Boss Fight: Love Edition

by Hanmoontea

Summary:

Zayne swore he’d teach the arrogant pro gamer a lesson. Too bad the final boss was feelings.

Notes:

Gamers SNOWCROW everyone?!

Chapter 1: Respawn, but Make It Personal

There were only three things guaranteed in life: death, taxes, and Sylus Qin’s smug face plastered across national television after yet another eSports victory.

 

The commentator’s voice boomed through the cybercafé speakers, way too enthusiastic for the thousandth replay of Sylus’s “unbelievable precision.”

 

The camera cut to Sylus himself—lean, cocky, jawline sharp enough to slice drywall—lifting the championship trophy like he’d just solved world hunger instead of… well, clicking on heads faster than anyone else.

 

Zayne Li slouched lower in his chair, arms crossed. He wasn’t bitter, okay? He was just… critically analyzing.

 

“He tilted his wrist, what, half a centimeter?” Zayne muttered. “Big whoop. I could do that if my mouse didn’t require CPR every time I tried to drag-flick.”

 

Across from him, Caleb Xia snorted into his soda, nearly choking on the carbonation. “Yeah, sure. The only thing you’ve tilted lately is your chair until it almost collapsed. Face it, Zayne—the man’s a god. Just accept and move on.”

 

Zayne jabbed a finger at the café’s mounted flat screen, where Sylus winked at the camera.

 

WINKED.

 

Like he knew exactly how smug he was. “See? That’s not a wink, that’s a personal attack. He’s taunting us peasants from his ivory gaming tower.”

 

Caleb arched a brow. “You mean from his luxury condo, complete with three monitors, an ergonomic chair, and an internet connection that doesn’t cry every time someone opens Netflix?”

 

“Exactly! Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this sauna with ten screaming middle-schoolers who think yelling ‘HEADSHOT!’ at full volume makes them better players.” Zayne gestured at the cybercafé around them.

 

The place smelled like cheap instant noodles, gamer sweat, and industrial-strength energy drinks. Somewhere overhead, a ceiling fan clattered, valiantly trying—and failing—to circulate air.

 

Onscreen, Sylus blew a kiss to the live crowd.

 

A tidal wave of shrieks erupted from the audience, as if he’d just proposed marriage to every single one of them. Zayne gagged theatrically.

 

“Ugh. Look at him. King of Smug. Emperor of Ego. Lord of the Lag.”

 

Caleb pointed his straw at Zayne. “And yet you’ve still got his poster taped above your desk.”

 

“That’s—irrelevant,” Zayne sputtered. “That was from years ago, before I knew he was evil.”

 

“Evil?”

 

“Evil,” Zayne confirmed.

 

“He thrives on the suffering of the masses. Look at his face. That’s not joy, that’s pure villain energy. If he wasn’t gaming, he’d be building a death ray or starting a pyramid scheme.”

 

Caleb wheezed so hard his chair squeaked. “You’re unbelievable. You’re literally his biggest fan. You’ve watched every single match since high school.”

 

“Correction: I’m his biggest critic. There’s a difference.”

 

“Mmhm. Sure.”

 

The kids two rows behind them shouted “NOOB!” at each other while one of them smacked his keyboard like it owed him rent money.

 

Meanwhile, on the café’s giant screen, Sylus’s post-match interview rolled.

 

The host leaned in, practically glowing, and asked how it felt to be the reigning champion yet again, his strategy, his “inevitable dominance of the scene.”

 

Sylus’s answer? A smirk. A lazy, effortless smirk that belonged in the dictionary next to “punchable.”

 

“I guess winning just comes naturally,” Sylus drawled, voice low and smooth, like he’d practiced it in the mirror. “But hey—good luck to the others next year. They’ll need it.”

 

The audience laughed. The host laughed. Caleb laughed.

 

Zayne did not laugh.

 

“HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT.”

 

Caleb grinned. “Oh, he did.”

 

“That— that— arrogant— pixel prince!” Zayne’s voice cracked with indignation. “He’s not even pretending to be humble anymore. He’s out here mocking us.”

 

“Us? Bro, you weren’t even in the tournament.”

 

“It’s the principle of the matter!” Zayne snapped. “Someone needs to humble him before his head gets too big to fit through the stadium doors.”

 

“And that someone is… you?” Caleb’s tone carried the weight of ten thousand skeptical eyebrows.

 

Zayne froze mid-gesture. “…Yes.”

 

Caleb blinked. Then he laughed so loudly the kids behind them turned around to shush him.

 

“You?!” Caleb wheezed. “Unemployed, broke, stuck on a laggy hand-me-down laptop—you want to take down Sylus Qin, aka Qin_master, aka Mr. National Champion?”

 

Zayne bristled. “I have talent.”

 

“You have a kill/death ratio of 0.5.”

 

“That’s because my teammates suck!”

 

“You play solo queue.”

 

“…Details.”

 

Caleb slapped the table, tears in his eyes from laughing. “Bro, the only way you’re humbling Sylus is if you trip him with your shoelaces on stage.”

 

Zayne ignored him, narrowing his eyes at the screen where Sylus basked in the crowd’s adoration.

 

No, this wasn’t just about gaming anymore.

 

This was personal.

 

This was justice. This was—

 

“Operation Knock Sylus Off His High Horse™,” Zayne declared, stabbing a finger upward like a budget anime protagonist.

 

Caleb groaned. “You’re gonna die trying.”

 

“Or I’ll die respawning.” Zayne grinned, manic. “But either way, he’s going down.”

 

---

 

Later that night, Zayne sat hunched over his battered laptop in his dim bedroom.

 

His wallpaper? Ironically still Sylus, smirking from an old promotional shoot. Zayne glared at it, muttering under his breath.

 

“Enjoy your throne while it lasts, Your Majesty. Because soon…” He paused dramatically, even though no one was there to hear him. “Soon, a nobody’s gonna be your worst nightmare.”

 

The laptop fan whirred weakly, like it was judging him.

 

Zayne cracked his knuckles, logged into his favorite FPS, and queued up. His username—Dawn_Zy—flashed proudly across the screen.

 

Somewhere out there, Sylus Qin—Qin_master himself—was probably basking in champagne and compliments, maybe retweeting fan edits from @SylusQinOfficial.

 

But Zayne? Zayne was ready to grind.

 

To sweat. To humble.

 

And maybe, just maybe, to teach the King of Smug that even idols can fall.

Chapter 2: The Duel That Wasn’t (Yet)

Summary:

Just Zayne and Caleb, blind leading the blind.

Notes:

I need a friend like Caleb istg 😭

If there was one thing Caleb Xia regretted in life, it was befriending Zayne Li during sophomore year of high school.

 

Okay, that was dramatic.

 

But listening to Zayne rant for the third day in a row about Sylus Qin’s championship smirk definitely had him questioning every decision that led him here.

 

“You didn’t see it, Caleb,” Zayne insisted, gesturing with his energy drink like it was a holy relic. “It wasn’t just a smirk. It was a supervillain smirk. The kind of smirk that says, ‘I’ll defeat you and your whole bloodline, and then I’ll teabag your corpse just for fun.’”

 

Caleb sipped his soda without breaking eye contact. “It was a smirk, dude. A regular smirk. People smirk sometimes. It happens.”

 

Zayne gasped like Caleb had just denied the existence of gravity. “A regular smirk?! Are you blind? That was a declaration of war! That was psychological warfare broadcasted live on national television!”

 

Across the café, a group of teenagers hollered over a particularly bad grenade throw. The air was thick with fried food grease and the faint scent of broken dreams.

 

Caleb wondered if anyone else in here was suffering as much as he was.

 

“You know,” Caleb said slowly, “if his face bothers you that much, you could just… not watch his matches.”

 

“Blasphemy,” Zayne hissed. “How else am I supposed to critique him? You think legends like me skip tape reviews? I’m scouting my enemy, Caleb. This is war.”

 

“Right. War. Totally.” Caleb rolled his eyes. “You spend more time watching Sylus than his own fans do.”

 

“Because they’re blinded by his jawline!” Zayne slammed his drink down for emphasis. “But I see the truth. He’s an egomaniac with a gaming chair.”

 

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

He loved Zayne, really he did, but the man’s ability to monologue about Sylus Qin like a rejected Shakespearean villain was wearing him down.

 

So, naturally, Caleb decided to be an enabler.

 

“Alright then, genius,” Caleb said, leaning back in his chair. “If you think he’s so smug, why don’t you… oh, I don’t know… duel him?”

 

Zayne froze mid-ramble.

 

Caleb smirked.

 

A normal smirk, not a villain one.

 

“Yeah, you heard me. One-on-one. Mano a mano. Winner takes bragging rights. Challenge him like it’s Yu-Gi-Oh or some crap.”

 

Zayne’s eyes widened, a dangerous glint sparking in them.

 

“No. Absolutely not.” Caleb waved his hands frantically. “That was sarcasm. Do not take that seriously.”

 

But Zayne was already leaning forward, his brain whirring audibly. “No, wait. That’s… that’s actually brilliant. Imagine it—me, Dawn_Zy, taking down the one and only Qin_master in a fair fight. The underdog versus the champion. David versus Goliath. A true cinematic showdown.”

 

Caleb groaned. “Oh god. I’ve created a monster.”

 

Zayne ignored him, already spiraling into fantasy. “The match would go viral instantly. ‘Local Nobody Destroys National Champion.’ The headline writes itself. People would make YouTube montages of me teabagging him. Sylus Qin’s reign of terror would end.”

 

“You realize he’s, like, the best player in the country, right?” Caleb deadpanned. “He literally eats guys like you for breakfast.”

 

“I’ll be the breakfast that gives him food poisoning.”

 

“…That was disgusting. Never say that again.”

 

But Zayne was gone, lost in his daydream. His hands mimed holding a trophy, his face lit by the glow of his imaginary victory. “I can see it now—the crowd chanting my name. Dawn_Zy! Dawn_Zy! Dawn_Zy!”

 

Caleb poked his arm. “You do realize most people would be chanting Sylus instead, right?”

 

Zayne scowled. “Not in my vision.”

 

Caleb buried his face in his hands. He’d meant it as a joke.

 

Just a throwaway suggestion to shut Zayne up.

 

But now? Now his best friend was actually considering it.

 

“You’re insane,” Caleb muttered. “You’ll get obliterated in five seconds.”

 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Zayne’s grin was manic now, pure anime protagonist energy. “But wouldn’t it be worth it? To humble him? To wipe that smirk off his face?”

