"Hmph, you bastard."
After a hard-fought game, I won 2-1.
I was a bit dumbfounded. No, reality isn’t a web novel, so maybe this is how it’s supposed to be?
"Fuck, I knew it beforehand and still lost one round. As expected, the first string is the first string, those fucking talented bastards."
From the perspective of someone without talent, it was truly disgusting. Of course, you can’t help what you’re born with.
Especially in esports and the arts or athletics, talent plays an even bigger role.
I know and understand that these guys also put in effort, which is why they succeed.
But fuck, it’s sickening. It means that those who don’t have it can never beat those who do, unless they have some kind of cheat.
I sighed and stood up from my seat. It seemed everyone but me and one other person had lost.
Seeing them bury their heads in their keyboards and sigh deeply, it was obvious, just obvious.
"At least I’ll be moving up with the person who joined at the same time."
I subtly went over and struck up a conversation. I wanted to set a good mood.
"You won? Congratulations, JungleBoyMogli."
"Oh, I was just lucky. Did FatherofGojo win too?"
"Yes."
"Wow, wasn’t HumansAreOverated good? He even won Rookie of the Year."
"What’s the point of that? You have to be good now."
"Pfft, that’s true."
Looking at JungleBoyMogli, who was laughing, I felt a bit bitter. For others, maybe, but my life really couldn’t be like a web novel.
I felt a little bitter. No, quite a lot.
The coach announced the results, pointing at me and JungleBoyMogli.
"FatherofGojo and JungleBoyMogli, good work. I didn’t expect you, FatherofGojo, to make it up, let alone Jungle."
"Invincibility lies in defense, and the possibility of victory lies in offense."
"...What are you talking about? Is this bastard quoting anime again?"
"Ahem, no, I’m not."
"Anyway, you two will move to the first string dormitory starting tomorrow. I’ve already reported it, and the rest of you, once your living arrangements are decided, try to do well and learn from them, alright?"
"Yes!"
I intended to spend this day quite comfortably. First, I sat down and reviewed the replays.
That HumansAreOverated bastard, his APM is high, and his reflexes are insane.
"Perhaps because he was the Rookie of the Year, his control was outstanding. My APM only exceeds 400 during engagements. But I won because I was better. Fucking bastard."
I tried to let go of my resentment towards him. I probably wouldn’t meet him again.
I’ll take your spot, thank you very much. I stretched.
"By the way, for a dream, it’s quite long, isn’t it? When will it end? Am I filming some pro gamer regression story?"
I scratched my head and surfed the web. Then I heard the conversations of those who had been eliminated.
"Maybe I should just quit. Sigh."
"Why? You were doing well until last week. If you look at the ladder now, you’re ranked 70th. You’re the highest!"
"What’s the point of being high, fuck? I can’t win. Ah, do I just not have talent?"
"Then I’m even more hopeless. I got swept 2-0, fuck. Ah, I love playing games. Is this not the path for me?"
I subtly looked at the people talking. Honestly, I always thought the same thing, so I empathized.
Sometimes in our society, there are people who say, "I understand you," "I feel you," and so on.
That’s utter nonsense. Someone who has never failed can never truly understand someone who has only failed. Just as a genius cannot understand an ordinary person.
That’s why I could understand those people.
"In the past, I also failed, holed up in my room, and then went back home. Should I try to change things this time?"
What does it matter? It’s just a dream.
I stood up and approached the people.
"Excuse me for a moment."
"Yes?"
"Um... could I see your replays? I was wondering if I could give you some feedback."
My words surprised them. Because I was acting so suddenly.
"Feedback from the second string?"
"He’s not even a coach...?"
Even if it’s not the case now, back then, giving each other feedback in the second string was quite awkward.
The perception itself was the problem. Unlike LoL or Warcraft, similar to StarCraft, considered second string players as disposable at any time.
"I just want to spend today comfortably. Would that be possible? Haha."
"Ah, yes."
"Please do."
I watched both of their replays. While watching, I clearly saw the problems.
"Hmm, this person is lacking in this aspect. Huh, what kind of mistake did this person make? Fuck, did they play drunk? Is he a hidden noob."
After watching everything, I briefly organized my thoughts. The feedback content was decided. Let me just organize it a little more.
This person has no problem with their play itself. The problem is that they’re too complacent.
There are often people like that. Their physicals are really good, decent even. But they keep losing.
It’s because of their complacency. If they could just fix that complacency, they’d be called monsters.
The other person just had a lot of minor mistakes overall. It could be said that they lost games they had already won by doing unnecessary things.
Okay, it’s all organized.
"First, ProfessorD. You played really well, but look here. At this timing, in a DD match, it’s usually the time to attach a Shade, isn’t it?"
"Ah...."
"That’s why you kept getting backstabbed every time you hunted, and you lost games you had already won."
"But I couldn’t see them even when I cast Dust. Was it a bug?"
"They anticipated your Dust timing and pulled their Shade back. I often use that trick too."
"Ah... sigh."
ProfessorD, now realizing the problem, let out a long sigh. What’s there to sigh about?
Their ladder rank is high, and they’d make it to the first string with just a little more effort.
"If you just fix this point, you’ll win next time. Next is Raichu."
"Yes."
