Ironwall arrived exactly on time.
Not early. Not late.
That alone told Daniel more than most tryout performances ever did.
The door opened, and a tall man stepped in, broad-shouldered, carrying himself with the calm certainty of someone who had spent years being depended on. He wore no team colors, no flashy gear. Just a simple jacket and an expression that looked permanently unimpressed.
Zhou stood up slowly. "You really came."
Ironwall glanced at him. "You asked."
Then his eyes shifted—to Daniel.
They held there for a second longer than polite.
"So," Ironwall said, "you're really doing this."
Daniel nodded. "I am."
Ironwall exhaled through his nose. "Figures."
No introductions followed.
They didn't need them.
Everyone in the room knew who Ironwall was—not a mechanical prodigy, not a highlight machine, but one of the most reliable support players the ladder had ever produced. The kind of player whose presence didn't raise damage charts but raised win rates.
CrystalFeather straightened unconsciously.
WildZone leaned back, studying him.
Zhou crossed his arms, waiting.
Daniel gestured to the empty station.
"Sit," he said.
Ironwall did.
They loaded straight into a scrim.
No warm-up. No explanation.
Ironwall chose his role and locked in without comment.
From the first minute, the difference was obvious.
He didn't chase vision.
He denied it.
He didn't call out threats.
He positioned so they couldn't happen.
WildZone invaded twice.
Both times, Ironwall was already moving before the fight began.
CrystalFeather noticed it on the third rotation.
"He's covering space," she murmured.
Daniel nodded.
Mid-game came.
A fight broke out unexpectedly near the river.
WildZone overcommitted.
CrystalFeather adjusted late.
The enemy collapsed.
It should have been a wipe.
Ironwall spoke for the first time.
"Step back."
Two words.
Perfect timing.
Daniel followed instantly.
CrystalFeather trusted it without thinking.
WildZone hesitated—then pulled out.
The enemy missed their window.
The fight dissolved.
Ironwall didn't speak again.
After the match, Zhou broke the silence.
"You didn't say much."
Ironwall shrugged. "Didn't need to."
WildZone frowned. "How did you know we were about to lose that fight?"
Ironwall glanced at him. "You were all leaning forward."
CrystalFeather blinked. "That's it?"
"That's enough," Ironwall replied.
Daniel closed the replay.
He didn't analyze.
He didn't critique.
He simply asked, "Do you still play to win?"
Ironwall looked at him steadily. "I never stopped."
Daniel nodded once.
"Then stay."
Ironwall didn't smile.
He didn't celebrate.
He just leaned back and adjusted his chair.
"City League's messy," he said. "Bad refs. Worse schedules."
Daniel met his gaze. "We'll adapt."
Ironwall's lips twitched almost imperceptibly.
"Figures."
The room felt different now.
Not louder.
More grounded.
WildZone glanced around. "So… what are we missing?"
Zhou answered before Daniel could.
"Top."
The word hung in the air.
Daniel looked at the last empty station.
"One more," he said. "And then we stop looking."
Outside, evening settled over the city.
Inside, five chairs stood ready—four occupied.
The team wasn't complete yet.
But it finally had a spine.