory through combat was not enough.

To defeat Yujin, one had to understand what she wanted and dismantle the battlefield she was trying to construct.

"Can that even be done?"

"They really came prepared."

While her previous battles had felt like a bulldozer, blocking every option of the enemy through overwhelming physicality, Yujin’s play style, wielding a foam grenade in one hand and a firearm in the other, had taken on a far more ominous transformation.

In an instant, the escape routes would be sealed off. Those who managed to escape were merely the fortunate ones holding incendiary grenades, yet that only served to advertise their locations through the flames and explosions.

And it was at that moment that everyone began to realize.

"…Isn't the ceiling of the foam skill too high?"

"Aren't there too many factors to consider to reach that point?"

"I didn’t think it would become a pawn to sacrifice the Final Championship."

Using this national-level tournament, which existed just below the World Cup and Olympics, as a sacrificial offering to gather data for future curriculum development.

It was absurd, but it was the truth.

"This is just too much…."

But what could be done?

And those who were quick on the uptake were already preparing for the next step.

"Quickly negotiate with the Korean team. Check the contract expiration dates for the players after the Final Championship, and if there's no significant outcome, relay whether they’d be willing to do joint training after this tournament. Hurry!"

It was the very definition of a farce.

Of course, the Korean representatives were completely ignoring this situation.

"We're getting calls from places other than Orbital Gaming. What should we do?"

"How can we negotiate when we’re barely keeping up with supporting our own players? Just politely craft a message saying it would be difficult to cooperate since we’re so busy, and send that as a reply."

"Understood."

While the surface reason was busyness, the real reason was different.

The number of those who could truly understand and keep up with Yujin’s curriculum was at most five or six. There were some users who had received guidance from her but had no assurance of properly digesting it, and numerous pro gamers who couldn’t even keep up.

Yujin was a spire that jutted out amid the linear skill graphs of Korean pro gamers, a prey that continuously flowed down their throats until fully consumed.

With so many still unable to digest it or even grasp its essence, foreign users were now coveting Yujin or those who had received her teachings. It was understandable that greed was swelling up to their throats, but that was all.

"This is my first time at such a chaotic American deployment."

Someone's remark represented the feelings of all.

This was the current reality of the Final Championship.

"Should I be glad that it’s never boring each year, or should I feel honored to face challenges…."

They endure and persevere. That’s what was commonly thought to be the measure of strength associated with "special forces"—withstanding extreme environments that ordinary people could never endure while maintaining combat effectiveness was their motto.

However, aside from that—these were also human beings. It was only natural that people would not enjoy situations that caused them pain.

Once part of the 75th Ranger Regiment’s direct search battalion (RRC), which was slightly less known than Delta Force and DEVGRU, Stormseer had proudly won the title of "World’s Strongest User" during last year's Final Championship. Yet he, too, was not exempt from this context.

He hated the biting cold, despised the mountains that had no reason for humans to tread, loathed the burning heat and oppressive humidity, and was repelled by water, high-altitude jumps… he hated many things.

And today.

He would add the polyurethane foam surging from all sides to that list.

"…What a nightmare."

It was almost natural, but while the maps of the Final Championship had various terrains, one of the most frequently seen structures was, without a doubt, the materials warehouse or the interiors of complex buildings.

Of course, the real facilities wouldn’t actually look like this, but they were traversing a virtual space. The placement was intentionally adjusted to balance combat and generate variables, ensuring that no one could easily claim victory.

And Stormseer found himself disliking it immensely today.

BANG!

The muzzle flared.

As a dozen bullets cut through the air, they lodged into the polyurethane foam, but whatever was mixed inside, they didn’t penetrate. Not only that, but the large foam that formed well enough to shield his body also confused the enemy's location.

The polyurethane foam could easily be destroyed with incendiary grenades dropped throughout the California gas facility, but of course, from a cost-efficiency standpoint, that was practically trash.

Clang!

In the meantime, a grenade flew in from an angle he couldn’t even see, tracing a high parabola and landing within ten meters of Stormseer, exploding before he could evade. If one didn’t calculate the airborne time precisely, such a feat would have been impossible.

The identity of the opponent was, of course, no mystery.

"What a stroke of bad luck. Of all people, it’s that Yujin."

It was a common reaction.

And it wasn’t wrong either. Yujin was creating cover that wouldn’t normally exist and cornering Stormseer into the far end of the warehouse. Although he knew where the emergency exit was, honestly, he didn’t think he could escape.

