The closet barely fit the desk.
It had once been a walk-in wardrobe. Now it was something else entirely.
Neon washed the walls in shifting blues and violets. A thin strip of LED ran beneath the desk, reflecting off empty aluminum cans scattered like fallen trophies. The glow of three monitors carved sharp light across Raxian's face.
Gold flickered faintly in his eyes.
Sunday. 11:43 PM.
School tomorrow.
Didn't matter.
His keyboard shimmered beneath his fingers, each key lighting up in pulse-reactive gradients. Headset snug. Mic muted. Breath steady.
Promo game.
Win this — Diamond.
Lose — back to Gold.
Jake hit Diamond Friday.
Raxian had watched the screenshot flood their group chat.
He hadn't replied.
The queue popped.
EGO — RANKED PROMOTION MATCH
His heart sharpened.
Lock in.
Mid lane.
Xar.
The name felt childish now. He'd made it when he was five because "Rax backwards" sounded cool.
He never changed it.
Loading screen.
Enemy top lane:try me?
No rank border displayed.
Smurf.
Great.
The game opened in a corridor of light and shadow.
Over-the-shoulder view. Long midlane ahead. Far end shimmered faintly where the first Resonance Gate waited dormant.
Pulse hum steady in his ears.
He moved.
Top lane skirmish exploded first.
"Top secured core," someone said over voice.
A pulse icon flared on the minimap.
Ward placed in a pulse-core room near bot.
"TP up," his jungler muttered.
Raxian didn't answer. He never did.
His laner stepped forward.
Standard weapon manifestation — twin blades, red pulse, aggressive type.
Predictable.
Raxian didn't have a weapon.
He never had.
Pulse gathered raw in his palms — molten gold, unshaped, unstable.
"Yo, gold no-weapon mid?" his bot laner said.
"Bro thinks he's special."
Raxian clicked his mic once.
"Shut the fuck up."
He dashed.
Clean sidestep.
Pulse strike.
Perfect counter.
Gate flickered.
One destabilization.
Two more.
He exhaled through his teeth.
Top lane pinged missing again.
Raxian barely registered it.
A new pulse core spawned near Cluster A.
Top secured it.
Second core.
Ward still active bot side.
"TPing," someone called.
Flash of light on minimap.
Triple kill bot.
Pulse icons shifting.
Raxian felt it.
Pressure.
If they locked five around that objective, it would seal.
He stepped into a side room to break line of sight, waiting for mid respawn.
Dark corner.
Shadows pooling near the wall.
He turned.
Too late.
A spear cut through the air with surgical precision.
Purple-tinged.
No.
Not purple.
Something steadier.
She stepped from the shadow like she had been part of it.
No wasted movement.
Just execution.
The spear pierced through his golden flare before it fully formed.
His pulse recoiled violently.
Screen distortion.
Sound warped.
Death.
Respawn timer: 7.
His fingers tightened around the mouse.
On the minimap:
Three pulse cores secured around the top objective.
One more spawning.
"Group," he pinged.
"Objective. Now."
Respawn.
Back into lane.
Camera steadier than he felt.
He moved through corridor at full speed.
Gate still needed two more.
Top was late rotating.
Objective chamber unlocked.
Anchor glowing neutral white.
Both teams entering from opposite corridors.
Pulse rings lighting the floor.
She was already there.
try me?
Spear resting casually over her shoulder.
He felt it immediately.
Her stability was absurd.
Their blue pulse botlaner whispered, "That's a smurf."
No kidding.
The Anchor flickered gold, then white, then something darker.
try me shifted first.
She vanished behind a structural column.
Raxian chased.
Mistake.
Her ultimate manifested mid-room.
The lights dimmed inward as if the chamber exhaled.
Her pulse didn't spike.
It narrowed.
Condensed.
The spear extended, elongating into something almost spectral.
She didn't rush.
She waited for instability.
His jungler misstepped.
Executed.
One.
Orange bot collapsed under pressure.
Two.
Raxian felt his own pulse climbing too fast.
He tried to stabilize.
Too late.
He attempted manifestation.
Gold surged.
Corridor bent.
For half a second the room belonged to him.
Then fracture.
Hairline crack through the golden flare.
Recoil slammed through his avatar.
Stability plummeted.
She was already moving.
Spear through center mass.
Three.
Anchor flooded in her team's color.
Objective claimed.
Room brightened around her pulse signature.
His team scattered.
Someone muttered, "Open Pulse Fate."
It felt worse than destruction.
It felt like inevitability.