 

“You’re gonna wipe yourself off the leaderboard, that’s what’s gonna happen.”

 

“Don’t care. Worth it.”

 

Caleb stared at him. He couldn’t decide if he admired Zayne’s determination or pitied his complete lack of self-preservation.

 

Maybe both.

 

Finally, Caleb sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. But if you’re really gonna do this—and I’m not saying you should—you’ll need a plan. You can’t just slide into @SylusQinOfficial’s DMs with ‘hey bro duel me 1v1’ like some twelve-year-old.”

 

Zayne opened his mouth. Closed it. Reopened it. “...What if I did though?”

 

Caleb groaned so loudly the café owner gave him a dirty look. “I hate you.”

 

---

 

That night, Zayne lay in bed, staring at his cracked ceiling like it held the answers to the universe.

 

Invite Sylus to a duel.

 

The thought circled his brain like a loading screen that wouldn’t end.

 

It was stupid. Insane. Doomed to fail.

 

And yet…

 

His fingers hovered over his phone, Twitter open.

 

His own account—@Zynecornium—was a mess of memes, unhinged rants, and occasional blurry photos of Caleb. Not exactly the most professional image.

 

Meanwhile, Sylus’s profile—@SylusQinOfficial—looked like a curated shrine.

 

Slick header photo, verified checkmark, a recent post with half a million likes: “Grateful for the support. Couldn’t have done it without the fans. 💙 #Victory #Qin_master.”

 

Zayne sneered at the screen. “Couldn’t have done it without the fans,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “Translation: keep worshipping me, peasants.”

 

His thumb hovered over the DM button.

 

One message. That was all it would take. A single invite.

 

"hey sylus. 1v1 me coward."

 

Zayne typed it out. Stared at it. Deleted it. Re-typed it. Deleted it again.

 

“No. No, this is insane,” he muttered. “He’d never even see it. Or worse, he would see it and then I’d die of humiliation before we even queued up.”

 

Still, the idea lingered.

 

For once in his life, Zayne had the chance to be more than just a spectator. More than just Caleb’s freeloading bestie. More than just the unemployed guy in the corner booth of the café.

 

He could be… the underdog hero.

 

Or, you know, cannon fodder.

 

Either way, the thought of Sylus’s smug smirk finally disappearing made his pulse quicken.

 

Zayne flopped onto his stomach, groaning into his pillow. “God, why am I actually considering this?”

 

The pillow didn’t answer. But in Zayne’s head, the crowd was already chanting his name.

Chapter 3: Spamming is a Love Language

Summary:

What will you do when your idol actually noticed you during his livestream?

Notes:

Is Zayne digging his own grave or digging a hole to misery, there's no in between actually.

Zayne Li did not consider himself a coward.

 

Okay, fine, maybe he was kind of a coward.

 

It had been nearly a month since Caleb’s dumb suggestion about dueling Sylus Qin, and Zayne still hadn’t mustered the guts to slide into Sylus’s DMs.

 

It wasn’t that he was scared.

 

No, no, no.

 

He was just… strategically biding his time. Like a predator. Like a lion crouched in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

 

Or, more accurately, like a guy who got heart palpitations every time he hovered over the “message” button.

 

Caleb, of course, was zero help.

 

“You’re pathetic,” Caleb said flatly one Saturday night, scrolling through his phone as they loitered in their usual cybercafé booth. “A whole month of whining and you still haven’t done anything. Do you know what that makes you?”

 

“Cautious?” Zayne offered.

 

“A coward. A clown. A spineless keyboard warrior. Take your pick.”

 

Zayne scowled. “You don’t get it, Caleb. This isn’t just some DM. This is, like, a declaration of war. There are rules. Protocols. Strategies.”

 

“Bro, it’s a text. It’s free.” Caleb shoved his phone in Zayne’s face. “If you won’t DM him, then at least do this.”

 

On the screen: a notification.

 

SylusQinOfficial has started a live video.

 

“Oh hell no.” Zayne pushed the phone away like it was cursed. “Absolutely not.”

 

“Absolutely yes.” Caleb grinned like a man possessed. “You want his attention? This is how you get it. Just spam the chat. Go full gremlin mode. Worst case, you get blocked. Best case, he notices you.”

 

“I don’t want him to block me!”

 

“You don’t want him to block you because you’re already obsessed,” Caleb sing-songed. “Come on, chicken. Do it.”

 

Zayne groaned, dragging his hands down his face. He knew, deep down in his shriveled gamer heart, that Caleb wouldn’t shut up until he caved.

 

So he caved.

 

---

 

The live stream popped up on Zayne’s cracked phone screen.

 

Sylus Qin sat center frame, flawless as ever, looking like the eSports poster boy he was. His hair was perfect, his jawline sharp enough to slice bread, and his smile was just smug enough to make Zayne’s blood pressure spike.

 

Flanking him were his teammates: Xavier Shen, calm and collected with the aura of a long-suffering babysitter, and Rafayel Qi, who waved at the camera like an overexcited puppy.

 

“Hey everyone,” Sylus said smoothly, leaning closer to the mic. “Thanks for tuning in. We’re just hanging out after practice. Figured we’d answer some questions.”

 

The comments flew by at lightning speed:

 

omg sylus ily 💙💙💙

marry me xavier!! 😍

rafayel notice me pls 🙏

KING QIN MASTER 🐉👑

 

Zayne gagged. “Ugh, look at this cult.”

 

Caleb elbowed him. “Shut up and spam.”

 

Zayne cracked his knuckles. Fine. If Sylus wanted a cult, then Zayne would happily play the role of heretic.

 

He typed furiously:

 

@Zynecornium: 1v1 me coward

 

The comment vanished into the flood of hearts and emojis.

 

“See? He’ll never notice,” Zayne said smugly.

 

“Then do it again.” Caleb grinned.

 

Zayne groaned but obeyed.

 

@Zynecornium: stop smirking ur face is a war crime

@Zynecornium: duel me like a real gamer

@Zynecornium: dawn_zy vs qin_master. make it happen.

 

He snickered. “There. Done. He’s never gonna—”

 

“Wait.” Caleb pointed. “Look.”

 

Zayne froze.

 

Sylus Qin was squinting at the chat, lips twitching in amusement.

 

“…Did someone just call my face a war crime?” Sylus asked, brows arched.

 

Xavier sighed deeply, like this was his 400th time cleaning up after Sylus’s fan interactions. “Ignore it.”

 

But Rafayel leaned in, eyes scanning the screen. “No, wait—look! They keep spamming. @Zynecornium. ‘Duel me like a real gamer.’”

 

Zayne nearly dropped his phone. “OH MY GOD HE SAID MY NAME.”

 

Caleb was cackling like a hyena. “HE SAID YOUR NAME. YOU’RE IN.”

 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Zayne hissed, burying his face in his hoodie. His heart was doing gymnastics. He had not planned for success.

 

Sylus, meanwhile, was smirking at the camera.

 

(The smirk. The exact one Zayne loathed.)

 

“Dawn_Zy, huh?” he read aloud. “Challenging me in my own livestream. Bold move.”

 

Zayne muffled a scream into his sleeve.

 

The chat exploded:

 

WHO IS DAWN_ZY???

lmaoooo 1v1 him sylus!!

@Zynecornium EXPOSE YOURSELF

omg rivalry arc?? 👀👀👀

 

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t encourage him.”

 

But Sylus leaned back in his chair, clearly entertained. “You know what? Sure. Why not. If Dawn_Zy really wants to duel Qin_master…” He tilted his head, gaze sharp. “…I’ll consider it.”

 

The stream chat detonated like a nuclear bomb.

 

Zayne? Zayne was currently dying.

 

“He—he noticed me,” Zayne whispered hoarsely. “He SMIRKED at me.”

 

Caleb slapped the table so hard their drinks rattled. “BRO, YOU’RE LIVING MY DREAM. THIS IS PEAK FANFICTION. THE RIVALRY ARC IS REAL.”

 

Zayne shook his head violently, curls bouncing. “No. No, this is bad. This is terrible. I’m gonna puke.”

 

But somewhere, beneath the panic and humiliation, a spark of something else lit up in Zayne’s chest.

 

Excitement.

 

Because Sylus Qin, national champion, golden boy, smug bastard extraordinaire… had noticed him. And he’d just opened the door to the duel of Zayne’s dreams.

 

Zayne groaned into his hands. “God, Caleb, what have you done to me?”

 

Caleb grinned, unrepentant. “I gave you content, bestie. You’re welcome.”

Chapter 4: Slide Into the DMs (and Off the Platform)

Notes:

So Zayne is secretly a pro gamer too, huh? (The author genuinely surprised!)

Zayne Li had many regrets in life.

 

Failing math in junior year. Buying an off-brand gaming mouse that double-clicked if you breathed near it. Accidentally liking Sylus Qin’s shirtless vacation photo from three years ago while doomscrolling at 3 a.m.

 

But none of those regrets compared to this moment: staring at the Twitter DM box addressed to @SylusQinOfficial with his thumb hovering over “send.”

 

Caleb was practically vibrating across the table, eyes wide, grin feral. “DO IT.”

 

“I can’t.” Zayne hissed, shoving his phone away like it might explode. “This is social suicide.”

 

“It’s literally a duel request, not a marriage proposal.”

 

“Same thing.”

 

Caleb smacked him upside the head. “Zayne. He already noticed you in his livestream. You’ve been whining about him for months. You have to do it.”

 

Zayne groaned dramatically, flopping face-first onto the café table. “Why are you enabling me? Why can’t you be a good friend and stop me from making terrible life decisions?”

 

“Because terrible life decisions make excellent entertainment,” Caleb said cheerfully.

 

Zayne peeked up with murder in his eyes.

 

Then, with all the grace of a man marching to his own execution, he grabbed his phone, typed furiously, and hit send before he could chicken out.

 

The message read:

 

@Zynecornium:

1v1 me in Stumble Guys. Unless you’re scared.

 

---

 

Sylus Qin was not a man who ignored his DMs.

 

He wasn’t arrogant—okay, fine, he was arrogant—but when you were a national eSports champion, you got used to filtering through thousands of messages.

 

Usually they were fanboys begging for shoutouts, brand sponsors offering free energy drinks, or the occasional creep asking for feet pics. (Xavier had once accidentally replied to one with a thumbs up. They didn’t talk about it.)

 

But when Sylus saw the name @Zynecornium pop up, his smirk was instantaneous.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” he murmured, lounging on his sofa as Rafayel flipped through channels.