I pointed at the monitor. I tried to speak in a way that wouldn’t hurt them too much, but still delivered only the facts.
"Raichu, you make too many mistakes. Here, you could have easily fought for timing, but you lost the creep you were hunting. And here. You keep leaking units. Even in the last engagement, you had 10 more population count, but you messed up your control while trying to pull back and lost."
"Ah, that drives me crazy. I know it, but it’s hard to fix."
I smiled gently and nodded. I know that feeling well. It’s a mistake I often make when playing rhythm games too.
"Hmm, there’s a lot to fix here. I’d rather recommend one thing."
"What is it?"
I pointed at the monitor again.
"Okay, first, you had an advantage in the race matchup, right? In that case, try using Ghouls instead of Spiders."
"Ghouls are too weak."
"Even if they’re weak, more of them come out, and they can be used in more diverse ways. Since you like fighting after taking an expansion, if you take an expansion and flood Ghouls, you’ll win even if you make mistakes."
"Oh...!"
This theory applies to any type of game, and even to sports.
For people who make many minor mistakes and thus can’t advance further, even though they could.
You just need to prepare a customized build or strategy that suits them. David Beckham and Haaland in football are prime examples.
If a player has overwhelming skill but a strong, distinct style, then all allies and tactics revolve organically around those players.
Of course, there are downsides. If that player dies while doing this, the game tempo itself also dies.
"Still, this level of feedback shouldn’t be too difficult."
I took a breath and was about to stand up when other people approached me. Huh, what’s going on?
"Oh, could you take a look at mine too?"
"Bro, please take a look at mine too. I’m dying here."
"Me too, me too!"
One by one, they gathered. This kind of attention, honestly, surprised me because it was my first time.
"Haha, I’ll do my best, I guess."
Everyone focused on me. Not just anywhere, but in the second string dormitory, where no one gets any attention.
It was a dream, but it felt strangely good. So much so that I couldn’t even clearly remember the women I used to like so much.
I gave feedback with real passion. As if I were a head coach.
While giving feedback, I felt even more uplifted by the sense of reward or satisfaction. These emotions.
As I gave them feedback, people looked at me as if they had achieved enlightenment, expressing their gratitude.
"Accepting feedback is also a matter of talent. How many people can’t do it even if they try?"
As expected, you can’t underestimate this team’s second string either. Everyone but me is talented, seriously.
Still, they were people who had eaten from the same pot. Even if they were competitors on stage.
Of course, I honestly disliked the word "competitor." Healthy competition is good. But mindless competition inevitably leads to illicit methods like connections or rigging.
Having seen so much of that, I wanted to avoid unconditional competition like the old fogeys.
If the water upstream is murky, should the water downstream, which is me, also be murky?
"Alright, are we done?"
"Seriously amazing. Wow...!"
After finishing all the feedback, I finally realized that the coach had been watching me.
Ah, I feel unnecessarily embarrassed. As if I was acting like a coach when he was right there.
I scratched my head and returned to my seat. Soon, the coach approached me.
"Hey, why don’t you try being a coach this time?"
"Me? A coach for just this much? That’s a bit...."
"Listen, kid, I was a successful pro before the match-fixing scandal happened and the league size shrunk!"
"I know. But I still want to challenge myself further."
The coach tilted his head for a moment. Of course, he was someone who respected me. He was the one who encouraged me until the moment I left the team.
"Really? But didn’t you often say you had no talent?"
"I did."
"But you want to challenge yourself further? Of course, making it to the first string this time is a great achievement. It is, but it’s not the end just because you made it, is it?"
Listening to the coach, I admitted it. Making it up isn’t the end.
"But, I don’t think having no talent is the end either. How should I put it? I want to see my own limits. I want to prove myself more."
"You little shit, you’ve grown up."
"Hahaha, alright. You’ll be a good leader when you go up, you bastard."
It was a sudden compliment. Me, a good leader? Nah, that’s not right.
You might as well say Alpa has matured. That would make more sense.
"Hey, aren’t you going too far?"
"Hehehe!"
The coach and I laughed and chatted. I thought it was truly a fun time, as if I had never experienced anything like it before.
This attention was unfamiliar, but it was sweet enough that I wanted to receive it all day long.
Snap.
But then, suddenly, everything went dark. The world was completely black.
"What is this?"
And the background reversed.
A dark room, only the monitor emitting a lonely light, a narrow place with a musty smell.
What was on the monitor was a manuscript, enough for a full novel.
Seeing this, I realized.
"Ah, is it time for web novels this time? For a dream, this is too cruel. Is this trying to lead me to a ’regret after leaving’ story or something?"
I sighed heavily. I wanted to look away.
"Should I just turn it off?"
I reached out to turn off the monitor.
Suddenly, a woman came to mind.
For some reason, she was crying. It made me feel a sense of mission I didn’t have before.
Then my gaze fixed on the manuscript.
Had I ever written a manuscript carelessly? Hadn’t I written until my shoulders ached, until my wrists hurt?
"I didn’t trust my readers. No, honestly, I disliked them. Because I was tired of everything in the world. But...."
I was about to stand up but sat back down. I slowly nodded.
"Let’s see what I can change here. I’m a little curious myself."
Perhaps I could do something different from my past self.
I accessed the platform. But the monitor began to glow strangely.
Hah, what is this now?