His upper body leaned forward, as if preparing to charge at any moment, with his sword positioned to strike.
It couldn’t be ignored.
I twisted my waist in response, much like pulling the string of a bow. It was an almost overtly tempting move. I didn’t exactly believe that a powerful attack would follow the obvious preparatory movements, but I couldn’t afford not to be ready for it.
As expected, he hesitated. It seemed he had no serious intention of attacking. He was cautious and strategic—a troublesome opponent.
Maintaining the distance that had opened between us, I moved my steps in a clockwise direction. Then, moments later, we faced each other with our daggers turned away from each other.
It had been about two minutes since the simultaneous throw. The battle to distract and reclaim the thrown daggers raged fiercely. Both sides continued to fail, though.
It seemed time to give up soon. The psychological advantage was mine. I could afford not to reclaim the thrown dagger, but he absolutely had to retrieve his.
It was a small difference, but that disparity translated into clear benefits with each clash. It was an issue of build optimization.
In a rogue mirror match, throws occurred more frequently than expected, leading to time spent relying on a single-handed sword. Therefore, one had to be prepared for that.
For instance, by shortening the length of one dagger to secure weight and instead wearing a gauntlet. Orthodox hadn’t thought that far. Probably due to a lack of experience. He likely hadn’t faced many rogues of equal level.
However, he had good instincts.
Perhaps he sensed that the more time dragged on, the more disadvantaged he would be. Orthodox, who had been stepping sideways, suddenly rushed forward, as if he could no longer bear it.
He aimed to secure a position to reclaim the thrown dagger.
Of course, it could genuinely be an attempt to retrieve the dagger, but it might also be to harvest the fruits of repeatedly planting the idea in my head, even at his own cost.
It wasn’t easy to predict which it would be. He was adept at hiding his intentions within feints.
In the moment he extended his sword toward me, carefully observing his approach—
*Thud!*
The charging figure disappeared. Shadow Step… so, he used it as a dash move.
He threw the dice. In the final critical moment, it was a gamble, a binary choice.
It was the moment we both had been preparing for throughout the match.
Would he land in a position to retrieve the dagger, or in a position to launch an offensive? The victory would hinge on predicting his destination.
I could have evaded backward to avoid making a choice entirely—but I couldn’t.
Such moments were the real essence of a rogue mirror match. Just before disappearing, Orthodox’s gaze was clearly fixed on the dagger scattered on the ground.
Logically, targeting the dagger was the correct assumption. A person’s eyes are surprisingly honest. Anyone would think so.
However, what Orthodox was misunderstanding was this:
I was someone more familiar with a monitor screen rather than VR. And on those screens, the character’s line of sight was far less important information. Unlike VR, it didn’t align with the user’s viewpoint.
The true intention revealed itself through the movement of muscles, the angle of the feet, and the position of the hands.
And–
Orthodox’s pivot foot was slightly but unmistakably turned towards me. For the first time.
– Thwack!
* * * *
A shaking view and spurting blood.
The impact on his head was no joke. A quick glance at his health showed that more than two-thirds of it had vanished. Another hit would be the end.
– Whoosh!
He barely rolled backward, just evading the sharp dagger that whisked past his eyes. Had his reaction been just a bit slower, the blow would have landed.
However, there was no thrill in having dodged it.
He had clearly moved into the dagger’s blind spot, so what exactly had happened–it was only when he saw the blood on Orthodox’s gauntlet that he realized.
She had read him perfectly.
The nightmare of the first set flashed back. How could she read his Shadow Step landing point so accurately? Was it an overreach on his part? No, missing that moment would’ve meant losing any chance of a comeback.
– Clink!
He narrowly parried the dagger rushing toward his chest. She didn’t allow him a moment of respite and kept attacking relentlessly. The cautious demeanor she had shown was entirely gone.
Dodge. Dodge. Block. Dodge.
He was desperately hanging on, but she showed no inclination of relinquishing her offensive flow once she had seized it.
He was gasping for breath. Her attacks seemed designed more to force reckless movements from him than to deal damage. Whenever he avoided one attack, he had to perform an even larger maneuver to evade the next.
She was targeting his stamina with borderline obsession, as if no longer caring about his depleted health.
A decision needed to be made.