However, even so. It was the very purpose of their creation to assume such situations, adapt in real time, and find a way out.

Taking a breath, he quickly dashed out, returning fire at Yujin, and she responded in kind—and the place where Stormseer had arrived was not the cover Yujin had previously created, but a spot just a little off to the side.

And from the cover he had just passed, an explosion erupted.

BANG!

"Ha, I knew it."

It was precisely as he had assumed; there would be at least one booby trap set. Stormseer forced himself to suppress the rising smile, thus returning the battle to square one.

And then the logic circuits of both began to function.

"So, what the hell has that person been doing?"

To be honest, he wasn’t the type to strictly adhere to the established doctrines, but neither was he someone who simply used what he learned, dulled by inertia.

That was why, after joining the Dark Zone upon his discharge, he became a pro in no time and rose to the top. The knowledge he gained while serving in the military was undoubtedly useful, but it didn’t necessarily yield maximum efficiency in every battle.

The Final Championship and the rules of the Apex Predator represented an extreme battle royale that could never exist in reality, and in other words, there were advantageous combat methods in a battle royale.

And this did not converge with the objectives of field manuals or the various special forces CQB courses.

Thus, he had learned a 'hunting method' applicable only in battle royales, and he thoroughly kept this fact a secret.

And amid this was now happening.

CRASH!

Another grenade exploded. But it didn’t detonate near him; it was being used as pure distraction.

And every time he encountered this use of explosives and firearms that exceeded his imagination, he felt again that his foundation was built upon countless CQB manuals based on existing common sense and experience.

"…Which unit taught that grenades could be used in such a way?"

It wasn’t even a booby trap.

It was the very definition of using explosives for confusion.

With an absolute focus on killing the opponent by any means necessary, that bizarre combat style. But that very style worked astonishingly well. He knew that from yesterday’s debriefing and felt it painfully in today’s combat.

Then, a natural curiosity welled up in Stormseer’s mind.

Of course, there was no time to rest.

"Haha, damn…!"

With a strange metallic clang, a grenade rolled precisely to where he had been. But he decided to flee in an unpredictable direction, and sure enough, a shadow flickered from the most suitable escape route that arose in an instant.

Though he took a couple of bullets to his back, Stormseer once again hid behind safe cover, repeatedly squeezing the trigger. He sustained damages that were hard to endure, but if he had used the escape route he had previously scouted, he would have been ejected into the lobby immediately.

Yet even as he was occupied with thoughts, his mind’s circuits resumed their erratic operations.

"If this combat logic is rooted in countless experiences…."

In just one year since his debut, he had established the most effective combat method for the Final Championship through meticulous analysis and countless scrims, ranked matches, and tournament participation.

But at this point, Yujin possessed a combat logic that was several times sharper and more effective than what he had established—making him feel as if he were engaged in real combat, not just a tournament.

And amid that, a forgotten fact flickered through his mind.

Yujin had also once been part of the U.S. military.

Which meant—

"What the hell unit was she with?"

In Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, and countless other deployment areas, the tactics she used were not those that could be applied against enemies, but rather—

Could it be that Yujin’s tactics were, quite literally, designed to kill 'Icarus Operators'?

But considering that such Icarus Operators did not exist in reality…

What unit had she belonged to?

What kind of enemies had the unit that Yujin was a part of trained against?

But then—

BANG!

"Guessing how many grenades there are is dangerous."

No idea where she had gotten so many grenades, but this time, the one Yujin threw arced high, coming in from a direction he hadn’t even noticed.

With a tremendous noise and shockwave, and countless metal fragments hurtling in, as his shield was continually pounded, Yujin swiftly closed the distance. By the time distance became a meaningless word, Stormseer’s logic circuits couldn’t delve deeper, and even if he attempted to, he realized his life was in jeopardy.

And then—

As he reached that conclusion, darkness enveloped his vision.

The avatar, with its face horrifically mangled, rolled like a deflated balloon. Stormseer realized through the sensation of hitting the ground that he was sprawled on the floor.

Should he lament dying before displaying his true abilities, or should he be glad to have gained something worth it after losing a match?

Of course, before making that decision, the spike of a tactical tomahawk came flying in.

CRACK!

Yujin was a hardcore user, but at least in tournaments, melee attacks didn’t provide any feedback to the victim.

Yet when he was ejected into the lobby, Stormseer received a detailed transmission of what his own sign was.

"Tactical tomahawk spike; irreversible cervical spine damage."

She was determined to ensure he choked out for good.

In the end, he could do nothing but let out a ridiculous laugh.