APGD 06

Chapter 6 99th Year Debut
Pro Gamer

After their short first meeting at the café,
Park Yong-won returned with everyone to the PC café.

Fortunately, thanks to his fairly wide network,
finding practice opponents wasn’t much of a problem.

The first match’s opponents were acquaintances,
a local team from Ulsan.

Their ranks consisted of three Grandmasters and two Masters.
In other words, a lineup lacking in nothing.

[Welcome to Summoner’s Rift.]

“Since this is the first game, don’t stress too much about winning or losing. Let’s just enjoy it!”

“Confidence is what makes a man! Alright, let’s go all out, hams!!”

All the teammates began with eager, determined faces.

And yet, just a short while later…
The game was already approaching its end after just 15 minutes.

On paper, Park Yong-won’s team had one Grandmaster and four Masters.
Clearly, there was a visible rank gap compared to the opponents.

Not to mention, unlike the other team,
this was their first time ever playing together.

Objectively, it should’ve been a one-sided stomp in favor of the Ulsan team.

So Yong-won had resigned himself to losing…

“Nice one, Dosu-ham!! Man, the flow is just too good~!”

“Oh, beautiful! This game feels so comfortable. I’m about to finish my core item, recall real quick!”

“Yo! Dosu, this is totally S-tier. He’s on a completely different level than those trash mids!”

But the match went in the exact opposite direction.

Even though the team chatter was as chaotic as always,
on-screen they were utterly dominating the opposition.

‘We’re actually leading this easily!?’

While his hands flew across the keyboard and mouse,
Yong-won swallowed dryly, his throat bobbing.

Confusion shook him.

‘We couldn’t even beat these guys when we scrimmed with Woo-seok as our mid…’

Even when Kang Woo-seok pulled out his signature LeBlanc,
they’d fought for 30 minutes only to lose.

Woo-seok alone carrying two or three players’ worth wasn’t enough to secure the win.

That’s how big the gap in teamwork and rank had been.

But now?
Just by swapping out one player,
the game flow was completely different.

From the start, their team monopolized every objective,
seized full map control,
and the enemy was too intimidated to even leave their base—
or rather, couldn’t even attempt to.

Any overstep was instantly punished by Lee Do-su.

[Triple Kill!]
[‘TacticMaker’ is dominating!]

Their team had racked up 15 kills.

A staggering 14 of them were Do-su’s LeBlanc alone.

Even the remaining one kill had his assist.

A 100% kill participation rate—
he was dictating the game with overwhelming presence.

‘How does someone with this level of skill still remain an amateur?’

One might suspect the opposing mid laner was just weak.

But that was absurd.

The enemy mid was an upper-tier Grandmaster.
In fact, the ace of their team.

Yet Do-su had solo-killed him five times.

‘He’s just on another level.’

In high-level play like this—
especially in a structured team match rather than solo queue—
such dominance was almost unheard of.

It was like watching stagnant swamp water crushing a fragile sprout.

Yong-won even felt pity for his acquaintance, the enemy mid.

‘Monster.’

No word fit better.

If Do-su had been on the enemy side,
it would’ve been nothing short of a disaster.

Yong-won glanced at him.

Unlike his in-game fireworks,
his expression was calm—eerily calm.

No intoxication in his play, no hint of excitement.
As if it were only natural.

Click, click!
Tap, tatatat!

Mouse movements and keystrokes filled the air.

A critical teamfight was about to break out—
the perfect chance to end the game through another of Do-su’s superplays.

[Double Kill!]
[‘TacticMaker’ is on a rampage!]

Do-su immediately gave a crisp order.

“Mid and jungle down. Engage now and push bot straight through!”

The team responded at full throttle.

“Nice~! That assassination was insane! This is a straight-up hard carry from Dosu-ham!”

“At this point it’s not a bus ride, it’s a private jet!”

“Facts! And not business class either—this is full-on first class comfort!!”

With their numbers advantage,
they smashed towers and inhibitors.

Everyone was rowing together with victory in sight,
burning with fighting spirit.

It was a far cry from their previous scrims,
where defeat had left them crushed in despair.

Yong-won blinked, throat dry.

‘Honestly, until yesterday I thought just qualifying for the main stage would be a miracle…’

Even seeing it firsthand,
he could hardly believe it was real.

Shock and disbelief slowly gave way to expectation.

‘At this rate… could we actually place at finals!?’

His head spun with happy delusions.

Looking around, his teammates were just as elated.

But…

“Hmph.”

Not everyone felt that way.

Despite being on the same team,
one player felt the exact opposite.

‘Wow… this team’s state is absolute trash.’

Of course—
that player was Lee Do-su.

* * *

Scrims.

The practice matches Yong-won had organized from the afternoon
stretched on into the night.

It was past 10 PM when I finally made it home.

Aside from a quick 20-minute meal,
I’d played nonstop.

‘Phew… not easy.’

And I don’t mean the practice volume.

Compared to a pro’s schedule,
this was child’s play.

Was it the results then?

No—
aside from a couple of experimental picks,
we’d won every game.

Considering this was day one of team practice,
it was actually quite smooth.

So what was the problem?

The biggest shock to me was Park Yong-won himself.

‘What the hell—why is this guy so bad?’

It was shocking.

Was he really at this level before debut?

Even more surprising—
physically, he was no different from the Yong-won I remembered.

But his gameplay?
It was like he played without using his brain at all.

Just looking at concepts and decision-making,
the fact he even hit Grandmaster was a miracle.

Watching the replays made it even clearer.

‘I’ll have to re-teach him from the basics…’

On the bright side,
his raw mechanics were insane—
enough to carry him to Grandmaster despite having zero fundamentals.

“Well, guess I’ll just have to put in the work.”

But fixing his concepts would require
far more effort than I’d expected.

Whistle.

The second shock was our bot lane’s vision control.

‘I mean, sure, vision can be shaky… but how the hell was it pitch-black the whole game?’

In BOL, players had wards.
Consumables that revealed the map temporarily
until destroyed or expired.

Teams used wards to track enemy movements,
while sweeping enemy wards to blind them.

This was “vision control.”

Like intelligence warfare in modern combat,
it was vital.

And the position most responsible for it was support.

Yet our support?
He had zero sense of vision.

At best, placing a basic ward in lane early—
but by midgame,
it was like we were playing blindfolded.

And worse…

‘Bot lane has another critical flaw.’

The synergy.

I recalled their constant bickering:

“Yo, Haneul! What the hell was that skill just now? You’re not trying to force a fight already, right?”
“Check reaction speed~!”
“You moron! If that landed, you’d have just died instantly!”

“Sang-jun ham! Did you see that? Their support just spammed the tongue-out emote! So cocky! How can we let that slide?”
“Please, sir! Calm down! I’m weak right now, I just want to farm CS safely! Fall back!”
“What, a man turning his back on the battlefield? Especially when they’re taunting us like that?”
“Oh god!! Why do you turn into a beast the second we play BOL!?”
“Don’t be scared! The one who turns away first loses! Ohh, the angle’s here! I’m going in—follow up!!”
“Wait—you’re actually going in!? You crazy—!!”
“Now, ham! Dump all your skills!! If you hesitate, the fight’s already lost!!”