If he kept getting dragged along like this, he had no chance of winning. If she charged in trying to deal damage, he could at least try for a counterattack, but with this suffocating pressure… he would just get hunted down.
– Clang!
As he once again deflected an attack aimed at his arm,
Orthodox thrust her body into even the smallest opening. We were now so close that he could feel her breath. It was a realm where he had to rely entirely on instinct and reaction.
There was no more room for calculated evasion or attacks. He only had to meet her dagger with his sword, desperately fighting with all his might.
How much time had passed? He was suffocating. He hadn’t anticipated losing in terms of stamina. It must’ve been because he had wasted too much energy before the fight began.
He should have decided faster, but it was a regret that came too late. Or rather, it was something inevitable. She didn’t give him a moment to make such a decision in the first place. An eerie thought crossed Orthodox’s mind: this might’ve been a meticulously designed scheme from the beginning.
How much stamina, how much energy was left? There was hardly even a moment to glance at the upper right corner of the screen to check.
He needed to restrict his opponent’s movement and retreat. He required a moment to catch his breath that was now choking up to his throat.
*Swoosh!*
At the moment the opponent’s sword brushed past his cheek as it swiftly rushed in, he lunged as if to pierce the opponent’s chest.
*Whirr*
He rotated the dagger half a turn in mid-air, gripping it in a reverse hold, and slashed down with his arm.
This strike was executed with the determination that there was no turning back if it failed, putting every ounce of his strength into the attack.
Was it due to that desperation?
Orthodox’s dagger pierced through the opponent’s armor and plunged into her thigh.
He had successfully hindered the opponent’s mobility. Though it was not yet a moment to celebrate, a tiny spark of hope ignited.
‘Just once, move back-’
If he just re-equipped and fought from the outside, there might be a chance to turn the tables.
Thinking thus and attempting to retreat,
*Thud!*
The opponent’s gauntlet slammed down onto the dagger’s hilt. The blade dug deeper into the opponent’s thigh, blood spurting up once again. It was severe damage, but there was no time for joy.
His right hand, still clutching the dagger, was trapped.
‘…Got-!’
He had to survive. He desperately shook his hand, even letting go of his last dagger—had his stamina reached its limit?
His reaction was a beat too slow.
*Thuck*
At the very bottom of Orthodox’s vision, the sword’s tip jutted out, piercing through from his neck.
.
.
.
In an embrace-like stance, GetDevoured, who had wrapped her left arm around the opponent’s shoulder, moved her right hand once more.
*Thuck!*
With a chilling sound, the opponent’s body collapsed in her arms. As his strength ebbed away, she gently laid him down on the ground.
It was a gentle yet serious movement.
On the snowfield, stained red with each other’s blood.
No one was left standing till the end.
The loser lay comfortably on the blood-stained field, like a scattered flower bed-
The winner knelt on one knee, paying respect in front of the fallen adversary.
* * * *
It was a match that no one could have imagined.
“GetDevoured! GetDevoured takes the victory! In the blood-soaked battlefield of these two players, it is GetDevoured who finally claims the win!”
The level of performance was such that even pros rarely displayed, and the thrill of the closely contested match was palpable.
“GetDevoured! How on earth has such a player been hidden all this time? That was a bone-chilling performance! Ah- I can hear the audience’s chants from here!”
Additionally, the relentless tenacity of both players running full throttle at each other had the audience on the edge of their seats.
『Wow, insane』
『They are really, really good』
『What did I just watch』
『Please hug me too』
『GetDevoured! King GetDevoured! God GetDevoured!』
『Is this what a pro looks like? Is this what a pro looks like? Is this what a pro looks like? Is this what a pro looks like? Is this what a pro looks like?』
『Is this the final?』
『If it’s a shattered bone like this, thumbs up』
『Noonaaaaaaa』
『Teacher, why are you pretending to be normal』
『Totally insane, seriously』
『I can’t believe a rogue mirror match could be so solemn』
『Why isn’t she a pro?』
『I thought she was just crazy, turns out she’s amazingly crazy;;』
『Her expression is so sexy, damn』
And so, while the official broadcast chat room exploded due to the enthusiastic viewers just as much as the live audience’s explosive reactions,
‘……Damn, what, I mean……what is this? What kind of, performance is that?’
One person sitting quietly in the players’ waiting room was breaking out in a cold sweat.