NoveLight ™
“The data is accumulating faster than expected.”
“Has the foreign team noticed anything?”
“Not yet. They are closely watching Korea’s reaction, but this year, they seem to think that their home country is performing better than last year.”
Turning the clock back, Wednesday evening.
In the Russian team's briefing room, which was more strictly controlled than other countries, charts, figures, and mini-maps showing movement routes were scattered everywhere.
At the front, standing on the podium, was the chief analyst sent by the Russian gaming organization’s task force, busily explaining something—at the same time, the screen changed. Four flags appeared in the air, followed by key points listed beneath them.
Japan, China, Taiwan, and finally, Korea.
With a gesture from the chief analyst, the flags of the first three countries disappeared in an instant, and after several summaries, a full page of notes with warnings and peculiarities regarding South Korea appeared under the Korean flag.
Below it was written “анализирующий двигатель 2” — "Analysis Engine 2" in Russian.
In short, Russia also had a secret weapon of its own.
“How is the progress?”
“The analysis itself was finished a while ago. But… you know. The playstyle of Korean national team users isn’t something that can be fully understood with analysis alone. It’s built on basic skills refined to the extreme, combined with trick plays that work in ways that are hard to imagine.”
“Meaning the countermeasures are a separate issue. Still, at least a few solutions are being established.”
There had once been an analysis engine in Korea.
Russia succeeded in developing a modified version of this engine before the 4th Asia Qualifiers, and by stuffing in the combat data from Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, they were running it full throttle.
However, even with the analysis engine, implementing the results in reality was a human task. Even Russia’s top players were still struggling to compete with the finely honed Korean players.
Thus, their strategy was as follows:
“Through Monday and Tuesday’s analysis, we successfully classified the behavioral patterns of enemies encountered during matches. It seems that we’ll continue collecting combat data by engaging with users, excluding the top 10 we’ve mentioned.”
“And we should avoid encountering those top 10 users.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
The 10.
Dice, Harmony, and others like Ink, Gambit, Michael, and Blooming who had reached the finals of last year’s championship, as well as about four other players.
The chief analyst indirectly warned them to be cautious around these players because, once they encountered them, it was almost impossible to gather combat data without being quickly overwhelmed.
Fortunately, after three days of data collection, they had learned that Korean players’ playstyles were based on a single original source, and that the higher they climbed, the more their play became refined to the extreme. However, they hadn’t yet decided how to respond.
It wasn’t that there had been no progress at all.
“Fortunately, through continuous analysis, we were able to identify a few more points that our home country’s players still need to master.”
At the same time, several videos appeared on the screen.
After six or so videos played, ten minutes passed, and the analyst began explaining each one while pointing with a laser pointer on the paused screen.
“First, Korean players are extremely skilled at grenade use. They have an acute understanding of the shockwave, noise, and blast radius of grenades, and they know exactly how close they can get to an explosion or even pull the pin between the explosions without being heard.”
“Does this relate to the ‘Molly and Grenade connection’ Korean players often use?”
“We believe it’s certainly related.”
Eugene was the first to introduce this strategy last year, and now it had become a popular tactic in PVP—so much so that it was considered a basic tactic. However, using it was a different matter. Without sufficient skill, it couldn’t be overcome. The analyst waved his hand and moved on to the next point.
The next key observation. Some things could only be improved by increasing proficiency, while others—like recognizing the exact timing between skill deployment and full placement—were crucial to understanding and exploiting.
Someone added, as if spitting it out:
“…It feels like Korean players’ playstyle was created, structured, and evolved just to kill an Icarus operator that might exist in reality.”
“Analysts unanimously claim that this ability stems from Eugene’s absurdly sharp perception, but it seems like there’s more to it.”
“That’s not something we need to worry about.”
“…Right.”
After a deep breath, the analyst added:
“Although we haven’t come to a clear answer yet, it’s certain that the modified playstyle of our home players is yielding better results than before.”