The next five minutes unraveled fast.
Top gate collapsed against them.
Mid gate stalled.
Bot lost control.
Pulse Fate began flickering faintly in the distance — not touched, just… weakening.
He forced fights.
Overextended.
Died again.
Final collapse.
Mid chamber opened.
Full 5v5.
No respawns.
He could feel it slipping.
She stood across from him again.
Calm.
Unshaken.
They clashed once more.
No wasted motion.
No anger.
Just clean execution.
Pulse Fate shattered.
Defeat screen washed over him in a muted violet.
Headset ripped off.
Clattered against the desk.
Keyboard slammed.
Two keys popped loose.
"Fuck."
The neon lights hummed in the small closet.
Energy drink can rolled onto its side.
He leaned back in the chair, breathing hard.
Diamond promo.
Gone.
His monitor still reflected faint gold in his eyes.
But the room was very quiet now.
A knock.
Not loud.
Just two soft taps against his bedroom door.
"Rax?" his mom's voice filtered through the wall. "You okay?"
He closed his eyes.
Of course she heard that.
He swallowed the heat still sitting in his throat.
"Yeah," he called back. "Yeah, I'm fine."
A pause.
"You sure?"
"I said I'm fine."
Another pause. Then softer: "Okay. Don't stay up too late."
Footsteps retreating down the hallway.
Silence again.
He leaned forward, exhaled sharply, and began snapping the keys back into place.
Enter.
Shift.
The little plastic clips clicked in one by one.
He stared at his screen.
Defeat summary still glowing faint violet.
He didn't queue again.
Instead, he clicked Return to Chamber.
The world shifted.
Corridors dissolved into soft gold and shadow.
His private chamber materialized around his avatar — a quiet, elevated space overlooking an endless abstract skyline of pulse-lit architecture. Minimal. Controlled. Almost peaceful.
His avatar stood there for a moment.
Golden pulse faint at the edges.
Then — without input —
The avatar walked to the bed in the center of the chamber.
And laid down.
One arm over his eyes.
Done.
Raxian stared at the screen.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
His avatar didn't move.
Didn't look at him.
Just lay there like the match had drained him too.
"That wasn't even your fault," Raxian muttered.
The avatar shifted slightly.
Subtle.
Like a silent sigh.
That made it worse.
His phone buzzed on the desk.
And at the same time, in the chamber, the avatar's virtual phone lit up.
The avatar sat up, reached into his jacket, and pulled it out.
Raxian's real hands were still pressing keys back into the keyboard.
The message appeared across his screen.
RazeFlicker:
I watched that.
Raxian scoffed.
Of course he did.
Another message.
RazeFlicker:
That was your promos, wasn't it?
Raxian typed one-handed, still adjusting the spacebar.
Xar:
Shut up.
Three dots appeared instantly.
RazeFlicker:
So it was.
Raxian rolled his eyes.
In the chamber, his avatar swung his legs over the side of the bed, staring down at the glowing phone screen.
RazeFlicker:
You forced that manifestation mid objective.
RazeFlicker:
You were shaking.
His jaw tightened.
Xar:
I wasn't.
RazeFlicker:
Rax.
Silence.
Then:
RazeFlicker:
That top laner. "try me?"
You've seen that name before?
Raxian paused.
He hadn't.
That bothered him more than losing.
Xar:
Smurf.
RazeFlicker:
Yeah.
A good one.
Another message followed almost immediately.
RazeFlicker:
Add her.
Raxian blinked.
Xar:
Why the hell would I do that?
In the chamber, his avatar lowered the phone slightly.
Golden pulse faint but steady.
RazeFlicker:
Because she dismantled you.
RazeFlicker:
And you've been stuck in Gold for three years.
That hit.
Raxian stared at the screen.
Keys finally snapped back into place.
He flexed his fingers once.
Xar:
I'm not stuck.
RazeFlicker:
You're talented.
But you're reckless.
Pause.
Then softer:
RazeFlicker:
Learn something.
Raxian's gaze drifted back to the match summary panel still minimized in the corner.
Her name sat there.
try me?
His avatar looked up at him from the chamber.
Almost expectant.
He exhaled sharply.
"…Fine."
Friend request sent.
The notification left his chamber in a streak of gold light.
He leaned back again in his chair.
Neon humming.
House quiet.
Promo gone.
But something else had shifted.
Somewhere out there, a smurf with impossible composure had just received a request from a kid named Xar.
And Raxian didn't even realize yet—
That was the more important threshold.