The thirty-minute break felt simultaneously too long and too short. Ethan sat at the station, headphones off, watching the other semifinal match play out on the right projection screen—Eclipse Nova versus Starfire Academy.
Both teams were leagues above what Mixed Bag had faced so far. The coordination was seamless, the mechanical execution flawless, the macro decisions so clean they looked choreographed. These weren't underground players hoping for a break. These were established teams with sponsorships, coaches, and tournament experience.
"That's going to be us in finals," Marcus said, though his voice carried less certainty than his words.
"If we make finals," Jake corrected, eyes locked on the screen where Starfire Academy's ADC had just executed a frame-perfect quadra kill in a team fight. "Phantom Edge isn't going to be like Nebula Rising or Shadow Protocol. They're prepared for us now."
He was right. The element of surprise was gone. Every team left in the tournament had watched Mixed Bag's games, studied Ethan's patterns, analyzed their strategies. The mystery had been stripped away, leaving only raw skill and adaptation.
Riley was making notes on her tablet, occasionally glancing at the live match. "Starfire is going to win," she said quietly. "Eclipse Nova is playing too reactive. Starfire's mid laner is dictating the pace."
As if on cue, Starfire Academy secured Baron Nashor and pushed for the win. The crowd in the spectator area—now swelled to nearly 150 people—erupted in applause. The match ended with a dominant 2-0 for Starfire Academy.
"So that's our finals opponent," Sophie said, speaking for the first time in twenty minutes. "If we win."
"When," Ethan said, but even he felt the weight of that word now.
Diana's voice came over the loudspeaker: "Semifinals beginning in five minutes. Mixed Bag versus Phantom Edge on center screen. Players to your stations."
The cafe went silent, then burst into excited chatter. This was the match everyone had been waiting for—could Mixed Bag continue their Cinderella run, or would Phantom Edge expose them as a fluke?
Ethan pulled on his headset, adjusted his seat, and rolled his shoulders to release tension. His hands were steady, but he could feel the pressure like a physical weight. This wasn't just about winning anymore. It was about proving that everything they'd done wasn't luck, wasn't a fluke, wasn't an anomaly.
"Comms check," Riley said, her voice cutting through his thoughts.
"Marcus, here."
"Jake, ready."
"Sophie, set."
"Ethan..." He paused, taking a breath. "Ready. Let's do this."
The lobby loaded. Phantom Edge appeared—five names he'd heard mentioned throughout the night: Aurora_Lux (mid), Tempest (jungle), Crimson (top), Viper (ADC), and Serenity (support).
Aurora. Claire had warned him about her—aggressive roaming style, high mechanical skill, tendency to create pressure across the map.
The chat box stayed empty, but Ethan could feel the intensity through the screen. This wasn't casual anymore. This was serious competition.
"Blue side again," Riley noted. "First pick advantage. They're going to ban out Ethan's champion pool."
She was right. Phantom Edge's bans came immediately: **Kaelen the Shadow Assassin**, **Jarvan IV the Exemplar of Demacia**, and **Kha'Zix the Voidreaver**—all aggressive, carry-focused junglers.
The crowd reacted: "They're targeting Ethan hard."
"Smart. Take away his comfort picks."
"But what does he play when he can't get his champions?"
Mixed Bag banned in response: **Ahri the Nine-Tailed Fox**, **LeBlanc the Deceiver**, and **Zoe the Aspect of Twilight**—all high-mobility, roaming mid laners that would suit Aurora's playstyle.
"Your turn," Riley said, hovering over the champion select. "What do you want?"
Ethan scanned the available champions. His signature picks were gone. He needed something versatile, something that could both carry and enable his team, something unexpected.
"**Kindred, the Eternal Hunters**," he said.
Riley's cursor froze. "That's... not a meta pick right now."
"Which is why they won't expect it," Ethan replied. "Trust me."
A pause. Then Riley locked it in.
The crowd's reaction was immediate and mixed:
"Kindred? In this meta?"
"That's a risky pick. She's so squishy."
"But if he can get stacks early..."
"This is either genius or throwing."
The draft continued. Phantom Edge locked in **Nidalee the Bestial Huntress** for Tempest—an aggressive counter-jungle champion designed to invade and pressure.
"They're going to make your life hell," Jake warned.
"I know," Ethan said calmly. "That's fine."
