The promotion queue took longer than usual.
Daniel noticed it immediately.
Bronze promotion matches always did.
Players who had been stuck too long grew cautious. Others grew desperate. Both made mistakes—just different kinds.
The loading screen appeared.
Bronze I Promotion MatchWin this game to advance to Silver
Voice chat connected one by one.
A few seconds of silence.
Then—
"Uh… good luck, everyone?""Please no trolls, I really want Silver.""Wait, Crusader? Seriously?"
Daniel's Holy Crusader stood quietly at spawn.
He didn't respond.
He never did.
The enemy lineup loaded in.
Balanced. Cleaner than most Bronze games. A real jungler. A ranged carry who knew spacing. A frontline tank that didn't rush blindly forward.
This one's slightly better, Daniel thought.
Good.
The opening minutes were careful.
Too careful.
Both sides poked. No one committed. Lanes tested each other's patience more than their mechanics.
Daniel moved.
Not aggressively—but decisively.
He slipped into the river brush, not to gank, but to exist. His presence alone forced the enemy mid laner to step back. That half-step created room.
Room was everything.
The first real fight erupted bottom lane.
Enemy jungle pathing gave it away—three seconds too early.
Daniel rotated before the call even came.
The enemy collapsed first.
Numbers advantage.
By Bronze logic, this should have been a losing fight.
Daniel entered from the side.
Shield raised.
He didn't charge in.
He waited.
The enemy tank committed.
That was the mistake.
Daniel stepped forward, shield bash landing cleanly. Crowd control chained perfectly—just long enough to interrupt the follow-up damage.
He turned sideways, body-blocking the narrow path.
The enemy carry tried to reposition.
Too late.
Daniel's teammates finally arrived.
The fight flipped instantly.
Two enemies down.
The rest scattered.
Voice chat exploded.
"How did that work?""He literally stopped all of them."
Daniel was already retreating.
No chase.
No greed.
By mid-game, the difference was clear.
The enemy team wasn't bad.
They just couldn't move.
Every rotation met resistance. Every push stalled at choke points Daniel had already claimed. He never overextended, never dove, never chased.
He controlled.
A dragon fight decided the match.
Both teams grouped early.
Vision wars. Standoffs. A tense silence.
Someone on Daniel's team whispered, "I'm nervous."
Daniel stepped forward.
Not into the pit.
Onto the ramp.
A position no Bronze player ever respected.
The enemy hesitated.
That hesitation lasted half a second.
Daniel engaged.
Shield slam.
A clean hit.
The enemy carry panicked, burning mobility early. Their formation collapsed. Skills overlapped uselessly.
Daniel didn't pursue kills.
He denied space.
That was enough.
The fight ended before it properly began.
Ace.
The push afterward was methodical.
No flashy dives.
Just towers falling one by one.
When the crystal shattered, the screen lit up:
VICTORY
A pause.
Then the system message appeared.
Congratulations!Nightwalker has been promoted to Silver Tier.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
"Okay, yeah. That Crusader is not normal.""Are you smurfing?""Holy Crusader in Silver… that's rare."
Daniel exited the lobby.
No response.
No explanation.
Bronze was finished.
The Silver emblem rotated slowly on his profile.
Daniel leaned back slightly, rolling his wrist once.
This was where the game actually began.
In Silver, players talked more. Watched replays. Started believing they understood the game.
Which made their mistakes harder to see—
And easier to punish.
The queue button glowed.
Daniel clicked it without hesitation.
Silver awaited.