The fourth confrontation began without either player needing to announce it.
Ruko's Estan stepped into the bottom lane, his movements calm and deliberate as he advanced alongside the approaching minion wave. Across the battlefield, Yamashiki appeared among the enemy minions, its four-weapon arsenal shifting subtly as Inori brought her character into position.
For a moment, neither player attacked.
They simply watched each other.
Then Inori smiled.
There was no arrogance in that expression, nor was there any trace of mockery. It was the smile of someone who had finally found exactly what she had been searching for throughout the match.
A worthy opponent.
Ruko had changed.
She had noticed it several times since the match began. The boy she remembered from Nerva was still there somewhere, buried beneath years of distance from competitive play, but the instincts that had once made him so dangerous had never truly disappeared.
His timing.
His positioning.
His ability to recognize patterns.
Most importantly, the patience that allowed him to wait for the smallest opening instead of desperately trying to create one.
Inori had fought countless players since Nerva disbanded. Some possessed extraordinary mechanical ability, while others had game sense sharp enough to make even experienced players uncomfortable. There were also aggressive players who could overwhelm opponents simply by refusing to give them time to breathe.
Ruko was different.
He understood her.
That made every exchange between them dangerous.
Inori's smile widened as she rested her fingers against the controls.
"...This is a battle I won't forget."
Ruko heard nothing of it.
His attention remained fixed entirely on the battlefield.
Yamashiki changed weapons.
Estan moved forward.
Then the two players clashed once again.
The battle continued across the entire map.
Neither team was willing to surrender even a single inch of territory.
While Ruko and Inori continued their repeated encounters in Bottom Lane, the remaining players fought over waves, jungle routes, objectives, and structures. Every rotation carried the possibility of another engagement, and every tower that fell opened another section of the map to invasion.
Seishin Academy continued pushing through the lanes.
One outer tower after another collapsed.
Then the pressure reached the middle structures.
The opposing team answered just as fiercely, destroying every outer tower belonging to Seishin Academy before continuing their advance toward the middle lane.
The battlefield gradually opened as the towers disappeared.
Safe areas became dangerous.
Jungle entrances became exposed.
Rotations that had once been hidden behind defensive structures became much easier to predict.
Every destroyed tower made the next engagement more important than the last.
Eventually, the scoreboard reflected just how brutal the match had become.
24 — 32
Seishin Academy had twenty-four kills.
The opposing team had thirty-two.
The difference was eight kills, yet the scoreboard alone failed to explain how evenly the battlefield had been contested.
Seishin Academy had destroyed every enemy outer tower. Two of the enemy middle towers had also fallen, leaving only one middle tower standing. Their inner tower had taken damage as well, but it remained intact.
The opposing team had answered with destruction of its own. Every outer tower belonging to Seishin Academy had been destroyed, while every middle tower had fallen. The inner towers in the Top and Bottom lanes had suffered noticeable damage, and even the Middle inner tower was beginning to show the scars of repeated attacks, its structure glowing faintly from the punishment it had endured.
Neither team possessed a comfortable route toward the enemy Base Camp.
Every path was contested.
Every push required multiple players.
Every mistake carried the possibility of ending the match.
The audience understood that.
The venue had become deafening.
"COME ON!"
"WHAT A MATCH!"
"THEY'RE EVEN!"
"NEITHER TEAM IS GIVING UP!"
The spectators had stopped trying to predict who would win. There was no longer a clear favorite to cheer for, because the momentum had changed too many times for anyone to feel confident.
They simply watched.
What had been expected to be an exhibition match had transformed into a genuine competitive battle.
And at the center of it all stood Inori.
Her statistics were absurd.
Inori — 24 Kills / 5 Deaths / 8 Assists
Twenty-four kills.
Five deaths.
Eight assists.
She had personally contributed to the majority of her team's points, and the numbers alone demonstrated how dominant she had been throughout the match.
Yet watching her play made those numbers feel even more impressive.
Her long-range precision was extraordinary. Her weapon management was almost flawless. She knew when to position herself aggressively and when to retreat, when to pressure an opponent and when to simply wait for them to make the first mistake.
She understood prediction.
She understood punishment.
She understood patience.
Every time Seishin Academy appeared to have found an advantageous situation, Inori seemed capable of discovering another way to turn it against them.
She had shown everyone why she had once competed on the world stage.
She was not simply a strong marksman.
She was Inori.
One of the best marksman players many of the spectators had ever seen.
Ruko's statistics were considerably different.
Ruko — 10 Kills / 7 Deaths / 11 Assists
He had died more often.
He had fewer kills.
On paper, his performance looked nowhere near as dominant as Inori's.
But the numbers failed to capture his influence on the match.