“Unless a major issue arises, there’s no need to change it. I just hope tomorrow goes smoothly.”
Of course, none of this was illegal.
It was completely normal for coaches and analysts to analyze the plays and tactics used by foreign players, and Taiwan, who ranked last last year, was already analyzing the scrim data from previous Asia Qualifiers.
At this point, what the foreign teams feared was that the analysis was being carried out “properly.” The reason was simple—once Korea realized this fact, they could change their playstyle entirely.
Unfortunately, although the Russian team knew this, they still didn’t know how to respond to it.
And so, they spent the whole night struggling with unresolved issues, but couldn’t come up with a proper solution. Another day began.
The night turned to morning, the morning to a gloomy afternoon, and then it was Thursday at 7 PM. Once again, hundreds of match-related personnel moved to their respective lounges, and thousands of spectators filled the stands. Another day, just like yesterday, had begun.
However, unlike the spectators hoping for an exciting match, the coaches and analysts staring at the screens were tense. It was obvious. Hoping for different results in the same situation was closer to wishing for a miracle than anything else.
“…It begins.”
Some looked relaxed, others tense.
The match began, and nearly a hundred players were deployed onto the map. A giant firestorm surrounded the entire mountain range, closing in on a gas facility, and a hundred dots began moving in unison.
Each dot represented a person. Some, trying to preserve their lives, faded away due to chance or the butterfly effect caused by a single wrong choice. Even the top-tier players who had fought their way up to this point disappeared in the blink of an eye.
But it couldn’t be helped. Everyone had to watch the big match, focusing on the overall outcome rather than the disappearing players.
So what would happen this time? In the Russian team’s lounge, twenty dots on the map had turned blue, and the analysts from their country were checking in real-time to see if the players were meeting their goals.
Once a foreign player engaged, the dots turned red, and a stopwatch appeared on the side, tracking time.
At least 40 seconds. If possible, 2 minutes and 30 seconds. Anything beyond that would increase the likelihood of attracting the attention of other users nearby, resulting in more losses than gains. The analysts, aware of this, anxiously watched the screen.
“…Entering 40 seconds.”
Someone muttered.
As if on cue, the red text on the stopwatch turned blue.
Through the magnified screen, two players were clearly visible, engaged in a gunfight behind complex cover. The tension in the air was palpable. Even in such extreme circumstances, the players swapped magazines, used their skills, and pushed their limits to survive.
The situation was nearly a deadlock, and the Russian player, Tochka, was fighting against Korea’s Blooming. Despite being ranked 8th in the top 10 selected by Russia, the battle was progressing relatively smoothly.
Tochka lived up to their reputation, with relentless attacks and constant movement, trying to secure advantages and flip the game.
And then, at 1 minute and 24 seconds, just as the Russian team’s players allowed themselves a small smirk—
Boom!
Tochka turned to ashes.
The eyes of the many watching the screen widened in shock, while the kill log displayed a grim and emotionless combination of pictograms and text: four grenades exploding simultaneously, turning the player into minced meat.
Of course, this was not the end.
“As I speak! A large portion of the players who were engaging with Korean players are being shot out of the lobby! What in the world happened here—!”
Russia, Japan, China, Taiwan.
A bizarre phenomenon, with no regard for the opponent.
They had to figure out what happened, but their frozen minds refused to heat up again, and only short groans escaped their mouths.
How long had it been before someone muttered:
“…Did Byam snap his fingers with the Infinity Gauntlet or something?”
It was truly maddening.
“The effect is definite.”
“...Wow.”
Meanwhile, in the Korean lounge.
Just because Byam had stopped, it didn’t mean the Anaconda was turning back into a worm.
That thought lingered in everyone’s mind.
“…What just happened?”
Korea, Japan, China, Russia.
A scream of surprise escaped the mouths of everyone who had participated in this year’s Asia Qualifiers... A situation that, unless explained by the Byam-Gauntlet, was hard to piece together, unfolded in front of millions of viewers.
