During the first filming of the Fake National Team series, the production team had asked Hui-Chul about the team's goal. "Our goal is to win." He said this with confidence, but the practical goal for the year was to make it to the main tournament. The victory he mentioned in the interview wasn’t confined to this year. It was a broader ambition to build a foundation for the league and create a team that would someday win. Whether that be next year, the year after, or further down the line. Perhaps that was why Hui-Chul, who rarely showed emotion, couldn’t help but shed tears when Joseon advanced to the main tournament. They had achieved their goal. It was a sweet reward but also a crisis. With the goal accomplished, desire could fade. Hui-Chul had to set a new vision. ‘This year’s goal is... to go as far as we can.’ He decided not to look too far ahead. He poured everything into defeating the enemy in front of him. He even dreamed of winning, but the cold rational part of him predicted they’d likely reach the quarterfinals. From the quarterfinals onward, the matches were a best-of-series where the limits of a weaker team would be revealed: a thin player pool, weak secondary lines, and clear physical disadvantages. Sure enough, Hui-Chul couldn’t even make it to the quarterfinals and ended up in a hospital bed. ‘This is the end. Now, I’ll focus on next year...’ He let go of his ambitions for the year and looked toward the next. No matter how talented Best Yi Sun-Shin was, advancing past the round of sixteen was a stretch. Facing Japan in the quarterfinals wouldn’t be easy. Best Yi Sun-Shin had always been a choice for the future. Hui-Chul steadied his resolve until— “Joseon! Joseon!! Defeats Japan 3:2!!!” “They advance to the semifinals!!!” Hui-Chul’s eyes widened. It was a miracle. The team he had assembled for the future, for next year, had pulled off a miracle. He couldn’t believe it. Everything was a miracle. The players had quickly adapted to a sudden change in leadership despite having no real experience and handled the situation as skillfully as seasoned pros. Choi Sa-Rang even took up a sword herself and bought a few extra minutes. That had been the deciding factor for advancing to the semifinals. She had given Almond just enough time to make a desperate final shot. ‘Almond can’t handle more than three games, can he?’ Even in the third game, Almond’s aim had wavered. In the fourth game, he couldn’t even match the accuracy of a regular archer. In the fifth, his aim was abysmal. He had to switch to a sword entirely. However, Almond landed the most critical shot in the final moments of the fifth game when everyone, including the 400 spectators, held their breath. Despite his trembling aim, he struck the fleeing enemy commander for a miraculous clutch play. One after another, plays that could overturn the game unfolded. The commander’s swordsmanship, Almond’s last flash of brilliance, and the relentless survival of Pang and Malatang. The match against Japan was a culmination of miracles. Hui-Chul, who had been lying in his hospital bed, slowly sat up and looked at his hands. ‘Even with those trembling hands...’ Hadn’t he seen it with his own eyes? Almond, Yu Sang-Hyeon, was a human being but he hadn’t given up on the final most critical shot even with trembling hands. Hui-Chul looked at his own functional arms and remembered. “Our goal is to win.” That was Sang-Hyeon's response on the first episode of the Fake National Team series. What Hui-Chul had dismissed as mere bravado now felt genuine. Only then did Hui-Chul fully realize Sang-Hyeon had truly been aiming to win this year. Even a veteran like Hui-Chul, who had spent years in the game, had considered it a pipe dream for future generations. Yet Sang-Hyeon was chasing that impossible dream and drawing his bow with trembling hands toward that impossibly small, distant target. That day, the production team visited Hui-Chul in the hospital. “Would you mind if we cover your story?” They proposed making a video about his health struggles and personal journey. To this, Hui-Chul responded in a way that his past self would never have. “If we win this year, then you can release it.” Winning this year was an achievement he could never have imagined, but Joseon’s goal had to be victory with the team already in the main tournament and past the quarterfinals. He decided to look at the same target as Sang-Hyeon. A target appeared before his eyes, only to scatter like mist. Almond stared intently below. The enemies were climbing up the defensive tower, but there was no angle to shoot them. Their shields perfectly covered every angle, making it feel like an iron-clad turtle was crawling up. Shooting arrows from above was impossible. He felt that leaving things as they were would be disastrous. They had successfully used the defensive towers to apply pressure, but it would all be for nothing if the towers fell into enemy hands. Waiting for the enemies to reach the top and fighting them head-on wasn’t an option either. If the archers faced Rome’s legionnaires in such a confined space, their survival rate would be zero. As if by coincidence, Pierre was climbing the very tower Almond occupied. Having faced Pierre before, Almond knew better than anyone else. ‘If he gets up here, I don’t stand a chance.’ Engaging Pierre in close combat was a losing battle. ‘But there’s no angle to shoot from up here.’ As these thoughts crossed Almond’s mind, a daring idea suddenly struck him. It was a bit extreme and would probably even shock his allies, but Almond’s hands already grabbed the edge of the tower railing. A moment of hesitation flashed by. Then, Cookie’s command came through. Both of them, the commander and Almond, locked onto the same target. Flames flared in Almond’s eyes. In the blink of an eye, he was airborne. The wind roared fiercely in his ears. The game’s physics engine made him feel as if he would actually die from the fall. The expressions of the audience and commentators felt distorted in strange ways like still photos or videos playing in slow motion. Everyone wore the same astonished expression. Almond didn’t hesitate. He and the commander had both seen the same gap. Almond landed on both feet, right on top of an enemy soldier’s shield. The impact caused the shield to wobble. The startled face of the soldier beneath was momentarily visible but only for a moment. They quickly adjusted their shields again, perfectly covering all angles. Everything happened in an instant. Even Almond didn’t expect to fire an arrow in that brief window. Instead, he had an even better plan. Grabbing one side of the ladder, he suddenly spun his body. “Almond! He jumped down!?” At first, the commentators had no idea what Almond was trying to achieve. “What’s... what’s his plan here?” No one could have predicted such a maneuver in this situation. Almond swung himself to the opposite side of the ladder and hung onto it. “He’s on the other side of the ladder!?” “Oh! That’s right! He can do this too!” “Is Almond leaving the tower!? If so...” The Roman soldiers climbed up while Almond was climbing down. Their eyes met as Almond descended and Pierre ascended, separated only by the ladder. Pierre’s gaze wavered. He realized the flaw Almond had exploited. Pierre awkwardly drew his spear, but his attacks were limited in such a tight space on the ladder. Meanwhile, Almond quickly slid down the ladder. Almond stopped at a certain point. Then, he swiftly moved to the opposite side of the ladder again. Now, he was on the same side as the Roman soldiers. He braced himself with his legs on the ladder and lifted his upper body to look up. From below, the Roman soldiers came into clear view like giant targets. Their shields covered the front, back, sides, and even above them but not below. The sound of the bowstring being drawn made the Roman soldiers shudder. Almond had nocked three arrows at once. “Almond!? From below, he’s—” The arrows pierced the legs of the Roman soldier at the bottom of the ladder. The arrows traveled up, penetrating the soldier’s torso. All three arrows hit their mark perfectly. This was done deliberately, knowing the soldier couldn’t dodge. It happened in an instant. From the moment Almond landed on the shield to positioning himself below the ladder and firing his arrows. “Wow! A direct hit! A triple shot! All three hit their mark!?” the commentator screamed as if they had been hit themselves. Cheers erupted from the audience. The chants grew louder. OrangeKing spat with excitement and explained the situation, “That was three arrows at once, right!? He calculated that at such a close range. Dodging would be impossible!” “Yes! Like a shotgun in a shooting game, it’s instant death if you get hit at close range!” Unable to aim for the head, Almond had opted to overwhelm them with quantity. That was his strategy. “Exactly! He deliberately targeted them from below where dodging was impossible and fired multiple arrows at once! !” Once again, Almond’s triple shot struck and caused another Roman soldier to fall from the ladder. “Even for Almond, shooting three arrows at once usually causes massive aim deviation! But it doesn’t matter! They’re right in front of him!” “Which is why the Roman soldiers are dropping like flies!!!” “Right now! This... this surprise attack is too painful for Rome!” The Romans tried to respond to the sudden onslaught from below, but it was difficult to come up with a counter. Even for professional players, reacting to such an unprecedented situation was nearly impossible. Pro players excelled because they trained for countless scenarios and prepared strategies in advance. “They can’t respond! The Roman soldiers are panicking!” “How could anyone predict this!?” The sheer absurdity of someone hanging upside down on a ladder and shooting arrows was beyond imagination. How could anyone have prepared for such a scenario? Almond, lying on his back and casually firing arrows, was unbothered by the chaos. The moment the Romans lost control of the lower ground, the situation became insurmountable. “Even if they try to retreat, their own soldiers are blocking the way! If they defend below, arrows from the tower will rain down!” “They’re completely stuck! And while they hesitate, they’re all going down! If they fail to capture the tower, Rome is done for! Is Joseon about to take the game!?” “Almond is shooting arrows so easily right now as if he’s lounging in the clouds! It’s like a master casually firing from above!” — LOL, he’s like a sage shooting arrows! — Sage Almond is at it again! — ??? "Is this sorcery!?" — A bow-wielding sage! Rome was completely cornered. With their entrance blocked by the defensive tower rush and their attempt to disrupt Joseon’s multi-construction thwarted, their last desperate strategy to take the defensive towers was on the brink of failure. If this were a boxing match, Rome would be the fighter gasping for air and barely clinging to consciousness in the corner of the ring. One solid hit would knock them out completely. And yet, they weren’t done. This Roman fighter had trained for moments . They had the strength to deliver a desperate counterattack and enough resilience to endure a few more hits. Above all, their eyes still looked sharp. Pierre’s eyes, in particular, remained alive. Even as Rome was pushed to its limits, his face betrayed no panic. “Hey. Below,” Pierre spoke calmly as if asking someone to pass a napkin from across the table. He addressed the soldiers below him on the ladder, “Jump down one by one. Point your spears down as you go.”