The cafeteria buzzed with its usual midday chaos — clattering trays, the hiss of soda machines, a hundred overlapping voices bouncing off the tile walls.
Raxian wasn't paying attention to any of it. He was halfway through picking apart a sandwich when Jake's voice crashed through the noise like a flashbang.
"BIG NEWS!"
Raxian froze mid-bite. He knew that tone. Nothing good followed that tone.
"Oh no," he muttered.
"RAX!" Jake called again, already stomping toward him like a one-man parade.
Raxian looked up just in time to see Jake's expression twist from triumph to pure, theatrical offense.
"Hold up. You're eating here?" Jake's voice rose half an octave. "By yourself? What is this — self-exile?"
Raxian blinked. "I—"
"Nope. Unacceptable." Jake hooked him by the arm before he could protest. "Come on. You're not dying alone at the sad table. Let's go."
"I'm eating," Rax tried weakly.
"You can chew while walking."
And just like that, Raxian was being physically dragged across the cafeteria floor while still holding half a sandwich, Jake parting the crowd like a hurricane until they reached the table where the rest of their crew was already gathered.
Tess sat with her blazer sleeves rolled and her hair pulled back, scrolling through her phone with a frown. Marcus leaned comfortably against the wall, long legs stretched under the table, while Bruce was mid-laugh over something Logan had said.
Ava was absent, probably still holed up in the library.
Jake slammed his tray down like he was about to deliver a presidential address. "Alright, listen up—"
"God," Tess muttered. "Here we go."
"—school tournament," Jake declared. "It's happening. Signups are open. And this—" he clapped a hand on Raxian's shoulder hard enough to make him jolt "—is our ticket."
Raxian scowled. "Don't drag me into your dramatics."
"Oh no, this isn't dramatics. This is destiny." Jake's grin sharpened. "It's tradition. Top, mid, ADC, support, jungle — the dream team."
Tess lowered her phone. "We are not a dream team."
"We were," Marcus said mildly, "when Rax actually played like a human and not a sleep-deprived trash gremlin."
Raxian shot him a glare. Marcus only smiled, unbothered.
"Anyway," Jake went on, unrelenting, "this guy—" he jabbed a thumb at Raxian "—has been our midlaner every year. Every. Year. We don't do this without him."
"I'm not in the mood," Raxian muttered.
Jake grinned, leaning back. "You never are, man. But come on—this one's special."
"Special how?"
Jake hesitated just long enough for Tess to glance up.
"Oh my god," she said flatly. "You're doing this because of her."
Marcus arched a brow. "Her?"
Jake tried (and failed) to look casual. "I mean, Sable might be watching."
Tess groaned. "Of course."
Raxian stared. "…You're dragging me into a tournament because you wanna impress a girl?"
Jake threw his hands up. "Not just a girl — the Sable. The prodigy. If I crush lane on Sett in front of her, she'll have to talk to me."
Marcus snorted. "Or report you."
"Report me for what? Being too clean?!" Jake said, grinning. "Come on, this is perfect. We participate, we win, we look sick doing it. Everyone wins."
"Uh-huh," Tess said. "Especially your ego."
Jake just shrugged, unbothered. "Hey, sometimes destiny needs a little motivation."
---
They ended up queuing that evening — all five voices crackling to life on Discord as the client booted up.
It wasn't the same as crowding into Marcus's basement — no snacks, no side-eyeing monitors, no shouting over who stole red buff — but Ethan had archery practice after school and couldn't make it in person. So, online it was.
"Alright," Marcus said calmly, clicking through champions like he was picking out shoes. "Let's warm up. No pressure."
"Yeah, right," Jake muttered. "Like Rax knows what 'no pressure' means."
Raxian didn't answer. He just leaned back, eyes half-lidded, letting the familiar blue glow wash over him as the bans rolled in.
Enemy team: first ban.Then the second.Then—
"Wait." Jake squinted. "Did they just ban Sett?"
A collective pause.
"Oh my god, they banned Sett," Tess said flatly.
"They fear me," Jake announced, immediately recovering, pride swelling like a balloon. "As they should."
Marcus didn't even look up. "They probably just think you're annoying."
Jake gasped. "How dare you."
"Pick Trynd," Ethan snorted, mic popping. "Let 'em feel pain."
Jake scoffed, eyes narrowing at his screen. "They dare steal my Sett? Then they shall face—" he slammed his key down dramatically, "—the wrath of my secondary beast. Tryndamere. Lock in."
There was a short beat of silence.
