Chapter 133: The general is wielding his sword

Actually, for pro gamers, individual solo rank isn’t that important.

At least in this game, Overwatch (EOwar), it wasn’t.

What mattered to pro gamers were tournament results, not solo rank tiers.

Just because someone’s rank was low didn’t mean the team pressured them or stopped their player activities.

For example, there were pro gamers in the Diamond tier.

But honestly, that was a bit too much, so the team didn’t look favorably on that player.

Even fans didn’t prefer pros whose rank was not much higher than theirs.

For pros, solo rank was more like a testing ground for sudden flashes of ideas.

And a practice space to keep their form from slipping.

It wasn’t as serious as tournaments or scrims—they didn’t have to be razor-sharp or super intense there.

Of course, winning was still good, and winning streaks even better.

Isn’t it true that winning feels good in any game?

No gamer disliked climbing ranks or seeing their personal rank near the top.

Lately, there were rumors that teams scouted players with high rank scores, so even solo rank competition got quietly fierce.

Still, tournament results and scrim results that directly affected those were undeniably more important.

This was also true for Yang Junhyuk, a pro gamer from VIX7.

As his name suggests, he was Korean and started his pro career in Korea.

He spent four years building an unremarkable career, winning the E-Champs twice.

But when he was pushed out of the starting lineup and faced the risk of not playing as he wanted, he took a flight to North America.

It was a choice made with much anxiety and deep consideration at the time.

But now, he thinks it was the right decision.

Because after he left, the Korean Overwatch league began a dark period.

Their habitual Ed Cup wins stopped.

Two years ago, they didn’t even make the semifinals.

His success overseas was too sweet for him to feel too heartbroken over the domestic league’s fall.

He reached the peak of his career with a runner-up finish two years ago.

Of course, the winners those two years were from China.

China was now undisputedly the number one in the Overwatch league.

But whether that would continue this year was uncertain.

Not because China had weakened.

Li Chao still showed monstrous skill.

And besides his team, there were many other strong teams lined up.

What had changed was Korea and North America.

Both leagues were said to be unusually strong this year.

Specifically, Korea’s XBD and North America’s VIX with Yang Junhyuk.

Even within his team, there was a constant atmosphere that they had to win the championship this year.

This was partly because of their captain, Yan Sunny.

He was probably in his last year.

As a “last dance,” he wanted to finish his career with a bang.

For Yang Junhyuk, this was also a very desirable goal.

Winning Ed Cup was a priceless experience any pro dreamed of.

And now, in this situation…

Yang Junhyuk stared at the screen in front of him.

Round score 2:0.

They had started the game but were getting dominated.

This was the Korean server.

It had been a long time since Yang Junhyuk played on the Korean server.

Since moving to the North American league, he’d been so busy adjusting that he barely remembered things back home.

He only occasionally contacted his parents or caught glimpses of the league.

The Korean server he visited after a long time welcomed him harshly.

“Oh no…”

As soon as he turned a corner, a hail of bullets struck him down.

Now only two teammates remained.

The opponents had four.

By numbers and skill, it was obvious they’d lose this round.

Just as he thought, they lost the round.

The score was 3-0.

Through the open team voice chat came the teammates’ sighs.

“Ah, this is too intense. Let’s focus more. Those with microphones, please brief carefully.”

“Does briefing even help? We’re just getting destroyed right now.”

“Still better than nothing, right?”

They were Challenger tier, the very top.

Trolls and intentional feeders had been filtered out.

Everyone wanted to win.

Ignoring the complaints, Yang Junhyuk silently raised his gun.

There were two main reasons he didn’t join the briefing via mic.

One, the team management asked players to be especially careful about troubles during ranked games.

Two, as one teammate said, briefing wouldn’t change the situation.

“We really have to do something about that swordsman first…”

That was true.

The biggest reason the team was losing was that “swordsman.”

At the center of every defeat was that “swordsman.”

