The counter didn't come disguised as hatred.
It came as preparation.
By the time Epoch's next match day arrived, analysts had already clipped their fights into neat little segments. Daniel's lateral movement. Ironwall's vision denial. WildZone's timing windows. CrystalFeather's delayed commits. Blackstone's lane elasticity.
Nothing was secret anymore.
Zhou scrolled through a forum thread, jaw tightening. "They've got diagrams now."
WildZone leaned over. "That's flattering."
"It's dangerous," Zhou corrected. "They're not mocking. They're learning."
Daniel nodded. "Good teams always do."
The opposing team this time was different.
Not stronger mechanically.
Smarter.
Their draft was conservative. Their early pathing cautious. They didn't chase. Didn't overextend.
They waited.
"Feels… slow," CrystalFeather murmured as the match loaded.
Ironwall replied, "They're cutting options."
Daniel's eyes narrowed slightly. "They're mirroring."
From the first five minutes, it was clear.
The enemy support shadowed Ironwall's routes. The jungler avoided WildZone's pressure zones. Mid lane refused trades unless CrystalFeather overcommitted.
Blackstone held top, but even there, pressure was calculated, never reckless.
"They're not trying to beat us," WildZone said quietly. "They're trying to limit us."
Daniel replied, "Then don't give them limits. Give them choices."
At ten minutes, the enemy forced a skirmish.
Not to win.
To test.
They poked, disengaged, re-engaged.
Epoch responded cleanly—but slower.
Not wrong.
Just delayed.
The fight ended neutral.
The crowd murmured.
Mason's voice came through the broadcast. "This is interesting. Epoch's opponents are refusing to collapse."
Leo added, "They're making Epoch play long."
Pressure mounted.
Vision wars intensified.
Cooldowns traded.
No one blinked.
At sixteen minutes, the enemy tried something new.
They baited Daniel.
Not with damage.
With space.
The carry stepped into his range—then retreated instantly. Twice. Three times.
Daniel didn't move.
But WildZone did.
A half-step forward.
That was enough.
The enemy collapsed.
Ironwall reacted instantly.
CrystalFeather followed.
But the timing was off.
Not broken.
Off.
They lost two.
The hall inhaled sharply.
Zhou's fingers curled into his sleeve.
"They found a crack," he whispered.
Daniel exhaled slowly.
"Yes," he said. "They did."
Epoch didn't panic.
They reset.
But now the tempo wasn't theirs.
The enemy didn't press the advantage recklessly. They rotated, secured objectives, widened the map.
Not domination.
Control.
CrystalFeather tightened her grip on the mouse. "They're forcing mistakes without forcing fights."
Ironwall replied, "They're playing our patience against us."
Daniel's voice was steady. "Then we change what patience looks like."
At twenty-two minutes, Daniel spoke.
"Next engage," he said, "we go first."
WildZone hesitated. "Even without—"
"Yes."
The call cut through doubt.
The next fight erupted mid-lane.
Not perfect.
Not clean.
WildZone dove early.
CrystalFeather committed fully.
Ironwall stepped forward instead of back.
Blackstone rotated late—on purpose.
Daniel didn't anchor.
He advanced.
The enemy reacted instantly—too instantly.
Cooldowns burned.
Positions overlapped.
The formation collapsed.
Not because of damage.
Because of confusion.
Epoch wiped three.
The crowd erupted.
Leo's voice spiked. "They flipped the script!"
Mason followed, breathless. "Epoch just broke the mirror."
The rest of the match was tense.
Mistakes happened.
So did recoveries.
When the final push came, it wasn't elegant.
It was earned.
The crystal shattered.
VICTORY
But this time, the applause was different.
Not surprise.
Respect.
Backstage, no one spoke for a moment.
WildZone finally exhaled. "That… wasn't comfortable."
Daniel nodded. "It wasn't supposed to be."
CrystalFeather looked at him. "They knew us."
"Yes," Daniel said. "Which means they'll know us better next time."
Ironwall added quietly, "And next time, so will we."
Far away, the Dawn office lights were still on.
The man in the tailored jacket watched the final fight once more.
"So," he said softly, "adaptation confirmed."
He turned to his assistant.
"Prepare the next step," he ordered. "If we can't stop them with play…"
A pause.
"…we'll stop them with context."
Epoch left the stage together.
They hadn't just won.
They had been tested.
And passed.
But the game had begun to play back.
Harder.
Smarter.
Personal.