His ability to counter Inori had completely changed the way the opposing team approached him. They could no longer ignore him. They could no longer underestimate him. Even players who had once considered him a retired former pro were now watching his movements carefully.
Every time Ruko and Inori appeared in the same lane, the audience became louder.
Their repeated encounters had become one of the defining battles of the match.
It was no longer simply a fight between two players.
It had become a battle between experience and adaptation.
And neither side was willing to give way.
The next major objective would determine everything.
The Dragon Zone.
The Dragon was one of Nervanox's most important neutral monsters. It spawned during the first ten minutes of the game and represented an enormous strategic opportunity for whichever team could defeat it.
Unlike ordinary jungle monsters, the Dragon did not simply provide a temporary numerical advantage.
Once slain, it joined the team that defeated it.
From there, it would advance down the strongest available lane and continue pushing until it reached the enemy Base Camp or was defeated by the opposing team.
Even after being defeated, however, the Dragon would eventually return.
Four minutes later, it would respawn inside the Dragon Zone.
That made controlling the objective one of the most important decisions in the entire match.
A team that secured the Dragon could potentially create the opening necessary to destroy the enemy's remaining defenses and finish the game.
Both teams knew this.
Which was why neither was willing to give the objective away.
Ruko crouched inside a bush near the Dragon Zone.
Kazuha stood beside him, while Kana waited slightly behind them and Hikari remained close enough to respond immediately if an enemy appeared.
The four players remained completely still.
The only person missing was Risa.
She was still completing her preparations elsewhere.
Ruko glanced toward the minimap before speaking quietly.
"...How long?"
Kazuha checked Risa's position.
"Not long."
Kana continued watching the surrounding bushes.
"We have to assume they're here too."
Ruko gave a small nod.
"They are."
He already knew.
The opposing team was far too experienced to simply surrender an objective as important as the Dragon.
And sure enough, on the opposite side of the Dragon Zone, another bush concealed several enemy players.
Inori's team was waiting.
They were doing exactly what Seishin Academy was doing.
Waiting.
Watching.
Preparing.
The Dragon remained untouched in the center of the zone.
Neither team wanted to reveal itself first.
For several seconds, the entire area remained eerily quiet.
The tension became almost unbearable.
Then Kana moved.
She carefully stepped out of the bush and advanced toward the nearest section of the Dragon Zone. Her character paused as she checked the surrounding area.
Nothing.
She moved toward another bush.
Then—
She found them.
Two enemy players were hiding nearby.
Kana reacted immediately.
"Found them!"
Her character activated Blink.
She disappeared from her original position and reappeared directly beside the two enemies.
Her next skill activated immediately.
A stun struck both targets.
"Got them!"
Kana called out.
"Hikari, now!"
Hikari immediately moved forward.
She was prepared to follow Kana's initiation and turn the surprise attack into a full engagement.
But before she could attack—
A projectile flew across the battlefield.
It struck Hikari before she could react.
Her screen flashed.
Her health disappeared.
Hikari has been slain.
The venue erupted.
Ruko's eyes widened.
Kazuha froze for half a second.
Then the answer became obvious.
Inori.
She had been waiting for exactly this.
Ruko immediately understood what had happened.
Inori had never been caught by surprise.
She had been waiting for the engagement.
Kana had exposed herself first.
Hikari had followed.
And Inori had removed the second player before Seishin Academy could convert the initiation into a kill.
The Dragon Zone exploded into chaos.
Both teams committed at once.
Ruko moved.
Kazuha moved with him.
The opposing players emerged from their hiding positions, and the carefully maintained silence of the Dragon Zone disappeared beneath a storm of abilities, attacks, movement, and shouted commands.
The battlefield instantly became a chaotic five-on-five engagement.
Kana was still fighting the two players she had initially stunned.
Kazuha attacked from the side.
Ruko moved directly toward Inori.
The fight had begun.
Kazuha found herself in an open position and immediately began attacking. Her strikes landed repeatedly, forcing the enemy players to pay attention to her.
For a brief moment, she appeared to have the advantage.
Then Sukachi moved.
The enemy jungler spotted an opening and attempted to approach Kazuha from the side, hoping to catch her before she could reposition.
Kazuha noticed him.
At the last possible moment, she moved.
Sukachi's attack missed.
Instead of retreating, Kazuha immediately turned around.
Her counterattack connected.
The audience gasped.
Even Ruko was momentarily surprised.
Inori's eyes widened slightly.
Kazuha had not merely survived the gank.
She had turned it against Sukachi.
Her next attacks landed one after another, rapidly draining his health.
Sukachi attempted to retreat.
It was already too late.
Kazuha delivered the final attack.