 

“What is it this time?” Rafayel asked without looking up.

 

“Our little spammer finally slid into my DMs,” Sylus said, thumbs flying across the screen.

 

The message he sent back was immediate, smug, and absolutely unfair to Zayne’s blood pressure:

 

@SylusQinOfficial:

Name the time. Qin_master doesn’t back down.

 

---

 

One week later, the duel was live.

 

Sylus had announced it casually on Twitter like he wasn’t detonating a bomb in Zayne’s personal universe:

 

@SylusQinOfficial:

Streaming a little special 1v1 tonight with Dawn_Zy. Tune in.

 

The replies had been feral.

 

DAWN_ZY??? the spammer??? LMAOOOO

omg rivalry arc canon now

this is better than netflix

 

Now Zayne sat in his dimly lit bedroom, face pale, hands sweaty, Caleb perched beside him eating chips like it was the Super Bowl.

 

“I hate you. I hate myself. I hate this,” Zayne muttered, adjusting his headset for the tenth time.

 

“You’re living the dream, bestie,” Caleb said, spraying crumbs. “Do it for the content.”

 

Zayne would have strangled him if his stomach weren’t already doing parkour.

 

On Sylus’s livestream, the champion himself appeared flawless as ever, headset snug, smirk locked and loaded. His voice dripped through the speakers like smug honey.

 

“Welcome, everyone. As promised, tonight we’ve got a special guest. Dawn_Zy himself—yes, the Dawn_Zy—is here to duel me in Stumble Guys.”

 

The chat exploded.

 

DAWN_ZY HI BESTIE

omg the brave little toaster made it 😭

sylus don’t bully him too hard pls

 

Zayne muttered, “Brave little toaster? Who even—”

 

“Focus,” Caleb whispered, shaking him. “Channel your rage.”

 

The match began.

 

Twenty four players in a room, including Sylus Qin and Zayne Li, usernames glowing like fate itself: Qin_master vs. Dawn_Zy.

 

Round 1: Pivot Push.

 

“Alright,” Sylus said smoothly to the stream, “let’s see if Dawn_Zy can make it past round one.”

 

Zayne growled into his mic. “Watch me, Smuglord.”

 

“Oh?” Sylus chuckled, taunting. “Did you just talk back?”

 

Zayne froze.

 

He hadn’t realized his mic was on in the google meet with Sylus. Caleb slapped a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh.

 

“Cute,” Sylus purred. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

 

The round began. Chaos erupted.

 

Players shoved and flailed through spinning doors and pushing blocks.

 

Zayne sprinted like his life depended on it, cursing every time someone body-blocked him.

 

Behind him, Caleb yelled encouragement like an over caffeinated coach. “LEFT DOOR! NO, THE OTHER LEFT! JUMP, JUMP—DON’T FALL, YOU DUMBASS—”

 

“STOP YELLING,” Zayne shrieked, nearly missing a platform.

 

Sylus’s laughter echoed through the stream. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

 

Somehow, miraculously, both Sylus and Zayne made it into the top 12.

 

The chat went wild.

 

HE MADE IT??

DAWN_ZY LETS GOOOO

sylus don’t let him win round 2 omg

 

Zayne collapsed back in his chair, panting like he’d just run a marathon. Caleb patted his shoulder, eyes wide. “Dude. You did it. You actually made it.”

 

Sylus’s voice slid through the speakers, smooth and teasing. “Not bad, Dawn_Zy. I’m impressed.”

 

Zayne immediately bristled. “Don’t patronize me.”

 

“Oh, I’m not,” Sylus said, smirking into his webcam. “That was genuinely good. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

 

Zayne’s heart did a somersault. He coughed violently to cover it. “Shut up.”

 

Luckily, the camera is off or else Sylus might see his cherry-red face like he's about to have level 5 constipation.

 

Sylus only chuckled, low and knowing. “See, chat? He’s shy.”

 

The chat lost its mind.

 

shy rivals omg i ship it

DAWN_ZY BLUSHING CONFIRMED

sylus stop flirting you menace

 

Zayne turned scarlet, slamming his headset down for a second. “Caleb. Caleb, he’s flirting with me, right? He’s actually flirting—”

 

“Yes,” Caleb said, shoving chips into his mouth. “Now focus. Round two.”

 

Round two: Cannon Climb.

 

Cannons fired giant balls across the map as players scrambled up slippery platforms. One wrong move and you were out.

 

“Try not to fall, Dawn_Zy,” Sylus purred. “I’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.”

 

Zayne growled into his mic. “The only one embarrassing himself is you, Smirkzilla.”

 

“Oh, I like that,” Sylus laughed. “Smirkzilla. Cute.”

 

“STOP CALLING ME CUTE.”

 

Chat went nuclear.

 

HAHAHAH SMIRKZILLA 💀

sylus pls stop bullying him he’s fragile

DAWN_ZY DEFENDING HIS HONOR 😳

 

The game raged on, chaos everywhere. Zayne dodged cannonballs by pure luck, cursing under his breath. Sylus, infuriatingly calm, climbed with surgical precision.

 

Yet somehow—by sheer determination, adrenaline, and maybe divine pity—Zayne clawed his way to the top 6.

 

The chat screamed. Caleb screamed. Zayne screamed.

 

And Sylus? Sylus just smirked at his camera, voice velvet.

 

“Not bad, Dawn_Zy. You’re full of surprises.”

 

Zayne’s entire soul short-circuited.

 

“Shut UP,” he snapped, ears flaming, “and focus on the game!”

 

Sylus leaned closer to his mic, gaze dark, taunting. “Oh, trust me, I am.”

 

The round ended. Both advanced to the quarterfinals.

 

The duel was far from over.

 

But already, Sylus Qin had gotten what he wanted: Dawn_Zy’s attention.

Chapter 5: Fall Guys, Rise Chaos

Summary:

"You bastard! It's a real game!!"

Notes:

So, who's team are yalls siding with? #TeamZayne or #TeamSylus? Sylus is being a chicken, isn't he? STUMBLE GUYS IS A REAL GAME!! (I punch my classmates because I won and they said it's stupid)

The air in Zayne’s room felt heavy.

 

Not with sweat, not with gamer despair—though both were present—but with destiny.

 

This was it. The final round. The last map. The showdown of showdowns.

 

Across the screen, the neon letters blazed: Final Round: Honey Drop.

 

Platforms stacked like a giant honeycomb.

 

Layers upon layers, suspended over ominous purple lava. One false step, one mistimed jump, and you’d plummet to your doom.

 

Zayne cracked his knuckles, his breathing shallow. Caleb sat beside him, chewing popcorn like it was cinema.

 

“Okay,” Caleb whispered, voice reverent. “Listen to me, bestie. This is your anime protagonist moment. Your rivals-to-lovers arc begins here. Don’t choke.”

 

“I’m not choking,” Zayne hissed, though his voice cracked like a teenage choir boy.

 

“Sure you aren’t.” Caleb smirked.

 

Meanwhile, on Sylus’s livestream, the champion himself leaned casually into his camera, all smug grace and cheekbones.

 

“Final round, Dawn_Zy,” Sylus purred into his mic, voice dripping with challenge. “Let’s see if you can handle the pressure.”

 

Zayne growled. “Bring it on, Smirkzilla.”

 

The match began.

 

Thirty tiles. Six players.

 

Zayne sprinted across the honeycomb, his tiny in-game avatar wobbling with chaotic energy. He jumped tile to tile, heart pounding. Around him, players collided, fell, and vanished into the lava below.

 

Through his headset, Sylus’s voice stayed maddeningly calm. “Careful there, Dawn_Zy. One wrong move…”

 

“I don’t need your commentary!” Zayne barked, narrowly avoiding a gap.

 

“Oh, but you sound so cute when you’re panicking,” Sylus teased.

 

Caleb slapped the desk, howling. “HE CALLED YOU CUTE AGAIN. THIS IS A LOVE STORY.”

 

“Shut UP!” Zayne shouted, voice cracking.

 

The chat on Sylus’s stream was already on fire.

 

HE DIDN’T JUST CALL HIM CUTE AGAIN 😳

dawn_zy’s voice reveal omg??

rivals banter = foreplay confirmed

SOMEONE SCREEN RECORD THIS NOW

 

Zayne cursed under his breath, laser-focused. Players were dropping like flies. The honeycomb thinned. Tiles disappeared beneath his feet.

 

And then it was down to two.

 

Qin_master vs. Dawn_Zy.

 

The crowd—aka, ten thousand stream viewers—went feral.

 

Sylus chuckled lowly, his avatar hopping with precision. “It’s just you and me now.”

 

“Good,” Zayne shot back. “Means I can finally shut you up.”

 

“Oh?” Sylus’s smirk was audible. “Try.”

 

The duel was brutal.

 

Both players hopped, juked, cut each other off. Tiles vanished beneath them. The lava surged closer.

 

Zayne’s palms were slick. His heart hammered. He knew Sylus was technically better, faster, smarter—

 

Which is why he needed to be stupider.

 

Caleb leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Do the drop trick.”

 

Zayne hesitated. “But if I miss—”

 

“Trust me. Anime protagonist moment. DO IT.”

 

Zayne exhaled sharply. Then, without warning, he deliberately fell through a hole.

 

“Wait—what?!” Sylus barked into the mic.

 

Zayne landed two layers down, heart pounding, immediately carving a path in the honeycomb. Instead of running in circles like Sylus, he cut sharp lines, creating giant pits that yawned upward like a trap.

 

From above, Sylus’s avatar danced gracefully. “You think you can outlast me with that trick?” he taunted. “Cute.”

 

But then the cracks spread. The tiles thinned. And Sylus—so focused on his graceful hops—sprinted right over one of Zayne’s carved gaps.

 

His avatar plummeted.

 

The chat erupted.

 

NO WAY 😱

DAWN_ZY JUST OUTPLAYED QIN_MASTER

STREAM CLIP CLIP CLIP

history is being made rn

 

Sylus’s character tumbled into the purple lava, eliminated.

 

Zayne’s screen blared: VICTORY!

 

Zayne screamed so loud Caleb almost fell out of his chair. “I WON. I WON. OH MY GOD I WON.”

 

Caleb doubled over, cackling. “HOLY SHIT YOU DID IT. YOU BEAT SYLUS QIN. NATIONAL ESPORTS CHAMP. ABSOLUTE LEGEND. DETHRONED BY A CYBERCAFÉ GREMLIN.”

