"I can't believe it..." Ignis muttered. 

"My, what's wrong?" Esmeralda asked. "You look as if you saw a ghost." 

"Trust me, I saw something WAY worse than a ghost. I saw this damn kid... using KC! Can you believe that shit?" 

"But of course. He is Korean, after all."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Makes perfect sense... except it totally doesn't! Even if you're a Korean, you're not supposed to KC as a kid! Nobody is born with KC in their skillset, you know? Seriously, what the flying fuck is up with this kid...!?"

"So," IronWall started. "He can do Korean Cancel?" 

"Yep, he sure can." Ignis delivered the details to the rest of the team.

"Are you sure you're not drunk again?" Hawk asked.

"No, I'm not drunk. Not this time. This kid really did it."

"Huh. Wild stuff." Hawk shook his head.

Everybody had a hard time buying Ignis's story. Worst of all, she couldn't even blame them. Why? Because she had a hard time believing it herself.

The Korean Step Cancel, usually called Korean Cancel or KC, was an advanced type of attack-canceling. As the name implied, it was first discovered by Korean players.

Under certain circumstances, KC allowed the player to take a single step during the recovery animation of a basic attack. It started off as a bug but eventually turned into a feature based on the pros' reception.

The technique gained popularity in the east, mainly in Korea and China. However, it remained niche in the west, even in the pro scene. Why? Because it was hella difficult to execute consistently.

KC required extremely precise timing, so much that it was practically impossible to do online. And, even offline, it was a challenge no matter how much the player practiced.

In addition, there was the danger of buffering in a late step when executed poorly. It might sound like a small deal, but at the highest levels, a single misstep could make the whole difference between winning and losing.

That’s the most annoying part, really. Ignis remembered her past failures. I’d totally try harder to master this thing if it wasn’t such a double-edged sword.

Like many pros, there was as a time when Ignis entertained the idea of learning KC. She spent many weeks trying to tame that beast.

But, in the end, she gave up on the challenge. It was impossible to master KC to any reliable degree, not without YEARS of practice. At least, that was Ignis's impression of it.

It seemed that most western pros concluded the same. As a result, KC became an obscure super high-level technique that only a few bothered to wield.

On the other hand, in places like Korea, the pro scene embraced the mechanic with open arms and relentlessly trained to master it. They were so obsessed with it that they apparently even taught it to kids.

If he can use KC consistently, then this kid might be more trouble than I expected. Looks like I gotta take this more seriously. Heh. Can't believe I'm saying this when my opponent is a flipping middle schooler, but that's how things are now.

Thus far, the kid's performance was borderline perfect. His farming was quick, his last-hits were on point, and he even managed to counter Ignis's aggression. There was no doubt he was cut above other kids his age.

Gotta admit, so far it feels like playing an actual pro. Ignis couldn't deny it any longer. Even though taking a kid so seriously was embarrassing, losing to a kid would be a hundred times more embarrassing. Alright, fine. I'll take you seriously. That's what you wanted, right?

The next minion wave went as smoothly as the previous ones. Ignis swept through it with Fearless Charge and War Cry, whereas the kid used Shield Bash into Blade Swing.

As long as Ignis was 100% concentrated on farming, she didn't miss a single last-hit. I won't be distracted again.

Shortly, both sides finished clearing the minions. Ignis was a little faster this time, so the kid received one hit from her bowman before he finished the job.

Of course, this one little hit didn't even begin to compare to the two hits the kid landed on Ignis earlier, but it was a start. From here on out, Ignis will steadily reclaim her advantage.

There was no need to rush and fight the kid, it’ll only put Ignis at risk. Instead, she'll slowly but surely grind him down. After all, Warrior was stronger than Knight during the early-game, so she'll use that fact to her advantage.

This time, when both players were returning to their respective sides of the lane, they didn't even try to touch each other. Ignis didn't raise a finger against the invader, she simply let him go. And naturally, the kid did the same. He didn’t have the balls to get anything started against her right now.

So, she's not attacking this time. Jin nodded. Looks like showing it to her twice was enough. From here on out, she'll have to respect my KC every time we fight. I wonder, how much experience does she have against KC?

The Korean Step Cancel was almost nonexistent in the west, that was one of the shocking truths Jin learned after moving here. And, it wasn’t just at school level. Even in the pro scene, few westerns bothered to learn KC.

According to Rodriguez, most pros deemed KC too difficult and unreliable, so they didn't want to "waste" so much time practicing it. Apparently, they preferred to spend that time polishing other "more important" skills, whatever those were.

That's so strange. This was probably the millionth time Jin had this thought since coming to this country. The difference in how Korea and the west treated KC was simply mind-boggling.

In Korea, KC was a fundamental skill that every self-respecting competitive player had to possess. It was even used as a filter during various exams. Kids who couldn’t learn KC had a much harder time getting accepted into any serious Classmancers club.

