Vol.2 Chapter 59

Arthur’s PoV

After the elimination match, the walk back to the participants' room was heavy, with the weight of the loss settling in with every step.

The air surrounding my team members thrummed with a strange mix of disappointment and distant cheers from the crowd in favor of the other team, a constant reminder of what could have been.

Upon reaching our room, the heaviness of defeat weighed upon me, coinciding with the gradual calming of our adrenaline after the intense match. The room's stillness and the somber expressions of my teammates became intolerable, prompting me to break the silence.

"Guys," I began, my voice thick with disappointment, "I'm sorry."

My teammates looked up, having caught my attention with my unexpected apology. Their faces were clearly etched with the same dejection I felt after our team’s lackluster performance.

"This one's on me. I failed you as your captain," I continued.

"What are you saying, dude? You're the reason we got so far, so don’t take all the blame on yourself," Tristan objected, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by seriousness.

The previous match appears to have deeply affected him, leading to his current demeanor. It's understandable; it was an unfavorable matchup where his adversary clearly overpowered him. The plan was for him to impede the enemy twins with his robust vitality build. However, against a swift DPS like Hana, he found himself unable to do anything at all.

"...I concur. I was the one who suggested the strategy; you shouldn't shoulder the blame alone," Astrid reassured.

The same goes for Astrid. She seems more open to conversation than usual because of our huge blunder in strategizing. The opponent read our play like a book, turned it against us, and used it to their advantage.

"That's right! We could've just gone with our usual rotation, and it would've been fine! I got matched with their ace for crying out loud, all because of your strategy," Tristan voiced his frustration.

Astrid, ever the fighter, wasn't about to accept all of Tristan's accusations without a response.

"...You're in no position to judge," she started. "...If anyone is to blame, it would be you for failing to slow down their ace's momentum even for a little bit. You should've played it safe and focused on surviving instead of trying to win against her," Astrid stated in a cold tone.

"A man's got to show some guts! Sometimes, you just have to risk it to win it! Ever heard of the saying, no risk, no reward?!" Tristan countered.

"...And pray so tell, where your risk took you?" Astrid asked sarcastically.

"I-it just didn't go well this time! But the same can't be said for the future," Tristan replied, a bit unsure of how to rebuke Astrid’s claims.

"...Future? We just got eliminated, dimwit! You should have prioritized caution over pride, especially in an elimination match!" Astrid retorted, raising her voice for the first time during the argument.

Tristan, shocked by Astrid’s uncharacteristic behavior, was unable to reply.

I anticipated them feeling down by the defeat, but their level of frustration caught me off guard. Venting their emotions may be healthier than harboring resentment, though, so I guess this is fine. But I still need to regulate it a bit so it doesn't turn into an insult match.

"G-guys! Remember, we are a team. Let's avoid pointing fingers for the loss, okay?"

I interjected into their standoff. Prompting them to stare guiltily at me.

"...Apologies, I acted too harsh," Astrid, showcasing her usual maturity, was the first to apologize.

"N-no, I also let my emotions get the best of me..." Tristan added.

Suddenly, Gwyn rose from her sofa chair and headed towards the exit door.

"Where are you off to, Gwyn?" I inquired.

"...To the participants' relaxation room. I need to catch some sleep after that tiring match," she responded, letting out a yawn after opening the door.

Gwyn gave the door a final, casual pull with her hand, the momentum sending it swinging shut with a satisfying whoosh. The latch clicked into place with a definitive snap, punctuating her exit as she headed out of the room.

A beat of silence settled in the room after the door closed, punctuated only by the faint echo of Gwyn's departure. Tristan voiced out to break the silence.

"She really doesn't let anything bother her, does she? Sometimes, I wish I could be as carefree as her. To be this much unaffected even after getting eliminated," Tristan commented wistfully.

"...You really are clueless, you dolt..." Astrid remarked.

"W-what? Why insult me again? I thought we had moved past fighting and reconciled already?" Tristan said with an aggrieved tone.

I sighed.

"I think what Astrid meant is, among us four, Gwyn is likely the most impacted by our loss," I clarified.

