As time passed, it gradually approached 1:00 p.m.
The atmosphere inside the arcade slowly changed.
Earlier, people had been casually talking, warming up, and playing matches without much pressure.
Now, the mood had become noticeably more serious.
Not long after, the tournament organizers called all competitors together.
Players slowly gathered near the center area as the staff began checking attendance.
They instructed everyone to confirm their presence to ensure they would be included in the bracket.
After the initial check, one of the organizers spoke again.
“The bracket will be generated in a few minutes, so please make sure your attendance is confirmed.”
He emphasized the reminder once more, making sure no one missed out because of a simple mistake.
After that, the organizers began reviewing the tournament rules again for everyone present, including those who might not have read them beforehand.
One by one, they explained the rules and procedures.
This time, people listened carefully.
No one wanted to accidentally violate a rule and create problems before the tournament even started.
Meanwhile, Jin-ho remained seated on the nearby sofa with Ji-min beside him.
He listened quietly while watching the crowd.
Ji-min also paid attention despite not participating.
She was simply curious.
Eventually, the organizer finished explaining the rules.
Just as people thought the briefing had ended, he raised the microphone again.
“One more thing.”
The room quieted slightly.
“Some matches today will be streamed live.”
A few people immediately looked up.
“We also have casters here for the event.”
He paused briefly before continuing.
“So please be mindful of your actions and words.
People will be watching.”
The reminder was something most people already understood.
Still, hearing it out loud made the tournament suddenly feel a little bigger than before.
The announcement immediately caused a reaction from the crowd.
Some competitors looked excited at the idea of being featured on stream.
Others quietly exchanged looks, already imagining themselves playing on stage with commentators watching every move.
Being on stream meant attention.
And for some, attention meant recognition.
Jin-ho, however, did not think much of it.
To him, it was not that different from streaming online.
People watching him play was already something he was used to.
Beside him, Ji-min quietly clapped her hands together in excitement, careful not to make too much noise.
Jin-ho simply leaned back into the sofa and waited.
Now there was only one thing left.
The bracket.
Not long after, the organizers announced they would begin creating it.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Conversations died down.
People straightened up.
Some folded their arms.
Others stared toward the screen with anticipation.
Everyone wanted to know the same thing.
Who would they face?
Earlier, Jin-ho had already checked his registration details and made a small change.
Instead of using his real name, he entered his stream name.
Dominion.
Soon, the organizers displayed the contestant list on a large screen.
The names slowly scrolled down as players searched for themselves.
Competitors scanned the list carefully, making sure they had not been missed.
Jin-ho stood up and walked toward the screen.
Ji-min followed behind him.
His eyes moved across the names.
Then he found it.
Dominion.
Seeing his registration confirmed, he simply nodded and turned back.
As he returned to his seat, he heard the organizer speak again.
“We’ll begin shuffling now.”
Almost immediately, everyone looked toward the screen.
The first shuffle started.
Names moved rapidly.
A few seconds later, the second shuffle.
Then came the third.
The final one.
Silence.
After that, people immediately began searching for their positions in the bracket.
Some recognized familiar names.
Others looked completely lost.
“The bracket link will be posted around the venue,” one organizer announced.
“Please scan the QR code to access it.”
Almost instantly, phones came out.
Jin-ho pulled out his own phone and scanned the code.
After opening the bracket page, the first thing he did was search for his name.
Dominion.
He found it quickly.
Then his eyes shifted to the opponent listed beside it.
Yeonarang.
Jin-ho stared at the name for a moment.
It felt familiar.
Like he had heard it somewhere before.
But no face came to mind.
The tournament matches officially began.
Staff members moved through the arcade carrying white boards with player names and station numbers written across them.
The atmosphere quickly turned chaotic.
“Station 4!”
“Player check for Station 9!”
Voices echoed from every direction as tournament staff and marshals continuously called out players and assigned setups.
Competitors looked around, some rushing toward their stations while others checked their phones for updates.
Jin-ho stood nearby, holding his arcade stick while watching the crowd move around him.
His eyes drifted toward the stream setup.
A match was currently underway.
