"Ah, and just like that, ChickenLateNightOneTrick is obliterated in an instant! A literal devastating death! Not just one, but hit by four .50 BMG rounds and ejected straight to the lobby!"
“Wow, what the f**k, hahahaha!”
“That was a truly horrific death, lol.”
“Is this a cooking show? Are we making ground at here?????”
“It's not ChickenLateNightOneTrick anymore; it's MincedatOneTrick, lol.”
“Is this that hamr-and-anvil thing? LOL.”
Gambit and Michael exchanged glances, briefly thinking, ‘It wasn’t the hamr and anvil—it was more like getting crushed between two anvils,’ though they were glad no one heard their blasphemous thought.
The crowd of hundreds erupted into cheers. It was an event match, so the outco didn’t matter too much—although, if the national team lost, there’d certainly be a lot of talk. However, if the match turned out dramatically, the narrative would change.
Eugene’s powerful opening strike grabbed everyone's attention, and Dice’s perfect cover fire filled the gap it left behind. The strear team's attempt to capitalize on the dispersed focus of the pro gars was completely thwarted, though losing a team mber was still a painful blow.
"Wow, they picked one off within 40 seconds."
“Well, they put the first- and second-ranked players from KSM on the sa team, so it makes sense.”
Conversations like this buzzed around the audience.
The results were now etched into the minds of the viewers. Besides the hundreds of live spectators, there were tens of thousands of viewers watching the livestream, and the edited video that would later be uploaded to YouSpace was sure to get even more views.
The ssage was clear: these two were proving in real-ti why they were called the national representatives. At least, no one watching this scene could dispute their skill.
anwhile...
"They're so in sync, maybe from working together so much. I don’t think I could keep up if I ended up on the sa team as them.”
“It’s crazier that Dice can keep up with Eugene like it’s no big deal.”
It was impressive, no matter how many tis they watched.
But their concern wasn’t unfounded, given how the teams for event matches were ford in a unique way. Four players had appeared on the televised interview program, and not a single one would be left out from forming a team.
The first team was Eugene and Dice, but in the next round, any of them could be tead up with Eugene—or with Dice, or Gambit, or Michael.
One way or another, teaming up with Eugene at so point was a given.
"The score is tied! The pro gars are launching an imdiate counterattack!"
"But it's not going to be easy. With the handicaps of no sprinting, no throwing weapons, and no skills, the actual power difference might be more or less equal. For instance, the portable cover set up by the strear team is giving them a significant advantage in this engagent."
───Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
Crrraack!
However, the massive-caliber sniper rounds that were fired repeatedly at the cover broke it down in re seconds, despite it being wide enough for two people to hide behind.
Before the analyst could continue, caster Phoenix couldn’t hold back his laughter as he chid in.
“Haha, looks like that’s not quite the case. The strear team is losing their advantage in an instant!”
“Overwhelming firepower is hard to beat, especially from a position with a firing angle.”
The match entered a standoff.
However, ti was on the pro gars’ side, and what many had anticipated quickly beca reality.
It didn’t take long for Cartographer and Espia to be cornered by Dice, who continually repositioned the Barrett and M6 to create new firing angles, before being shredded by the Norma Magnum rounds from the machine gun.
It was a brutal massacre, brought about by a straightforward and stable strategy.
How much ti had passed?
"Sorry. I tried to flank, but I just got wiped out."
“You lost to a natural disaster. No need to apologize.”
“Yeah, seriously. If I’d known it’d turn out like this, I would’ve suggested a handicap like taking away one of their arms.”
This was inevitable.
No matter how high the tier, a single decision could change everything. But in the end, the gap between paid pro players and amateurs was stark—or maybe it was just that Eugene and Dice were absurdly good.
Either way, it wasn’t ChickenLateNightOneTrick’s fault. Their tactic wasn’t bad—trying to take out Eugene wasn’t a bad idea. They had anticipated that two of them might be taken out. But whether it was one or two, the plan was to inflict significant damage on Eugene, which had failed spectacularly.
Once ChickenLateNightOneTrick had been pulverized into ground at by the .50 BMG without achieving anything, the match had already begun to tilt in the pro gars’ favor.
anwhile, preparations for the second round began, regardless of the winners or losers.
Everything was reset, including the teams. Eugene and Dice, who had perford the near-impossible, were now split up into individual players, and the draft wheel started spinning again.
