NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 72: Her Mother’s Call
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Chapter 72: Her Mother's Call
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The scorching rounds from the USP pierced through the dreams of five teenagers, shattering their aspirations in esports.
One by one, they dejectedly removed their headsets, a defeated silence hanging in the air. These five, gathered from different corners of the country, had come together only to find themselves utterly trounced, their confidence shaken. Aside from the occasional backstab, coordinated fire, or a lucky use of items that allowed them to kill "No worries, two minutes is already enough" once, they had been thoroughly outgunned in almost every face-to-face duel.
That USP, adorned with custom skins, landed headshots with such precision it felt almost unfair—two bullets to the head, every time, no exceptions. The frustration was palpable; each of them, in their hearts, cursed the platform, questioning whether their opponent was cheating.
"How could this not be a hack?"
"How can such blatant tweaking not be banned?"
Even without body armor, their foe’s USP still dominated, leaving the five high-ranking players feeling as if they were up against a monstrous opponent. If this player were fully kitted out, who in their right mind would dare challenge them?
The five players, worn down by their defeat, silently agreed: no more of this cursed game today.
Meanwhile, their four teammates—those lucky enough to be carried—felt as if they were dreaming. The experience of being along for the ride, with such a formidable player, was surreal.
When that terrifying USP charged ahead, it broke through defenses like a force of nature, the sheer mastery of gunplay and positioning dismantling anyone foolish enough to stand in the way. Truly, this "game prodigy" deserved the recent buzz.
Throughout the match, the four others had barely contributed, their roles reduced to mere spectators, offering little more than awe-filled exclamations like, "Bloody hell!" and "Amazing!" or the occasional "6969!" Their overall impact on the match? Negligible at best.
Even long after the game had ended, the rush of excitement lingered in their minds.
In a high-end gaming room filled with top-notch gear, Jonathan Smith lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and leaned back in his gaming chair, his mind still reeling from the experience.
He had heard of this player—"No worries, two minutes is already enough"—through various gaming forums and sites like Red And Pink Box. He'd seen streamers who'd run into this mysterious player venting in videos, likening the experience to facing a cheater. But the player’s playtime was limited, so Jonathan had never crossed paths with her before today.
Today, however, was the first time Jonathan had encountered this legend in person, and only now did he truly grasp the full extent of the hype.
Though the five of them were not regular teammates, they were all highly skilled streamers or professional players, each with solid marksmanship and basic teamwork. Yet, against this player, all their once-proud abilities seemed utterly insignificant.
Jonathan, a former pro, had never felt so stifled—not even in professional matches had he encountered such an overwhelmingly dominant individual.
When facing "No worries, two minutes is already enough," their only hope was to swarm her with coordinated attacks, time ambushes perfectly, or use utility to limit her movement. Under no circumstances could they allow a direct 1v1 gunfight, or it would end in just two headshots.
Even sniping from afar was futile; if your reaction was even a fraction too slow, the outcome was inevitable—two shots to the head, and you were done.
This experience left an indelible mark on Jonathan, one he would not soon forget.
If there were a limit to human marksmanship, then this was it.
Part of him still wanted to claim it was cheating. Surely, this had to be a cheat.
But after reaching out to some contacts within the game platform’s management team, he learned something unsettling—there was no evidence of foul play. At least, none that the platform’s current technology could detect.
Still, Jonathan was sceptical.
Unless that player came to his gaming room and played on one of his clean machines, he wouldn't be convinced otherwise.
When he’d tried probing for more information, the platform’s response was firm: the player didn’t want to share any personal details and had even involved lawyers to enforce their privacy.
Frustration brewed within Jonathan, but so too did an idea.
The Counter Strike.
Major tournament was currently underway in Copenhugen, and it was too late for him to participate in that. However, the upcoming event in Alluhein City was just around the corner, and he had some connections with the local event organizers. Preparations were already underway for this prestigious tournament with a prize pool of $250,000.
If this "No worries, two minutes is already enough" wasn’t a cheat, could such a massive prize draw this player out?
Additionally, Alluhein City offered a generous two-million-romani bonus for international esports champions. Not to mention, if this mysterious player performed well, would likely receive countless offers from top-tier clubs after the tournament.
That amount of money wasn’t small by any means. Even if the player wanted to remain low-key, could this player truly resist such a tempting offer?
In Demoractic States of Roman Empire, a country not known for its Counter Strike prowess, this could be the pillar they desperately needed.
It was mid-afternoon.
Zoe Carter, growing bored of easily dispatching her opponents, switched to a less competitive game.
After all, there was little thrill in constantly crushing others. It left her "prey" with a lasting trauma, and the low frame rates in some games made them feel like a slideshow, adding to her own discomfort.
So, she turned to Minecraft.
There were plenty of non-competitive games to choose from, but Minecraft was the one she was most familiar with, offering a relaxing and immersive experience.
While grinding through the world-generative mod, she lazily flipped through chapters of a web novel on her phone.
Suddenly, her phone rang, the ringtone "Next to you" filling the room. Glancing at the screen, she saw the word "Mum" flashing, and without hesitation, she answered.
"Hey, how’ve you been? It’s been ages since you’ve called. How come you haven’t been in touch since the New Year?"
Her mother’s voice carried both concern and a slight reproach, making Zoe pause, a pang of guilt washing over her.
It was true—she hadn’t been in touch with her family lately.
The sudden changes in her body had plunged her into endless tasks and distractions. Though she still found time for gaming, she had neglected to keep up with her family, a fact she couldn’t deny.
"Ah, Mum, I’ve been working on a new novel lately, so I’ve been swamped, writing day and night."
After a moment’s hesitation, Zoe gave a half-truth. Yes, she had been reading new novels, but that wasn’t what had been keeping her busy. Still, she chose to lie.
The changes to her body—she couldn’t tell her family about that. In fact, she couldn’t tell anyone. At least, not until she was invincible. Only then could the secret be shared.
"Don’t work too hard. Make sure you’re getting enough rest and eating properly. Do you still have enough money?"
Her mother’s concern came through again, her words filled with affection for her daughter.
"Don’t worry, Mom. Your daughter’s a big-time writer now—I’m doing fine for money. Didn’t I tell you? I’ll be a famous author one day!"
"You still don’t believe me, do you?"
Zoe chuckled, repeating the same words she’d used when her mother had once grilled her about quitting her job.
By now, her mother no longer pressured her to find a "proper, stable" job. However, she still worried about her progress in the novel industry, wondering if she was earning enough to live on.
And so, they chatted for quite some time.
From her recent activities, to her mother supervising workers during their home renovations; from her occasional writer’s block, to her father’s struggles with looking after her younger brother alone...
Their conversation went on for quite a while before they finally hung up.
As Zoe glanced at the clock—nearly 1 p.m.—she sat in thought for a long moment.
After one or two more evolutions...
Maybe it was time to visit home.
Though it had been less than a month since she left after the New Year, given the drastic changes her body had undergone, it felt as if an eternity had passed.