Ganryu versus Kazuya.
The two players traded heavy hits back and forth as the commentators talked over the action.
Jin-ho watched for a few moments.
Then looked away.
Not interested.
Beside him, Ji-min quietly pulled out her phone.
She had already lost interest in watching random matches.
The mechanics were still difficult for her to follow, and the excitement only really existed when Jin-ho was playing.
She was here for his matches.
To support him.
Meanwhile, Jin-ho waited calmly with his arcade stick resting against his shoulder.
There were plenty of stations set up around the arcade, so he expected his turn would come quickly.
Time passed. This story is hosted at g.com.
Matches ended one after another, immediately replaced by the next players in the bracket.
The tournament floor never slowed down.
While casually talking with Ji-min, Jin-ho suddenly heard a familiar name being called.
“Dominion!
Yeonarang!
Stream station!”
Jin-ho paused.
Then looked up.
His name.
And his opponent’s.
Without saying anything, he stood up and adjusted the strap of his bag.
Ji-min immediately stood as well and followed behind him.
She wanted to watch.
The two made their way through the crowd toward the assigned station.
As Jin-ho arrived, he looked up toward the setup.
Then stopped briefly.
Stream station.
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
Out of all the setups…
His first match was on stream.
Jin-ho walked forward and informed the staff that he had arrived.
A few moments later, another person approached from the opposite side.
Yeonarang.
The two looked at each other for a moment.
Then, without saying much, both gave a polite bow in greeting before taking their seats.
The match was about to begin.
At the commentator desk beside the setup, the casters adjusted their microphones and leaned in as the game loaded.
“This is Dominion versus Yeonarang,” one of them announced.
“Yeonarang is known as a Hwoarang specialist,” the other added.
A brief pause followed as they glanced at the screen showing the player tags.
“Dominion… that is a strong tag.
First time seeing him here.
Looks like a new competitor stepping into the scene.”
Both players were already seated, connecting their controllers to the PS4 stations.
Cables plugged in.
Button checks started.
Familiar pre match routine.
The caster continued speaking while observing them.
“We have seen a lot of returning names today, but Dominion is completely new.”
At the character select screen, Yeonarang locked in Hwoarang without hesitation.
“Yeonarang sticking with Hwoarang, as expected,” the caster said.
On the other side, Jin-ho finalized his setup, calmly adjusting his button layout before confirming his character.
Ji-min stood off to the side, watching quietly.
She kept her distance from the main camera angle on purpose.
Being visible on stream was something she wanted to avoid.
Even a brief appearance could risk recognition from viewers.
Especially in her position, where public attention could be unpredictable and overly attentive.
Her focus remained on Jin-ho instead.
“Oh, Dominion chooses Jin,” one of the casters reacted, slightly surprised.
“We are going to see a lore match this time,” the other caster added.
Around the arcade, eyes shifted toward the stream screen.
Players waiting for their own matches briefly stopped to watch, observing the opening moments of the set.
“Stage selected… Mishima Dojo.”
The loading screen appeared, showing both characters and the stage at the bottom as the game prepared to start.
Inside the station, Jin-ho exhaled slowly.
Inhale.
Exhale.
His focus narrowed.
“Hwoarang… slightly annoying to deal with,” he thought.
The match loaded.
On the side, Ji-min watched quietly.
She did not speak, but lightly gestured toward him in support.
Jin-ho noticed it.
A small nod and a faint smile in return.
The round began.
Yeonarang opened first, immediately testing movement and defense.
He used back dashes to create space, then transitioned into wavedash pressure into a Just Frame Sky Rocket attempt.
Jin-ho blocked it cleanly.
He remained still for a moment, reading the situation.
He understood he was still at frame disadvantage.
A guess formed in his mind.
Low follow up.
Yeonarang committed exactly as expected, throwing a Down Back 4.
The moment it came out, Jin-ho reacted.
Low parry.
“Ah, a low parry right at the start of the round,” one caster called out.
The crowd watching the stream reacted subtly.
Without hesitation, Jin-ho converted the opening into a full punish combo, carrying Yeonarang toward the wall.
He completed the wall ender cleanly.