 

Zayne flailed, punching the air. “HE CALLED IT A FINAL ROUND, BUT IT’S MY FINAL FORM, BABY!”

 

Sylus, still live on camera, blinked once.

 

Then twice.

 

Then leaned back casually, smirk intact, and said smoothly:

 

“…It’s a stupid game anyway.”

 

Zayne froze. “WHAT?”

 

“Stumble Guys,” Sylus continued lazily. “Total RNG. Doesn’t count.”

 

“DOESN’T COUNT?!” Zayne’s mic nearly exploded from the sheer volume of his indignation. “I OUTPLAYED YOU. I OUT-SMARTED YOU. YOU FELL INTO MY HOLE.”

 

Caleb choked on laughter. “He did fall into your hole.”

 

“CALEB!”

 

(Do I need to remind you that the mic is still on?)

 

The chat was in hysterics.

 

‘you fell into my hole’ 💀💀💀

sylus pls never let this man live it down

dawn_zy you’re our hero

THIS IS THE BEST STREAM OF THE YEAR

 

On Sylus’s screen, the champion only tilted his head, smirk unfading. “If you want me to take it seriously, Dawn_Zy, maybe next time you should challenge me in a real game.”

 

Zayne’s jaw dropped. “A real game? This is a real game!”

 

Sylus chuckled darkly. “We’ll see.”

 

Zayne practically combusted. “Oh, it’s ON, Smirkzilla. I’ll duel you in any game. FPS, MOBA, Tetris, I don’t care. I’ll wipe that smug smirk right off your—”

 

The stream cut him off as Caleb slammed the mute button, wheezing with laughter.

 

“Dude,” Caleb gasped, tears streaming down his face. “You’re internet famous. Do you realize what you just did?!”

 

Zayne collapsed into his chair, panting, face flushed. “I hate him. I hate him so much.”

 

“You love him.”

 

“I HATE HIM.”

 

Caleb shoved more popcorn into his mouth. “Bestie, you’re cooked. Twitter’s already shipping you.”

 

And indeed, across the internet, the hashtag was already trending:

 

#DawnVsQin

Chapter 6: Qin_Master’s Fall From Grace (Kind Of)

Notes:

If Caleb is an enabler, Rafayel and Xavier is like those friends that smack the reality to your face

The penthouse living room was quiet. Too quiet.

 

Sylus sat back on the leather sectional, arms folded, a glass of sparkling water sweating on the table in front of him. The city lights of the skyline glittered through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, neon and endless.

 

Behind him, the door clicked open. Rafayel strolled in first, his hoodie half-unzipped, carrying two bags of takeout. Xavier followed, looking smug before he’d even said a word.

 

“Don’t,” Sylus warned immediately, eyes narrowed.

 

Xavier collapsed into an armchair and grinned like the devil. “You did not just lose to a nobody in Stumble Guys.”

 

Rafayel cackled, dropping the takeout onto the counter. “Bro, it’s Stumble Guys. The party game of ten-year-olds. You—Mr. National TV, Mr. Qin_Master, Mr. Golden Boy of eSports—lost to some random gamer gremlin. On livestream. With twenty thousand viewers. Iconic.”

 

Sylus’s jaw tightened. He adjusted his posture, exuding the calm elegance he was famous for. “It’s not a real game.”

 

“Oh, here we go.” Xavier rolled his eyes. “Classic coping. ‘Not a real game.’ Tell that to the memes, bro.”

 

Rafayel had already whipped out his phone, scrolling gleefully. “Hashtag DawnVsQin is trending worldwide. There are gifs of you falling through his trap hole. People are editing it with sad violin music. Look—this one’s my favorite. They slowed it down so your avatar screams for ten full seconds before hitting the lava.”

 

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am surrounded by idiots.”

 

“Idiots who didn’t lose to a guy named Dawn_Zy,” Xavier sing-songed.

 

“That name’s so edgy it hurts,” Rafayel added. “Like, what is he? The dawn of what? Zy what? Zy…nergy drinks?”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sylus muttered. “He’s irrelevant. A no-face, no-camera, cybercafé scrub. It was RNG.”

 

Xavier leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grin sharp. “Yet, this ‘irrelevant scrub’ made you mad enough to bring him up first thing when we walked in.”

 

Sylus froze. He had, in fact, been thinking about that voice.

 

That cocky-yet-shaky tone when Zayne—no, Dawn_Zy—told him to shut up. The way he’d dropped two layers just to pull a ridiculous trick. And the way his voice had cracked when he screamed “YOU FELL INTO MY HOLE.”

 

Sylus had replayed it in his head. More times than he’d admit.

 

“I’m not mad,” Sylus said coolly.

 

“You’re furious,” Rafayel corrected.

 

“You’re obsessed,” Xavier piled on.

 

Sylus exhaled through his nose, reaching for his water. “It was one match. In a joke game. Nothing more.”

 

“Sure,” Rafayel said, snickering. “That’s why you’ve been sulking in the dark like a rejected Final Fantasy villain.”

 

Sylus’s eye twitched. “I don’t sulk.”

 

“You sulk beautifully,” Xavier said solemnly. “Like, if sulking was an Olympic sport, you’d get gold. Actually, you’d get sponsored.”

 

Rafayel snorted so hard he nearly dropped his chopsticks.

 

Sylus inhaled, held it, then let out a practiced sigh, the kind reserved for interviews. “You’re both children.”

 

“And yet,” Xavier said smoothly, “one of those children has an idea.”

 

Sylus raised a brow. “Enlighten me.”

 

“Simple.” Xavier leaned back, casual as ever. “Do another livestream. But this time, in a game that actually matters.”

 

Rafayel perked up. “Like?”

 

“PUBG,” Xavier said immediately. “Your arena. Tactical, skill-based, survival of the fittest. No RNG tiles, no cartoon avatars. Just guns, guts, and glory.”

 

Sylus tilted his head, considering. “PUBG…”

 

“Yes,” Xavier pressed. “You challenge him. Again. Publicly. Everyone tunes in. This time, you crush him. No excuses. No ‘it’s a stupid game.’ Just the cold, hard truth: Qin_Master reigns supreme.”

 

Rafayel clapped like an excited child. “YES. Humiliation sequel. Season two of DawnVsQin. I’ll bring popcorn.”

 

Sylus drummed his fingers on the glass, eyes distant. The idea had merit.

 

In PUBG, he wouldn’t just win—he’d dominate.

 

Precision aim. Perfect rotations.

 

He’d dismantle Dawn_Zy piece by piece, until the world remembered the hierarchy: Qin_Master at the top, everyone else beneath.

 

And yet—

 

The faint echo of Zayne’s laughter rang in his ears.

 

That crack in his voice when he yelled through the mic. The raw audacity of carving holes in honeycomb tiles just to make him fall.

 

Sylus’s lips twitched, almost against his will.

 

“He thinks he’s clever,” Sylus murmured.

 

“He was clever,” Rafayel corrected gleefully.

 

Sylus ignored him. He leaned forward, eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Fine. I’ll do it. Another livestream. PUBG.”

 

Xavier smirked. “Now that’s the Sylus I know.”

 

Rafayel whooped. “YES. DESTROY HIM.”

 

Sylus swirled his water glass, voice low, almost amused. “Dawn_Zy thinks he embarrassed me. He doesn’t realize he just signed up for his own funeral.”

 

The other two burst out laughing.

 

“God, you sound like a Bond villain,” Rafayel wheezed. “I love it.”

 

Xavier raised his glass in a mock toast. “To the rematch of the century. May your pride survive this time.”

 

Sylus clinked his glass against Xavier’s, eyes still glittering. “It will. Because this time, luck won’t save him.”

 

In the silence that followed, the city’s lights burned brighter, as if the whole world was already waiting for the next round.

 

And deep down, though he’d never admit it, Sylus couldn’t wait to hear that voice again.

Chapter 7: Winner, Winner, Who’s Laughing Now?

Summary:

Rematch went wrong (ABSOLUTELY WRONG)

Notes:

I'm laughing while writing this chapter, it's funnier in my head

Zayne wasn’t expecting it.

 

One moment, he was doomscrolling on his couch, eating instant noodles and debating whether “Zynecornium” sounded like a cool mineral or a rejected Pokémon. The next—

 

Ping.

 

A notification.

 

He blinked at his phone. The blue checkmark glared back at him.

 

@SylusQinOfficial has sent you a message.

 

Zayne froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. The noodles dripped sadly back into the cup.

 

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no, no.”

 

Across the room, Caleb looked up from his phone. “What?”

 

Zayne flipped the screen around with trembling hands.

 

Caleb squinted, then gasped so dramatically he could’ve won an Oscar. “HOLY—”

 

“Shh!” Zayne hissed, clutching the phone like it was a nuclear bomb. “Don’t summon the demon!”

 

But the demon had already arrived.

 

The message read:

SylusQinOfficial: One game. PUBG. 1v1. You in?

 

Zayne’s soul left his body. His life flashed before his eyes: childhood, cybercafé afternoons, that time he tripped over his shoelaces in front of his crush, and now—death by DM.

 

“I can’t,” Zayne muttered, tossing the phone onto the couch like it was cursed. “Nope. Out. Goodbye. Dawn_Zy is officially retired. I’m moving to the mountains.”

 

Caleb, of course, picked it up immediately. “Bro. He CHALLENGED you. This is history. You can’t just ignore Sylus Qin.”

 

“Yes I can!”

 

“No you can’t!”

 

“Yes I—”

 

Ping. Another message.

 

SylusQinOfficial: Don’t tell me you’re scared.

 

Zayne made a noise that could only be described as a strangled walrus. “HE’S TAUNTING ME.”

 

Caleb cackled. “Oh my god, this is beautiful. He’s living rent-free in your head, and you’re living rent-free in his. Power couple behavior.”

 

“This is not romantic!” Zayne shouted.

 

“Sure,” Caleb said, smirking.

 

Zayne snatched the phone back, thumbs shaking as he typed furiously.

 

Zynecornium: Fine. But when you lose, don’t cry about it.

 

He hit send, immediately regretted everything, and threw the phone across the couch again.

 

Caleb whistled. “Ballsy. I like it.”

 

“I’m going to puke.”

 

---

 

The livestream went live that Friday night.

 

Viewers poured in by the thousands. The chat scrolled so fast it was unreadable, hashtags flooding in: #DawnVsQin2, #WinnerWinnerWar, #WhoIsDawn_Zy.