"Jake," Tess said dryly. "You are not in a shounen anime."
"Yeah, but he's got the personality for it," Marcus added.
"Main character energy, baby," Jake declared, grinning. "Now let's spin to win."
"More like spin and die," Raxian muttered, finally unmuting.
"Faithless words, midlane gremlin!" Jake shot back.
Tess locked in Caitlyn with her usual precision. Marcus picked Milo.
"Milo," Ethan said suddenly. "Like that coach."
Jake blinked. "What coach?"
"Kid. Sixteen. Jungle main. Cracked."
Marcus raised a brow. "You making that up?"
Ethan shrugged audibly. "Uploads vids. I watch 'em."
"Since when do you watch guides?" Tess asked.
"Since he's good."
Jake leaned back. "Damn. Sixteen and coaching? What am I doing with my life."
"Inting," Raxian muttered.
"Disrespectful," Jake said. "True, but disrespectful."
"Man," Jake sighed dramatically. "Wish I had someone like that teaching me."
"You'd ignore him," Tess said flatly.
Jake gasped. "Untrue. I'd try to ignore him, then get humbled."
"Like every match," Raxian muttered.
Jake pointed at his screen. "Watch your tone, Ekko-boy."
And Raxian — of course — Ekko. Always Ekko.
Jake cracked his knuckles, grin audible through his headset."Alright, boys and girl — time to remind this elo what peak performance looks like."
Tess snorted. "Your elo, maybe. Some of us have jobs."
Marcus chuckled. "Yeah, some of us enjoy touching grass."
"Plat privilege," Jake shot back.
"Emerald delusion," Tess said sweetly.
Ethan hummed. "She's not wrong."
"Whose side are you on?" Jake groaned.
"The winning one," Ethan said.
Raxian only sighed, leaning back in his chair as the loading screen faded in.
Raxian rolled his eyes, but a small spark — faint, buried under the week's weight — flickered anyway.
Draft queue. Team back together.One more run.
---
At first, it actually went… fine.
Jake's Tryndamere was everywhere — spinning through lanes, laughing manically as he chased down squishies, and typing "report Sett diff" in all-chat every time he solo killed his lane opponent."This wannabe thought he could take my champ?" Jake cackled. "Sit down, Sett junior."
"Yeah, yeah," Marcus said, shielding him mid-dive. "Focus, anime boy."
"Trynd lock-in means main character energy," Jake shot back. "Respect the spin."
Meanwhile, Tess's Caitlyn was a sniper's dream — immaculate CS, perfect spacing, traps set like a chessboard."Bot's free," she announced casually. "Marcus, you're on turret babysitting duty."
"Always am," Marcus said, shielding her again.
Ethan's Teemo, naturally, was chaos incarnate — the jungle had become a minefield of mushrooms, and every thirty seconds came a pop followed by his unhinged laughter."They keep walking into it!" he wheezed. "They deserve pain!"
And midlane…
Midlane was fine. Until the Yasuo showed up.
"Déjà vu," Jake sing-songed the moment the samurai loaded in. "Rax, careful. Might be another smurf with a vengeance."
"He's not that good," Raxian muttered.
And he was right — the guy's mechanics were nothing special. Sloppy dashes, late Qs. Raxian read him easily, controlled the wave, traded clean.
Then came the dive.
Yasuo slipped under turret at half health. Raxian saw the window — Phase Dive primed, auto queued — and went in.
Too soon.
The dash went wide. The windwall ate his follow-up. The tower didn't switch aggro fast enough.
Gray screen.
"Ohhh," Jake winced. "Even I would've hit that."
"Rude," Tess said, though her tone carried a smile.
Marcus just hummed, like he'd seen it coming.
Raxian respawned in silence. No sigh, no mutter. Just… nothing.
---
It didn't get better.
Ethan swung through mid for a gank, already pre-planted shrooms behind the enemy turret. Rax hit the stun — almost. Yas flashed. Ethan cleaned it up with a blind dart.
"Kill secured," Ethan announced.
"Kill stolen," Jake corrected instantly.
Normally, Raxian would've fired back — 'bro, that was mine!' — maybe even spam-pinged the body for good measure. But this time… nothing.
The call went quiet.
"Yo, Rax," Ethan said after a beat. "You good, man?"
"Yeah," he said shortly. "Fine."
"Fine my ass," Jake muttered. "Kid's been sleepwalking all week."
Tess sighed, last-hitting mid turret. "Told you. He's still tilted from last week."
"Still? From one smurf?"