Now Yeonarang was in a knockdown situation, forced into defense as Jin-ho prepared for the next phase of pressure.
Yeonarang managed to escape the immediate pressure situation, resetting the position back to neutral.
But the momentum had already shifted.
Now Jin-ho was the one applying pressure.
He stepped forward carefully, maintaining control of spacing, then suddenly snapped out an Electric Wind God Fist aimed directly at Yeonarang’s guard.
Yeonarang blocked it cleanly.
The impact still forced both players slightly apart, creating a small gap between them.
However, Jin-ho did not let the distance reset the flow of the match.
He immediately resumed controlled pressure.
Low pokes followed.
Down 4.
Then Down Back 4.
Simple, precise checks to test movement and reaction.
Each hit chipped away steadily at Yeonarang’s health bar, not by burst damage, but through consistent, unavoidable incremental pressure.
Yeonarang remained defensive, carefully watching for another opening, but Jin-ho kept the rhythm tight, never overextending, always returning to safe spacing after each interaction.
The life lead slowly began to grow in Jin-ho’s favor as the exchange continued.
Jin-ho adjusted his pace.
Even with momentum on his side, he stayed aware of Hwoarang’s threat range.
One wrong overextension could easily turn into a counter hit launch, and from there, the entire round could swing.
So he toned down his offense.
Not passive, but controlled.
He stopped forcing deep commitments and instead focused on measured spacing, short pokes, and safe checks to maintain advantage without exposing himself.
His movement became more deliberate.
In and out.
Pressure, then reset.
Every approach was calculated to avoid giving Yeonarang the timing he needed to interrupt or punish greed.
Even while reducing risk, Jin-ho remained in control of the match tempo, keeping Yeonarang locked into defense while slowly continuing to build advantage through consistency rather than aggression.
Yeonarang attempted to shift the momentum.
He went for an evasive movement option, trying to slip out of Jin-ho’s pressure and reset the situation into something more favorable. Find the original chapter at g.com.
But Jin-ho was already waiting.
He had anticipated the escape attempt.
The moment Yeonarang committed, Jin-ho stayed grounded, blocked cleanly, and immediately responded with a precise punish.
No hesitation.
No wasted movement.
The counterattack converted into clean damage, forcing Yeonarang back into disadvantage.
A few seconds of controlled pressure later, the round concluded in Jin-ho’s favor.
The life bar depleted steadily under Jin-ho’s maintained control, ending the exchange without unnecessary risk.
“Dominion’s Jin is extremely clean right now,” one of the casters said, clearly impressed.
“He is not overcommitting at all.
Every option is calculated.”
The other caster added a note of concern for Yeonarang’s side.
“Yeonarang needs to find a way to break this rhythm.
Right now, he is getting shut down before his movement even starts.”
Yeonarang adjusted his approach in the next round.
He began to take more risks.
Instead of respecting Jin-ho’s spacing, he started challenging more directly, pressing buttons earlier in exchanges and trying to interrupt the flow before Jin-ho could establish control.
The movement became less defensive and more confrontational.
Short bursts of aggression replaced his earlier hesitation.
He attempted to steal turns with faster commitments, aiming to disrupt Jin-ho’s rhythm and force mistakes.
For a moment, the pace of the match shifted.
The pressure felt more volatile, with both players contesting space more frequently than before.
However, each risky attempt carried consequence.
Jin-ho remained composed, reading the increased aggression and adjusting his timing to meet it with clean defense and precise punishment whenever openings appeared.
Yeonarang escalated his adjustments.
He began mixing his offense more deliberately, shifting stances mid-pressure to obscure timing and create hesitation in Jin-ho’s responses.
The goal was no longer just to trade blows, but to force incorrect reads.
Each stance switch introduced ambiguity, making it harder for Jin-ho to confidently press buttons to interrupt or challenge.
For a brief moment, the flow of the match became unstable.
“Yeonarang is changing the rhythm here,” one caster noted.
“He is not just rushing in anymore.
He is forcing decisions.”
The other caster followed up.
“Right, he is creating hesitation.
Dominion cannot just sit on defense forever.”