 

Sylus sat in his sleek gaming chair, hair perfectly styled, neon lights glowing behind him. His voice was smooth as he addressed the crowd.

 

“Last time was a fluke,” he said. “Tonight, you’ll see the truth. One on one. PUBG. Just me… and Dawn_Zy.”

 

The audience exploded in emojis and chants.

 

Meanwhile, in a much less glamorous setting, Zayne hunched over his beat-up laptop. His mic worked.

 

His webcam did not (thank god).

 

The world would hear his voice, but not see the sleep-deprived goblin behind it.

 

“Okay,” Zayne muttered to himself, bouncing his leg under the desk. “Just… don’t die in the first two minutes. That’s all. That’s the bar.”

 

“Speak up,” Caleb shouted from the couch, popcorn in hand. “They need to hear your sexy battle cry!”

 

Zayne flipped him off.

 

---

 

The match began.

 

The plane soared across the map. Sylus’s voice crackled through the stream, confident and calm. “Where do you want to drop, Dawn_Zy?”

 

“Your funeral,” Zayne shot back without thinking.

 

The chat went wild.

 

Sylus chuckled, low and infuriating. “Cute.”

 

They parachuted down. Looted buildings. The silence stretched between gunshots and footsteps. Viewers held their breath.

 

Then—Zayne spotted him. Sylus, crouched behind a wall.

 

Zayne’s heart pounded. He squeezed the trigger. Bullets whizzed. Sylus fired back, precise, deadly.

 

“Not bad,” Sylus drawled as his health bar dipped. “But not enough.”

 

“Shut up and die already!” Zayne yelled, spraying wildly.

 

The fight raged across rooftops, through windows, into open fields. Sylus played smart—rotations, peeks, perfect aim.

 

But Zayne played chaotic.

 

He zigzagged like a caffeinated squirrel, threw grenades just to confuse him, and once yelled “FOR NARNIA” before charging.

 

The chat was losing its mind.

 

Finally, after an intense standoff near the final circle, Sylus’s armor broke. Zayne lobbed a grenade, forcing him out. Gunfire erupted. Health bars plummeted.

 

And then—

 

VICTORY. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.

 

Zayne screamed. “YESSSSSS!”

 

Caleb leapt off the couch, spilling popcorn everywhere. “DAWN_ZY SUPREMACY!”

 

Onstream, Sylus sat back, expression unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t speak. The silence stretched.

 

Then, cool as ever, he muttered: “It’s a stupid game anyway.”

 

Zayne nearly fell out of his chair. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

 

The chat exploded in laughter. #StupidGame was instantly trending.

 

“TAKE THE L LIKE A MAN!” Zayne shouted into his mic, voice cracking.

 

Caleb was on the floor, wheezing with laughter.

 

Sylus smirked faintly at the camera, his voice smooth as silk. “Don’t get used to it, Dawn_Zy.”

 

But the damage was done. Twitter was already ablaze:

 

Legendary Dawn_Zy takes down Sylus Qin AGAIN.

 

And even though his hands were shaking and his mic quality made him sound like a gremlin, Zayne leaned back in his chair, grinning like an idiot.

 

“Winner, winner,” he whispered proudly, “chicken dinner.”

 

His voice was the only thing the world knew.

 

No face, no identity.

 

Just Dawn_Zy.

 

The mystery gamer who humbled a king.

 

And for once, Zayne was okay with that.

Chapter 8: Soda, Salt, and Sulking

Sylus Qin did not lose.

 

Not in scrims, not in tournaments, not in televised finals with millions watching.

 

His entire brand, his reputation, his existence revolved around the fact that he won.

 

Always.

 

And yet.

 

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Rafayel sing-songed for the tenth time that evening, sprawled across the penthouse couch like he owned the place. “Or should I say… loser, loser, soda dinner?”

 

Xavier snorted into his drink. “You’ve gotta admit, Raf, watching him lose twice to the same mystery goblin is the highlight of my year.”

 

“I’m not a goblin,” Sylus muttered darkly.

 

“You don’t know that,” Xavier shot back. “None of us know who Dawn_Zy is. For all you know, he could literally be a gremlin typing on a trackpad in his mom’s basement.”

 

Rafayel wheezed. “Imagine losing to a trackpad goblin.”

 

Sylus closed his eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Stay calm. Be professional.

 

“Shut up,” he said flatly.

 

“Shut up, he says,” Rafayel echoed in a fake deep voice. “As if that erases the fact that he got grenaded into oblivion by a guy whose mic sounded like it was recorded on a potato.”

 

Xavier leaned over with a grin sharp enough to cut glass. “Hey Sylus. What’s worse? Losing in Stumble Guys or PUBG?”

 

Sylus snapped. “I don’t know, Xavier. What’s worse? Being my teammate and still managing to whiff your shots last scrim?”

 

“Oooh,” Rafayel said, clutching his chest. “Deflecting. Classic coping mechanism.”

 

“Textbook,” Xavier agreed.

 

“I hate both of you,” Sylus muttered, standing abruptly. He grabbed his jacket from the armrest and stalked toward the door.

 

“Where are you going?” Rafayel called after him.

 

“Out.”

 

“Out where?”

 

“Convenience store.”

 

Rafayel gasped theatrically. “Oh my god. He’s rage-quitting real life.”

 

Xavier shouted, “Bring me chips!” just before the door slammed.

 

---

 

The night air hit Sylus like a reset button.

 

Cool, crisp, humming with city noise.

 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked down the street, jaw tight. Neon signs flickered overhead, cars honked in the distance, and a group of teenagers shouted over bubble tea across the corner.

 

He ignored them all, homing in on the glowing beacon of the 24/7 convenience store.

 

Inside, the fluorescent lights were blinding. The air smelled faintly of instant ramen and floor cleaner. A tired cashier barely glanced at him as he headed for the fridge.

 

Sylus grabbed a soda, cracked it open right there, and took a long, sharp gulp.

 

The carbonation burned down his throat. So did his pride.

 

“Dawn_Zy,” he muttered under his breath. The name felt like acid on his tongue. “Who the hell are you?”

 

He leaned against the fridge door, sipping, glaring at the rows of canned drinks like they had answers.

 

It didn’t make sense.

 

He knew every pro, every streamer, every up-and-coming player worth a damn. None of them went by Dawn_Zy.

 

The ID wasn’t on any leaderboard. It wasn’t on the radar at all.

 

A ghost. A nobody. Yet twice now, the bastard had embarrassed him in front of the world.

 

Sylus rubbed a hand over his face. “This is insane. I’m losing sleep over a random.”

 

He took another gulp of soda, scowling at his reflection in the glass. He looked perfectly normal. Perfect hair, perfect posture, perfect everything. A man who shouldn’t be rattled.

 

And yet here he was, in a convenience store at midnight, swearing at carbonated water.

 

Sylus pulled out his phone, scrolling irritably through Twitter. His mentions were a battlefield.

 

@fanboy77: Dawn_Zy supremacy!! 🐓🔥

@eSportsNation:The King dethroned again 👑➡️🐔

@SylusQinlovers:[screenshot of him losing] This you?

 

He locked the phone with a disgusted noise. “Clowns. All of them.”

 

But deeper than the noise and memes, one thought gnawed at him: who is Dawn_Zy really?

 

Was he local? International? A hidden smurf account from another pro? Some genius kid?

 

Sylus had already started blacklisting anyone with “Dawn” in their ID. DawnBreaker92? Banned. DawnSlayer? Nope. DawnLover69? Deleted.

 

None of them were him.

 

Sylus swore under his breath. “Why do I even care?”

 

Because it wasn’t just about the loss.

 

It was the voice.

 

That cocky, desperate, unpolished voice that cracked mid-yell. The way Dawn_Zy laughed when Sylus fell, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

 

Sylus tipped his head back, groaning quietly. “I’m being haunted by a microphone gremlin.”

 

The cashier side-eyed him, unimpressed.

 

Sylus straightened, cleared his throat, and marched to the counter. “Two more of these,” he muttered, slapping down sodas.

 

The cashier scanned them slowly. “Bad day?”

 

Sylus stared. He considered explaining.

 

Then he imagined trying to say I lost to a mystery gamer in Stumble Guys and PUBG and now I’m spiraling, and decided death was preferable.

 

“Something like that,” he said instead.

 

The cashier handed him the bag. Sylus nodded once and walked back to the seating area near the window—two plastic tables, a vending machine humming faintly, and the neon glow of the city outside.

 

He sat down. Alone. Cracked another can.

 

The soda fizzed, loud in the silence. He leaned his forehead against his palm, the cool condensation dripping onto his skin.

 

For once, there were no cameras, no teammates, no cheering fans.

 

Just Sylus Qin, national champion, sulking in a convenience store at midnight with three cans of soda and a gnawing thought he couldn’t shake.

 

“Who the hell are you, Dawn_Zy?” he muttered again.

 

The fridge hummed back at him.

 

And for the first time in years, Sylus felt less like a king, and more like a man sitting on a plastic chair, waiting for answers that refused to come.

Chapter 9: Slushie of Destiny

Notes:

If I were Zayne, I would just SURPRISE SHAWTY! I'M DAWN_ZY! THE MF THAT BEAT YO ASS IN STUMBLE GUYS AND PUBG!

If Zayne Li had a medal for every time he’d embarrassed himself in front of Caleb Xia, he would have a shelf heavier than Sylus Qin’s trophy cabinet.

 

And tonight, that imaginary shelf got another addition.

 

“Dude, I’m telling you,” Caleb wheezed, scrolling through Twitter. “You’re trending again. Look!” He shoved the phone under Zayne’s nose.

 

The tag #DawnZyChickenDinner was glowing at the top of the feed. Someone had already made a fan edit of Zayne’s voice yelling “GET WRECKED!” over slow-motion clips of Sylus exploding in PUBG.

 

Zayne almost choked on his cola. “No way.”

 

“Yes way. People think you’re some mysterious gaming god. A legend. An enigma.” Caleb slapped his knee. “If only they knew the truth—that the great Dawn_Zy is my unemployed best friend who spilled curry on his pants last week.”

 

Zayne groaned, burying his face in his arms. “Don’t remind me.”

 

“Hey,” Caleb said brightly, “since you’re a legend now, why don’t you celebrate? Treat yourself. Go grab one of those slushies you love from the convenience store. My treat. Consider it your victory drink.”

 

Zayne perked up immediately. Fruity slushie. Cold, sweet, neon-colored happiness in a cup. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

 

“I literally just said that.”