But none of that mattered. They were free now, and all that was left was to go on stream later and give a long, detailed account of how Eugene and Dice had obliterated them despite the handicaps.
anwhile, the new teams were announced.
"-The second team! Dice and Michael will face Catwalk, RanAndGimbap, and Labokun as a duo!"
“I can already sense what kind of handicaps might co out. But on the flip side, Michael can also predict this. Sothing like disabling the use of shields won’t be too effective.”
“True, but Michael’s shield is still incredibly powerful. If they can’t disable that, it’s going to be quite the challenge.”
What would they co up with?
The map was generated. It resembled part of the NBV desert base, with sandstorms blowing outside, making it impossible to venture out. The multi-layered structure and artificially carved caves made the layout complex and disorienting.
In the middle of the hangar, the strear-civilian team looked extrely confident.
They opened their mouths.
“The handicap we propose is... the combined weight of the pro gar team’s equipnt must not exceed 12kg.”
What?
In that mont, their minds raced. The weight-to-stamina ratios they’d calculated automatically while playing Dark Zone started running through their heads. But the harsh reality of that constraint gripped them like nothing before.
Even a basic ballistic vest, with its magazines and grenades, weighed about 10kg. Add a fully-equipped weapon, and 12kg was impossible. They’d have to forgo high-performance armor, which in itself would be a massive penalty.
Moreover, Michael’s shield use was effectively sealed off. In full gear, including the shield, Michael carried over 25kg.
The chat, the audience, even the MCs couldn’t hide their shock.
This wasn’t a simple, one-dinsional limitation like restricting a body part—it was a high-level, wide-reaching restriction. Dice and Michael’s faces tightened.
One thing was clear: the pro gar team was going to be heavily burdened this ti.
“That’s a brilliant handicap no one could’ve anticipated. Pro gar team, do you accept the penalty?”
“…Give us one more kilogram.”
“That’s acceptable.”
“The strear-civilian team has accepted the request. The penalty is now in effect, and both teams have five minutes to adjust their tactics!”
With that, the negotiations were settled.
As everyone, including Eugene and Gambit, eagerly awaited the next round, Dice and Michael began discussing with serious expressions.
An unpredictable future was looming.
“Sit down. I’m about to share an amazing idea.”
“…Did you learn that phrasing from Eugene too?”
“What are you talking about?”
At the sa ti, the conversation continued.
“I’ve thought of a basic tactic. The reason they imposed the weight restriction is mainly because of your shield use. If you went up against them without a handicap, you’d draw aggro for a long ti. Even if you only took out one of them before dying, that wouldn’t be a bad trade.”
“Thanks for the complint. Hearing that from the person who shattered my shield in the last match ans a lot.”
“Yeah, so let’s make use of that. Could you carry just the shield and a pistol with no other equipnt?”
“…Are you out of your mind?”
“Of course not.”
Their gazes t.
Dice seed to be trying to look serious, but why did it seem like flas of madness were flickering behind those eyes? Naturally, he didn’t say that out loud—after all, this was the runner-up of KSM he was talking to.
In any case, Michael decided to hear him out.
“The ballistic shield weighs about 11kg, so with five Glock 17 magazines, you’d just barely stay under 13kg. At least you’d have so ability to suppress them.”
“Five magazines, huh? That’s tight. What about you? Normal loadout? Or the insane big-caliber stuff?”
“The latter would limit sustained fire, but I’ve got a workaround for that.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll also have to double as my ballistic vest.”
Absolutely crazy.
A month of hanging around Eugene, and now Dice had beco just as recklessly extre—but they had no choice. Without such a drastic plan, their chances of winning were slim. This penalty was by far the worst they had faced in any event match.
Dice selected his weapon: an ASh-12.7. No ballistic vest. Just a tactical vest loaded with as much ammunition and explosives as he could within the 13kg limit.
Seven large magazines with 14 rounds each. Five grenades. The MOLLE system of his tactical vest allowed for quick attachnt and detachnt of gear.
Once they were ready, Dice spoke.
“We’ll probably get one chance. They know that too, so they’ll likely stick together. But we have to separate one of them no matter what.”
At the sa ti, Michael marked several points on the map.
“These are the rendezvous points. If I pick off one of them and we equalize the numbers, we’ll need to regroup at one of these spots. Since neither of us has armor, our best odds are to stick together. Just hang around here and draw their attention if they show up.”
“What if all three of them co at ?”
