The draw had decided: Lifeline got to pick the first map.
His nickname—eighth in the world, first in Indonesia—flashed on the screen.
My heart was pounding like a 300 BPM track, a rhythm that felt ready to burst right out of my chest.
The tournament rules followed a precise, competitive logic: map rotation and pick order could swing the outcome of a match in decisive ways.
Players took turns choosing a beatmap, starting with a 50/50 draw to decide who went first.
If the match didn't end in a clean 2-0, the player who had won the draw got to pick two out of three maps—a small but real edge.
To keep things balanced, whoever had won the draw in the previous match automatically handed the next draw to their opponent. If both players had won draws before, or neither had, they just ran a fresh draw.
Lifeline didn't hesitate. «A Fool Moon Night.» he typed into the game chat, every bit as cold as his opening message: «I'll destroy you.»
A brutal map—8.15 stars, 280 BPM, sliders coming one after another like bullets.
It was his territory, a hell of streams and intricate patterns built to break even the best players.
The message was clear: "You're not ready for Tokyo."
"A Fool Moon Night," I muttered to my chat, voice cracking from the rush of adrenaline and fear, thinking: "This guy wants to rip me apart."
The chat lit up.
«Break down the patterns—you've got this!» Zenchidori urged.
«If he beats you, I'm hacking his PC before the round's even over!» Pego_pro joked, pulling a nervous smile out of me.
«Come on, Pantera! Don't let him scare you!» added Sh4ndol, a regular who always showed up in my streams.
The first notes hit, a frantic rhythm that felt like it could snap my wrist. The electronic beat throbbed in my headphones, pulsing through my body like a shockwave.
Circles flashed across the screen in bursts, sliders twisting like venomous snakes, streams demanding inhuman focus.
Lifeline was a machine: perfect combos, score climbing without a single mistake.
I was struggling, my cursor lagging just a fraction too slow on a double-speed stream. One miss, then another.
The chat went quiet for a second, like everyone was holding their breath with me.
Then it exploded with encouragement: «Come on, Pantera, fight back!», «Don't give up!»
But inside, doubt was creeping in: "Is this my limit?"
When the map ended, the verdict was brutal. Lifeline had come within a hair of a full combo, 98.60% accuracy. Me? A measly 90.18%.
The monitor felt like it was mocking me, my panther icon crushed beneath his score.
1-0 to him. But it wasn't over yet.
It was my turn. The system gave me a shot: pick a map that played to my strengths.
I opened the map list, scrolling through hundreds of titles with a mouse that trembled just slightly.
I couldn't go toe-to-toe with Lifeline on eight-star maps—not yet. I had to be smart, hit him where he was weaker.
I ran through his stats in my head, hoping I hadn't mixed him up with someone else.
"I'm going with Embraced By the Flame," I announced to the chat, injecting a confidence I didn't fully feel.
6.49 stars, 249 BPM—a map I knew like the back of my hand.
I had played it hundreds of times, which was how I had climbed to fourth in the world rankings. He was thirty-third; statistically, the edge was mine.
It was my specialty: rhythmic jumps, precise flicks that demanded laser aim. If I locked in, I could take it.
«Show him who's boss!» Zenchidori wrote, followed by a flood of star emojis.
«Crush him, Pantera! Tokyo's waiting!» OutCastXR added, spamming rocket emojis.
«Smash him with those flicks!» Pego_pro chimed in.
The map started, the electronic beat vibrating in my bones like it was syncing with my own heartbeat. My cursor leaped from circle to circle. Every flick a sharp snap.
Lifeline was fast, but his sliders showed faint hesitation—an angle too wide, a movement not quite smooth.
I held the rhythm, combo climbing without breaking, every jump a small victory.
After a minute fifty of pure agony, we were neck and neck, scores swinging back and forth like a sword fight.
I was so locked in that the world around me vanished. I didn't hear the usual chaos in the living room—my brother and sister yelling like every night—or Mom tidying up the kitchen after dinner.
I didn't even register Dad in his bedroom, TV blaring while he scrolled TikTok videos loud enough to wake the neighbors.
Truth is, he would turn the TV on, crank the volume until it drowned out everything else in the house, open TikTok, then fall asleep with the phone on his stomach, leaving it all running.
I heard nothing but the music, like I had fused with the rhythm, the cursor an extension of my soul.
The map ended. The screen went black for three endless seconds—my breath caught, heart seeming to stop.
Then "Winner" flashed, my triumphant panther icon beside it.
99.56% to his 98.34%. We had both just set new records on the map: me first, him second.
