The next day, the scrim room was alive with tension. Aarav walked in, feeling the weight of yesterday's grind still pressing on his shoulders. He had improved—his calls were sharper, his timing better—but he knew Rhea wasn't easily impressed.
She stood near the main setup, arms crossed, eyes scanning the team like a general before battle. When her gaze landed on Aarav, he felt his stomach tighten.
"Alright," Rhea said, voice crisp. "We've been running safe plays. That ends now."
The team exchanged glances. Aarav frowned. "What do you mean?"
Rhea smirked, stepping closer. "You play like you're afraid to lose. That's not how champions play." Her tone was sharp, but her eyes glinted with challenge. "So here's the deal—next scrim, you go aggressive."
Aarav blinked. "Aggressive? I'm support."
"Doesn't matter," Rhea said, tossing him a headset. "You've got brains, but you hide behind caution. Time to break that."
Aarav hesitated. "What if—"
"No 'what if,'" Rhea cut him off. "You want to stay on this team? Prove you can take risks."
The room went quiet. Zayn grinned from his station. "Ooooh, rookie's getting the Rhea challenge."
Aarav swallowed hard. His pulse hammered in his ears. Aggressive wasn't his style—he thrived on strategy, not reckless plays. But something in Rhea's tone sparked a fire in him. He nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll do it."
Rhea's smirk widened. "Good. Let's see if you've got teeth."
The countdown began. Aarav's hands trembled as he gripped the mouse. His mind screamed caution, but he shoved it aside. No fear. No hesitation.
The match exploded into chaos—gunfire, rapid rotations, enemy pressure mounting. Aarav spotted an opening on the flank. Normally, he'd call it and wait. Today, he dove in.
"Pushing left!" Aarav shouted, voice steady.
"What?!" Zayn laughed. "Rookie's going rogue!"
Aarav moved fast, catching two enemies off-guard. His shots landed clean—double kill. The comms erupted.
"Holy—nice play!" Raj yelled.
Even Rhea sounded surprised. "Not bad," she said, her tone grudgingly impressed. "Keep that energy."
Aarav felt adrenaline surge. He pushed again, coordinating with Zayn for a bold mid-lane collapse. The enemy team scrambled, and Phoenix Strike took the round.
When the match ended, Aarav ripped off his headset, chest heaving. The team cheered, clapping his back. Zayn grinned. "Look at you, Mr. Aggressive!"
Aarav smiled faintly, but his eyes flicked to Rhea. She stood with arms crossed, expression unreadable—then, slowly, she nodded.
"Better," she said simply. "Now do it again."