"Her? Are we really talking about the same person? She seems always unbothered by everything," Tristan asked.

"You know, Tristan, individuals often behave in a certain manner as a psychological defense mechanism, primarily to shield themselves from further pain," I expressed enigmatically.

"Huh? What do you mean by that?"

“It’s not in my place to say. Just know that she cares for us and the team as a whole, even if she doesn’t seem to show it.”

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Gwendolyn's PoV

Stepping out of the room, I drifted down the hallway, aimlessly following the sterile lights. My mind churned, replaying the events of the recent match on a loop. Regret gnawed at me, a bitter aftertaste of missed opportunities and actions I longed to take back.

This sucks.

I hate this feeling.

Why is nobody blaming me? I'm the one who lost it for our team. I failed as our team's ace.

My mind was a relentless critic of how I could've done better—an endless loop of self-loathing.

I let down my team. I betrayed their trust.

Self-blame gnawed at me, a bitter aftertaste that no amount of reflection could sweeten.

I could feel my eyes watering as I thought of my failure. Hot and stinging tears welled up in my eyes. I squeezed my eyelids shut, willing them back, forcing a frustrated breath through clenched teeth. The hallway lights blurred for a moment, the sound of the crowd in the background hammering my feeling of defeat.

It would be better if they blamed me instead. Then, hopefully, I wouldn’t feel this shitty inside.

As I spiraled deeper into my personal regret. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a voice laced with amusement yanked me back to reality.

"Sucks to lose, right?" a male voice echoed my sentiments.

Hastily brushing away the tears forming in my eyes, I immediately redirected my gaze toward the figure in question. Dressed in dark clothing that merged effortlessly with the shadows, a facemask obscured his features, heightening the sense of mystery and apprehension surrounding his presence as he stood calmly in the hallway.

“...What do you know?" I said with a bit of a confrontational tone.

A tone that I instantly regretted. Confronting a random stranger and letting out all my frustrations this guy is just not right, even if he seems to be here to mock me for our loss.

"I may have a lot of experience regarding that,” the tone of his voice shifted to solemnity, a voice speaking out of experience. “From my extensive knowledge of dealing with losses, I can confidently say that not everyone can achieve their desired outcome. In a competition, our opponents desire the prize just as much, if not more, than we do. Thus, there is no need to blame yourself, or anyone else for that matter, for the loss. It simply wasn't your moment," he comforted.

Well, maybe he isn't here to mock me after all. He does seem to offer good insights, but I'm too emotionally drained to give it much thought.

"...Makes sense," I said in an uninterested tone. "...But what do you want? You're not here just to console the loser of the last match, right?

Despite wearing a face mask, his voice and physique indicate that I am not personally familiar with this individual. Therefore, he bears no responsibility to offer me any form of consolation as we are not acquainted. Furthermore, his presence in a restricted area of the stadium reserved for participants indicates that he is not merely a normal spectator from the stadium.

He gazed at me as if scrutinizing my very being. "It appears my intuition was spot on. You possess a greater level of self-awareness and intelligence than you let on."

"…You're reading too much into it,” I shrugged.

He fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "Gwendolyn Ashford, right?"

Why does this shady guy know my full name? Is he a stalker or something? How creepy.

“You have the wrong person,” I instantly denied it.

I don’t think getting involved in this shady guy could possibly benefit me at all.

“I'm pretty sure I do; I recently saw you on the stage, after all.”

“I have a boyfriend,” I lied.

I read on the net that it was a phrase used by the women of the 2020s to dissuade people like him. I’m really not interested in men, nor do I currently have any romantic relationships, for that matter, but he doesn’t know that, so it should be fine to use it as an excuse.

"...I believe disclosing that detail is unnecessary for our discussion. I have no intention of having any romantic involvement with you. I am already in my mid-twenties while you are what? 17? I don’t want to go to jail. Besides, you’re not my type,” he said dismissively.

What? How Rude!

“...What do you want then? I'm busy,” I responded, conveying my utmost annoyance in my tone.

