Epoch didn't celebrate the win.
They packed up, shut down their stations, and left the secondary venue the same way they had entered—without ceremony. If anyone expected them to complain about the reassignment or boast about an off-stream victory, they would have been disappointed.
Daniel preferred it that way.
The noise came later.
It started with a clip.
Thirty seconds long.No commentary.No overlays.
Just a screen recording someone in the venue had uploaded—unofficial, slightly shaky, clearly not meant for broadcast.
It showed one fight.
WildZone cutting vision through the jungle.Ironwall stepping forward half a beat early.CrystalFeather sliding into position before the enemy mid realized the angle was gone.Daniel's Holy Crusader moving sideways—not back, not forward—sideways.
The enemy carry disappeared.
The rest followed.
Someone had captioned it simply:
"Off-stream btw."
By the next morning, the clip had spread.
Not widely.
But precisely.
World Chat didn't explode.It murmured.
"Did you see that Epoch fight?""That Crusader movement is weird.""That wasn't ladder.""They're playing like a unit already."
Someone else added:
"Why is this team in the side bracket?"
No one answered.
Zhou watched the numbers climb on his tablet.
"Not viral," he said. "But sticky."
Daniel nodded. "That's enough."
Sticky clips reached the people who mattered.
The City League organizers noticed by noon.
Epoch's next-round match assignment updated quietly.
Venue: Main HallBroadcast: Official Stream
Zhou let out a low whistle. "They couldn't bury it."
CrystalFeather stared at the screen. "So this one's live."
"Yes," Zhou said. "And scheduled."
WildZone grinned. "Finally."
Ironwall didn't smile. He adjusted his mouse settings slightly. "Live changes nothing."
Blackstone added, "Except witnesses."
The email arrived an hour later.
Shorter than the last.
More careful.
Due to updated broadcast logistics, your upcoming match will be featured on the main stream.Please arrive early for equipment checks.
No apology.
No explanation.
Just compliance.
Daniel closed the email.
"They didn't choose us," he said. "They ran out of alternatives."
Practice that afternoon was sharp.
Not intense.
Focused.
Mistakes were corrected quickly. No raised voices. No panic.
CrystalFeather played faster than before—not reckless, but decisive. WildZone cut fewer corners, choosing angles that aligned with Ironwall's coverage. Blackstone rotated earlier, trusting the team to fill the space he left.
Daniel said very little.
When he did, it was exact.
That night, World Chat was no longer pretending.
"Epoch's on stream tomorrow.""Guess hiding them didn't work.""That Crusader's going to be analyzed frame by frame.""Dawn letting this happen?"
Someone replied:
"They don't get to decide anymore."
Daniel muted the channel.
The day of the match, the main hall felt different.
Lights brighter.Seats fuller.Cameras hovering with intent instead of obligation.
Epoch arrived together.
No one rushed.
No one lingered.
The opposing team was stronger this time. More experienced. Better known.
The enemy captain glanced across the stage, recognition sharp in his eyes.
"So it's true," he said lightly. "You really came back."
Daniel met his gaze. "We never left."
As they took their seats, the countdown began.
Ten seconds.
CrystalFeather inhaled slowly.
WildZone rolled his shoulders.
Ironwall rested his hands lightly on the desk.
Blackstone's expression didn't change.
Daniel's screen flickered to life.
For the first time since forming, Epoch wasn't playing in the shadows.
They were playing under lights.
And somewhere—far from the stage, behind polite emails and quiet schedules—someone from Dawn was watching very closely.
Not as an administrator.
But as a rival.