 

Zayne grabbed his jacket, still buzzing with victory adrenaline. He was a mystery legend, damn it. He deserved a slushie.

 

---

 

The convenience store’s fluorescent lights welcomed him like an old friend. The hum of the fridge was oddly soothing. Zayne made a beeline for the slushie machine, heart set on that artificial blue raspberry goodness.

 

He filled the cup to the brim, carefully, like he was holding the holy grail itself. A reward well earned.

 

He turned—

 

—and slammed straight into someone’s chest.

 

The cup jolted. The straw popped out. A glorious wave of neon-blue slushie cascaded across a very expensive-looking white shirt.

 

Zayne froze.

 

The stranger froze.

 

The universe, for one dramatic heartbeat, also froze.

 

Then the stranger looked down at his shirt, slowly, like a man processing the stages of grief in real time.

 

Zayne looked up.

 

Straight into the stormy, very-much-recognizable face of Sylus Qin.

 

Sylus. Qin.

 

The Sylus Qin.

 

World champion. National treasure. Twitter verified. Qin_master. The smug bastard Zayne had just annihilated online.

 

Zayne’s brain short-circuited. His mouth did not get the memo.

 

“OhmygodI’msosorryI’lldieI’msososorrypleasekillme,” he babbled, clutching the empty slushie cup like it might defend him.

 

Sylus looked up from his ruined shirt, jaw tight. “Seriously?” His voice was low, annoyed, every syllable sharp enough to cut Zayne in half.

 

Zayne squeaked. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

 

“Do you people have radar for me?” Sylus snapped, glaring down at him. “Is there some curse where every idiot in this city finds me at my worst moments?”

 

Oh no. He was in that mood.

 

Zayne had seen that exact expression on live streams, right before Sylus tore apart an opponent.

 

“I said I’m sorry!” Zayne blurted. “It was an accident!”

 

“Accident?” Sylus gestured at his chest, now a mess of sticky blue stains. “You’ve turned me into a blueberry popsicle!”

 

Zayne winced. “…technically more like raspberry.”

 

Sylus’s glare could have incinerated him on the spot.

 

Zayne’s brain, unhelpful as ever, whispered: wow, even pissed off he’s hot.

 

He immediately wanted to punch himself.

 

“I’ll pay for the cleaning!” Zayne stammered. “Or—or buy you a new shirt! Or—I don’t know—throw myself into the freezer over there!”

 

The cashier, who had seen everything, was openly watching like it was a soap opera.

 

Sylus dragged a hand down his face, muttering, “Unbelievable. First I get humiliated by some random in PUBG, now this.”

 

Zayne’s stomach dropped. Some random in PUBG. He was talking about Dawn_Zy. About him.

 

The urge to scream SURPRISE, IT’S ME itched at Zayne’s tongue. But self-preservation kicked in. If Sylus ever connected the dots, Zayne’s life expectancy would drop to zero.

 

So instead, Zayne straightened, trying very hard to look like a clueless stranger. “W-well, hey, maybe that random is just really talented!”

 

Sylus snapped his head up. “Talented? Please. He got lucky.”

 

Zayne’s jaw dropped. “Lucky?!” He forgot himself instantly, pointing the straw at Sylus like a weapon. “He won fair and square!”

 

Sylus narrowed his eyes. “What, are you his fanboy or something?”

 

“Yes!” Zayne blurted, then instantly regretted it. “I mean—no! I mean—I respect good gameplay!”

 

Sylus scoffed. “Gameplay. Right. If you call hiding in a bush and chucking grenades gameplay.”

 

Zayne flushed red. “It’s called strategy, you overpaid keyboard gremlin!”

 

The cashier audibly snorted.

 

Sylus looked seconds away from snapping, but instead he let out a long, dramatic sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Whatever. Just—stay out of my way.”

 

He grabbed his sodas from the counter and stalked back to the little table near the window, plopping down with all the dignity of a sulking emperor in exile.

 

Zayne stood frozen in the middle of the store, heart pounding, slushie cup still dripping in his hands.

 

He had just argued with Sylus Qin. The Sylus Qin. In person.

 

And survived.

 

He staggered over to the machine, got himself another slushie, and practically floated out of the store. Caleb would never believe this.

 

Meanwhile, Sylus sat at the table, blue stain spreading across his shirt, glaring into the abyss.

 

“First that damn Dawn_Zy,” he muttered under his breath, “now a clumsy fanboy with no sense of personal space. What is wrong with this city?”

 

The cashier, wiping tears of laughter, called after him, “Want some napkins, Blueberry?”

 

Sylus scowled so hard the slushie machine rattled.

Chapter 10: Spin Cycle of Doom

Notes:

Just Zayne reserving a spot for his funeral *facepalming *2ndhand embarrassment

Zayne Li was halfway down the block before his survival instincts clashed violently with his brain.

 

Wait. You just spilled a fruity slushie on Sylus freaking Qin. And walked away?

 

No. No way.

 

Opportunities like this didn’t just happen. This was fate. Destiny. The universe handing him a golden ticket with extra sprinkles.

 

Before he could chicken out, he spun on his heel and marched back into the convenience store.

 

Sylus was still there, sulking at the table like an exiled prince, his white shirt now an abstract blue mess. He glanced up, eyebrow arched.

 

“You again,” Sylus said flatly.

 

“Y-yeah.” Zayne swallowed hard. “Listen, I—I’ll fix this. Let me wash your shirt.”

 

Sylus blinked, clearly not expecting that. “…What?”

 

“There’s a 24-hour laundromat around the corner,” Zayne babbled. “I’ll pay. You can, uh, wear a jacket in the meantime.”

 

The cashier, who was still eavesdropping with way too much glee, snorted. “Sounds romantic.”

 

Zayne nearly died on the spot.

 

Sylus, however, sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “…Fine.”

 

---

 

Ten minutes later, Zayne was hunched over a washing machine at the laundromat, Sylus’s shirt tumbling inside. Sylus sat nearby, now wearing a sleek black jacket that somehow made him look even more annoyingly perfect.

 

Zayne tried not to stare. He failed spectacularly.

 

Because Sylus had unzipped the jacket halfway, revealing just enough collarbone and chest to send Zayne’s brain into a full-blown meltdown.

 

So, naturally, he opened his game to distract himself. Fingers clumsy on the phone, he queued up a quick round.

 

“You’re strafing wrong,” Sylus’s voice cut in after thirty seconds.

 

Zayne nearly dropped his phone. “W-what?”

 

“You’re overcompensating left. Look.” Sylus leaned closer, pointing at the screen, their shoulders brushing. “Move with shorter taps. Saves stamina.”

 

Zayne’s face burned. He didn’t hear a single word. He was too busy cataloging every detail—the warmth of Sylus’s shoulder, the curve of his smirk, the faint smell of cologne under detergent.

 

“Eyes up here,” Sylus said suddenly, catching him dead in the act.

 

Zayne yelped and nearly flung his phone into the dryer. “I—I wasn’t—!”

 

Sylus smirked wider, clearly enjoying his suffering. “Sure.”

 

Zayne wanted to crawl into the washing machine and hit permanent press on himself.

 

---

 

The minutes crawled by.

 

The machine buzzed, signaling the wash was done. Zayne scrambled to pull out the damp shirt and shove it into the dryer, desperate for an excuse not to keep embarrassing himself.

 

Sylus leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his phone casually. Until he froze.

 

Slowly, deliberately, he turned to look at the screen of Zayne's phone.

 

On it was a Twitter notification. A flood of comments tagged with @Zynecornium.

 

Sylus’s gaze lifted, sharp as a blade. “…You.”

 

Zayne’s soul left his body. “M-me?”

 

“You’re @Zynecornium.” His tone was flat, dangerous. “The one spamming my livestream. The one who challenged me. The one who—” His eyes narrowed. “—the one who beat me.”

 

Zayne’s entire nervous system screamed RUN.

 

“I—uh—” he stammered, dropping the dryer door with a clang. “Laundry’s done, haha, what a coincidence, gotta go, BYE.”

 

And before Sylus could stand, Zayne bolted. Out of the laundromat, down the block, sprinting like his ass was on fire.

 

Behind him, Sylus’s voice echoed: “You can’t hide forever, Dawn_Zy!”

 

Inside, Sylus stood fuming, jacket still half-open, shirt still spinning in the dryer.

 

The cashier from the convenience store had wandered in for snacks and paused at the doorway. “…So, uh. First the slushie, now laundry dates? You two moving fast.”

 

Sylus groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “This city is cursed.”

Chapter 11: Critical Hit

Summary:

He said what?

Notes:

Oh, I hate a pro player that thinks they're way better than everyone 🙄

There were three kinds of pain in the world:

 

1. Accidentally biting your tongue.

2. Stepping on a Lego barefoot.

3. Watching Sylus Qin speak.

 

Zayne knew this. He’d built his whole personality around mocking Sylus on national TV. It was practically his cardio.

 

But tonight… tonight was different.

 

He and Caleb were sprawled on the couch in their usual cybercafé hangout zone, bags of chips littering the table, watching Sylus’s latest championship match on the giant TV.

 

As usual, Sylus played like the laws of physics bent in his favor. As usual, he moved with that infuriating calm confidence, every shot clean, every dodge precise, like a cat toying with mice.

 

The crowd screamed. The casters lost their voices. And Sylus—of course—won. Again.

 

“Surprise, surprise,” Caleb muttered around a mouthful of chips. “Another W for Qin_master.”

 

Zayne forced a laugh, but his chest was tight. He knew what was coming: the post-match interview.

 

The smug smirk. The wink. The “I was born for this” attitude that made Zayne want to throw his shoe at the screen.

 

Sure enough, Sylus sat down with the host, perfectly poised, perfectly smug.

 

“So, Sylus,” the host said brightly, “another flawless performance. Fans are dying to know—what’s your advice to aspiring players who want to reach your level?”

 

Sylus tilted his head, thoughtful. The cameras zoomed in.

 

And then he said it.

 

“If you’re a noob, don’t waste your time. Go play something easier. Leave the real games to us.”

 

The audience roared with laughter. The casters chuckled. Even Caleb barked out a surprised laugh.

 

But Zayne?

 

Zayne felt like someone had sucker-punched him straight in the gut.

 

He sat frozen, staring at the screen, Sylus’s words echoing in his head. Go play something easier. Leave the real games to us.

 

His fingers clenched into fists. His throat burned.