The rest of the composition came together:
**Mixed Bag:** Kindred (Ethan, jungle), **Ornn the Fire Below the Mountain** (Marcus, top), **Twisted Fate the Card Master** (Sophie, mid), **Lucian the Purifier** (Jake, ADC), **Braum the Heart of the Freljord** (Riley, support)
**Phantom Edge:** Nidalee (Tempest, jungle), **Camille the Steel Shadow** (Crimson, top), **Yasuo the Unforgiven** (Aurora, mid), **Xayah the Rebel** (Viper, ADC), **Rakan the Charmer** (Serenity, support)
"They have a lot of dive potential," Riley analyzed. "Nidalee, Yasuo, Camille, Rakan—they can all get on top of us. We need to play around our peel and kiting."
"And I need to get stacks," Ethan added. Kindred's passive required marking camps and champions to permanently increase their power. Each stack made them stronger, but getting them meant taking risks.
The loading screen appeared. The spectator area was packed to capacity—easily 180 people now, with more trying to squeeze in. News of the tournament had spread beyond Axiom. People were streaming it online, posting clips, building hype.
On the center screen, the champions loaded in. Ethan's Kindred—a dual entity of Wolf and Lamb—appeared in the fountain, bow at the ready.
"They're going to invade us early," Jake said. "Nidalee always invades Kindred. It's the matchup."
"Let them," Ethan replied. "We're ready."
The gates opened.
---
Jake's prediction was correct. At 1:25, Phantom Edge invaded Mixed Bag's red side jungle, all five members moving as a coordinated unit. But Riley had predicted it, warding the jungle entrance early, giving them vision.
"They're coming," she called. "Rotate out. Don't contest."
Mixed Bag avoided the confrontation, giving up their red buff to start on the opposite side. It was a calculated retreat—losing early pressure but avoiding disaster.
"Smart," someone in the crowd noted. "They're not taking the bait."
"But now Ethan is behind in jungle pressure. Tempest has red buff advantage."
The first five minutes were suffocating. Tempest on Nidalee was relentless—invading Ethan's jungle, contesting his camps, forcing him to play defensive. Ethan managed to get two marks on jungle camps, bringing his Kindred to two stacks, but he was down in gold and experience.
At 6:30, Aurora made her move. She shoved the mid wave with Yasuo, then roamed bot with Tempest. Sophie pinged it, but the dive came too fast. Despite Riley's best efforts to peel with Braum, Jake died to the combined burst.
First blood to Phantom Edge.
The crowd murmured: "Here we go. Phantom Edge is showing their experience."
"Mixed Bag is cracking under pressure."
"Ethan can't carry from behind like this."
But Ethan wasn't panicking. He watched the map, tracked the enemy movements, waited for his moment. At 8:15, when Tempest appeared top side to gank Marcus, Ethan moved bot.
"Jake, Riley, push," he commanded. "I'm marking their ADC."
He activated Kindred's mark on Viper, the Xayah. A bounty appeared above her head—kill her, and Ethan would get another permanent stack.
Viper saw it coming, tried to play safe, but Ethan engaged from fog of war with **Dance of Arrows**, kiting perfectly while weaving auto-attacks. Riley followed up with Braum's passive stun. Jake added Lucian's burst damage.
Viper fell. Ethan's stack count increased to three.
"They got one back," the crowd acknowledged. "But it's still close."
The game became a chess match. Phantom Edge had better early pressure, but Mixed Bag had better macro vision. Every time Phantom Edge tried to force something, Mixed Bag saw it coming and rotated.
At 12:00, Sophie on Twisted Fate used his ultimate, **Destiny**, to teleport bot and secure a kill on Serenity's Rakan. At 14:30, Marcus created a team fight opening with a perfect Ornn ultimate that knocked up three members of Phantom Edge.
The gold stayed relatively even—never more than 1,500 difference in either direction. But Ethan's stack count grew: four stacks at 11 minutes, five at 14, six at 17.
"Ethan's scaling is insane right now," someone in the crowd noted. "Those stacks are making him a monster."
At 19:45, the game-defining moment happened.
Phantom Edge tried to force a Baron at 20 minutes—an aggressive, desperate attempt to seize control. But Riley had deep vision, calling it thirty seconds before they started.
"Baron, all five," she said. "We can contest. Ethan, can you steal?"
