Chapter 172 - 171: 10 Kills, and Evil Got 9

Chapter 172: Chapter 171: 10 Kills, and Evil Got 9

After dropping her off, Aiden Sinclair left.

Rian Sinclair sat on a chair in the private booth. She had felt Ash Sinclair’s gaze on her before he walked away, but he never looked back. It seemed out of spite, or perhaps dissatisfaction.

He had incredible skills, but could he really succeed carrying three teammates on his own in a professional match? His opponents weren’t noobs; they were highly skilled professional players. She had already researched the professional tournament format on her way here.

The thirty-two teams were divided into two main groups, each playing twelve group-stage matches. Afterward, the top eight teams from each group would advance to the winners’ bracket, while the bottom eight would fall into the losers’ bracket. The losers’ bracket would play first, consisting of twelve matches over two days. The top eight teams from this bracket would enter the final revival stage, while the bottom eight would be directly eliminated. Meanwhile, the top eight teams from the winners’ bracket would advance directly to the grand finals, while their bottom eight would drop into the revival stage, which also consisted of twelve matches over two days.

The sixteen teams in the revival stage would then compete to determine the top eight, who would secure their spots in the grand finals. Finally, the grand finals would feature eighteen matches over three days to determine the ultimate champion among the sixteen teams.

The team scoring system was also straightforward: first place earned ten placement points, while second through eighth earned six, five, four, three, two, one, and one point respectively. Ninth place and below received zero placement points. Additionally, each elimination granted one kill point.

Donovan Sinclair stayed by the young lady’s side. Having previously set up businesses within the esports industry, he understood her concerns perfectly.

"Miss, since this is Master Ash’s choice, he must also have the courage to bear the consequences."

Hearing Donovan’s words, Rian remained silent. Eventually, her response melted into a long, drawn-out sigh.

The next day.

ASG had also arrived at the Argent Gymnasium. They were drawn into Group 1, a result that had left Forrest sighing ever since he found out. After all, most of the powerhouse teams were packed into this group. Watching the team step onto the stage, Forrest could only condense his myriad of thoughts into a single phrase: "Good luck."

After the first day’s six matches, it seemed there was no need to even watch tomorrow’s six—ASG was practically doomed to the losers’ bracket. Ash pressed his lips together in silence. He packed up his peripherals and followed his team onto the bus heading back to base.

In the meeting room.

Sitting at the head of the table as the coach, Forrest looked at the assembled players. Finally unable to hold back, he raised his voice. "Look at how you played today!

"You played like absolute dogshit! Do you even realize you’re professional players?

"What do you think your mechanics looked like to the fans? Like a bunch of newbies who just picked up the game! You might as well quit gaming and go home to farm."

Linden, the analyst, tried to calm Forrest down from the side, but he didn’t speak up in defense of ASG. After the way they played today, he truly didn’t have the face to justify their performance.

Once his emotions had stabilized, Forrest spoke with an impatient tone. "Post-match review."

His hand, just about to turn on the projector, was interrupted by the door swinging open. "What happened today? Can you guys play or not? If not, we’ll sub you out."

The newcomer was ASG’s manager, a lean, bespectacled man whose face was etched with fury. He immediately continued, "Do you have any idea how badly the fans are flaming you right now?

"Six matches, ten total points, and all of them were kill points! Nine of those points were secured by Evil alone. What the hell were the rest of you doing?

"If you can’t play, say so earlier! Are you just out there torturing yourselves on stage? Taking up space and doing nothing? The second team is eyeing your starting spots like hawks. Mingtian, you came up from the second team. I think you understand this better than anyone."

The aforementioned Mingtian pursed his lips but said nothing. The manager ignored him and turned to Forrest. "Can Seth shot-call or not? If he can’t, give the IGL role to Evil."

Forrest fell silent for a moment before replying, "We’ll discuss it."

The manager said no more. He slammed the door shut with a loud BANG, the sound making everyone’s hearts skip a beat.

Forrest swept his gaze across the ASG players. "Right now, you’re ranked second to last out of the sixteen teams in the group. Fantastic. At least you’re not dead last.

"Are there any objections to Evil taking over as IGL?"

Mingtian, whose mind was entirely fixated on the sniper position, immediately shot back, "Does that mean I get to play sniper?"

Hearing Mingtian’s voice, Forrest furrowed his brows deeply. "You’re still the flex player. Seth and Huangzi will both play as assaulters. Evil will take on the roles of both IGL and sniper."

Suddenly stripped of his leadership role, Seth felt a wave of dissatisfaction. However, knowing Evil’s sheer skill, he swallowed his restless frustrations.

Mingtian clenched his fists, protesting indignantly. "Why should he?! If he’s the IGL and the sniper, a single mistake from him will drag the whole team down to the grave!"

Forrest’s suppressed anger completely exploded at his words. "Why? Because Evil is better than all three of you combined! Because Evil can hard-carry this team! Because in the few months since Evil joined ASG, he has accounted for two-thirds of our total kills on stage!

"You ask why?! Mingtian, if you were better than Evil, the entire team would revolve around you. But since you can’t measure up, you’d better choke down whatever petty schemes you’re harboring in that head of yours.

"This is esports! Nobody gives a damn about how hard you tried; they only look at the results! If you win the championship, you’re a god. If you can’t, you’re trash, and you deserve to get flamed.

"You can’t outperform Evil, so you should accept the team’s arrangements instead of whining ’why’ every single time!

"Seth was stripped of his position just like that. Did you hear him say a word? No, because he knows how strong Evil is. He knows our only shot is relying on Evil. He’s thinking about the team, unlike you, obsessing over why you didn’t get what you wanted!"

The entire meeting room fell dead silent. Mingtian’s face flushed crimson from the scolding, the veins bulging on his neck. His fists remained clenched, but in the end, he kept his mouth shut.

Forrest stopped looking at him and turned to the other three. "Right now, we have ten points. First place has fifty, second has forty-seven, and third has forty. The rest of the teams down to eighth place are all sitting in the thirties.

"The point gap between ninth and twelfth place isn’t massive—they’re all in the twenties. If you want to break into the top eight tomorrow, you need to score upwards of thirty points.

"There are too many unpredictable variables on the battlefield. I want you all to go all out tomorrow. Close the point gap and fight for the top eight. If you fail, you’re heading straight to the losers’ bracket."

The coach quickly laid out their current situation. Regardless of the odds, making it into the winners’ bracket was the best-case scenario. Afterward, Linden took over as the analyst and began breaking down each player’s performance. Given that they had matches the next day, the review session didn’t drag on too late so they could rest and prepare.

The next day.

As the IGL, the pressure on Ash in every match was immense. Not only did he have to analyze the ever-changing battlefield and assign tasks to his teammates, but he also had to maintain the razor-sharp vigilance required of a sniper. Thus, today, Ash was quite literally dragging three teammates along by himself.

As they headed into the final match of the day’s six games, Forrest wore a joyous expression in the breakroom. The top three teams had already surpassed ninety points and were on the verge of breaking a hundred, while the eighth-place team currently sat at seventy-three points. ASG’s current total score was fifty-one points, placing them tenth on the overall leaderboard—a massive forty-one-point jump from yesterday’s meager ten points.

Over these past five matches, Ash had racked up twenty-one kill points, while his teammates had managed six. They had also secured fourteen placement points, consistently finishing in the top six, with their best performance being a third-place finish.

Forrest looked at Ash, whose face was now etched with exhaustion. After all, maintaining such intense mental focus for five consecutive matches would take a toll on anyone.

"Evil, how about..."