On the way home after finalizing the coaching contract, I found myself thinking about the speed mode I remembered. In some ways, the speed mode in Kill Ground is actually harder than the standard game. Because the game moves so fast, there are fewer choices you can make, but the tempo is rapid and unpredictable. If you can't keep up, you're guaranteed to lose.
"I need to see first if anyone can even keep up with this tempo."
Even though I agreed to be a coach, teaching someone who can't keep up would be too much, no matter who I am. Being a pro doesn't automatically mean you can handle this tempo. Some pros perform better in longer games, while shorter games can expose weaknesses. Since I committed to coaching, I planned to do it thoroughly.
"Let's start by reading through the materials…"
Earlier, when leaving the café, I had received information about speed mode. I planned to analyze it and compare it with the PC version. I read through the materials as I made my way home.
Once home, I perched at my desk and looked at the computer. This contract was important, but there was something I had to handle first.
"First, I need to grow my stream."
As someone about to coach pro gamers, if my stream isn't popular, GG fans might criticize me. And those criticisms would also reflect on me and Hanlasancheonji, the one who hired me.
"This is a responsibility entrusted to me by the fans; I can't just blow it off."
I reminded myself of that and started thinking of ways to grow my stream. There are many ways to make a stream grow quickly, and what I could do now was follow trends and hope for increased viewers. Luckily, yesterday's stream had brought in a decent number of viewers. If I could maintain that, I could grow at least to the level of a small-time streamer.
After jotting down rough plans for future streams, I got up and walked over to the capsule. Plans were important, but I couldn't forget the broadcast.
"All right, let's start streaming today."
I began the broadcast immediately.
"Filha!"
"Filha!"
"You're late!"
"Why are you so late?"
Even before I spoke, the chat was moving quickly. I hadn't seen this kind of pace back in the PC streaming days. That made a smile creep across my face as I opened the microphone in a good mood.
"Hello, everyone."
"Hi!"
"Why so late today?"
"Don't tell me you overslept!"
"Explain yourself!"
The chat sped up even more as soon as I spoke.
"I had some things to take care of outside, so I started a little late today."
Mentioning personal matters immediately quieted the complaints. I kept interacting with the chat. It's generally better to have some casual talk before diving straight into content. After about thirty minutes of chatting, I launched the game.
"All right, today's goal is to get first place at least once."
I'd technically achieved that yesterday, but it was under special rules, a rare situation. It didn't feel right to call that a proper first-place win.
"All right, let's jump into Battle Hill."
"Ugh… is this right?"
Back in the lobby, I muttered to myself. I had played several rounds, but I couldn't seem to get a proper game going.
"Wait, was that supposed to happen?"
"ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ"
"Well, that's just the game."
"In this game, sometimes luck wins everything."
"Honestly, that was just unlucky."
"How could you die there?"
"You have to understand the developers' twisted sense of humor for putting you in that spot."
"ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ"
"It's not the first time this developer has been twisted."
As I grumbled, the viewers laughed and even kindly explained things. The developers had spawned me on a building rooftop, where any small movement would immediately send me plummeting to my death. Just as intended, I fell and died right away.
"So this is how terrifying falling damage is."
"ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ"
"This is hilarious."
"This guy's playing a 4D game all by himself."
"Stop laughing, let's queue for the next match."
After a brief wait, a match popped, and I picked the same window. Beginners usually fare better focusing on one item rather than multiple, so I ignored the advice from chat.
"All right, let's start."
Once the match began, I immediately moved.
"The map is urban."
Confirming it was a city map, I started moving.
"As long as it's not like last time, we're fine."
I looted buildings slowly and managed to get one item. It wasn't hidden, so I didn't have high expectations.
"What could this be?"
If it was yellow, it was probably a consumable like a healing item. I held it, expecting that.
"Huh? Paper?"
But it wasn't what I expected—it was paper. Not just ordinary A4, so I checked the item details immediately.
[Weapon Enhancement Scroll]
Has a 70% chance to enhance the equipped weapon.