"Busy with what, precisely?" he inquired, confusion evident in his voice.

"Busy trying to find a good place to sleep," I casually remarked.

“...I want to offer you something.”

Did he just ignore my previous statement? The nerve!

"...That seems dubious. My mother raised me to always be careful around strangers, particularly those who appear as suspicious as you,” I rebuked.

As if finally realizing something, he took off his face mask and hat that covers his head, letting me see his facial features clearly for the very first time in our conversation.

“Oh, my bad. I apologize if my attire looked shady to you. As you can see, I had a reason to conceal myself from the public eye,” he expressed while highlighting his face as if expecting me to know who he was.

Looking at him closely, he does look familiar… wait, I recognize him! How could I not, since he always receives a lot of interviews post-matches? The leader of the legendary team that took the whole CoA community by storm in their glory days. Tactical, in the flesh, is the one talking to me!

Seeing me unable to talk due to shock, he continued.

“I don't want to take up too much of your time, so I’ll get to the point. I want to recruit you to a team I am building.”

“T-team?” I let out, intrigued by an offer from the OG Paragon’s captain.

“Yes, you have aspirations of becoming a professional player, right? That is why you’re here.”

He is right on the money. I have always dreamed of becoming a pro, even when I was still young. I envy their lifestyle, playing games all day and doing what they want as their job. It suits someone as lazy and unmotivated as me. That is also the reason why I know his facial features in real life from watching all the post-match interviews of professional players. It also helps that I'm naturally talented at VR games, even if I seldom practice, which also favors my prospects a lot in my goal.

But facing Hana earlier and seeing firsthand how motivated she is to improve and how desperately she wants to win in our match has been an eye-opener. It seems like the road to becoming a pro is not all fun and games as I thought it would be.

“…I did back then, but now... I'm not so sure...” I tried to muster up a reply.

“What do you mean?” he inquired.

“I don't think I'm not cut out to be a pro,” I confessed.

"I'm not asking about your capability. I'm asking about your desire. Is it something you aspire to? Do you, or do you not wish to go pro?"

“Of course I do! But-“

“Then that is your answer,” he gave me a meaningful smile.

I stared at him, both bewildered and amazed by his train of thought and actions thus far.

“But what if I fail...” I express my self-doubt.

“Failing at something is not something to be ashamed of. What is shameful is not even trying in the first place. Moreover," he flashed me a sincere, unwavering smile. "I am determined to create a team that will become the strongest in the history of CoA! And I need your strength and skill for that to happen.”

I could discern from the conviction in his eyes that he genuinely believed his words and that achieving this feat was the purpose of his entire being. That type of resolve really draws me into believing in him, especially since I have no aspirations of my own.

"...But why choose me?" I asked hesitantly.

"You possess talent. Your only shortcoming is the lack of drive. However, I am confident you will discover that motivation in due time," he responded.

"…We lost two of our previous matches and got eliminated, though," I countered.

"While I agree that most recruiters tend to prioritize results over performance, however, I diverge from that approach. I see an unrivaled talent in you, akin to an undiscovered gem, and if you join my team, I guarantee that I can nurture that potential and bring it to fruition for the world to see!" he asserted with conviction.

Being this charismatic, I can see now why he became the first paragon’s team leader. Nonetheless, let's not get overly enthusiastic. His statements could be a ploy to entice me; I lack sufficient insight into his character to trust him entirely. He doesn't resemble Art or Hana, who are both excessively straightforward. Yet, I am inclined to believe his aspiration of forming the most formidable team is genuine.

“…Please give me time to think about it."

He regarded me with a hint of disappointment at my hesitance to accept his proposal. “That's fair; I won’t force you to answer now, but please think about it more.”

He handed me a slip of paper with his contact information before nodding and walking away with a wave, his form disappearing into the shadows of the hallway. The paper felt cool and smooth in my trembling hand, a tangible link to the figure who had left an indelible impression on me. As I watched him fade into the distance, a feeling welled up deep inside me.

“The strongest team in the history of CoA, huh?” I murmured to myself.

That does sound like something that could motivate me to try harder.