But of course, nobody was born with the ability to KC right away. Therefore, it was unreasonable to expect many kids to be able to master KC at such a young age.

Instead, the coaches paid more attention to how the kids handled themselves during intense KC training. Surviving through that training was the real “exam”.

It was hell. Jin shuddered at the mere thought of it.

Back then, neither his mind nor his body were sturdy enough for that kind of exam. He was just a kid in grade school who wanted to try his hand at Classmancers after seeing some amazing pro matches.

For kids that age, video games were just a fun pastime. So, Jin definitely didn't expect such a difficult mechanical exam right off the gate.

In fact, it was unclear whether the examiners even expected any grade-schoolers to survive that insane KC exam. Most of the examinees that day were at least middle schoolers, so Jin and his friends were the exceptions there.

I believe I'm the only grade-schooler who made it back then. Jin reminisced.

It was hard to say what kind of feelings he harbored toward that exam now, three years after the fact. However, at the time, it was soul-crushing.

Jin challenged the exam alongside his two best friends. Together, they promised to become the next generation of pros who’ll dominate the Korean pro scene, the strongest scene in the world!

But, the exam was harsh. Too harsh The amount of work and dedication demanded from the kids was far beyond their naive expectations.

For a while, the trio stuck together through trials and tribulations. They encouraged and motivated each other, which helped them endure the hell they were burning in. But eventually, they reached a breaking point.

"I can't take it anymore! I’m done with this!" With that one outburst - everything crumbled apart.

All three of them shared similar thoughts but they did their best to keep their true feelings hidden. They knew that putting such thoughts into words would destroy their motivation.

But, it was impossible to stay silent forever. Eventually, the frustration was bound to explode in their faces, just like that.

"We can't quit now," Jin argued. "We've come this far. Just a little bit left!"

"I'm sick of it! Everything else was still fine, but this stupid KC training is too much! Isn't that something only pros do? Why do they insist we learn it!?”

Honestly, Jin thought the same thing. Given their beginner level, none of the kids could truly appreciate the importance of KC at the time. Therefore, being forced to practice such an incomprehensible technique, day in and day out, was like torture.

Over and over, they had to keep repeating KC until their success rate satisfied the examiners. And, once they achieved that goal with one class, they had to repeat the same process with another class.

Given how the timing of KC was tied to the attack animation, the execution varied from class to class. It was a slight difference on paper, but in practice, it was akin to retraining all muscle memory from scratch.

Every time, the kids had to break their muscle memory apart and rebuild it anew. It was a long, agonizing process.

"We just have to bear with it a little longer," Jin argued. "I heard some examiners talking. They said they don’t actually expect us to master KC at this stage. They just want to test our endurance and see how long we can keep up with this training."

"Hah, easy for you to say. You're already a pro at KC, so you don't have to worry either way."

"I wouldn't call myself a pro," Jin said. "I only fluke it every now and then." 

"That's more 'flukes' than two of us combined. Very convincing."

"Maybe it's because I practice it at home too." 

"You do WHAT?" 

"Hm? What's wrong?" Jin blinked. "You don’t practice it at home at all?”

"Are you serious? We go through this hellish training every day, but you still have the energy to practice some more after that?" The two friends exchanged awkward looks and smiled wryly.

Jin was clearly the odd one out in their eyes. Looking back on it, that was probably the beginning of the end.

Upon learning this information, his friends could no longer hide behind excuses. They couldn’t claim that Jin had any “special talent” for KC or any such nonsense. They came to realize it was all the result of Jin's hard work, which far transcended the amount of work they were willing to put in.

At first, Jin's hard work motivated his friends to try harder. As a result, they started practicing at home as well. And so, everything was heading in a good direction, or so Jin believed at the time.

Unfortunately, the extra training wasn't as helpful for his friends as it was for Jin. They definitely improved at KC, but their results were still discouraging. At this rate, they might fail the final evaluation exam.

Not to mention, all their improvements came with a cost. They did extra training on top of regular training, which slowly but surely wore them out mentally.

"I... I can't do this anymore." It all started with that breakdown. One of the friends finally called it quits, and the other followed soon after.

"Are you really going to quit?" Jin demanded. "What about our dream of dominating the pro scene!?" 

"Sorry, I really can't go on."

"Yeah, this way harder than I expected... I'm getting sick of playing Classmancers these days. They sucked out all the fun from it."

"But, we trained so hard for this..." Jin found himself trembling in disbelief.

All that hard work, all these countless hours of practice - his best friends were about to throw everything out of the window. The trio was so close to passing the exam and getting into a high-level club that gave birth to many pros. Alas, right before the final stop, his friends were about to drop out.

"Let's keep trying for a just little longer!" Jin pleaded. "We're definitely going to make it in!"

"Sorry, I’ve already decided. I'm out."

"Yeah, me too."

There was no changing their minds. No matter how hard Jin tried to convince them, his friends were hellbent on quitting. They gave up on becoming pros and on Classmancers as a whole.