The pressure sequence continued.
Yeonarang maintained layered offense, switching stances again to disguise timing and bait a response.
This time, Jin-ho made a guess.
It was slightly off.
The interruption attempt came at the wrong timing window.
Yeonarang punished it immediately with a clean launch.
The counter hit confirmed.
“Ah, there it is,” the caster reacted.
“That’s the opening Yeonarang needed.”
The combo carried through cleanly, ending with Jin-ho forced into a disadvantageous position he could not recover from.
Moments later, Yeonarang closed out the second round.
The scoreboard evened.
“One round apiece now,” the caster said.
“And that shift came directly from Yeonarang adapting his offense.
He is no longer playing into Dominion’s timing.”
Jin-ho adjusted his strategy immediately after the round loss.
Instead of contesting Yeonarang’s momentum up close, he shifted to a more controlled keep-out style.
He ceded space on purpose, forcing Yeonarang to approach on his terms.
His play became more defensive, but not passive.
Every movement had intent.
He used precise spacing to deny entry, only committing to small, safe pokes when the situation clearly favored him.
Yeonarang attempted to re-establish offense, but found it increasingly difficult to close the distance.
Each advance was checked.
Each approach was interrupted.
Jin-ho repeatedly used Forward 4 to maintain separation, keeping Yeonarang just outside his preferred engagement range.
The caster observed the shift.
“Dominion has switched gears completely,” one of them said.
“He is playing keep-out now, forcing Yeonarang to take all the risk to engage.”
“And look at how difficult it is,” the other caster added.
“Every time Yeonarang tries to step in, he gets clipped.”
The pressure mounted slowly.
Yeonarang tried to find an opening, but the rhythm had changed.
He was no longer dictating pace.
Then it happened.
A forward movement from Yeonarang met another well-timed Forward 4 from Jin-ho.
This time, it landed as a counter hit.
The impact was clean.
It confirmed into a high-damage sequence, shifting the round heavily in Jin-ho’s favor.
From there, Jin-ho maintained composure, using minimal but efficient follow-ups and safe pokes to close out the remaining life.
The third round went to him.
“Dominion takes it,” the caster reacted immediately.
“That adaptation was instant.
He completely shut down Yeonarang’s momentum by removing the close-range game entirely.”
The second caster added.
“That’s the mark of a top player.
He lost a round, identified the win condition, and changed the entire structure of the match.”
“There’s only one round left for Dominion to take this set,” one of the casters said.
“Yeonarang needs to step it up here if he wants to stay alive.”
The tension in the set tightened as the final round began.
Yeonarang immediately tried to force the issue.
He increased his offensive pressure, attempting to open Jin-ho up with faster strings, tighter timing, and more aggressive engagement tools to break through the keep-out wall.
But Jin-ho refused to give him clean entry.
He stayed disciplined, guarding patiently and refusing to panic under pressure.
Whenever Yeonarang tried to extend his offense too far, Jin-ho responded with well-timed power crushes, absorbing the pressure and shutting down the momentum before it could develop further.
Each interruption reset the situation back to neutral.
No extended advantage.
No sustained offense.
Just repeated denial of Yeonarang’s attempts to take control.
“The power crush timing from Dominion is really shutting this down,” the caster noted.
“Every time Yeonarang tries to start something meaningful, he gets forced right back out.”
Yeonarang kept trying to rebuild offense, but Jin-ho’s stubborn defense and precise timing made it difficult to maintain any real pressure.
The match returned again and again to neutral, where Jin-ho remained composed, waiting for the right moment to reassert control.
A final opening appeared.
Jin-ho punished immediately.
The combo was clean, and decisive.
The last hit confirmed the round.
The set.
“Dominion takes it,” the caster announced.
“A very strong adaptation after losing a round earlier.
He closes the first set.”
On the side, Ji-min exhaled quietly, visibly relieved, her attention still fixed on him.
The surrounding noise of the arcade continued as other stations played out their own matches, but the energy around their setup shifted as the first set concluded.
Jin-ho stood still for a moment, adjusting his grip on the arcade stick.
This was only the beginning.