Chapter 1

Is Being Good at a Game an Achievement?

In the world of competitive gaming, it was an insult he had heard more times than he could count.

“Is being good at a game really an achievement in life?”

It was a phrase often thrown around during heated matches, usually by those who had just lost. But for him, it didn’t sting. It didn’t even register as an insult.

Because for him, it was an achievement.

World Breaker. A game where players nurtured a character in a post-apocalyptic world, built nations, and ultimately sought to unify the world under their banner. Though its popularity had waned over the years, there was a time when it had reached a peak of one million concurrent players worldwide.

One of the game’s defining features was its notoriously difficult early stages, where strategic planning and foresight determined survival. The competition was so fierce that even top-ranking players changed every month.

Yet for six consecutive years, one name had remained unshaken at the very top.

It was an achievement he took immense pride in.

At least, up until a week ago.

“Please… just match me already. Please…!”

He muttered his plea toward the monitor, eyes fixed on the rotating loading symbol and the small message displayed beneath it:

▶ Searching for an opponent. Please wait… [1 hour 17 minutes]

A long sigh escaped his lips.

More than an hour had passed, yet still, no opponent had been found. Just yesterday, it had taken fifty minutes to match with someone. The situation had worsened considerably.

At this point, even the sight of that endlessly spinning loading icon was enough to make him nauseous.

“I can’t believe my rank is so high that I can’t even find a match anymore.”

Like any competitive game, World Breaker had a ranking system. All players started with the same score, but each match won or lost adjusted their points accordingly. The game’s matchmaking ensured that players were always matched against opponents with similar rankings, a safeguard meant to prevent lower-ranked players from being mercilessly crushed by veterans.

The problem?

His rank was absurdly high.

“The third-ranked player is at 17,690 points. The second-ranked player is at 17,730. And me…? 20,780.”

It was an overwhelming difference. He had won too many matches, and without suffering a single loss, his score had skyrocketed into an untouchable zone.

A week ago, this hadn’t been an issue.

If an opponent wasn’t found within fifteen minutes, the game would forcefully assign him the closest-ranked player available.

That system, however, was no more.

Ranked players had complained.

“Please remove the forced opponent assignment system after 15 minutes!”
“If no high-rankers are available, lower-ranked players like us get obliterated!”
“It’s bad enough these matches take two hours! Do we really have to be punching bags the whole time?”

The complaints were a thinly veiled attempt to avoid facing him altogether.

And the developers had listened.

《 Due to overwhelming user feedback, the forced matchmaking system has been removed. Instead, the longer a player waits, the wider the ranking range of potential opponents. 》

For others, this was a great patch.

For him?

It was the worst possible change.

Now, even fighting the second-ranked player required an agonizing wait.

Staring at the still-loading screen, he clenched his teeth.

“I’ll wait thirty more minutes. If I still don’t get a match, I’ll quit and play something else.”

It was a frustrating resolution.

But deep down, he already knew the truth.

Even after thirty minutes, he would keep waiting.

The time he had already spent waiting would feel wasted if he gave up now.

Another sigh slipped out as he leaned back in his chair—only for his screen to suddenly flicker to life.

《 Opponent found. Creating world… Entering a new scenario. 》
《 Your opponent is [Ifibuyititsonsale]. 》

“…!”

Finally.

With lightning speed, he snapped back into his seat, eyes locked onto the screen as the game loaded.

His character appeared on the battlefield, and just as he was about to fully immerse himself in the match, a message popped up in the all-chat.

[Ifibuyititsonsale]: ResonanceTrap? The real ResonanceTrap?
[Ifibuyititsonsale]: Why the hell is the top-ranked player here?
[Ifibuyititsonsale]: There must be some matchmaking mistake.

“No…!”

A groan of despair escaped his lips.

It happened yesterday as well. Three times, he had finally found an opponent, only for them to quit immediately upon seeing his username.

Despite waiting for four hours, he hadn’t played a single match.

“Not again…!”

His mind raced.

If he didn’t act fast, his opponent would quit the match before it even began.

Begging them to play wouldn’t work.

If anything, it would only make his overwhelming reputation more intimidating.

He needed to provoke them.

His fingers flew across the keyboard.

[ResonanceTrap]: Yeah, the matchmaking system must be broken.
[ResonanceTrap]: I checked your stats. Rank 42? No wonder you’re scared.
[ResonanceTrap]: Maybe stick to the lower ranks instead of lurking up here?

Heart pounding, he waited for a response.

“Please take the bait. I don’t care if people call me toxic online—just let me play.”

There was a pause.

Then

[Ifibuyititsonsale]: ??? What the hell did you just say?
[Ifibuyititsonsale]: Are you seriously talking like that?
[Ifibuyititsonsale]: Alright. You wanna run your mouth? Let’s see if you can back it up.

“…!”

A surge of excitement rushed through him as he clenched his fist.

Two whole days.

That’s how long it had been since he’d properly played a match.

But despite finally securing an opponent, he had no intention of winning.

“I should lose this one.”

At this rate, his rank had climbed too high for him to even find opponents.

What was the point of being the best if it meant he couldn’t even play?

If throwing a match meant he could actually enjoy his favorite game again, then so be it.

His decision was made, he gripped the mouse firmly.

The game was on.

His eyes remained on the chat window as he continued maneuvering his character.

By now, even if he deliberately lost, his opponent wouldn’t notice.

With each passing turn, his defeat became increasingly inevitable.

At this rate, the match would end exactly as planned—without issue, without suspicion, and with his loss.

[ifibuyititsonsale]: Still got something to say? LOL
[ifibuyititsonsale]: “Go back to the lower ranks”? Funniest thing I’ve heard today.

A minor issue arose—the attitude of his opponent.