— Mollru 7/2/5

“What is that even pronounced…”

Is he a foreigner?

Someone who came here for this Ed Cup too?

Yang Junhyuk, busy adapting to life abroad, was clueless about the community memes.

From teammates’ conversation, he learned the swordsman’s username.

“Mollru is so good it’s a pain. He’s holding down two people by himself…”

Users playing swordsmen in the high ranks were rare.

In the pro scene, except in special cases, the pick rate was almost zero.

He heard Mollru was quite famous.

His nickname was strange, too.

“Mollru? Korean samurai?”

One of the teammates seemed to recognize the opponent.

Jackson.

He was also a North American league player.

But Korean samurai? What was that supposed to mean?

‘Could it be that person?’

The other day, Michael, a teammate, had excitedly come looking for Yang Junhyuk.

He said something about a samurai on the Korean server.

Michael was usually a bit scatterbrained, so Yang didn’t think much of it.

But it turned out he was talking about this person.

‘Korean samurai…’

The name wasn’t even funny.

Especially to Yang Junhyuk, who was Korean himself.

Korean and samurai?

Well, to foreigners, Korea and Japan might look the same anyway.

The agent “Swordsman” wielded a katana.

And because samurai were somewhat known through famous animations, they gave him that name.

But compared to the silly name, the skill was no joke.

“What kind of parrying is that…”

Yang Junhyuk blurted out without realizing it.

The swordsman’s deflection landed perfectly.

The hard-earned chance to attack was wasted, and instead, they lost ground.

The swordsman was alone, blocking the path to point B.

His arrogance, some might say.

This time, Yang tried to break through, but failed.

‘He’s no disciple of the Zhang family martial arts or anything.’

The round was about to end again.

Even if they lost, it would be a relief to win at least one round.

Mollru was fully playing the role of gatekeeper on the Korean server.

Even in the previous match, it was the same.

The strong foreign players on the opposing team had hit a wall and didn’t win.

“We’re winning well these days.

Is it because of good team luck?”

[He’s just really good, teacher.]

[For real lol.

He’s carrying two people alone, how could the team lose?]

[We lost the last match even with two people carrying.]

[That’s on the team…]

[Hey!]

[No disrespect to pros allowed.]

His rank was skyrocketing, and Mollru’s nickname was spreading widely on communities and sites.

Apparently, the same was true among overseas users.

Just now, someone on the opposing team typed “Korean samurai” in chat.

Though she didn’t seem to like that name much herself.

But apart from that, this situation was enough to boost the pride of Korean users.

Over the past few years, international tournament results had caused Koreans to be looked down upon.

The era of Koreans being the best at the game was becoming a thing of the past.

Mollru was bringing back that honor.

People highly regarded Mollru for doing what even pros hadn’t.

Those who disliked streamers as money-hungry parasites were now reflecting on their own past behavior.

[Now, if only we can school the Chinese players.]

[Is Li Chao online?]

[Those Chinese jerks ran away scared lol.]

[Kimchi flavor is spicy.]

Until now, most of Mollru’s opponents had been Koreans or North American pro gamers.

People cheered just for victories against them.

But now, that wasn’t enough.

They wanted a different target to vent their frustration on.

The opponents they really wanted were Chinese pro gamers.

Those who were often harshly mocked by Chinese players wanted sweet revenge on those who had stolen the throne.

Even if it wasn’t a true victory in the real sense.

And their wish was soon fulfilled.

[Is Li Chao online?]

[Li Chao joined the lobby lol.]

[He came right when we called him.]

[Isn’t the pig a bit too strong?]

[Nope~ Molshunshin will stomp him badly~]

[General Mol, please…]

[Korean samurai! Korean samurai! Korean samurai! Korean samurai!]

“The queue has been found.”

Whether Mollru knew this or not, she looked calm.

The fact that there was a Chinese pro on the opposing team didn’t seem very important to her.