Then, just like before, the chat was once again flooded with donations from fans begging for a copy of her stream.
"Oh, okay, I'll send it later after the stream... Is my voice really that good?" she asked, feeling a little foolish, but curiosity got the better of her.
"Yeah! When I heard your voice earlier, I couldn't help but call my wife over. I hugged her tight when she came—listening to you made me realize how empty my life would be without her."
"That's so romantic! I wish someone would love me like that too," she said with mock jealousy, slamming her hand against the armrest like the world had wronged her.
"I'm so pretty, yet no one loves me. Hu-hu~" she whined dramatically, making her viewers melt from her charm.
"Don't worry, Moon, I'm always here for you!""No, we're always here for you!""Careful with your words, kid, or else—""Another man about to fall, huh?"
The playful banter continued until she noticed the game had already loaded and her character was now standing at the team's base. Scanning the names of her teammates, she found no one particularly noteworthy. She was playing as the Defender—meaning she'd be using the Outcast Maneuver throughout the match.
The game had eleven rounds. Whoever scored the most wins would be declared the victor. Once they hit six rounds, the sides would switch, giving the losing team a shot at redemption.
Not everyone could master the Defender role—it required strategy and patience. Only the most dedicated players, top streamers, and hopelessly bored gamers usually took on that challenge.
Luckily, Curtis knew the Defender playstyle well, so the system automatically placed her in that role.
Her avatar was a striking blonde teen with cold eyes and shoulder-length hair, standing tall at around 180 cm. She was designed to look beautiful yet commanding—a fan favorite among both men and women.
She wore a pair of sturdy boots and a cropped yellow coat with a logo of a pigeon showing its belly and wings spread wide, with two crossed axes on its chest. Tight leggings emphasized her toned legs, making the design both stylish and intimidating.
When the alarm sounded from the tower, the match officially began.
Her avatar sprinted across the rooftops—Defenders had that advantage, just like the Terrorists. The latter could also use vehicles, provided they could afford them, since the battlefield was as large as a small town. The layout gave both sides plenty of space to strategize.
Her teammates spread across the map—two on the left, two at the center—so she took the right side, trusting her instincts. With twenty minutes per round, patience and stealth were key for Defenders.
They relied on ambush tactics—hide first, strike later. Terrorists might seem to have the upper hand, but one careless move could mean instant death.
Terrorists had a small radar that detected noise, so every step, every broken plank, mattered. Stealth was survival.
Curtis took a narrow stairway up to the back alleys on the rooftops—one of the main Terrorist routes to the bomb site. As luck would have it, she spotted a group of five enemies sweeping the area cautiously.
By now, everyone knew the meta—splitting up meant suicide. Stick together, cover your backs, or be eliminated by a lurking assassin.
That's what made Attack on Strike special—it wasn't just about reflexes but intelligence. Tactics and teamwork mattered as much as marksmanship.
"Enemy team spotted at Commoner Market, heading toward Fountain of Gracious. Requesting backup," she reported calmly.
"Damn, a girl on comms? That's a reason to celebrate!""Shut up, simp. Focus on the game—but hey, say 'uwu' for us, pretty please?""…""Dude?"
Her chat exploded with laughter. Most knew that women rarely played this brutally difficult FPS game, so having "Moon" on comms was a treat in itself.
"Don't worry, sweetheart—I'm coming to rescue you," one of her teammates teased.
Ignoring them, she silently tailed the enemy team, leaping across rooftops with careful precision. In stealth mode, her movement speed was slower, but her steps were nearly silent—a crucial advantage. However, one wrong move and the enemy's sensors could still detect her.
That's why beginner Defenders often got wiped out early. But a skilled player, especially a tactician, could turn the tide of an entire match.
Just as she prepared to strike, gunfire erupted—Bang! Bang! Bang!
Her screen flashed red. She had been ambushed. She hadn't noticed the terrorists using a scan device, exposing her position. Her avatar crumpled to the ground, dead.
"You've been killed by AK-47," the screen announced.
Her teammates cursed the enemy and vowed revenge, while her chat filled with memes and spammed laughter.
They already knew Moon wasn't exactly skilled at Attack on Strike. But that didn't matter—what they really enjoyed was watching her get flustered and pout at every death.
Because in their eyes, her cuteness was victory enough.
They had already figured it out even before the match began — Moon wasn't exactly skilled at Attack on Strike. But her viewers didn't mind one bit. They were there for her reactions, her frustration, and her cuteness. After all, being cute was enough reason — cute is justice.
"Ahhhh, this is so frustrating! It's only the first round and I already got killed! This is so embarrassing!" she exclaimed, covering her face in mock despair. Of course, she was just acting — putting on a show for her fans. She knew she wasn't good at the game, but she played it anyway because it was popular and funny fails drew attention. More clips meant more entertainment value, and that meant more curious viewers — and, inevitably, more donations.
Peeking through her fingers, Moon watched her teammates strategizing. Surprisingly, one of them was a strong leader — a player named Shadow-lord. "What a corny name," she thought, watching him coordinate the remaining three players after her early death.
In the game, the assassin team was tasked with protecting a sacred fountain said to heal the wounded under the full moon. The terrorists' goal was to destroy it. The red-masked assassin trailed the enemy group from behind, while his three teammates lay in wait near the fountain.
The terrorists moved cautiously, one of them constantly watching their rear. When the last guard turned his head away, Shadow-lord saw his chance. He prepared his maneuver gear, aiming at a nearby pillar. With perfect precision, he fired his grapple dart and launched himself into the air — executing one of the hardest moves in the game.
Viewers filled the chat with disbelief. "No way he pulls this off!"
Attack on Strike required mastery of physics, geometry, and timing. The maneuver gear demanded exact control — one mistake could send you crashing or get you shot mid-air. But when done right, it was pure spectacle. Skilled players were idolized, their gameplay enough to make any crowd go wild.
Moon's chat went insane as Shadow-lord executed the move flawlessly — slicing down an enemy in mid-air with perfect timing. The chat box exploded with excitement, lagging from the flood of messages.
The terrorists retaliated, chasing after him while his teammates moved in. Two of them landed clean kills using basic maneuvers, but one failed miserably — trying to copy Shadow-lord's glide and getting gunned down instead. The audience spammed "NOOB!" as the poor player's avatar fell lifelessly.
Shadow-lord regrouped, checked his remaining gas, and re-entered the fray. With swift movements and sharp instincts, he cut down another opponent, evening the odds. When one of his allies got ambushed, it came down to two versus two. But in the final moments, Shadow-lord narrowly survived — with only 5% health — and managed to win the round when the last enemy stopped to reload. The crowd went wild. MVP: Shadow-lord.
Between rounds, Moon excitedly shopped for in-game items: a healing salve, a leather bullet case, and a medieval trap for enemy vehicles. She smiled as the chat hyped up the next match.
The teams switched sides after the first quarter. Moon's team took turns defending and attacking, trading victories. The last rounds were intense — the enemy team fought like madmen, nearly turning the tide — but Shadow-lord held strong, carrying the team to victory.
In the end, the assassins won six rounds to five. Moon let out a tired but cheerful laugh."Bye guys, peace!" she said, waving to the camera before ending the stream.
Curtis — the man behind Moon's avatar — leaned back in his chair and quietly turned off his PC.