championship weightlifting

Faced with a second chance at life, Bjorn set a goal for himself, and for his country. Iceland, a place that'd never been on the competitive map, would win on the world's greatest stage. There was only a slight problem. He had ten years of experience and knowledge of the future... only in PvP. His previous life's account had been leveled by gaming assistants while he put all his time into practicing for tournaments. He had no management skills, no knowledge of the game, and no one to back him up. He didn't even know what quests were good or where to find the best items. All he knew was how to kill other players. 'If I want a successful team, the first matter is having them decked out in the finest gear... but how? I've never actually gathered my own stuff before...' Bjorn paused as he thought of something. 'Wait, players drop items, right? They even lose levels when I kill them! Heheh..." ... A few months later. A confused announcer frowned as he looked over the matchup. France VS Iceland. "The average level of France's team... is only 40?! Isn't the average 60? They don't stand a chance! Did they bring in practice accounts or something?" In the booth, the head coach wanted to cry. 'Obviously not! That psychotic bastard hunted every last person we had!'