It was clear that Byam had orchestrated this. But what had actually happened? Why was this happening on Thursday, not Monday? What had Eugene taught them? The excitement began to settle as the kill log appeared, and the atmosphere slowly calmed down.
But that didn’t mean the fuel for the fire had stopped.
“That... Eugene must have provided some feedback for this, right?”
“The playstyle changed so suddenly…”
People always have a knack for creating firewood when there’s none available, and this was no exception.
It was hard to keep up with the real-time match, but that didn’t mean the warriors of this community weren’t discussing it online. Trying to figure out the reason for the sudden change in playstyle became the main topic.
“It seems like just testing a tactic? It looks like a supply version of the Harmony meta. It’s obvious that not many can follow Eugene’s play like Dice can, but if they understand the principle, they’re probably trying a bomb meta.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t they start on Tuesday or Wednesday, why Thursday?”
“Seems like the tactic adjustment isn’t fully complete... but why?”
Only the Korean national team knew the full story.
And even they had no idea when the embargo would lift. If this helped to establish Korea’s playstyle foundation, it might never be publicly revealed, even for defensive purposes. And at that point, viewers couldn’t contain their curiosity and started bursting out in excitement.
Of course, the opponent was Eugene. They all knew that even if they threw a tantrum, the opponent wouldn’t care.
If Eugene were willing to share, she wouldn’t have thrown away 80,000 viewers who flooded into her channel after the KSM ended last year. There were many other records as well.
Now, it was said that “knowing when Eugene would start streaming is like predicting tomorrow’s weather.”
But beyond all of this, there was a conversation that needed to happen.
“Just when I thought Korea could handle it on their own, they immediately took down Russia as soon as they started performing well. It’s fierce, really fierce.”
“This must’ve been Eugene’s involvement... Even after just a year, it’s hard to catch up. This is really scary. How much higher do they plan to raise the average skill level?”
“The match is over. If they can’t snap out of the shock quickly, the next match will be even harder…”
Korea might have seemed like it no longer needed Eugene’s help, but that was a mistaken belief.
Even though they had risen above the top teams to become the undisputed number one, it was clear there was still room to go even higher. As soon as this fact became known, the mental state of foreign viewers, excluding Korea, crumbled like dust or ashes. But not everyone thought it was all doom and gloom.
From a broader perspective, just because Korea was ranked first now didn’t mean they’d stay out of reach forever. Eventually, there would come a time when individual flair, rather than sheer skill difference, would decide victory.
Of course, that day would come only if they could endure the constant beatings until then.
After the first match ended, the camera zoomed in on the Russian team’s lounge.
A dozen or so figures ran toward some unknown destination. The viewers knew exactly where they were headed.
The long or short night—or the day due to the time difference—came to a close, and Thursday’s streaming ended. But as always, the viewers left behind had a much longer wait ahead of them.
And their job was simple:
[General] Fact Bomb: Analyzed this year’s Asia qualifiers quickly, hurry and give me some points!
<Doodles of Eugene sticking out their tongue>
Actually, just kidding.
[Full Comments] [Newest First]
"Damn, they all came rushing in like crazy."
"Haha, why is their tongue so long?"
[Author]: "Well... because it’s Byam."
[General] I think I get why Byam suddenly transformed everyone into Harmony now.
<Doodle of Eugene scratching their head, looking confused>
...
Of course, I said I get it, but I’m not telling you. Haha, Byam~
[Full Comments] [Newest First]
"This is crazy. I’ll PDF and go after you guys. Be ready."
"Why are we running? Who told us to?"
[Response]: "It turns blue if you say stuff like that."
As usual, the world of trolling and low-level baiting never changes, and this was happening everywhere, not just in Korea.
Thus, Thursday ended.
"After we return, we can prepare the Byam raid, right?"
"Yes!"
"Finally!"
"…Well, it's nice to see you're hopeful."
Meanwhile, at the end of Thursday.
This was just another ordinary day.