Sometimes, the only thing more humiliating than defeat… is how familiar it becomes.
⸻
The screen bled red again.
"DEFEAT."
Final Score: 2/17/1
MVP: Opposing Mid – 'Cr1msonFang'
Team Chat:
[JellyPotato]: dude uninstall lmao
[FasterThanYou]: how tf u die 17 times in 18 mins
[AutoMuted for Toxicity]
The headset buzzed with static, or maybe it was just the blood pounding in Lin Yao's ears.
He yanked the headphones off, tossing them onto his battered desk. His ancient monitor flickered in sympathy, its colors bleeding at the edges like an old man's cataracts. The peeling sticker at the corner still bore the logo of a forgotten season: Glory League S5 — Be Legendary. He'd found it on the back of a cereal box four years ago.
He wasn't legendary.
He wasn't even bronze.
Just another name in the endless void of Solo Queue Hell.
⸻
Yao slumped back in his creaking chair, breathing shallowly. His room, if it could be called that, was a rectangular box above the family's dimsum shop, half-filled with steam and the smell of burnt oil. There was no aircon, only a dusty fan that groaned as it rotated. On the wall, a single torn poster of ShadowFire — last year's world champions — fluttered in the occasional breeze.
He looked nothing like them. Not in skill, not in confidence, not in destiny.
"You still playing that stupid game?"
The voice from the doorway was his father's, sharp and unforgiving. Mr. Lin didn't need to be seen to be felt; his disappointment had weight, like the bamboo stick he used to discipline both dumplings and his only son.
"Nineteen. No job. No grades. No future."
The words were routine now. As expected as the 10-minute surrender votes that always passed when Yao played jungle.
He didn't answer. Silence had become his defense. Not strength — just exhaustion.
⸻
Later that night, he logged back in. The only light in the room came from the screen.
The rank queue ticked.
Matchmaking began.
Then the screen glitched.
Only for a moment — less than a second — but Yao saw it:
A black flicker.
A different interface.
A new message:
[System]: Welcome back, ZeroKill.
[System]: Authentication reestablished.
[System]: Experimental Account Reactivated.
"What the hell…"
He blinked. The message was gone. The queue resumed.
The match loaded.
But something had changed.
⸻
Game Start
Map: Bloodrift 4.2
Mode: Classic 5v5
Role: Jungle
Player: ZeroKill (Lv.1)
Champion: Sable — The Unseen Fang
Yao stared at the load screen.
He never picked Sable. It was a rare hero — stealth-based, mechanically complex, and… locked behind paywall or pro-level achievements. His account had never owned it.
But here it was. Available. Pre-selected. Automatically.
"What is going on?"
⸻
The game began. At first, it was ordinary. He moved through the jungle camps like always. Missed a smite here, mistimed a combo there.
The usual.
Then…
At minute 3:24, it happened.
Top Lane – Enemy Gank Opportunity Detected
He shouldn't have gone in. Not with his HP. Not without backup.
But something — some pulse in his fingertips — took over. His eyes sharpened. His hand moved with clarity it hadn't known in months.
Bush dive.
Shadow step.
Combo.
Execute.
"First Blood!"
The announcer's voice rang like a gong.
Bright. Sharp.
Alive.
Yao sat frozen.
He hadn't just killed a player.
He had predicted their movement. Outplayed their escape. Outtimed their flash.
And enjoyed it.
⸻
In the team chat, someone typed:
[OppTop]: ??? hacker???
[OppMid]: how did he do that
[YourTeam – ADC]: yo ZeroKill u smurfing?? that was nasty
[YourTeam – Mid]: replay plz that looked scripted lol
But Yao wasn't reading.
He was listening.
To the sound of his heart.
To the click of the keys.
To the whisper in the back of his head — not a voice, but an idea:
Do it again.
He didn't remember clicking.
Didn't remember thinking.
Only the rhythm.
Shadow in. Fang out. One down.
At minute 5:48, he caught the enemy mid overextending.
At 6:02, he invaded jungle and stole red buff.
At 6:35, a perfect backstep dodge into a flash-ult burst combo netted his third kill.
"Killing Spree!"
The announcer was cheering for him now.
The team chat turned from silence to disbelief.