Ethan calculated quickly. Baron's health, his Smite damage, the risk-reward ratio. "Yes. But I need a frontline."
"I'm going in," Marcus said, and his Ornn charged forward, engaging with **Bellows Breath** and **Searing Charge**.
The team fight erupted around Baron pit—a chaotic, beautiful mess of abilities, flashes, and split-second decisions.
Aurora's Yasuo dashed through minions, looking for a **Last Breath** opportunity. Tempest tried to burst Ethan, but Riley blocked the damage with Braum's shield. Jake kited backward with Lucian's mobility while dealing consistent damage.
And Ethan—Ethan danced through the chaos like a ghost.
**Dance of Arrows** gave him mobility, repositioning constantly. **Wolf's Frenzy** marked priority targets. His auto-attacks, amplified by six stacks of passive, dealt massive damage. When Crimson's Camille dove him with hookshot, Ethan used **Lamb's Respite**—Kindred's ultimate that made everyone inside invulnerable.
It was a 4D chess move. The ultimate prevented both teams from dying, but it also bought time for Ethan's team to position, for cooldowns to reset, for Jake to recover.
When the ultimate ended, Mixed Bag was ready. Phantom Edge wasn't.
Sophie landed a gold card stun on Aurora. Marcus knocked up Viper with another Ornn ultimate. Riley locked down Serenity with Braum's passive.
And Ethan, at the perfect moment, dashed into Baron pit and unleashed Smite.
**Baron Nashor secured by Mixed Bag!**
The spectator area exploded.
"HE STOLE IT!"
"SMITE FIGHT WON!"
"THAT'S THE GAME!"
"MIXED BAG JUST TURNED IT AROUND!"
The team fight continued, but momentum had shifted completely. With Baron buff active, Mixed Bag cleaned up three kills, then backed to shop and prepare for the final push.
The crowd was on their feet, the energy electric.
"Twenty-three minutes and Mixed Bag has Baron!"
"Ethan's Kindred is at seven stacks now—he's unstoppable!"
"This is actually happening. They might win this!"
At 25:30, with Baron empowering their minions, Mixed Bag executed the perfect siege. They moved as one unit, vision control preventing flanks, poke damage whittling down Phantom Edge's health bars.
Phantom Edge tried to engage desperately—Aurora flashing forward with Yasuo's ultimate, Tempest trying to assassinate Jake. But Mixed Bag's peel was perfect. Braum blocked damage, Ornn disrupted the backline, Twisted Fate stunned priority targets.
And Ethan's Kindred, now at eight stacks with full items, dealt damage that simply couldn't be ignored. His auto-attacks shredded through tanks, his mobility made him untouchable, his ultimate usage denied Phantom Edge's win conditions.
The final fight lasted forty-five seconds. When it ended, four members of Phantom Edge were dead, and Mixed Bag marched down mid lane.
Inhibitor destroyed. Nexus towers fell. The Nexus itself cracked under the assault.
At 27:02, **VICTORY**.
The Axiom Netcafe erupted in the loudest celebration of the night. Nearly 200 people were screaming, jumping, phones out recording the final moments. The noise was deafening, overwhelming, beautiful.
"MIXED BAG WINS!"
"THEY'RE IN THE FINALS!"
"A TEAM WITH THREE GUYS JUST BEAT PHANTOM EDGE!"
"ETHAN COLE IS THE REAL DEAL!"
Ethan pulled off his headset, and for a moment, he just sat there, letting it wash over him. The noise, the energy, the validation. In his old world, he'd been a failure. Here, in two hours, he'd become something else entirely.
Marcus was already out of his chair, screaming incoherently, hugging Jake who was actually laughing. Sophie had her head in her hands, overwhelmed. Riley was crying—actually crying—tears of joy and disbelief.
"We did it," she kept saying. "We actually did it."
The post-game statistics appeared on screen:
**Ethan (Kindred): 7/2/9 - 8 stacks - 18,942 damage to champions**
**Baron steal at 19:45**
**68% Kill Participation**
Phantom Edge's members came over to shake hands. Aurora, the mid laner, looked at Ethan with something between respect and shock.
"That Lamb's Respite timing," she said. "That was... I've never seen someone use it that perfectly under pressure. You're incredible."
"You played really well," Ethan said sincerely. "That early pressure almost won you the game."
