Genius Archer's Streaming - Season 2: Chapter 149: Important Responsibility (3)

“Die! Dieee!”

“Aaaargh!”

The harp of death performance by OrangeKing and Chi-Seung continued.

Chi-Seung, too, was engrossed in the continuous stream of donations.

‘Huh?’

Suddenly, there were no enemies left on the screen.

Chi-Seung paused in surprise.

“Die! Di… Wow, they really are all dead!”

The last melody of the harp lingered in the air.

“But! Jaydril charges in as the last samurai!”

Even though all the soldiers were dead, Jaydril had not given up on Almond. His persistence was terrifying.

“Jaydril charges in but!!”

However, with no targets left, the Korean archers focused on Jaydril. In an instant─

He became a porcupine and was flung far away. Hit by too many arrows, he inevitably died.

“Dead! A commander was killed!! That’s significant, right?”

“You avenged Coffee! The concentration of those Korean archers was incredible!! Using only archers to defend!!!”

All the excitement ended in a victory.

The commentators were relieved, but OrangeKing looked around the overall situation and said uneasily, “But aren’t we… still losing the game?”

Upon regaining their senses, they realized the game was significantly tilted against them.

“Yes… well, it was never really looking good from the start.”

Chi-Seung had known this all along. Even capturing Jaydril wouldn’t improve the overall flow of the game.

The viewers and OrangeKing had been focused on Almond. They hadn’t paid attention to the overall war.

Korea was facing a losing situation even though they won Almond’s battle.

“Why are we losing though?”

OrangeKing wanted an explanation.

“Is there no chance of a comeback? If battles like that keep happening…” OrangeKing asked Chi-Seung desperately.

After such a thrilling shake-up, to find out they were losing was disheartening.

“Ahem. Sorry to burst your bubble but… we were already losing. And as much as we’d like more battles like that… it’s currently difficult.”

“Ah, no… Mr. Kimchi! Can’t you turn on the happiness circuit? After all that harp of death performance… what are we going to do?”

“Well, that was all OrangeKing’s doing…”

“Kimchi, because of you, our spirits are crushed. Now you’re responsible.”

— Crushed our spirits, lol

— The harp of death performance (included allies) lol

— Is it possible to beat England without any special strategy…

Chi-Seung had anticipated defeat from the beginning. In this open scrimmage without the ability to use any unique strategies, Korea had almost no way to beat England.

Anticipating defeat and trying not to let the mood get too heavy, he had even danced. This made it hard for him to raise his head now.

“It wasn’t meaningless. Although it involved some luck, we got to see Almond’s performance and confirm that he has enough potential as a national player,” Chi-Seung remarked.

“Right. This scrimmage was essentially a period of adaptation for the new player. And by that measure, it was a huge success!”

Despite the viewers’ sarcastic comments…

‘It doesn’t matter.’

Chi-Seung felt they had gained something significant. The player he almost forcibly recruited showed undeniable prowess.

Almond’s defensive performance in the gold mine battle was unprecedented. It was regrettable that this wasn’t an official match. Then again, that was probably why such scenes were possible.

‘But still. It’s encouraging. It was his first battle.’

Where could one find someone who could perform like this in their first national competition? Even a seasoned pro gamer from another game couldn’t necessarily match this.

“Ah~ in the end… GG~~~~!!”

While he was contemplating, the Korean team declared their surrender.

OrangeKing was metaphorically unrolling the wrapping paper.

“No, I mean, this does have meaning, you know? It’s practice. We even got to see the enemy’s strategies…”

Viewers were busy mocking him for his attempts to wrap things up.

After a long session of justifications, he sighed and said, “Phew… well, it’s a relief we didn’t lose to Japan. We would’ve had to shut down our broadcast.”

“Ah, right. That would’ve been a disaster…”

Chi-Seung shuddered at the thought, knowing all too well how seriously the viewers took the Korea-Japan matches.

“We lost, huh,” Cookie sighed softly and leaned back.

He had been on edge throughout the entire game and never took a second to relax, yet they still lost.

“Are you okay with this public defeat?” Coffee, one of the commanders who remained, asked.

Coffee had always been skeptical about the public scrimmage.

To his question, Cookie looked at him squarely and asked, “Did it look that way?”

“Yes?”

“Did it look like we lost?”

“Yes. We lost.”

Another commander, Bread, interjected, “There’s no loss in a scrimmage.”

Coffee hesitated and observed the situation.

Bread, whose real name was Shi Ba-Reum, didn’t quite gel with Coffee. If not for Cookie, they’d never work together.

“Bread is right. A scrimmage is literally a practice game,” Cookie supported her.

“Of course, saying this might sound like an excuse to others. To them, our elimination from the national competition preliminaries is the result and our scrimmage losing streak is the result. But to us, it’s just a process. It must be a process.”

Coffee knew this. Cookie was a running train. Regardless of the scenery passing by or the destination, the train continued to run. No matter how long it took or who they encountered along the way, it didn’t matter.

Even if they stopped at the worst stations along the way, those were just stops. People thought it was the destination, but it was just another station for the train.

“That’s all it was.”

No matter who got off at that station, he kept running.

Coffee briefly closed his eyes and nodded.

“Right. You can’t reveal strategies in a scrimmage that’s exposed to the whole neighborhood.”

After a moment of silence, he tentatively asked, “So does this continue? This system?”

