Seeing Ying’s message, I could almost picture her doubled over with laughter at her computer. Though I hated to admit it, a loss was a loss. Learning from my mistakes was the only way forward.
Let me replay it… Earlier, when I’d mentally simulated slowly boiling the little fox like a frog, she’d already recalled halfway. I was safely behind minions, ultimate ready to one-shot her. In a normal 5v5, recalling was her only smart move.
My mind was stuck in standard laning tactics. But the little fox craved my kill. She gambled everything: using her ultimate’s final dash to close in on the minions, then firing her Charm. As the heart-shaped projectile launched, she flashed—making it pierce through minions and hit my Void Prophet.
My champion helplessly walked toward the Nine-Tailed Fox Spirit. In that split second, she unleashed her Orb of Deception and Fox-Fires. To guarantee my death, she slapped Ignite on me too…
After the stun faded, my reflexes kicked in. I cast my ultimate the moment Charm ended. The all-suppressing dark ray pinned the Nine-Tailed Fox Spirit to the ground. My minions finished her off—but Ignite’s flames burned me first. Matches only count first blood. Even mutual destruction has an order. I just stared blankly at the screen, speechless…
(Streamer’s arrogance exploded!)
(What did Mumu say to the little fox earlier?)
(If reversed, she’d have to grovel…?)
(Grovel at the little fox’s house~~~~~~!)
“Um, Ying… I lost this round. Um… do you really want me to… kneel and lick?”
I took a deep breath. Reality was harsh, but life went on. I typed the most embarrassing message of my typing life into our chat…
“I told you not to regret it! Hmph! You big-chested woman—wait to grovel at my place!”
Ugh… No taking it back. Ying and I got along fine. She’d even boosted my popularity before. Why act like we had a blood feud today?
An awkward silence fell. Commentator 55kai leaned in seriously:
“You all saw that play. Mumu had absolute advantage and played safe. But that caution blinded her to the little fox’s all-in gamble. Sure, the little fox won this round—but in a real game, that flashy combo changes nothing. Mumu still dominates economically. The little fox has creative 1v1 tactics. Next match starts after a 10-minute break. Rewinding the highlights now!”
(This Mumu’s so full of herself—popular means confident? Zero skill!)
(Exactly! “Big chest, no brain”—unsubscribing!)
(Bros, mass unsubscribe~~~~~~~~~)
(Mumu, you’ve changed. Gone arrogant.)
I watched my subscriber count plummet like a waterfall. I forced a bitter smile, shaking my head. They only saw me humiliated by the little fox’s one slick play—not that I’d used only my left hand. Whatever. True fans understand. Real supporters won’t unsubscribe over one small match… though it stung.
Xier couldn’t take it anymore. She sat up straight and shouted into the mic:
“Viewers! Mumu was arrogant—that’s on her. But this is her gaming style; you know that. And this match? She played one-handed the whole time. Think carefully!”
(Whoa… Mumu pressured the little fox that hard with one hand…?)
(Chilling! One-handed vs. a Challenger player!)
(Heh. Getting wrecked is getting wrecked. Excuses?)
(3-0? I could do that too.)
(Huh? Only one match played! How’s it 3-0?)
(Heh. Think this streamer’s Challenger rank was boosted? She can’t beat the little fox.)
Xier’s words won back a few viewers—but it was a drop in the bucket. In this “magical” corner of the internet, people only care about results. They ignore your effort. Even world runner-up 55kai got cursed by rival fans to crash his plane on his triumphant return. They worship first place like gods. Second or third? What’s that? Edible?
“Well, I admit I got cocky. No excuses. Second match: random heroes, one hand—I’ll still beat the little fox. You know why~”
(Streamer, stop lying to yourself! The little fox’s too strong!)
(Actually, the little fox’s other heroes are barely Platinum-level?)
(No hype: Mumu’s Diamond+ on every hero!)
(Unfair! Why random heroes? The little fox’s at a disadvantage?)