Tempest, the jungler, nodded grimly. "I invaded you six times and you still outfarmed me. How?"
"Efficient pathing," Ethan replied simply. "And a really good support keeping me alive."
The Phantom Edge team left, gracious in defeat, but Ethan could see the frustration in their eyes. They'd done everything right and still lost.
Diana Rivers appeared, and this time she was smiling—actually smiling, not her professional coordinator smile but genuine excitement.
"Mixed Bag," she said, "you're in the finals. One hour break, then you face Starfire Academy for the championship."
The weight of those words settled over them. Starfire Academy—the favorites, the team with sponsors and coaching staff, the team that had dominated their bracket without dropping a single game.
"Can we beat them?" Marcus asked, his earlier euphoria fading into nervous reality.
Diana looked at Ethan. "Can you?"
Ethan met her gaze. "Yes."
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "I believe you. But it's going to be the hardest match of your life. Starfire Academy doesn't make mistakes. You'll need to be perfect."
"We will be," Riley said, finding her voice again.
The spectator area was still packed, people lingering to talk, to take photos, to be part of the moment. Ethan saw phones everywhere—streaming, recording, posting. This tournament had become viral. People across the city were watching now.
His phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number: *"Finals. One more game. Make it count. -C"*
Claire. She'd been watching the whole time.
Another message appeared, this one from a different number: *"Ethan, I'm watching. Finish what you started. -V"*
Vicky. His sister was watching. Pride and pressure warred in his chest.
"One hour," Diana announced to the crowd. "Championship match begins at 10 PM. This will be broadcast on regional streaming platforms. Estimated viewership: 50,000 people."
Fifty thousand. What started as an underground tournament for a couple hundred people was now a regional spectacle.
"No pressure," Marcus said weakly.
Jake pulled up statistics on his phone. "Starfire Academy hasn't lost a match in their last fifteen games. Their synergy score is in the top 2% regionally. Their mid laner has a 76% win rate on assassins."
"Jake," Riley said gently, "you're not helping."
"Just providing information."
Sophie stood, stretching. "I need food. And air. And maybe to scream into a pillow."
"Food sounds good," Marcus agreed. "Anyone else?"
They started to get up, but Ethan stayed seated. "I'll catch up. Need a minute."
They left, understanding, leaving him alone at the station. The center screen now showed highlights from previous matches—clips of Ethan's plays, Mixed Bag's comebacks, the Baron steal that had just happened.
"Quite a night."
Ethan turned. Claire Hartley stood there, hands in her jacket pockets, that same assessing look in her eyes.
"You're real," Ethan said.
"Very real." She pulled up a chair, sitting next to him. "That Kindred performance was exceptional. Most players can't pilot that champion at high pressure. You made it look easy."
"It wasn't easy."
"I know. That's what makes it impressive." Claire leaned forward. "You realize what happens if you win tonight, right? You won't just be the guy who won an underground tournament. You'll be the male player who beat established female teams. You'll be a symbol, whether you want to be or not."
"I just want to play," Ethan said.
"I know. But the world won't let you 'just play' anymore. Every game from now on will be scrutinized. Every mistake will be used as proof that male players don't belong. Every win will be called a fluke until you've won so many times they run out of excuses."
She wasn't wrong. Ethan could already see it in the crowd's reactions—the shock, the disbelief, the reluctance to fully accept that what they'd witnessed was real.
"So what do I do?" he asked.
Claire smiled. "You win. And then you win again. And again. Until they have no choice but to accept it." She stood. "Starfire Academy is good. Really good. But they've never faced someone like you—someone with nothing to lose and everything to prove. Use that."
She started to walk away, then stopped. "Oh, and Ethan? After this is over, we should talk. About teams, opportunities, the future. I think you're going places."
"Are you recruiting me?"
"Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see where this story goes." She winked. "Good luck in finals. You're going to need it."
She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Ethan alone with his thoughts again.
Fifty thousand people watching. Starfire Academy waiting. One game standing between Mixed Bag and something no one had thought possible.
Ethan looked at his hands—steady, ready, calloused from hours of mouse clicks and keyboard presses.
In his old world, he'd failed. Here, he was one game away from proving everyone wrong.
One game away from showing the world that the only limits that existed were the ones people created.
He stood, grabbed his phone, and headed upstairs to join his team.
One hour until the finals.
One hour until everything changed.
---