Chapter 80: I need to practice a bit more before coming back.

In an incredibly slowed-down world, ordinary players could finally begin to grasp a small part of a genius’s perception.

Only by watching her personal gameplay at a reduced speed could they start to understand what she was seeing.

Burke provided the analysis.

“She constantly checks her teammates’ movements in real time, only giving orders when they deviate from her mental game plan. If their actions align with her expectations, she leaves them be.”

“She’s really a command tower-type player.”

“The speed of her decision-making… it’s almost like AI.”

A grand picture drawn by Legend.

A system that immediately corrects any deviation from her plan.

The only way to describe it was machine-like gameplay.

In some fields, being compared to a machine was the highest form of praise.

In others, it was the worst insult. A peculiar irony.

“But does she really need to scan the screen that often? Checking every ten seconds should be enough.”

“It’s a kind of kiting. Like how you move between auto attacks—self-screen, ally-screen, self-screen, ally-screen. It’s more efficient than just looking at your own screen for long stretches, then checking others all at once.”

“Most people would get dizzy and nauseous doing that.”

“The best way to know for sure would be to ask her directly, but she seems to avoid collaborations, which is a bit unfortunate.”

“Just getting her permission to analyze this is already something to be grateful for.”

“It also feels like a statement of confidence. Like, ‘Sure, watch this. Try and keep up if you can.’”

“Yeah, but keeping up doesn’t seem very easy.”

“If it were, she wouldn’t have an 80% win rate, right?”

[User: OO donated 1,000 KRW.]

“??? : Monsters move according to their AI anyway, so what’s the point in looking? (A real quote.)”

“Exactly, that’s the point. Use skills on monsters, glance at teammates’ screens, move, check teammates’ screens again—only briefly looking at her own character to issue commands.”

“If a normal player tried that, they’d probably get overwhelmed and crash.”

“So, you’re saying people should just live within their means?”

“The mountain is there to be climbed.”

“Are we just throwing out random quotes now?”

Since monsters also attack, most players keep their eyes glued to their screens while farming to minimize damage.

Map awareness is typically reserved for movement phases. No one watches their allies’ screens while fighting monsters.

No one except Victory and Legend.

Could differences in small details like this create such massive disparities in results?

“But even if she keeps an eye on allies, how does she know where the enemies are so precisely?”

“She seems to know enemy movements perfectly, even when they haven’t been spotted by wards.”

“This is why people call her a time traveler.”

“Does she rewind after every match?”

“But actually, anyone can do this.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Anyone?”

Burke and Scrapper both tilted their heads in confusion.

What did he mean by “anyone”?

“Prediction, simulation. She’s constantly running calculations for all ten players in her head.”

“That’s even possible?”

“We all do it, to some extent. We recognize where our allies are, where we expect enemies to be. The difference is that she does it in extreme detail. She knows exactly who should be where, what decisions they’re making, and where they’re heading.”

“Her mental image is just way more refined?”

“She has a high-resolution imagination.”

“Like upgrading to a better graphics card?”

“I think I get what you mean.”

Three men who loved games, computers, and novels—so of course, all their metaphors were drawn from those interests.

<Enemy location simulator 101>

“Do all of you constantly imagine enemy positions while playing?”

“Aren’t you supposed to just charge in when you see an enemy?”

“This game was deeper than I thought.”

Some lower-ranked and casual viewers didn’t relate.

For them, the game was simple—kill monsters, move to the next area, fight enemies when they appear.

High-level theory was beyond them.

Easy to play, hard to master.

At lower tiers, players didn’t need to think much.

Inefficiencies in farming were less relevant because mechanical mistakes in fights mattered far more.

Since everyone was playing inefficiently, mistakes didn’t create massive gaps.

But at the highest levels, even the smallest misstep determined the outcome.

At the peak of competition, with character abilities being limited, differences in decision-making became the deciding factor.

When the best of the best clashed, someone with a uniquely advanced awareness system had an overwhelming advantage.

Still, it wasn’t an entirely new concept.

Every high-ranking player knew the importance of map awareness.

She was just using the same information much more effectively.

By slowing down her gameplay footage, they finally understood.

She simply absorbed more information and used it to make more accurate, refined predictions.

“We’re not playing a completely different game. She’s just executing the same things at a much higher level.”

“So, she’s not a prodigy?”

“But isn’t that what being a prodigy is?”

“If everyone else runs 100 meters in 10 seconds, but she does it in 5, she’s still a prodigy.”

“At least she’s running. If she were flying, we’d have no clue how to keep up.”

“But something feels different. This game doesn’t feel like a normal solo queue match.”

“I know why! No one’s making solo plays. Everyone’s following Legend’s orders perfectly.”

“What kind of superpower is that?”

“I think I get it now. I’ve played with her before.”

“What’s this ability called, Ones?”

“Name recognition. Imagine if Victory was giving orders. Would you ignore them?”