29% chance to fail.
1% chance to destroy the item.
The scroll disappears upon use.
"Ha… insane."
I couldn't help but mutter. A consumable item that enhances a weapon? This was insanely good.
"Wow, they actually dropped an enhancement scroll!"
"Here it is!"
"Let's gamble!"
"Boom boom! Boom boom!"
The viewers went wild in chat too, in a good way. High risk, high reward. While the chance of success was high, the 1% chance of destruction was terrifying. I couldn't risk that.
"Even if I fail, let's go!"
"Go for it!"
"Please destroy it!"
"Destroy! Destroy! Destroy!"
"Go destroy!"
The viewers wanted destruction, but I used the scroll anyway. A bright light shone from the weapon I held.
[Enhancement in progress.]
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Hammers struck as the message appeared. After about a minute, the weapon shone even brighter.
"Did it succeed?"
"No! Impossible!"
"Nope."
"You won't know until the result shows."
"Destroy my balls… uh! uh!"
Tension built as the system finally displayed the result.
[Enhancement failed.]
"Ah."
"Ah."
"Ah."
"This is…"
"They actually failed it?"
Neither the success I wanted nor the destruction the viewers wanted occurred. It felt unsatisfying. A successful enhancement would've helped me fight for first place, and destruction would have made a great broadcast moment. But this ambiguous failure was neither.
"All right, let's finish looting."
I moved to another building and looted, only to finish at an awkward 37th place.
"Ugh… is this right?"
Back in the lobby, I asked the viewers. I'd already spawned in a ridiculous spot last round and died, and this time, the opponents had monopolized four level cores, slaughtering me completely.
"Yep, your skill!"
"Luck is skill too."
"Honestly, never seen anyone hog four cores like that."
"Nope, others have done it before."
"That was before the core bug was patched, you fool."
The viewers teased, argued, and acknowledged things among themselves. To end the chaos, I drew my sword.
['SIFNA' has been muted for 5 minutes.]
['10su' has been muted for 5 minutes.]
After a swing of my sword and a moment to catch my breath, a donation came in. Technically, it was a mission.
['KimchiMandu' donated 1,000 won!]
[Mission: 100,000 won if first place achieved]
Another first-place mission had appeared. I'd gotten one like this yesterday, but that was under special rules. There are generally two reasons a viewer sets a first-place mission: one, they think you won't get first; two, they want to force a "King of Play" challenge. There's no other reason.
"So… KimchiMandu thinks I won't get first place?"
Based on today's performance, that seemed likely. But it was too soon to decide that just from a few rounds. Still, it pricked my pride.
"You think I can't get first place?"
KimchiMandu answered in chat.
"ㅋ, scared?"
That lit a fire under me. I've been streaming for nearly ten years. Even if I wasted five years on PC games, my skill wasn't dead.
"I'll get first place next round, no matter what."
Pricked pride aside, I made an unspoken bet. Another donation arrived.
['Hanbaek' donated 1,000 won!]
"Looks fun, I'll add 50,000 won."
Starting with Hanbaek, the first-place mission amount kept climbing. I wasn't the only one surprised.
"Huh? This isn't what I meant!"
Even KimchiMandu, who started it all, was shocked. The snowball had begun rolling, and total donations surpassed 500,000 won. I saw the situation as entertaining and decided to use it.
"All right, then let's consider this mission a showdown between me and KimchiMandu. You started it, after all."
I separated KimchiMandu's chat and pinned it to the top-right corner of the broadcast screen.
"Huh?"
"Do you want the challenger mixed with others? No, let's give them a VIP front-row seat."
"ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ"
"ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ"
"VIP front-row lol"
"Wow, perks are nice here."
Viewers reacted positively, and KimchiMandu didn't seem upset either.
"Ha! Since it's come to this, it's a straight-up showdown!"
I didn't know if KimchiMandu planned to interfere, but luckily, no one complained about my move.
"All right, watch closely from the VIP seat as I take first place."
I said that and queued for the next match.