[YourTeam – ADC]: bro ur cracked
[YourTeam – Mid]: who r u fr??
[OppMid]: ZERO IS CHEATING WTF
And then it hit him.
They thought he was cheating.
It should have bothered him.
It didn't.
⸻
Yao leaned forward. His breath steady now, as if syncing with the game's tempo. His fingers, once hesitant, now moved with mechanical elegance.
"Shadow Form Activated."
"Passive: Kill chain bonus increased."
"Ultimate ready."
Minute 8:12 – He soloed the enemy carry under tower, perfectly timing the tower aggro drop and ult iframe.
Minute 9:45 – A triple kill in the jungle.
Minute 11:10 – He baited a 4v1 and survived, killing two.
ZeroKill: 9/1/4
⸻
Something strange happened at kill ten.
As he finished off the enemy mid in a whirlwind of blades, the screen flickered again.
Only for a heartbeat.
And a line of code scrolled across his HUD:
[ERROR: GhostSync active beyond limit parameters.]
[Subject reaction above predicted curve.]
"Subject...?"
He blinked. The message vanished.
What subject?
What limit?
His hand hovered above the keyboard.
This wasn't just a game anymore.
⸻
Outside the match, in an unknown room.
Two men stood before a row of servers. Lines of code scrolled across black screens like rainfall.
"ZeroKill is active again."
"Wasn't the experiment terminated?"
"Apparently not."
One of them, older, in a lab coat: "He's syncing. Faster than expected."
The other, face hidden by shadows, said nothing. Only watched as the stream replayed the kill at 11:10 in slow motion.
Pause. Zoom.
Freeze frame: Lin Yao's expression — focused, feral, alive.
"This one might… survive it."
⸻
Back in his room, Yao stared at the post-game screen.
VICTORY
Final Score: 14 / 2 / 7
MVP: ZeroKill – Jungle
Match Rating: S+
Replay Saved: Yes
Unlocked Title: "First Blood — Awakened"
His hand trembled slightly as he hovered over the "Continue" button.
His phone buzzed.
A new message.
Unknown number.
No contact name.
Just a link: join.shadowfire.gg/invite/zero-001
And one line beneath it:
"We saw what you did. Ready to try for the real arena?"
⸻
He didn't sleep that night.
The game replayed in his head in perfect clarity. Every flick, every cancel, every decision.
And the voice — not audible, but felt — that kept whispering:
Do it again.
More.
You were born for this.
But alongside the thrill… a sliver of fear.
Because deep down, Yao knew:
That wasn't him playing.
At least, not the him he knew.
⸻
Next Morning — Lin Family Kitchen
The hiss of oil in the pan couldn't drown out the tension.
Mr. Lin barely glanced at his son as he entered. "If you think you'll survive on that stupid game, think again."
Yao said nothing. But today, the silence wasn't surrender. It was calculation.
He'd seen something last night.
Not just in the game.
In himself.
⸻
As he reached for a bun, his phone buzzed again.
[ShadowFire Academy Esports Tryout – Confirmed]
Time: Saturday, 2 PM
Location: Sunrise Esports Arena
Entry Code: ZK-001
He locked the screen and smiled — faint, focused, dangerous.
His father kept muttering in the background, but Yao no longer heard it.
He was already somewhere else.
Back on Bloodrift.
Back in the shadows.
Where he was more alive than he'd ever been.
"Some battles start long before the first move."
⸻
Lin Yao skipped class.
He didn't bother coming up with an excuse. Not that anyone at school noticed. He was a shadow there too — invisible, ignorable, insignificant. He had nothing in common with those college-track kids in pressed uniforms and plastic smiles. Not with the bullies either, who mistook his silence for weakness and his skinny frame for a target.
He wasn't weak.
Just… not awake. Until now.
Today, something was different.
He stood outside a rundown PC café hidden between a pawnshop and a fried tofu stall. The sign overhead blinked intermittently: "Legend NetZone." Most of the letters had burned out.
Inside, it smelled of sweat, instant noodles, and blue light.
Perfect.
⸻
"Thirty an hour," the owner grunted.
"Only fifteen if you don't ask questions."
Yao slid the crumpled bills across the counter. "Just need a clean rig."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Tournament?"
