“Right, Coach. Where are the finals being held this time?”
On the evening when our advancement to the finals was confirmed, during a dinner gathering at a now-regular spot, a barbecue restaurant.
Kim Dojin, who was cooking the meat, suddenly spoke up out of the blue.
“You didn’t even know where it was going to be held? It’s in Incheon.”
“Good thing, too.”
“Why’s that?”
“Our parents might not be able to come because of my siblings.”
When I thought about it, I was an only child, but the other team members all had several siblings.
Most of their families lived in Seoul or the metropolitan area, so there were times when the families of team members couldn’t attend finals or events held in the provinces.
And every time we lost the finals, I remembered hearing stories about how it was a relief that the family didn’t come.
“Hey, why’s your expression suddenly so gloomy? Is the meat not cooked enough?”
Kim Dojin beside me asked, looking puzzled.
“You wouldn’t understand even if I told you…”
“Anyway, this new arena that just opened in Incheon… what was it called again?”
For some reason, the coach suddenly seemed to forget and tapped on the table with his finger, trying to recall the stadium’s name.
“Ah, the Inspire Arena. It’s happening there, they said.”
“Inspire?”
Everyone on the team looked puzzled.
The Inspire Arena, a venue attached to the Inspire Resort located on Yeongjongdo Island in Incheon, wasn’t too inconvenient to access via shuttle bus, and it had the advantage of being easily reachable for overseas fans as well.
“As you all know, CK doesn’t usually have finals, so this is our first time holding one.”
As the meal was wrapping up, Coach got up and adjusted the mood, quite different from earlier.
“Even if we lose, there’s no problem, so just play without regrets. And keep your condition in check until the day of the finals – remember, that’s all part of your skill.”
“We gotta win and get to MSI. What kind of discouraging talk is that?”
“You’re the team captain. You’re cutting the coach down just as he’s trying to look serious.”
“Since we’ve come this far, let’s win it. What do you say, everyone?”
“That’s a fair point. By the way, how many invites do we get? Five each, right? Let me know in advance if you need them.”
“Invites, huh.”
If our parents say they can come, I’ll need two.
Was Choi Eunseo saying she’d have a way to get tickets? In that case, I won’t need them.
Hanbyeori is going to host the root broadcasting that day.
“No one in particular I need to give tickets to.”
In my previous life, my relationship with my parents wasn’t great, and I didn’t have a friend like Choi Eunseo, so I paid no attention to the invites.
But once I gave them out to someone, the idea popped up in my mind that I’d want to hand them out as much as I could.
It’s like something feels wasted otherwise.
For that reason, after some thought, a good idea came to mind.
“Everyone, can you hear me?”
A few days later, I turned on a broadcast without any prior plan.
The reason was simple: to host an event that just came to my mind.
I turned on the camera as usual and chatted idly until enough viewers had joined.
The questions most asked were about the LCK and how I felt about qualifying for the finals.
“With the finals, I’m happy. Also, today I want to do an event.”
[???]
[Oh]
[Suddenly an event?]
[Is the long-awaited sale of high school students’ uniforms in season 2 happening?]
“First, let me tell you about the prizes. I heard that some of you might not have been able to get tickets for the LCK finals.”
[Seriously, trying to sell tickets in the first round of playoffs?]
[There’s no canceled tickets available either…]
[ARK has so much popularity it’s intense…]
[Even if your own team gets eliminated, many are saying they’ll still go watch ARK…]
“So, what I’m going to do is an event where I’ll give away finals tickets.”
[Oh…]
[Please, I must be chosen!]
[Holy…!]
“The manager said it’s fine.”
Actually, the team had already distributed quite a few tickets to the fans, but those were for the team’s fans. I wanted to share three tickets with fans who watched my stream. There must be fans who are personal fans of mine but not team fans, and they might not have thought of coming to watch.
“The participation method is simple.”
[What is it, like a roulette like before?]
[Is it an application-based lottery, then?]
[First-come, first-served?]
[Our child loves you. Please share tickets.]
[Let’s go!]
It looked like everyone forgot what my stream was about.
“As you all know, I usually keep it simple with just conversation, but my original stream is focused on skill development and lectures.”
[?]
[Isn’t this just a stream where people come to see the streamer’s face?]
[Seriously, lol]
[Isn’t it just the streamer’s face?]
[LCK MVP for the regular season, the leader in solo kills, the number one pick for POG – that’s what’s left.]