Marcus leaned back, deadpan. "One smurf. One very traumatic smurf."
Jake snorted. "Bro's been ghosted by a Yasuo, it's serious."
Tess rolled her eyes. "You're not helping."
"Rude," Jake said — then, "Rax, wake up! I'm pinging Baron, let's go!"
He spammed the map like a man possessed.
No reaction.
Tess landed Ace in the Hole on a fleeing british bambi Lillia. The bullet whizzed past Raxian's Ekko to claim the kill.
"Cleanup duty," she said simply. "You weren't getting that anyway."
Rax didn't even flinch.
The others pushed on. They took fights, played the map, and somehow, through sheer force of coordination, won it.
Jake split-pushed towers down with unstoppable fury. Tess picked carries off from screens away. Marcus patched holes, Ethan mined the jungle with pain.
When the nexus finally fell, victory fireworks lit their screens.
Jake whooped. Ethan hummed. Tess exhaled. Marcus typed gg.
Raxian just stared — hands still on the keys, the victory screen reflected in his eyes.
They'd won. But not because of him.
---
Rax didn't get it.
What was wrong with him?
Losses weren't new. He'd taken plenty before — tilt queues, bad matchups, troll teammates, the usual circus. Normally, he could shake them off, queue again, find his rhythm again.
But this time, it didn't return.This time, something deeper had cracked.
Every misstep hit harder. Every death clung like static.It wasn't just losing — it was fumbling. Sluggish. Off-beat. Like trying to play a song he'd forgotten the melody to.
He'd hoped queuing with the crew might fix it. Five-stack energy. Friendly banter. A chance to reset.
It didn't help.
Not even when they won. Especially not when they won.Because even then, it didn't feel like him — it felt like noise. Like they were dragging him across the finish line.
By the final game, he didn't even bother leaving the call.Jake was still cracking jokes, Tess and Marcus reviewing plays, Ethan already logging off.Rax didn't hear a word.
He tore off his headset and let it thud against the desk, leaning back in his chair.The monitor glow painted him pale, harsh light catching in his tired eyes.
For the first time in years, the game — his game — didn't feel like home.
His match history glared back at him.Red. Red. Red.A few scattered greens, wedged in like pity.
He sighed through his teeth, scrolling idly — not looking for answers, just noise. Something to fill the silence.
That's when he thought back of the name.
Milo.
The so-called coach. Sixteen, same age as him — yet somehow teaching players older, higher-ranked, more experienced. The guy Ethan mentioned, one of those quiet prodigies who didn't stream, didn't talk, didn't even queue with others. Just uploaded clips. Tutorials. VODs.
Rax hovered over the link Ethan had sent him, half out of boredom, half out of spite.
The page loaded — clean, minimalist. Rows of thumbnails lined with quiet precision. No voiceovers. No introductions. Just gameplay. Each title neat, labeled like a library shelf: Macro Paths — Jungle Punish.Wave Control for Tempo Advantage.Itemization Rework — Patch 27.14.
Raxian scrolled — curious despite himself — until one thumbnail caught his eye.
EKKO — Temporal Rhythm Optimization
He froze.
Ekko. His champion. His comfort pick. The one he didn't need help with.
Raxian hovered for a second, jaw set.He didn't need this.He knew the kit. The combos. The matchups. He'd mastered Ekko years ago.
Still… his finger clicked.
The video opened — silent as the rest. Milo's cursor moved with surgical calm, every decision deliberate. His Ekko was sharp, precise, clean. Every last-hit hit frame-perfect. Every rotation felt planned ten seconds ahead. His build path — slightly off-meta, but efficient. Optimized. Raxian leaned forward.
Halfway through, Milo paused over a wave, pinging the minion spacing. The clip slowed, showing how a single misstep — a bad push, an extra auto — broke tempo, cost control. Then he reset the clip. Did it again, perfectly.
Raxian's eyes narrowed.He'd never seen anyone break it down like that. He'd never even noticed.
He watched another clip.Then another.Somewhere between the silence and the precision, he realized: He wasn't playing Ekko wrong — he was playing him lazy.
There were ways to farm better. Trade better. Move better.Ways he'd never thought about.
The video ended, fading to black with no outro. Just a title card: "Be sharper than the clock."
Raxian sat there, staring at the screen — quiet, unsettled.
It wasn't jealousy. Not exactly. It was realization.
He'd stopped learning.Somewhere between grinding and ego, he'd started coasting.
Rax exhaled, leaning back in his chair, hands still on the keyboard."…Guess I've got homework," he muttered.