Like how mountains become steeper and narrower as you reach their peaks, high-rank lobbies were a very small world.

People fell off, new faces climbed up, but at the very top, it was the same people playing against each other repeatedly.

Especially the most competitive high-rankers.

They kept up with patch notes, watched all the latest strategies, and kept tabs on the competitive scene.

And in their tight-knit community, a new superstar had emerged.

Victory recognized her.

She reached challenger with a 90% win rate.

She had the lowest game count and was the first female challenger.

A legend in the making.

The numerous achievements she had accumulated gave weight to her words.

Because of this, Legend’s words carried far more authority than those of others.

Since people listened to her, it was easier to control the game. Because it was easier to control the game, her win rate was higher. And since her win rate was higher, people listened to her even more—a perfect cycle of positive reinforcement.

Wealth begets wealth, and that principle didn’t only apply to money.

Good begets good, and bad begets bad.

Legend was caught in an upward spiral, continuously pushing her advantage further.

“Just having all five players on the same page is a huge advantage. So many games are lost because of split decision-making.”

“Yeah, that’s actually insane.”

“The more I watch, the more impressive she is.”

“Wait, weren’t we supposed to be analyzing her? This just feels like glorified praise.”

“We’re just analyzing how good she is.”

[User: OO donated 1,000 KRW.]

“Legend must be dying of embarrassment watching this.”

<She’s not in the viewer list, at least.>

<Who watches streams on their main account? She’s probably lurking on an alt.>

“If it were me, I’d 100% be watching.”

<Imagine her watching this stream, giggling to herself in secret.>

<Funny how today just happens to be her day off, huh?>

<With all this praise, she’s probably grinning from ear to ear.>

<“Praising her?” ᅩᅮᅣ> — Message deleted.

“So, in the end, she plays by the book, but all of her stats are just way higher.”

“Like Lü Bu’s strength combined with Zhuge Liang’s strategy.”

“Doesn’t that mean she’s impossible to replicate? That you’d have to improve your fundamentals first?”

“Not exactly. We have a textbook right in front of us.”

“A textbook?”

“Her personal gameplay footage.”

“And her solo queue replays are basically study guides. We can learn from watching.”

“So, you’re saying we should study her gameplay?”

“That’s what I think.”

“But this is a fast-paced game where people die frequently and respawn quickly. I don’t think many players would put in that much effort to analyze every move.”

“But if you want to reach the top, you have to.”

“I agree. Brainpower is just as important as raw mechanics. Coaching staff tries to train this side of the game, but it’s really not easy.”

“So high-ranked players actually think this much during games?”

“Of course. If you want to be at the top, you have to.”

“Well, Scrapper, you’ve got your salary on the line, so it makes sense for you.”

“Yes! I’ll show even better performances from now on!”

Afterward, the stream moved on to its second phase—applying what they had learned in actual ranked games.

Three players putting their heads together to approach the game like a three-headed Cerberus.

And after this broadcast, the high-ranking community began to shift.

“Ah, she’s not here again? She changed her pathing.”

How was Legend able to predict the future so accurately?

Because her opponents moved in predictable ways.

And why were their movements so predictable?

Because they were making the “best possible decision” at any given moment.

The best choice.

The optimal play.

But what does “the best” mean?

It means there’s only one.

By always choosing the most optimal move, they made themselves easy to read—like a book with its pages turned in advance.

A paradox where being skilled made them predictable.

The higher the rank, the easier it was to predict movements.

So naturally, she exploited that predictability.

But most players didn’t even understand that such a concept existed.

Even the highest-ranked ones.

A game where ten players were randomly assigned ten starting positions.

The number of ways to arrange ten players into ten different starting points? 3,628,800.

Even simplifying it to two teams of five, there were still 252 different possible starting arrangements.

And that didn’t even account for in-game variables.

A perfect strategy would require a machine.

Players could only make the best possible decision at any given moment.

And yet, all of those “best” choices were already being read by Legend.

Despite the countless possible game outcomes, the number of truly beneficial actions was limited.

But after her prediction skills were exposed in the stream, some players adapted.

Instead of always making the “best” move, they started intentionally choosing suboptimal ones.

As a result, Legend’s prediction accuracy dropped by half.

<Did we mess up by showing her replays? Everyone’s playing specifically to counter her now.>

<Wow, high-ranked players really do think way more than we do.>

<Isn’t that exhausting?>

<You wouldn’t understand if you’ve never been a high-ranker.>

“Counter me, huh? But if you think about it, that just means they’re intentionally making bad moves instead of the best ones. Do I really look that easy to beat?”

Legend smirked.

Instead of winning with gimmicks, she would crush them with raw skill.

Did they really think they could just analyze her and start winning?

That wasn’t enough.

They needed more practice.

If anything, the game had only become more fun.

After all, a game that’s too easy isn’t fun at all.