[He really is a monster.]
“So, today’s event is this.”
As I changed the stream title, wave upon wave of question marks filled the chat.
[????]
[Excuse me…?]
[Don’t joke around like that 😄]
[Is it April Fools’ Day today?]
The title of the event, “Defeat Para (1v1).”
Today’s event was simple: you could win a ticket by defeating me in a 1-on-1 battle.
Of course, it was a matchup between a pro and a casual player, so handicaps were in place.
“I’ll pick my champion randomly, and I won’t use the skill that my opponent bans.”
Additionally, I wouldn’t use summoner spells either.
When the viewers realized this, they finally agreed that it seemed doable.
[If you don’t use spells, it’s doable]
[Yeah, the opponent doesn’t even have a skill…]
[Just pick your champion carefully…]
[The most important thing is what champion the random pick generates…]
“I’ll create a custom game, so whoever joins first will start.”
[Let’s go!]
[I’ll just watch…]
[Will the first challenger please step forward…]
As soon as I created the room, the first challenger entered.
The tier was…
[BRONZE 😄😄]
[KING BRONZE 🤣]
[What is a 400-game Bronze player?]
[That’s some guts…]
Well, even if they’re Bronze, they may have good physical mechanics.
As the game started, the assigned champion was Yomi.
Champion stats-wise, it was pretty close to the weakest champion there is.
And the skill that my opponent banned from me? It was skill E, which could be considered helpful for a 1-on-1 battle.
“Goodness, at least it’s ranged.”
After buying Doran’s blade, I headed to mid-lane, and my opponent came into view.
The champion my opponent chose? Yasuo.
He lived up to being a 400-game Bronze Yasuo expert; the instant he rushed mid-lane, he started showing off his 7th level runes non-stop.
The sheer clicking sounds that flowed continuously – this person had enough showmanship to rival a Challenger.
[This is winnable, seriously…]
[Yomi doesn’t know anything…]
[Show some Bronze pride!]
[What’s with this mastery score of 150K?]
[Reverse Para 😄]
[Para would have been fun if Yasuo had shown up…]
The opponent Yasuo, judging Yomi to be easy prey, aggressively went for damage trades even at Level 1.
But at Level 1, Yasuo has no way of approaching a ranged opponent, so it turned into one-sided range control.
[Lol, there’s a reason he’s Bronze.]
[Please reach Level 3 before fighting.]
[Ah, such a showoff…]
[Blade tempest on Yomi is crazy strong…]
“Do I have to block this?”
Gaining advantage from the Tempest rune, I hit Level 2 first and began controlling the experience by moving in front of the enemy minions. Without using summoner spells or the E skill, Yasuo versus Yomi was an easy matchup at Level 3.
[?]
[Crazy!]
[Frontline flash coming…]
Apparently regarding being beaten by Yomi as a disgrace, despite being Level 1, Yasuo activated Q and Flash, and even ignited for a kill.
There was no chance of winning for Yasuo, who was already taking damage from the minions and fighting with such a large health difference.
“Well, then, the next person, please.”
The next challenger that entered was Diamond-tier, quite high-tiered for a casual player. On top of that, a Syndra main who was known for being strong in one-on-one laning battles.
For that reason, my opponent confidently showed the desire to fight a straight-up battle without any handicaps.
[Oh…]
[Isn’t that a bit too arrogant against a pro?]
[This isn’t a tournament, it’s just a challenge…]
[The confidence is admirable…]
“Hey, are you guys my viewers?”
That made it 15 straight wins, and the player I just beat was from the previous season’s Masters tier.
There were quite a few high-tier challengers, including a Diamond Syndra from earlier, but none of them could fight back and fell one by one.
“Isn’t it because I don’t also do lectures on my stream? You guys aren’t reviewing, huh…?”
I hadn’t even used any difficult skills, but it was all about managing the range as emphasized several times in my stream, and it was slightly disappointing to see how the viewers handled this.
This is the average skill level of my viewers?
I took some pride in my lecture stream and was quite shocked.
[We’re just here to watch the streamer’s face anyway. Why would we watch teaching streams that converge to pure entertainment?]
[Still, those Diamond and Master tier people were utterly beaten without a fight…]
Eventually, I got the distinct feeling that if I kept winning, it’d be perceived as “massacring the audience,” and a controversial line would be added to the wiki.
Ultimately, the event had to be wrapped up with giving out tickets via a draw.
.
.
.
