The commentators had already seen it when Almond was still in a standoff with Pierre. "Ah, Anto!? He’s flipping the table again!?" "He’s leaving ahead of time?!" Anto was making his move. Amid all the chaos, he made a bold play again by abandoning commander mode and attempting to escape early. "Do the players know this!?" It would be a crushing blow for Joseon if the players didn’t notice. "Once commander mode is turned off, the commander’s location disappears from the map!" Someone would’ve caught it in normal conditions, but in the middle of all this confusion? Almond, locked in combat with Pierre, would not likely see it. "If he misses him again—!" The commentators were on edge with Joseon’s main base reaching its limits. Their last hope was for Almond to catch Anto before he got away. Yes, they could still play another game after this. However, Joseon’s mental state in the next game would be in shambles if they pushed Rome this far and failed to finish it. "Right now! The trophy is right in front of them! Joseon!!" They were inches away from their first ever international championship trophy. To lose it now would be devastating. No one could expect to recover mentally for the next game. The fact that they weren’t even professional players made this situation all the more fragile. They had endured so far through sheer transcendental willpower, but everything they had built so far could collapse like dominoes if they failed to close it out now. "Almond! He got pushed by the shield!? Nooooo!" Their last opportunity nearly crumbled due to Pierre’s shield, but Latte saved the day just in time. The commentators were practically screaming on their feet. "Almond is running! He’s not finishing off Pierre!!!" Instead, Almond sprinted straight toward Anto. He knew. And the stadium erupted the moment everyone realized that. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" The entire crowd stood up. "AAAAAHH!! Almond knows where Anto is!!!" — Almond had a brain! — Did he actually notice??? — Does he have eyes on the back of his head? Almond had checked the commander's marker as soon as he entered the headquarters. The icon was still there back then, but it suddenly disappeared during his fight against Pierre. He had known from the start. "He’s running for Anto!!!" Almond knew Anto was fleeing. "He needs to catch Anto! Almond must catch him!!" Almond drew his bow again and aimed. "Wait, switch the screen—!" "Best Yi Sun-Shin! Right now—!?" A spear pierced Joseon’s commander. — That can’t be how it ends... A battlefield once filled with roars, cheers, and screams fell silent in an instant. A Roman soldier’s thrown spear had pierced the Joseon commander’s upper body. It struck clean through the inner silk robe and exited out of her back. Blood trailed down the shaft. "Are you... kidding me?" Bread’s eyes flared with rage as she whipped her horse around. "Please... Please..." She wasn’t the only one. All the nearby Roman troops surged forward for the final blow. The commander’s movement grew sluggish due to the critical wound. "Shield her! With your bodies!! Block them—!" Before that, another Roman rushed in with a full-body lunge. ‘I can’t dodge that.’ Even Best Yi Sun-Shin found it impossible to dodge with her legendary reflexes. There were certain physical limits. The injury had already slowed her down. Her attacker, a single Roman soldier, was attacking from a textbook finishing angle. Even if she miraculously dodged, he would create enough space for a follow-up attack. This was Rome, after all. Even the grunts had world-class combat sense. A storm of emotions hit like a tidal wave in that split second: anxiety, rage, and despair. It was checkmate. This soldier would become the game’s Longinus, the one to slay the enemy king. All that was left was a prayer. Maybe Almond could end the game before the spear landed, but no such message arrived. Bread bit her lip harder and urged her horse on. If she just had a few more seconds— Almond’s knee scraped the floor as he dropped into position. A white light began to rise from his arrow. His right hand trembled faintly. A spear was flying toward his back, but his mind did not waver. He drew his bow with a serenity that felt divine. The spear that could win Rome the game continued flying. It struck the ground. The spear thrower’s eyes widened. Best Yi Sun-Sin had dodged it. She slipped through in a blink at an impossible speed for someone already wounded. Her movement looked so sharp that it could practically be mistaken for a bug. No one could comprehend it. The spearman’s head flew into the air like the many others who dared to challenge the divine. Behind him stood Joseon’s commander, who was supposed to have a spear in her abdomen from earlier, but the spear was suddenly gone. It was a perfect resurrection. This last-ditch power boosted one’s speed by detonating all equipment. She had become a militia unit. The king had used her one last chance by becoming a pawn. There would be no next time. Sang-Hyeon’s arrow burned with a brilliant white light. That light was about to end everything. It swallowed his wide-open pupils whole. There was a time when Hyeon-Ju, a fellow junior from the archery club, once asked him, "Hey, is the bow you use in the game really the same as a real one?" She wondered if the bow in the game felt like real archery. "No," Sang-Hyeon firmly shook his head. "It’s actually really different." "In the end, it’s fake." The grip, the weight, the draw strength, the way the arrow caught the wind... None of it felt the same. It felt like shooting a toy bow that stripped away every challenge in archery and just left the fun behind. "And you're okay with that? With it being fake?" "Well, I mean, obviously the real thing would be better," he scratched his head as he admitted it. Hyeon-Ju burst out laughing. "I thought you’d say something cheesy like, ‘This is real to me.’ Thought I’d get emotional or something." "You try so hard in the game. Honestly, you shoot like you're more serious than when we practiced in real life. You're obsessed! Papapapapap!" she mimicked Almond's rapid-fire shots with her mouth. Sang-Hyeon just turned his head away with a sheepish look. "Still... fake is fake." Sometimes, he forgot that the bow he was pulling now was made from nothing more than a sequence of zeros and ones. The deaths, the cheers, the terrain, the trees... All of it was fake. Ironically, he sometimes got confused. Was this real or fake? It was obviously fake, yet he felt confused sometimes. How could he not be confused? This pressure, this tension, this battle... The roars from the crowd, Hui-Chul’s dream... The time spent with everyone in their hideout. The hopes of two hundred people. Sa-Rang’s hope. All of it felt so real like something he could reach out and touch. How could he not get confused? How could he dismiss it all as just fake? This moment, the moment built from all those things, was real. Sang-Hyeon released the arrow. ‘Because this moment is real.’ The tiny arrow burst forward from the Tong-ah and accelerated into the air. It tore through the wind, carving its own path toward the target. It carried the weight of every second that led to this one. A comet's tail of white light stretched behind it. It carried everyone's hopes. And then, it struck. Just like the first arrow he ever shot that struck the center of the target, this one struck Anto’s head. Anto staggered. Even as he reeled, he took a few more steps forward. In that fleeting second, everyone held their breath. Maybe... maybe it missed? But Anto’s body slumped forward and collapsed. At the same time, Pierre’s spear came flying from behind Sang-Hyeon. It no longer had any effect. The moment when it could’ve mattered already passed. The spear was irrelevant now. The ending had already been written. And Sang-Hyeon softly declared, "Chikicha." The game agreed with just one word. The true international tournament champion was the Fake National Team, Joseon. In that instant, the entire world exploded in white light. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" Cheers louder than anything he’d ever heard shook the air. Sang-Hyeon couldn’t think at all. He jumped out of the capsule immediately. It was already dark outside. A deep navy sky bloomed with colorful fireworks overhead. On the rainbow-lit field, Sang-Hyeon ran. The commentary booth was sobbing. "Joseon has defeated Rome, considered the strongest team in the tournament, and has WON THE INTERNATIONAL BATTLE LEAGUE!!!" Words too unbelievable to believe echoed throughout the arena. And then, the screen changed. A video clip from the first episode of the Fake National Team began playing. Sang-Hyeon sat in a chair in front of a white background, speaking to the camera. His eyes didn’t waver in the slightest. The caster composed himself and stood. "Joseon has overcome every hardship and crisis... and finally! They lift the international trophy!!" All the spectators rose as all the players emerged from their capsules. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!" No one said anything, but everyone ran in the same direction toward their commander. She couldn’t run, so they ran to her. Sang-Hyeon was the first to arrive. Her capsule opened, and she turned her trembling head. Their eyes met. Her gaze was like a lake overflowing from a flood. He hadn’t seen it, but now he knew why he’d been given so much time. He saw it in her eyes. Sang-Hyeon extended his hand. She grasped it, steadying herself, and stood on shaking legs. Cheers erupted with their names. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!" "Best Yi Sun-Shin! Best Yi Sun-Shin!" "Almond! Almond! Almond!" The rest of the team arrived. Even the think tank came. Hui-Chul sprinted like a relay runner, scattering something behind him. It could’ve been tears. Everyone gathered. They immediately hoisted Sa-Rang high into the air. She couldn’t even scream. Even Hui-Chul got lifted unexpectedly. Caught off guard, he flailed backward and almost fell. Everyone raced toward the stands. As if showing off the forced morning runs they once hated, they sprinted at an impossible speed. The crowd’s roars only grew louder. From below, Chi-Seung shouted, "Let’s do the chant! The chant!" Sa-Rang guessed wrong. Chi-Seung frantically waved his arms. "No! The real one! Together!" She remembered and glanced at Hui-Chul. They nodded in sync. Then, they raised their hands and shouted. The other players spread their arms and roared in unison. At the front, Sang-Hyeon shouted louder than he ever had before. "KRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" It was a chant they would never shout together again.