The chat erupted into a virtual roar that felt like a stadium going wild.
«What a comeback, Pantera!» TurboRuss commented, spamming flame emojis.
«Way to go, Iori! Come on, flip this thing!» Zenchidori added.
«Hacking canceled—you're the boss!» Pego_pro joked.
1-1. A smile tugged at my lips, but sweat was streaming down my back, dripping onto the chair.
I had done it, but the war wasn't over yet. The deciding round was still ahead. Lifeline picked again.
«Freedom Dive,» he announced, and my stomach tightened. 8.46 stars, 250 BPM—a five-minute marathon that was a nightmare even for the best.
The map was legendary, patterns growing more complex as it went on, building to a heart-stopping finale.
«Iori, this is your map!» Zenchidori wrote, tossing in the exclusive panther emoji for subscribers in the premium tier.
«You've got this!» Pego_pro encouraged me.
«Full combo or bust, Pantera!» wrote BeatSmasherX, a die-hard fan.
Lifeline hadn't done his homework. He didn't know Freedom Dive was my heart map.
On the 7.18-star version, I was ranked first in the world, even though I had only started clearing that difficulty a month earlier.
The full combo I had pulled off had sent the community into a frenzy—Reddit threads, YouTube clips posted by my fans.
The 8.46-star version? I had never touched it. It was a wall, a leap into the void. Denser patterns, longer streams, jumps that came out of nowhere.
If I wanted to advance, I had to push beyond anything I had done before.
Adrenaline surged, mixed with deep dread. "What if I choke?"
The opening notes of Freedom Dive exploded, a rhythm that hit me like a storm—the gentle piano giving way fast to an electronic blast.
Circles rained down, sliders weaving impossible patterns, jumps demanding inhuman aim.
My fingers flew across the tablet, the stylus moving with a precision I didn't know I had.
Lifeline was right there with me, our scores climbing neck and neck in a fight to the death.
Two minutes into peak focus, I missed a note—a single miss that made the chat shudder.
The sound hit like thunder, my score wavered. Combo reset, and for a second I thought it was over.
«Noooo!» StarSpinner22 wrote.
«It's done!? He's not coming back from that!» NinoMiku12 commented.
China, my head mod, pinned a message: «It's not over yet! Three minutes left!»
In that moment, I didn't feel crushed. Something ignited inside me instead, a flame burning brighter.
It wasn't just the music wrapping around me. It was something in my eyes.
By keeping my gaze locked on the center of the screen—not fixating on individual circles but taking in the whole field—I could see everything with crystal clarity.
It was like my vision expanded. New notes appeared, and the cursor went exactly where I needed it to.
It felt like a superpower, a kind of sight I had never tapped into before. My brain processed patterns ahead of time, predicting paths without conscious effort.
It was the missing piece, the thing that could turn me from just another player into a pro.
I started the comeback. Lifeline's score was still ahead, but I was gaining ground fast, like lightning.
Every flick perfect, every stream smooth. Combo climbing again: x100, x200, x300. The chat came alive: «Comeback incoming!», «Pantera's back!»
We hit the map's brutal section—a vortex of streams and sliders built to destroy you.
Lifeline dropped five notes, his combo reset to x0.
Me, with that new power in my eyes, I didn't miss again. My combo shot to x420. My wrist was on fire, but adrenaline numbed it.
We entered the final stretch. Lifeline still led, but I was a missile.
With a streak of x760, I just had to clear the last part—the easiest section—to seal the win. Lifeline, stuck at x80, couldn't catch up.
When it ended, the screen flashed "Winner", my triumphant panther icon glowing after that grueling match.
The chat celebrated harder than I did—an explosion of messages so wild the mods could barely keep up.
«Tokyo's waiting, Iori!» Pego_pro wrote.
«What an insane comeback!» Zenchidori commented.
«I've got chills, Pantera!» Hyper9000tv added.
I leaned back in my chair, heart still racing, wrist burning.
I had done it: I had beaten Lifeline, eighth in the world, and cleared my first eight-star map.
Before the match, my chances of qualifying had felt slim; during it, they had dipped below zero. But now everything was different.
I had discovered a technique all my own, a kind of vision no one else seemed to use.
"What should I call it?" I wondered while waiting for the next match, not asking the chat—I didn't want to tip my hand.
"Got it," I thought in the end. "Panther's Sight."
To me, it was perfect: it tied the sharper vision to my nickname, Pantera Grigia—Grey Panther.
In the next match, I faced a German player in the top 300. He wasn't on Lifeline's level, and he definitely couldn't handle an eight-star map.
I decided to use the first round to test Panther's Sight again.