 

He wasn’t a noob. He wasn’t. He’d beaten Sylus. Twice. Sure, in games Sylus didn’t take seriously, but still. He’d outsmarted him. He’d fought tooth and nail.

 

But in that single, careless sentence, Sylus had stomped on every ounce of pride Zayne had clawed together.

 

“Damn,” Caleb whistled. “Cold.”

 

Zayne swallowed hard, trying to laugh it off. “Y-yeah. Classic Sylus. What a jerk, huh?” His voice cracked.

 

Caleb shot him a look, but before he could say anything, the TV showed Sylus leaning back in his chair, smirk widening.

 

“Gaming isn’t charity,” Sylus added. “It’s survival of the fittest. If you can’t keep up, don’t drag everyone else down.”

 

The crowd cheered.

 

Zayne felt his chest cave in.

 

He wanted to yell at the screen, throw something, storm out. Instead, he just sat there, jaw tight, nails digging into his palms.

 

Because the worst part?

 

He believed him.

 

---

 

Later, in his room, Zayne lay face-down on his bed, the glow of his laptop screen reflecting off the posters still pinned to his wall—old Sylus promos he’d never bothered to take down.

 

He glared at them now, tears prickling in his eyes.

 

“You smug bastard,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I hate you.”

 

The posters, naturally, did not reply.

 

His phone buzzed. Caleb, sending memes. Probably trying to cheer him up.

 

Zayne ignored it.

 

Instead, he opened his game launcher, staring at his username: Dawn_Zy.

 

He hovered over the “delete account” button for a long, shaky second.

 

Then he clenched his jaw, slammed the laptop shut, and muttered into the dark:

 

“I’ll show you who’s a noob.”

 

The words tasted bitter, but underneath the bitterness was something sharper. Hotter.

 

Rage.

 

Because if Sylus wanted to gatekeep the whole damn gaming world, then fine. Zayne would burn the gate down.

 

One respawn at a time.

Chapter 12: Sleepless Grind

Summary:

Ohh?? Zayne for once used his brain for something?

Notes:

Zayne is me grinding diamonds at 3am because his myth is around the corner *crying in f2p

The clock on Zayne Li’s nightstand read 3:47 a.m.

 

Not that he noticed.

 

His bloodshot eyes were glued to his phone screen, fingers flying across the controls of Mobile Legends. His avatar blinked back into existence for the fifteenth time in two hours.

 

Respawn in 3…2…1…

 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go—” Zayne muttered, throwing himself back into the lane. His thumb slipped, his character promptly ran face-first into a turret, and he died again.

 

He screamed into his pillow.

 

“WHY DOES THIS GAME HATE ME?”

 

Somewhere in the apartment, Caleb groaned. “Bro, the neighbors are gonna call the cops again.”

 

Zayne ignored him. He was on a mission. A mission born of pettiness, rage, and neon-blue slushie trauma.

 

He was going to reach the same rank as Sylus Qin if it killed him.

 

Every time his character fell, he imagined Sylus’s smug voice in his head: If you’re a noob, go play something else.

 

And every time, Zayne growled back: “Shut UP, Qin_master, you smug joystick demon!”

 

By sunrise, he looked like death warmed over. Hair sticking out in ten directions, dark circles under his eyes, thumbs cramped into claws. But his rank?

 

One step closer.

 

He collapsed face-first onto the table in the cybercafé later that day, moaning into the wood.

 

Caleb raised an eyebrow over his iced coffee. “You look like a corpse that just got evicted from hell.”

 

“Thank you,” Zayne said weakly.

 

Caleb nudged him. “So. Big question. Are you going to the championship finals tomorrow or nah?”

 

Zayne groaned louder. “I bought the tickets before I knew Sylus was the CEO of Smug, Caleb. Before he declared war on noobs everywhere. Before he—” He sat up, eyes wide. “Before he hated me.”

 

Caleb blinked. “Hated you?”

 

Zayne jabbed a finger at himself. “HELLO? Dawn_Zy? Ringing any bells? He already hates me the moment he found out I was the one who beat him. And then—” Zayne’s voice cracked, “oh, he thinks he’s the best? Saying all of that on live TV?!”

 

Caleb sipped his coffee calmly. “So what I’m hearing is: you’re scared.”

 

“I am NOT scared,” Zayne snapped. “I’m—strategically avoiding public humiliation.”

 

“Which is code for scared.”

 

Zayne flopped back onto the table, burying his face in his arms. “I just… I used to idolize him, you know? Posters on the wall, notifications on for every stream, the whole embarrassing package. And now?” He let out a hollow laugh. “Now he’s just…different. Fame changed him. Or maybe he was always like this, and I was too starry-eyed to notice.”

 

For once, Caleb didn’t tease him. He just leaned back, thoughtful.

 

“So. You’re saying you hate him now.”

 

Zayne peeked up, lips pressed together. “I want to.”

 

“But you don’t.”

 

Zayne slammed his head back onto the table.

 

Because Caleb was right.

 

Zayne couldn’t shake the memory of Sylus leaning close in the laundromat, pointing at his screen, voice low and steady: shorter taps, saves stamina. He couldn’t unhear the casual, amused, Eyes up here.

 

He hated him. He idolized him. He wanted to yeet him into the sun and also maybe frame his autograph.

 

It was exhausting.

 

Caleb reached over, flicking his forehead. “Go to the finals. If nothing else, you’ll get closure. Or popcorn. Or both.”

 

Zayne rubbed his forehead, sulking.

 

Closure sounded nice. Popcorn sounded nicer.

 

But then—an idea. A wicked, deliciously petty idea that sparked in his tired brain like a firecracker.

 

If Sylus wanted to sit on his shiny throne, untouched and unchallenged, then fine. Zayne would be the one to knock him off. Not just in a game. Not just online.

 

For real.

 

He leaned back, a slow grin spreading across his face.

 

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Oh no. I know that look. That’s your ‘I just thought of something stupid’ face.”

 

“It’s not stupid,” Zayne said, eyes glinting. “It’s genius.”

 

“Uh-huh. Care to share with the class?”

 

Zayne smirked. “Not yet. It’s a secret.”

 

Caleb groaned, throwing a chip at him. “Every time you say that, I end up regretting my life choices.”

 

Zayne caught the chip and ate it in one bite. “Don’t worry. This time, it’s going to be legendary.”

 

And as the finals loomed closer, Zayne’s exhaustion was replaced with something far more dangerous.

 

Determination.

Chapter 13: Crime of Passion (and Stupidity)

Notes:

Barney is cute. I love that big purple dinosaur and once dreamt of having dinosaur babies with him ✌️

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Please.”

 

“No.”

 

“Pleeease.”

 

“Zayne, I said no.”

 

Zayne Li flopped across Caleb Xia’s beanbag chair like a dying seal, clutching his phone to his chest. His eyes were wild, fever-bright, the eyes of a man possessed.

 

Caleb, meanwhile, looked about ready to grab holy water. “I’m not hacking Sylus Qin’s account. Are you insane? That’s not just, like, breaking some game rules. That’s actual illegal. Like, federal prison illegal. You ever heard of that, Zayne? Prison?”

 

Zayne sat up dramatically, hair falling in his face. “He deserves it. He—he insulted noobs everywhere! He insulted me. And now? Now he’s going to learn what it feels like to be humbled.”

 

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. “You want me to cyber-bully a national esports champion. Do you hear yourself?”

 

“Yes,” Zayne said firmly. “Loud and clear. Look, you’re the only one who can help me. You’re the genius who pirated every single game in high school. Remember that Steam library of yours? Six hundred titles, all for free? You’re basically Robin Hood.”

 

“I was fifteen and stupid!” Caleb shot back. “Now I’m older and wiser and don’t want to get sued by Sylus freaking Qin.”

 

Zayne clasped his hands together, eyes shimmering with desperate fanboy vengeance. “Please, Caleb. Think about it. Just…just a little hack. Tiny. Harmless. Like changing his avatar to a potato. Or renaming his account to ‘NoobMaster69.’ Something small.”

 

Caleb stared at him.

 

Zayne lowered his voice. “I want him to feel pain.”

 

“…Oh my god.”

 

The silence stretched. Zayne pouted harder. Caleb cracked faster than cheap glass.

 

“Fine,” Caleb groaned, throwing his hands up. “Fine! But when we get arrested, I’m telling them this was all your idea.”

 

Zayne squealed like he’d just won the lottery. “YES! I love you, man!”

 

“Shut up and hand me your laptop.”

 

---

 

Ten minutes later, Caleb was hunched over Zayne’s old gaming laptop like some criminal mastermind, hoodie pulled over his head for dramatic flair. His fingers flew across the keys, screens filled with lines of code, proxies, and VPNs Zayne pretended to understand.

 

Zayne sat behind him with a bowl of chips, eyes wide like he was watching an epic heist movie. “So…are we in yet?”

 

Caleb didn’t even look up. “Stop saying that. It makes this feel dumber than it already is.”

 

“But are we?”

 

“Yes. No. Maybe. Shut up, I’m concentrating.”

 

Zayne shoved another chip in his mouth, bouncing with excitement. “Oh my god, this is amazing. You’re like…like Caleb Eleven from Hackers: The Reboot.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“You love me.”

 

“Regrettably.”

 

Finally, Caleb leaned back, smirking with grim triumph. “Got him.”

 

Zayne nearly choked on a chip. “Wait—you hacked Sylus Qin’s account?”

 

“Yep. Logged in, credentials and all. He really should use stronger passwords.”

 

“What was it?”

 

Caleb snorted. “QinMaster123. Real creative.”

 

Zayne cackled so hard he rolled off the beanbag. “THE KING OF GAMERS USES 123?!”

 

Caleb cracked his knuckles. “So. What do you want me to do? Delete his skins? Tank his rank? Buy embarrassing outfits from the store?”

 

Zayne paused, eyes glinting with devilish light. “All of the above.”

 

---

 

Two hours later, Sylus Qin’s account had undergone the following transformations:

 

1. His legendary, rare skin collection was replaced with the ugliest, most basic free skins available.

2. His username was changed from Qin_master to ILoveBarney69.

3. His rank? Dropped. Hard. Caleb had purposefully lost fifteen matches in a row while Zayne laughed himself hoarse.

4. His profile bio now read: “Certified Noob. Please carry me. UwU <3.”

 

Zayne fell over on the floor, clutching his stomach, tears streaming down his face. “I’m—gonna die—this is the best day of my life!”

 

Caleb shut the laptop with finality, glaring at him. “There. It’s done. Happy?”