"Tryout."
That earned a small nod of approval. "Pick Station Twelve. Nobody touches that one."
Yao booted up. The keyboard still had some resistance left, though the mousepad was curled at the edges. The login screen shimmered before him like a portal.
He didn't hesitate.
[Welcome, ZeroKill.]
New Message:
[SHADOWFIRE Academy – You have 1 unread task.]
He clicked.
⸻
Tryout Task #1: Solo Trial Match
Format: 1v1 – Mid Only
Map: Tournament Test – ProSpec Arena
Condition: Win in under 10 minutes
AI Difficulty: Dynamic Reactive (ProSim-5)
Note: No Repeats. You get one shot.
Yao's throat went dry.
ProSim-5 wasn't a normal AI. It was a learning opponent, coded using real match data from world-class players. It didn't follow patterns. It adapted.
"Under 10 minutes… against that?"
His mouse hovered over the 'Accept' button.
His hands didn't shake.
Click.
⸻
Loading Match…
Opponent: "SparX [AI — Lv. 5 ProSim]"
Your Champion: Sable — The Unseen Fang
Timer started.
0:00
He bought items. Stealth rune. Aggro dagger.
0:45
Last-hit perfection. 100% CS.
1:12
The AI lunged forward—combo bait.
He countered with a sidestep-blade cancel that stunned the bot mid-dash.
2:20
First blood.
"Executed with precision," the game whispered.
3:45
SparX adapted. Changed build path. Started zoning with predictive strikes.
Yao chuckled. Now we're talking.
⸻
6:00
The tide turned again. SparX set a vision trap near the river brush, baiting Yao into a dive. He took the bait—
But so did SparX.
"Shadow Recall: ACTIVE."
Yao blinked behind the bot mid-combo, countering the counter. An impossible move. Something even real pros rarely risked.
He landed it.
8:59
Final kill.
Screen flashed white.
VICTORY — Time: 8:59.34
ZeroKill: WINNER
Performance Score: 97.8%
Signature Status: Logged
You have unlocked:
[SHADOWFIRE TOKEN: 1]
[Invitation Level: Tier B+]
Proceed to Onsite Tryouts.
Yao didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Then his lips parted — a small, disbelieving smile.
⸻
Back outside, the world felt… fake. Too slow. Too loud.
The honking tuk-tuks. The hawkers screaming about lumpia. The sound of his father's voice in his head:
"It's just a waste of time. No one makes it."
But someone had to.
Why not him?
⸻
That evening — Lin Family Kitchen
Dinner was quiet.
His mother, worn from a full day of chopping and steaming, laid out rice, eggs, and leftover pork. His father read the newspaper, as if the world could be controlled if he just understood it enough.
Yao cleared his throat.
"I need to be somewhere. Saturday."
Mr. Lin looked up slowly. "Somewhere? Where?"
"A tryout. Esports. ShadowFire Academy."
His father didn't laugh. That might've been easier.
He just… stared. Cold. Silent.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he said:
"So you're still chasing that ghost."
Yao clenched his chopsticks. "It's not—"
"Not what? Not childish? Not worthless?"
"I beat a ProSim AI today. Level 5."
That gave them pause. Even his mother glanced up.
"That's…" she began softly. "That's not easy, is it?"
Mr. Lin slammed his bowl down.
"And what does that prove?! That you're good at wasting your life?!"
The silence after that was worse than yelling.
Yao stood, pushed his chair back.
"I'm going."
"You walk out that door," his father warned, "you don't walk back in."
Yao didn't flinch. He looked his father in the eye — really looked.
And for the first time, said:
"Then I'll build my own door."
⸻
That night, he didn't sleep.
He stared at the ceiling. At the cracks in the plaster. At the shadows in the corners of his room.
And thought about the way his fingers moved on the keyboard.
The way the screen lit up when he struck.
The silence after that final kill.
It wasn't just a game.
It was his answer.
His first blood.
"Some blood binds. Some burns. And some... opens doors."
⸻
Saturday – 2:03 PM
Sunrise Esports Arena, District 9
Lin Yao had never been somewhere so loud and so quiet at the same time.
Outside, chaos — fans, LED screens, thundering trailers for upcoming tournaments.
