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3:0, it was a sweep that caught everyone entirely off guard. For veterans of the RTS gaming scene, the outcome was downright bewildering.
A lost, hollow expression washed over GOD as he stepped across the stage to shake hands with SKY. SKY's face was a flushed storm of excitement mixed with genuine disbelief. He looked just as stunned as the audience that he had managed to shut out GOD in three clean matches.
John, as the guest of honor, stepped forward to present the championship trophy. Four unique trophies had been custom-crafted for the tournament, one representing each faction: the Humans, Night Elves, Orcs, and Undead, designed to match whichever race claimed victory.
With the outcome settled, the Human faction trophy was brought out. A finely detailed figure of a Terran soldier was handed to SKY, signaling the start of the finalist interviews. John quietly stepped back, handing the stage and mic over to Cooper.
"First off, a huge congratulations to SKY for taking home the Warcraft championship," Cooper began, turning his microphone toward the victor. "Tell us, SKY, how does it feel to pull off a 3-0 victory against GOD in the grand finals?"
Clutching the heavy trophy, SKY looked visibly nervous. "Honestly... there's still a real gap in raw skill between GOD and me. I don't consider myself his equal, but Warcraft isn't built like traditional RTS games. High APM and mechanics matter, sure, but unless the skill gap is massive enough to completely steamroll someone, it comes down to tactics, timing, and economy. I relied heavily on high-risk, unconventional strategies today. If this had been a standard BO3 without those gambits, I probably would've lost."
Always the transparent player, SKY blurted out his entire strategic mindset the moment he was asked.
Cooper asked a few follow-up questions before turning to GOD with the help of an interpreter. Unlike SKY, GOD was a seasoned international RTS star who knew the drill. Despite the stinging defeat, he forced a polite smile for the camera.
"GOD," Cooper asked, "looking back at those matches, it seemed like luck just wasn't on your side; a few missed scouting details cost you heavily. What's your perspective on how things played out?"
"Losses are losses," GOD replied with a quiet sigh. "I can't offer excuses; my opponent played exceptionally well, and SKY's tactical execution opened my eyes. I felt like I had control early on. In Game 1, SKY went for a heavy summon strategy. I actually held the advantage, but I honestly don't know what I was thinking. I failed to send my Workers out to scout, throwing away a golden position."
His expression darkened with slight regret. "In Game 2, I completely overlooked an enemy worker; otherwise, I would have scouted earlier. And in the final game, trading bases with SKY was a terrible trade. I just kept making uncharacteristically bad calls."
As GOD's interview echoed through the venue, the live audience suddenly erupted into a wave of booming laughter. Both players on stage looked utterly bewildered, especially GOD, who had just finished speaking. He froze. What's going on? Are they laughing at me?
It made no sense. He had competed here many times for major tournaments, and the local crowds had always treated him with immense respect. Win or lose, he was usually met with cheers and applause. It wasn't a matter of international rivalry either; he'd faced their players before without this kind of reaction. So why now, after a painful 3-0 defeat? GOD stood paralyzed in total confusion.
Off to the side, Lubu, who had been knocked out early in the first round, looked at GOD with a deep, shared pity. Two victims of the same dark force.
As GOD walked off stage, Lubu approached him, gently patting his shoulder without saying a word before turning to leave.
GOD stood frozen, staring at Lubu's retreating back. Then, like a sudden jolt, a memory of the match commentary flashed in his mind, and his eyes widened in realization.
Online streams were exploding. Viewership for the PixelPioneers Game Convention hit record highs. The broadcast cut away from the stage to capture GOD's completely baffled face, sending the chat into absolute chaos.
"LMAO, GOD still thinks he lost to SKY. He has no idea he was destroyed by the man sitting at the caster desk!"
"GOD: 'I don't know why I made those mistakes. My hands just stopped listening to me.'"
"I used to believe in science until I heard President John cast a game."
"My god, President John's jinx is an absolutely lethal poison! His analysis is spot-on, which makes his curse ten times worse than regular casters who just guess wrong!"
"+1! That was a legendary curse. Regular casters just make bad calls and pretend it's a jinx, but John literally altered reality."
"Emmmm, are you guys complimenting John or roasting him?"
"I know casters can't actually affect the players, but watching John's commentary... I'm genuinely terrified."
"GOD is a beast! Warcraft is brand new, but he climbed to the top 100 on the global ladder instantly. Getting swept 3-0 is mind-boggling."
"Don't pity GOD, worry about Lubu standing in front of the White Gate Tower!"
"LOL! GOD at least walked away with second place, Lubu was a fan favorite and got deleted in round one!"
Backstage in the lounge, John hadn't checked the chat yet, but he could easily guess what the internet was saying. In fact, he was starting to doubt reality himself. Did he actually possess some kind of supernatural jinxing power?
Lost in deep thought, John looked up as Luna walked into the room, eyeing him with a deeply suspicious glare.
"Did you and Armani stage this whole 'jinx' narrative beforehand?" Luna asked dryly. "Did you pay off the players to throw the games just to generate hype?"
John rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "What are you talking about? That would ruin our reputation! Match-fixing? We're running a legitimate tournament here!"
"Well, good luck shaking off the title of 'The Ultimate Jinx'," Luna said, shaking her head with a light chuckle.
"Let's stick to science here!" John defended himself helplessly. "Superstitions aren't real, and my tactical breakdowns were entirely logical! How was I supposed to predict any of that?"
He threw his hands up in defeat. It was like rolling a standard six-sided die, only for it to split down the middle and land on a seven