Sukachi has been slain.
The audience erupted.
Ruko stared for a moment before turning his attention back toward the rest of the battle.
Inori's expression had changed as well.
Kazuha had just avoided a jungle gank and immediately converted it into a kill.
But the fight was far from over.
The rest of Inori's team had surrounded Kana.
Kana's health was disappearing rapidly as multiple attacks connected around her.
Then Risa finally arrived.
She saw Kana in danger and immediately changed direction.
"Hold on!"
Risa moved toward her teammate, intending to break through the enemy formation and provide assistance.
But Inori intercepted her.
Yamashiki moved directly between them.
Risa stopped.
Inori fired.
The attack connected.
Risa's health disappeared almost instantly.
Risa has been slain.
The audience screamed.
Ruko's eyes narrowed.
The situation had changed again.
Hikari was dead.
Risa was dead.
Kana was surrounded.
Sukachi was dead.
And now—
Only Ruko and Kazuha remained for Seishin Academy.
Across the battlefield stood Inori and three members of her team.
The Dragon Zone had become the deciding battlefield.
There would be no second chance.
Ruko moved toward Inori.
She was already waiting for him.
Their characters entered combat range, and the two immediately began exchanging attacks.
Ruko attacked.
Inori dodged.
She fired.
Ruko moved.
He attempted to close the distance.
Inori changed weapons.
The battle became a blur of movement.
The audience screamed as the two former Nerva players clashed once again.
This was the fight they had been waiting for.
Ruko versus Inori.
One more confrontation.
One more attempt to determine who could read the other better.
But Inori was different now.
She was completely focused.
The playful excitement she had displayed earlier had disappeared beneath something much sharper.
It was the state her former teammates remembered.
The state in which Inori seemed to disappear completely into the game.
Every movement was deliberate.
Every attack had a purpose.
Every dodge created another opportunity.
Ruko attempted to pressure her.
Inori turned the pressure back against him.
He tried to reposition.
She anticipated him.
He attacked.
She punished him.
The difference in experience became visible.
Not because Ruko was weak.
He wasn't.
He had fought her better than almost anyone else in the arena.
But Inori had spent years continuing to play.
Years of competitive experience had sharpened instincts that Ruko had allowed to become dormant.
She was completely in her element.
And that was enough.
Inori baited him.
She deliberately created what appeared to be an opening.
Ruko saw it.
His instincts told him to take it.
He committed.
That was exactly what she wanted.
Ruko's positioning shifted slightly too far forward.
His escape route narrowed.
Inori immediately recognized the mistake.
Yamashiki changed weapons.
The attack came.
Ruko attempted to retreat.
Too late.
The damage connected.
His health rapidly disappeared.
Ruko's eyes widened.
"...!"
Inori completed the combination before he could recover.
Ruko has been slain.
The audience erupted.
Ruko was gone.
Only Kazuha remained.
Kazuha stood alone.
Four enemy players were still alive.
Inori was among them.
They turned toward her.
The situation looked hopeless.
But Kazuha did not surrender.
She moved.
The first attack came from the enemy fighter.
She dodged.
Another followed.
She moved again.
Inori fired from the opposite side.
Kazuha narrowly avoided the projectile, then immediately repositioned before another attack could reach her.
Another enemy moved in.
Kazuha shifted sideways.
Another attack came.
She dodged again.
The audience began cheering.
"HOW IS SHE DODGING ALL OF THAT?!"
"KAZUHA!"
"KEEP MOVING!"
Kazuha refused to stop.
Instead of running blindly, she used the terrain around her to restrict the angles from which the enemy team could approach. Every movement was deliberate. She forced them into predictable positions, constantly creating small windows in which only one or two opponents could attack her at once.
Then she counterattacked.
Her strike connected.
One enemy's health collapsed.
Enemy slain.
The crowd erupted.
Another opponent immediately attempted to finish her.
Kazuha dodged.
She turned.
Attacked.
Another enemy fell.
Enemy slain.
The arena became deafening.
Two opponents were gone.
The impossible situation had suddenly changed.
Kazuha had eliminated two members of Inori's team by herself.
Now only Inori and the remaining fighter stood between her and a potential victory.
Inori immediately moved.
She attempted to close the distance.
But Kazuha was already positioned too far away.
Her positioning had been nearly perfect.
Inori fired.
Kazuha dodged.
Another attack followed.
Kazuha moved again.
Inori attempted to approach.
Kazuha retreated just enough to maintain the distance she needed.
Neither player was willing to commit recklessly.
Then Kazuha found the opening.
She attacked.
The strike connected.
Inori's health dropped.
Another attack followed.
Inori attempted to escape.
Kazuha followed.