"But, you should keep competing, Jin. You got the makings of a pro, I feel it!" 

"Yeah, 100%. You gonna be one of the best players in the world in no time. We'll be rooting for you!"

"A-Alright," Jin promised with a shaky voice. "I'll keep trying to get into the pro scene." 

"Yeah, that's how it gotta be!" 

"Go wipe them out!" 

At that moment, Jin inhered the will of his friends and swore to carry it all the way to the pro scene. As such, practicing and improving at the game was no longer something he only did for himself.

Was that a blessing or a curse? It filled him with both determination and pressure. He felt obligated to keep pushing forward for the sake of the friends who couldn't keep going.

And so, Jin ended up being the only grade-schooler to successfully clear that exam. There were very few examinees at his age to begin with and all of them dropped out. Only Jin pulled through, no doubt thanks to the encouragement he received from his friends.

He passed in most categories with flying colors, and he even learned to do KC semi-consistently. And so, he embarked on the road toward the professional scene!

But, that was just the beginning. The entry exam wasn’t made so harsh just to discourage players. It was but a small taste of what awaited those who successfully entered the club.

Jin had to spend hours upon hours after school practicing at the club's facility. And, even after returning home, he continued training some more because the threat of being discharged was ever-present.

The coaches tested each and every member near the end of the month. Those who were found unworthy were given the boot.

Therefore, even after the entrance exam was over, the competition between fellow players never ended. Everybody had to keep struggling and struggling, fighting tooth and nail to remain in the club.

At that point, Mancers pretty much became my whole life. Jin thought. I started working hard because of my friends, but we lost most of our contact in the process.

It wasn't anybody's fault Jin simply didn't have enough free time to hang out with his best friends, so they gradually drifted apart. Before long, the two friends replaced Jin with another third member.

But, it's not like their relationship turned sour or anything. They still talked in class from time to time. For what it was worth, the two friends still cheered on Jin and wanted to see him become a pro.

Alas, their relationship couldn’t ever become any more than that. The moment Jin stepped into a professional club, he started living in a different world from the rest of the kids.

Training regimes, practice matches, and retention exams. That’s what Jin’s life revolved around at that time. While other kids spent their time messing around, Jin was fighting for survival as he climbed the ranks in the club.

And, I was doing so well, too. Jin couldn't help but grump. I was always in the top 3 for my age at the club, and I even did well in scrims with pros. But...

Abruptly, all of that came to an end. Jin's father got a job offer in the west and had to leave Korea. And, he dragged the rest of the family along with him. No matter how much Jin pleaded to stay behind with relatives, it was to no avail.

"You can keep playing your video game over there too." That's what his parents said. They weren't against Jin’s dream of becoming a pro player, but neither did they practically care for it. Not to mention, their understanding of how the competitive scene worked was flawed at best.

In the end, Jin's resistance came to naught. That’s how he found himself in his current position, in an environment where the skill level was laughable compared to Korea. It was truly depressing.

The team he joined, the so-called "best middle school team of the region", was just a joke. The best players there were about as strong as Jin was two years ago. Yes, the gap between them was that big.

But, it's not like they're not taking the game seriously. Jin didn't mean to insult them, he really didn’t.

There was no doubt that the members of the Leopard believed they were dedicating their lives to Classmancers. But, compared to the harsh training Jin underwent, the Leopards’ training regime looked like a sad joke. Therefore, as much as Jin understood that they were "doing their best", deep down he couldn't help but scorn their meager efforts.

That training regime didn't satisfy Jin at all. It was far too simple, far too forgiving. It didn’t invoke the same sense of urgency or competitiveness he was used to.

Rodriguez went out of his way to prepare a special advanced training menu for Jin, but even that wasn't enough. Without any strong rivals to contest him at every step of the way, there was little hope of improving in any meaningful way. At this rate, Jin was bound to rust.

That's why I had to take action. Jin thought. I'll lose my touch if I only train with the Leopards. I have to aim higher.

That’s what led Jin toward the idea of joining a pro team. It was an unconventional request, especially in the western scene.

Nevertheless, Jin had to push for it. Otherwise, he’d lose his mind from being surrounded by players far below his level.

Back in Korea, I never even thought about getting into a pro team during middle school. It seemed impossible because of how high-level the competitive scene is. But here, in the west, it’s definitely possible.

The same way the average middle schooler was a much weaker player in the west, the same held true for the pro scene as a whole. The pros in the west didn't compare to the godlike Korean pros. Therefore, against these lowly imitations of pros, even Jin stood a chance despite his age.

I can even hold my own against a B-Leaguer. Jin swung his blade, cutting right through Ignis. And, before the blade retreated all the way back, Jin canceled the recovery animation and stepped backward, getting outside of Ignis's retaliation range.

I can do this. I can get into the pro scene here...!

In this country, Jin could definitely rival a pro. He intended to prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt here today!

However, Ignis had no intention of taking this beating lying down...