“The public scrimmage?”

“Yes. It’s quite inconvenient.”

“Um…”

Cookie slowly turned and looked at Coffee for a moment. Then he changed the subject.

“Do-Joon, you fought with Almond before being eliminated, right?”

“Yes.”

“How was it?”

“…”

Coffee turned his gaze away before speaking, “Almond was responsible for 80% of winning that battle.”

Hearing this, Cookie showed no change in expression. His gaze merely drifted momentarily to some data.

“After reviewing everything since then, the variables from his spontaneous actions are significant. However, it’s uncertain how it’ll play out in actual combat.”

“And the positive aspects?”

“… He showed a sense of understanding hard to find in a beginner during today’s battle.”

Coffee turned away with a slightly sulky expression, seemingly reluctant to admit it.

Cookie remained silent, prompting him to continue explaining.

“The ideal way to break through a shield wall is to charge from behind and collide with it. The enemy anticipated this by positioning a spearman at the back. Normally, that would prevent a cavalry charge.”

“And then?”

“Almond somehow knew this in advance and dealt with it.”

“Knew in advance?”

“Yes.”

“It was a coincidence,” Cookie cut him off sharply.

“A coincidence?” Coffee was surprised and asked back.

“That person doesn’t have the minimum knowledge required to make such a play. It’s deductively impossible.”

Cookie’s prediction was accurate. It really was a coincidence.

“It’s not a dismissal. He just doesn’t know yet. That’s the fact. Look at this.”

Cookie pointed to the data on trait utilization. It showed how much benefits the player gained from a specific trait.

For a Korean archer, the focus trait was key.

[0%]

Almond’s utilization rate for the trait was 0%, whereas the average was 86%.

“It’s at 0%? Is there an error?”

“No. This is the data up to the point before he found out about the focus trait.”

“?!?”

Coffee was shocked. What did that mean? Almond hadn’t known about the focus trait until a specific point?

‘Ah. So that’s why…?’

Coffee finally understood all of Almond’s bizarre actions.

‘Is that why he kept shooting arrows into the air?’

That was why he fired arrows into the void several times and moved forward.

“But look at this.”

Cookie showed him another set of data.

[100%]

“… What’s this?”

“The utilization rate after he realized it.”

Coffee and Bread just blankly stared at the 100% in the data.

“After realizing the focus trait existed… not a single arrow missed. Every arrow had its purpose.”

The two commanders remained silent. They were overwhelmed by surprise, awe, and confusion. Various emotions stormed across their faces.

“What we have here is an assessment of his capabilities as an individual player.”

Cookie switched to the screen and faced them again.

“As an individual player, he’s excellent. But… Do-Joon, did this guy follow your commands today?”

“No.”

“Did he understand formations, understand the terrain, and fight accordingly?”

“No.”

Cookie stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked around. This was a habit when he needed to think.

“A zero as a soldier, but a perfect score as a warrior…”

Bread chimed in with a comment, “That’s an accurate description, Cookie.”

‘What? A robot?’

Coffee wanted to retort against Bread, but decided to keep quiet.

Cookie continued speaking, “It would be great if we could just improve his score as a soldier, but these two aspects are undoubtedly connected. Obviously.”

“Yes, making it too bureaucratic could constrain his play.”

Cookie nodded in agreement.

“Find the right balance.”

“Understood.”

Bread interjected from the side, “When you mention balance, does that include relationships and perceptions with other players?”

“That’s right.”

Bread smiled as if she understood Cookie’s intentions faster and looked down on Coffee with superiority.

‘Is this kindergarten?’

Coffee didn’t bother to engage in such petty squabbles. He was just amazed by Cookie’s coldly objective analysis.

‘As expected of Cookie. Knowing exactly how to weigh the pros and cons.’

He didn’t overrate or underrate Almond. He just evaluated him accurately like all other soldiers.

Cookie announced the end of their meeting.

“This is the end of the public scrimmage. From the next scrimmage on, we’ll proceed privately and test the strategies we want.”

Both commanders nodded. The show to attract viewers was over.

“And Almond can’t join the scrimmage again until he reaches S+.”

Coffee nodded in agreement.

“Who will you assign as his commander?”

“Since there’s no commander in the national team with a rank of A+… Choose from the think tank. They’ll also be responsible for his training.”

“Understood.”

“Not someone too soft. Choose someone decisive. Being too lenient with rookies has never worked out well.”

“I’m aware.”

Perhaps it was because of Almond’s abilities.

‘Seems like they’re keeping more distance than usual.’

Considering they abruptly included him in the national competition, they seemed to be keeping their distance from Almond and treated him strictly.

Cookie added after a moment of thought, “Ah, tomorrow’s the award ceremony.”

“Excuse me?”

What award ceremony? Was he the type to keep track of such events?

“The Treevy Awards.”

Cookie never even watched films or streams. Visitt nov𝒆lbin(.)c𝒐/m for the l𝒂test updates

‘The Treevy award ceremony?’

Coffee was baffled but responded anyway, “Yes… Is that so?”

“Yeah. So take a break from raising Almond’s rank tomorrow and continue after that. Considering their hangover, the day after tomorrow would be good.”

“?”

“Your response?”

“… Understood.”

Despite seemingly keeping a distance, the thought crossed Coffee’s mind that Cookie was surprisingly attentive to all sorts of details.

‘What’s going on here…?’