The final attack landed.
Inori has been slain.
For a moment, the entire venue went silent.
Then the crowd exploded.
"KAZUHA!"
"SHE KILLED INORI!"
"THE SHUTDOWN!"
"THAT'S HUGE!"
Inori stared at the screen.
Yamashiki had fallen.
The marksman who had dominated the battlefield, who had accumulated twenty-four kills and repeatedly dismantled Seishin Academy's formation, had finally been taken down.
And the person who had done it was Kazuha.
The shutdown reward appeared.
A massive amount of gold was awarded.
The entire game had suddenly changed.
Only one enemy player remained.
The fighter.
Kazuha versus one.
A one-on-one battle.
Everyone in the arena understood what that meant.
The winner would have the opportunity to push the lane.
There were no other enemy players alive.
Ruko was dead.
Hikari was dead.
Risa was dead.
Kana was dead.
Inori was dead.
The respawn timers were too long.
Whoever won this duel could push directly toward the enemy Base Camp.
If Kazuha won, Seishin Academy could potentially end the game.
If the fighter won, the opposing team could launch the same attack in the opposite direction.
The entire match had come down to this.
One player.
One fight.
One mistake.
Kazuha faced the enemy fighter.
She took a breath.
The fighter charged.
Kazuha moved.
She attempted to dodge, but the fighter suddenly changed direction.
Kazuha reacted.
For a brief moment, the two movements overlapped.
Then—
She panicked.
Her cursor moved incorrectly.
A misclick.
It lasted only a fraction of a second.
But in Nervanox, a fraction of a second was enough.
The fighter's attack connected.
Kazuha's character staggered.
Her health dropped sharply.
She attempted to recover, but the fighter was already on top of her.
Another attack landed.
Kazuha fell.
Kazuha has been slain.
The venue went silent.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
The audience could barely process what had happened.
Kazuha had come within a few attacks of turning an impossible four-on-one situation into a victory.
She had eliminated two opponents.
She had defeated Inori.
She had earned an enormous shutdown reward.
And then, at the final moment, one tiny mistake had ended everything.
The remaining fighter moved.
The path was open.
There were no defenders.
The respawn timers were still counting down.
The enemy minion wave advanced toward Seishin Academy's remaining structures as the fighter pushed forward behind it.
The opposing team reached the exposed defenses.
The final assault began.
Ruko remained in his seat, his eyes fixed on the screen.
There was nothing he could do.
He could only watch.
The Base Camp's health began to fall.
Its structure shook beneath the repeated attacks.
Cracks spread across its surface as its energy began to collapse.
The final strike landed.
SEISHIN ACADEMY BASE CAMP DESTROYED.
The match ended.
The scoreboard froze.
24 — 32.
The opposing team had won.
The arena erupted.
Yet the reaction was not simple celebration.
The spectators were stunned.
They had just witnessed one of the closest matches of the entire tournament.
A game in which Inori had dominated the battlefield.
A game in which Ruko had challenged her again and again.
A game in which Risa had adapted at an incredible speed.
A game in which Kazuha had nearly carried an impossible final fight by herself.
And in the end—
Everything had been decided by one misclick.
Kazuha stared at her screen.
Her shoulders slowly lowered.
"...I lost."
Ruko remained silent beside her.
There was disappointment in his eyes, but there was something else as well.
He looked toward the scoreboard.
Then toward the opposing team.
Inori was already standing.
She turned toward the Seishin Academy side of the stage.
Her eyes met Ruko's.
For a moment, neither of them smiled.
The noise of the arena seemed to fade around them.
Then Inori gave him a small, genuine grin.
Ruko understood what it meant.
The battle had ended.
But something between them had changed.
They had lost the round.
Yet the gap between them had become smaller.
And Inori knew it.
So did Ruko.
The audience had arrived expecting to watch an exhibition match.
Instead, they had witnessed something much more important.
They had seen a former world-class marksman pushed to her limits.
They had seen a retired player rediscover instincts he had believed were gone.
They had seen a genius learning at an extraordinary speed.
They had watched a student council president nearly carry her entire team through an impossible final fight.
And, perhaps most importantly, they had watched five inexperienced players stand against opponents with vastly greater competitive experience and refuse to collapse.
The scoreboard said 32–24.
But the scoreboard could not measure everything that had happened inside the arena.
It could not measure how much Ruko had recovered.
It could not measure how quickly Risa had learned.
It could not measure how far Kazuha had pushed herself.
It could not measure the fear that had slowly replaced the opposing team's confidence.
And it certainly could not measure the look in Inori's eyes when she realized that the player standing across from her was no longer the same Ruko she remembered from years ago.
The match was over.
But the story had only just begun.