Inside, the air was cold. Sterile. Surgical. Dozens of players in matching jerseys sat before high-end PCs, each station sealed off with frosted glass.
The arena's underground training facility looked more like a lab than a battlefield.
"ID?"
"ZeroKill."
"Wait... the ZeroKill?"
The woman at the desk blinked, then quickly masked her surprise.
"Station C-12. You're in the Tier B+ bracket. Group 3. Match starts in 7."
He nodded and turned — and slammed into someone.
Literally.
A girl with messy purple hair and headphones around her neck narrowed her eyes. "Eyes up, rookie."
Yao stepped back instinctively. "Sorry—"
She stared harder. "You look familiar."
"I don't—"
Then someone behind her spoke.
"He's ZeroKill."
It was a calm voice. Cold. Precision-cut.
A guy leaned against the wall in all black. No logo, no ID tag — just a black jacket zipped up to the throat. He didn't smile.
He didn't need to.
The girl raised a brow. "No way. That ZeroKill? From the replays?"
He didn't answer. The guy in black didn't either.
But something passed between them — recognition without words.
Yao suddenly felt like prey in a room full of predators.
⸻
C-12 Booth – 2:10 PM
He sat down. The chair adjusted automatically. The screen blinked to life.
[Welcome to SHADOWFIRE Academy Evaluation.]
Group Match – Format: 3v3v3 Death Blitz
Objective: Team elimination or control over three zones
Time Limit: 10 minutes
Selected Teammates:
• "Flare" – Role: Mid
• "EchoSpite" – Role: Support
You: ZeroKill – Role: Jungle
He frowned.
Flare?
He looked through the glass.
The purple-haired girl raised her hand and smirked.
So did the guy in black.
"…Great."
⸻
Match Start
The game launched fast.
No warmup. No countdown. Just spawn and scramble.
The map — Iron Citadel — was tight and vertical, filled with blind corners and multi-tiered platforms.
Perfect for chaos.
Yao picked Sable again. It didn't even ask this time. The champion felt… natural now.
Like a second skin.
⸻
First minute, they moved like strangers.
Second minute, Flare overextended mid and got caught in a double gank.
Third minute, EchoSpite refused to rotate for vision.
Yao had seen this before.
He was used to it.
But something about today — about this match — made him act.
He didn't flame. Didn't rage.
He moved.
Roamed.
Covered Flare's retreat with a perfect stun-lock chain.
Dropped into bottom lane solo and stole a zone before backup even arrived.
Cut off enemy supply with jungle invade paths so precise even the casters in the glass booth turned to watch.
By minute six, all nine players had started targeting him.
⸻
"Focus ZeroKill."
"Mark Sable. Don't let him snowball."
"We can't let this turn into a carry-fest."
Too late.
He wasn't just carrying.
He was dominating.
⸻
Then, minute eight. Flare died again. Echo got cornered.
And Yao?
He vanished.
No one saw him coming until it was too late.
The final 3v3 standoff turned into a 1v5 slaughter.
Triple kill.
Zone lockdown.
Game over.
⸻
Post-match Screen:
Victory – Team Alpha
MVP: ZeroKill (9 / 1 / 6)
Evaluation:
Combat IQ: 95
Reaction Time: 92
Tactical Rating: 91
Status: ELEVATED
Invitation Level: A-Tier Exception Flagged
⸻
As he stepped out of the booth, the guy in black was already waiting.
Flare leaned against the wall beside him, still catching her breath.
"You're insane," she muttered. "Like… actually broken."
Yao looked at her. Then at the silent guy beside her.
"…What's your name?"
The guy gave a small nod. "You'll find out soon."
Flare rolled her eyes. "Ignore Julian. He thinks he's mysterious."
"Julian?"
"Julian Shen. You'll hear that name a lot if you stay."
Yao blinked. Shen. He'd seen that name on leaderboards.
She chuckled. "As for me — call me Flare."
He nodded slowly. "Lin Yao."
Flare tilted her head. "That's your real name."
"Yeah."
"Huh," she said. "You don't look like a Lin Yao."
⸻
As they turned to leave, a sharp beep echoed across the room.