I had figured out the trick: sit a little farther from the screen, far enough to see all four edges. Then relax my pupils and, strangely, by staring only at the center, everything came into sharper focus.
From there, the sight flipped on like a switch—my brain processing every pattern in a single instant.
I won without breaking a sweat, a near-perfect combo that drove the chat wild.
«Too easy,» Pego_pro wrote.
«This guy never had a shot!» BeatBlasterX commented.
«You're an absolute beast on these maps!» LunarClicker added.
The matches that followed were a victory lap. I was exhausted, but the rhythm kept me alive.
Every win pulled me closer to Tokyo, and the viewer count climbed: from 100 to 300, then to 500.
It wasn't just Italians watching anymore—players from all over the world, wondering if a new Osu! legend had just been born.
«Who is this guy? He's a monster!» wrote GlobalRhythm, a foreign viewer.
«Go Pantera!» PixelDrifter commented.
Messages scrolled so fast that China, Mathew, and John had to ban trolls nonstop.
I made it to the final match—the sixth. I had been streaming for eight hours, drained mentally and physically. My fingers felt numb, like they weren't mine anymore.
The other players were wrecked too, but with the stream sucking the life out of me, I was probably in the worst shape.
My last opponent was BTMC—the most famous Osu! streamer, an idol I had watched just months earlier, wondering how anyone could be that good.
He was 67th in the world, fifth in America, and like me, he was live.
His channel drew thousands of viewers—an empire built over years of content. Twitch alone gave him 450,000 followers.
When he saw my profile, he laughed to his chat: "Guys, I think we can already call ourselves qualified. This kid's ranked over a hundred spots below me."
His arrogance made me smile. He had no idea that hours earlier I had taken down Lifeline—an opponent he had never beaten, not even at his absolute peak.
BTMC barely scraped by on eight-star maps. I was ready to risk everything. The draw went my way: I picked first.
«Flamewall,» I announced. 8.55 stars.
BTMC burst out laughing with his community: "He seriously thinks he can pull this off?!" he said, cracking up.
His chat piled on.
«This Pantera Grigia is toast,» USABeatLord wrote.
«Easy W for BTMC,» StarSlicer added.
Unlike him, I had my technique—Panther's Sight. Sitting a little farther back, eyes taking in the entire screen, I began.
Circles rained down, but I saw every one, each pattern sharp as daylight. The cursor whipped across the screen.
BTMC struggled—his streams lacked precision, his sliders wavered. Meanwhile, I stacked the combo: x200, x400, x600.
I finished with 97.89%, leaving him and his chat speechless. The post-match silence was heavy—his stream flooded with «wtf».
«What a play, Pantera!» RhythmReaper wrote.
«One more round and you're headed to Japan,» Pego_pro commented.
BTMC picked Raise My Sword, 8.03 stars. He ruled that map—famous for a legendary full combo six years earlier that had defined his career.
His chat came roaring back: «The king is back!», «BTMC owns this!», «Legendary FC incoming!»
He won, but just barely—95.43% to my 94.65%. It was a nail-biter, our scores chasing each other the whole way.
One final miss cost me the round, but I had stayed in it—the technique had kept me close.
1-1.
My pick. I chose Megalovania, 8.39 stars—a map I had loved at six-star difficulty for its unpredictable patterns and lightning flicks.
It was the iconic track from Undertale, a beat everyone knew. At 8.39, it was a beast.
BTMC didn't laugh this time. He killed his camera, face tight. "Unbelievable—I might lose to some kid who started playing this year, when I've been grinding these keys for over eight," he muttered to his chat.
The map kicked off, a rhythmic explosion that swept me up. My technique was dialed in: every circle, every slider, every jump crystal clear. The cursor danced, reading complex patterns before they even formed.
BTMC was solid, but I was lightning.
I ended with 98.33%, he got 92.84%. The screen flashed "Winner".
I had taken the match. I had qualified.
My chat detonated into chaos so wild even all the mods combined couldn't contain it.
«What an insane play! You're the best!» Zenchidori commented.
«Pantera, you're the new Osu! legend!» GlobalSound added.
«Now go win the whole thing in Tokyo,» Pego_pro wrote.
BTMC stayed quiet, bitter. His chat was a mess of shock and disappointment in their idol.
For me, it was a dream come true: an all-expenses-paid trip halfway across the world, to one of the most incredible places on earth.
I had done it.
And as the chat went berserk, one thought struck me: "If I perfect this technique… could I even take down the world number one, Mrekk?"
Tokyo wasn't the end. It was just the beginning of something much bigger.