“The map’s big enough for you to escape right away. I’ll be scouting nearby, and once they split up, I’ll take out at least one. Just buy so ti.”
“Hah.”
But then, his expression shifted.
“That’s my specialty.”
“Let’s get started, then.”
As soon as the match began, the barren scent of the battlefield filled the air. Sandstorm marks could be seen in the artificially created caves. As the sound of sand crunching beneath their feet echoed, Michael led the way with a shield in his left hand and a pistol in his right.
Their pace was extrely slow. Dice had asked him to keep watch, rather than advancing imdiately.
Michael waited patiently, paying no mind to what was happening behind him. They soon reached the open area in the middle of the hangar. No signs of enemies yet. After surveying the area, Michael tapped Dice on the shoulder.
“If sothing happens, retreat back through the cave we ca from.”
It was ti to split up.
Dice left to scout the prearranged point, while Michael began surveying the terrain near the rendezvous point.
How much ti had passed?
───Rustle.
‘…They’re coming.’
Under normal circumstances, Michael wouldn’t have been worried, but today felt different.
Three figures erged cautiously from the cave across from him. They were scouting the area systematically. Preparing to retreat down the cave they had co from, Michael reported to Dice over the comms.
“…Enemy spotted. Approaching from the cave opposite Alpha Point, scouting at about 1 ter per second.”
“If it looks bad, retreat the way we ca. Watch out for the three tripwires.”
What had Dice been up to while Michael was scouting? Apparently setting up traps. Crazy.
But there was no ti for such thoughts now. The enemy was closing in. Michael knew well enough the distance he needed to maintain as a shield user, but now it was ti to retreat, even at the risk of being spotted.
───Click!
“There he is!”
“It’s Michael! Throw a sticky bomb!”
Boom!
The bomb flew in almost simultaneously with the identification shout. Though the aim was slightly off, hitting sothing else instead of his body, it was still powerful. Without his shield, Michael was practically exposed, making him vulnerable to every kind of attack.
He fired his pistol rapidly, quickly gaining distance. Thanks to hours of practice, his hip-fire accuracy was impressive. However, it wasn’t enough—emptying an entire Glock magazine wouldn’t be enough to break their shield.
‘Damn it, I’m counting on you!’
Turning his back on the enemy while running wasn’t ideal for a shield user, but they could’ve at least given him armor. Without it, facing them head-on was impossible.
He sprinted back down the narrow cave. A perfect place for setting traps. But it seed the enemy had no intention of letting him escape, judging by the long tallic sound that followed.
A Seeker Mine. If that exploded in the cave, it could destroy the tripwires Dice had set up.
It had to be stopped.
───Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Rapid pistol fire.
Bullets rained down on the rolling mine, only one of the twelve shots hitting its mark. But that was enough to disable most of its functions.
Boom! The resulting explosion sent a wave of fire, debris, and dust slamming against the shield. Michael felt the pressure of being pushed back but used the dust as cover to start running again.
“Ugh!”
Suddenly, one of the tripwires ca into view.
He barely dodged it.
Three tripwires had been placed about 5 ters apart, with grenades hidden either on the floor or tucked into ceiling lights. As Michael thought about how he might’ve learned that from Eugene, he heard a sound from behind.
Dice’s voice ca over the comms.
“One entered the cave. Another is flanking through the side tunnel. One’s waiting outside, but I’ll take care of him soon.”
“What?”
───Aaaagh!
Bang-bang-bang! Boom!
It was too heavy a sound to be called gunfire. But Michael recognized it—that sa ASh-12.7 that had shredded his shield inside the burning departnt store on Atakaiya Volcano Island not too long ago.
The only difference this ti was that instead of shredding his shield, it was grinding the enemy to pieces. Coupled with the sound of a grenade explosion, it seed like a perfect ambush had wiped out the opponent in seconds.
Suddenly, Michael thought of Eugene. She had emphasized many tis how important it was to shorten the ti spent in the kill-capture process.
If they could eliminate an enemy in just 3 seconds...
‘…That’s so impressive learning.’
Boom!
The explosion from the tripwire snapped Michael out of his thoughts.
Dice had just dealt with the outside enemy, but now she needed Michael’s help. It was a race against ti—would Michael get sandwiched, or would the enemy that had followed him get trapped?
Of course, the answer ca from Dice.
“I’ll be there soon.”
For a mont, Michael thought that maybe this round would end easier than expected.
Reviews
All reviews (0)