A message on a central screen:
[ZeroKill – Account Status: LOCK FLAG DETECTED]
[Advisory Alert: Anomaly in data logs. Requesting review.]
[Origin Tag: Project GhostSync]
[CLEARANCE LEVEL REQUIRED: CLASSIFIED]
Julian stopped walking. So did Flare.
Yao froze.
"…What's Project GhostSync?"
Neither of them answered.
But the chill that went down Yao's spine wasn't from the aircon this time.
First blood isn't just the first kill. It's the first decision you make… that no one can undo."
⸻
Yao stared at the screen.
[Account Flagged – ZeroKill]
[Status: Unverified Origin]
[Linked: GhostSync Program]
[Clearance Required]
He moved the cursor, clicked "Details."
Access Denied.
"You shouldn't have seen that."
Julian stood behind him.
Voice low. Measured. Like someone who only spoke when it mattered.
"What is GhostSync?" Yao asked again.
Julian didn't answer.
But his eyes said something else.
You'll find out. Sooner than you want.
⸻
Later that night, Yao walked home alone.
His bag slung low. His hoodie damp with sweat. The streets buzzing with neon signs and the smell of soy and asphalt.
He should have been ecstatic.
He had passed the hardest trial of his life.
ShadowFire had flagged his name.
A door had opened.
So why did it feel like something was watching?
⸻
Back in his room, he logged in again.
The screen pulsed faintly.
The moment he clicked "Play," something different happened.
A voice.
Not typed.
Not read.
But spoken.
"Hello again, Lin Yao."
He froze.
It wasn't a teammate.
Wasn't a system alert.
It was female. Cold. Digital—but almost real.
"You've reconnected to the ZeroKill Framework."
"GhostSync layer: partially activated."
"Subject Sync: 41%."
Yao swallowed hard.
"Subject?"
"You," the voice said.
"You are Subject Zero."
⸻
The screen glitched.
For a second, it showed something else entirely:
A video feed. Lab monitors. Heart rate lines. Memory graphs. Neural activity charts.
His name.
His face.
[SUBJECT 0000 – Lin Yao]
Status: LATENT ACTIVATION
Access: Shadowfire Authorized Proxy
GhostSync Waveform: Unstable
Then it blinked back to normal.
He shot to his feet. Pulled the plug from the PC. Heart thudding like a war drum.
"Nope. No. I didn't sign up for that."
⸻
But even as the screen went dark, he heard it.
From somewhere — not from the computer — but from inside him:
A faint tick.
Like a clock starting.
Or a timer.
Or a fuse.
⸻
Sunday Morning – 3:17 A.M.
Yao couldn't sleep.
He lay in bed, headphones in, eyes open.
His phone vibrated.
A notification. No sender.
[New Replay Available: Your First Blood – Analysis Rendered]
Curious, against better judgment, he opened it.
The match appeared on-screen.
Minute 3:24 – That first dive in top lane. The moment everything changed.
He watched it happen.
Frame by frame.
And noticed something he hadn't before.
His reaction speed.
It wasn't human.
Not exactly.
It was too clean.
Almost like… he had moved before the enemy did.
Almost like… he knew.
⸻
He stared at his reflection in the phone screen.
Sweat slicked his hair to his forehead. His eyes were wide, haunted.
"Was that really me?"
He didn't have the answer.
Not yet.
But one thing… he knew.
He wasn't walking away from this.
Not now.
Not after tasting that first kill.
Not after hearing the crowd react.
Not after seeing how people looked at him when he mattered.
⸻
He opened his drawer.
Pulled out a fresh notebook.
Uncapped a pen.
Page 1: He wrote two words.
ZeroKill
"First Blood."
Then, underneath it:
"If I was born for something—this is it."
⸻
The city was sleeping.
But far across town, a group of men and women sat in a glass room, watching a replay.
Slow motion.
Shadowstep. Blade arc. Tower dive.
"His sync rate is rising."
"It's early. Still unstable."
"Should we terminate?"
"Not yet."
The man at the head of the table leaned forward.
In his hand, a file stamped CLASSIFIED.
On the front:
[PROJECT: FIRST BLOOD]
Subject: ZeroKill (Lin Yao)
He closed it slowly.
"Let's see what the boy does next."