 

“Ecstatic.”

 

“Good. Because if Sylus Qin shows up at our door with lawyers, I’m moving to another country and pretending I’ve never met you.”

 

Zayne grinned wickedly. “Don’t worry. He’s too busy being humiliated to sue anyone.”

 

---

 

The next morning, Twitter exploded.

 

#ILoveBarney69 trended worldwide. Screenshots of Sylus’s hacked profile went viral. Fans were in chaos. Some thought he was trolling. Others thought he’d lost a bet. A brave few speculated it was the work of a hacker.

 

And Zayne?

 

Zayne sat in the cybercafé with Caleb, sipping on his slushie, basking in the chaos like a cat in the sun.

 

“This,” Zayne said smugly, “is what justice tastes like.”

 

Caleb groaned into his iced coffee. “You’re actually insane.”

 

Zayne raised his cup in a mock toast. “To legendary Dawn_Zy. Hero of the noobs. Slayer of egos.”

 

Caleb clinked his cup half-heartedly. “To the impending lawsuit.”

 

---

 

Meanwhile, somewhere across the city, Sylus Qin stared at his phone, jaw tight, rage simmering.

 

“ILoveBarney69?” Rafayel Qi wheezed, doubled over with laughter. “No—no way—”

 

Xavier Shen was already on the floor, howling. “Oh my god, Sylus, your bio! UwU? U-W-U?!”

 

Sylus glared murderously at them both, veins throbbing in his temple. “This isn’t funny.”

 

“It’s hilarious,” Xavier gasped.

 

Sylus gripped his phone tighter. He was going to find whoever did this.

 

And when he did?

 

They were dead.

Chapter 14: The Tilt Heard Round the World

Notes:

I'm afraid this AU would turned from chaos into thriller. Pray for my stable brain

There were three things Sylus Qin prided himself on:

 

1. His impeccable aim.

2. His immaculate style.

3. His unshakable composure under pressure.

 

At least, until today.

 

Because right now? Sylus Qin was losing his damn mind.

 

“WHO DID THIS?!” His roar shook the walls of the penthouse as he hurled his controller across the room. It hit the leather couch and bounced harmlessly onto the rug, but the intent was there.

 

On the screen, his Mobile Legends profile still blinked back at him like a cruel joke. Username: ILoveBarney69. Rank: Trash Tier. Bio: UwU feed me carries pls <3

 

His eye twitched. His vein twitched. His soul twitched.

 

“SYLUS,” Rafayel Qi said between gasps of laughter, “please—please calm down—”

 

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?” Sylus flipped the coffee table. Drinks toppled. Chips rained onto the rug. Xavier Shen dove out of the way, wheezing like a dying hyena.

 

“You don’t understand!” Sylus snapped, pacing like a caged beast. His hair—usually styled to perfection—was sticking up in angry tufts. “The final match is in three months! Do you know how much practice I’ll lose if I don’t get my account back? My skins, my rank, my legacy—gone! Ruined!”

 

“You sound like a man whose house just burned down,” Xavier said from the floor, still cackling. “Except it’s just your purple dragon skin.”

 

“It’s not just a skin! It’s prestige! It’s—” Sylus grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be a throw pillow, and flung it across the room. Xavier caught it and hugged it like a trophy.

 

Rafayel, trying to be the voice of reason, leaned against the counter. “Okay, okay. Relax. We’ll figure this out. Password reset, maybe? Contact the game devs? It’s not the end of the world.”

 

“It is the end of the world!” Sylus snapped, spinning around like a man possessed. “Do you not see Twitter?! #ILoveBarney69 is trending worldwide! Everyone thinks I’m trolling, or worse—that I actually renamed myself that! My brand, my reputation—DEAD.”

 

Rafayel winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s… rough.”

 

“ROUGH?!” Sylus clutched his hair. “It’s catastrophic!”

 

---

 

Furious and humiliated, he stormed to his desk, slammed open his laptop, and went straight to Twitter. His fingers flew over the keys with the speed of a thousand angry keyboard warriors.

 

@SylusQinOfficial: WHOEVER HACKED MY ACCOUNT—YOU’RE DEAD. DEAD. DO YOU HEAR ME?

 

Seconds later, thousands of likes. Replies flooded in.

 

lmfao calm down Barney uwu

is this performance art??

barney supremacy 🦖💜

no thoughts head empty just uwu Sylus

 

Sylus growled so loudly Xavier started recording him for blackmail.

 

---

 

Two hours later, his mentions were still drowning in purple dinosaur memes. The internet did not pity him. The internet mocked him.

 

Sylus flopped onto the couch, face buried in his hands. His career—destroyed by some hacker with too much free time.

 

Rafayel sat beside him, patting his shoulder like he was consoling a widow. “Look, bro, it’s gonna be okay. You’re still Sylus Qin. Champion. Legend. Heartthrob.”

 

“Heartthrob of clowns,” Sylus muttered into his palms.

 

Xavier was still scrolling through memes, wheezing. “Yo, look at this one—someone photoshopped you in a Barney costume holding the championship trophy.”

 

Sylus launched another pillow at his head.

 

---

 

When that didn’t help, he started panicking again. “I need my account back. I need it NOW. If I can’t practice, if I can’t grind ranks, I’ll be rusty by finals. Rusty, Rafayel. Do you know what rusty means? It means failure. It means defeat. It means—”

 

“Bro,” Rafayel cut in, “just make a new account for now.”

 

Sylus froze. Turned slowly. “A… new account?”

 

“Yes,” Rafayel said, like he was explaining to a particularly dense child. “Like normal humans do when they lose their logins. Start fresh. Practice there until you get the old one back.”

 

Sylus’s eyes widened with horror. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do? Start over? From zero? With—” he gagged dramatically— “default skins?”

 

Xavier snorted. “You’d survive.”

 

“No. No, I wouldn’t.” Sylus shot to his feet, pacing again. “I’m Sylus Qin. I can’t show my face with a default skin. I have standards. A reputation. People expect excellence from me!”

 

“They also expect you to stop tweeting in all caps,” Xavier said, holding up his phone. “You’re trending again. #SylusMeltdown.”

 

Sylus nearly fainted.

 

---

 

Hours later, the penthouse looked like a crime scene of gaming rage. Furniture tilted. Cushions everywhere. Sylus pacing like a feral animal, still muttering curses under his breath.

 

“I’ll find them,” he growled. “I don’t care who it is. Hacker, troll, rival team member—when I find whoever turned me into Barney69, they’re done. Done.”

 

Rafayel and Xavier exchanged looks over his head. One look said, He’s insane. The other replied, Yeah, but it’s funny.

 

Meanwhile, Sylus Qin—national champion, King of Smug—was brought to his knees not by defeat on the battlefield, but by a hacker with a sense of humor.

 

And somewhere, out there, that hacker was laughing.

 

Sylus clenched his fists. “Mark my words. I’ll get my account back. And when I do—” He glared at his reflection in the darkened TV, eyes blazing with vengeance. “They’re dead.”

 

Dead.

Chapter 15: Slushie Showdown

Notes:

No slushie were harmed in this scene, Caleb protecting them at all cost ✌️

There were few things in life Zayne Li loved more than fruity slushies.

 

The icy syrup was his monthly ritual, his sacred indulgence. Even if he was broke, unemployed, and about one bad decision away from eternal shame, there would always be slushies.

 

Which is how he found himself strolling down the block with Caleb Xia, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, smug smile plastered on his face.

 

Caleb eyed him suspiciously. “You look way too happy for someone who committed cybercrime.”

 

“It’s not cybercrime,” Zayne corrected, puffing up proudly. “It’s vigilante justice.”

 

“Pretty sure Batman didn’t hack Joker’s Roblox account.”

 

Zayne waved him off. “Details. The point is: Sylus Qin has been humbled. He’s a meme. #ILoveBarney69 has lived rent-free in my head for days, and I regret nothing.”

 

Caleb sipped his drink. “You’re insane.”

 

“Insanely brilliant.”

 

They pushed into the convenience store, greeted by the familiar fluorescent glow and hum of refrigerators. Zayne made a beeline to the slushie machine, already picturing his neon blue sugar rush.

 

What he did not picture was the tall figure leaning against the counter, arms crossed, aura radiating pure don’t mess with me energy.

 

Sylus Qin.

 

In the flesh.

 

---

 

Zayne froze mid-step. Caleb froze too, straw still in his mouth. Time slowed, the buzzing of the fridge suddenly deafening.

 

Sylus’s head turned lazily toward them, his sharp eyes narrowing. Recognition sparked, then fury. He pushed off the counter in one smooth motion, stalking forward like a panther who’d just spotted prey.

 

“You,” Sylus hissed.

 

Zayne blinked. “Me?”

 

“Yes, you!” Sylus’s voice rose, drawing the attention of the cashier. “What the hell is your problem with me, huh?!”

 

“My—my problem?” Zayne sputtered, backing a step.

 

“Yes!” Sylus jabbed a finger at him like an accusation in a courtroom. “Everywhere I go—Twitter, livestreams, now here—you’re there. With your smug little comments, your…your Dawn_Zy nonsense—”

 

Zayne’s stomach dropped. Caleb choked on his slushie.

 

Sylus’s glare sharpened. “What is it? Jealousy? Obsession? Are you stalking me? I've heard everything from that mouth of yours!”

 

Zayne’s brain short-circuited. His mouth, however, did not.

 

“My problem,” he blurted, “is that you’re the most arrogant, smug, self-absorbed pixel prince I’ve ever seen in my life!”

 

The store went silent.

 

Sylus blinked. “Excuse me?”

 

“You heard me!” Zayne’s hands flew in dramatic gestures, fueled by rage and sugar cravings. “Just because you’re a national champion doesn’t mean you can strut around like you invented gaming. You wink at cameras, you smirk like you’re God’s gift to esports, you call people noobs on live TV! You—” his voice cracked, but he powered through, “—you think you’re untouchable. But newsflash, Mr. King of Smug: you’re not.”

 

Sylus’s jaw clenched. He stepped closer, towering over Zayne. “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked to get here? The hours? The grind? The sacrifices?”

 

“Oh, cry me a river,” Zayne shot back. “We all grind. Some of us just don’t have six-figure sponsors and luxury penthouses to cushion the blow!”

 

“That’s called talent.”

 

“That’s called ego.”

 

They glared at each other, noses almost touching, like two rival anime protagonists about to battle for the fate of the universe.

 

---

 

Caleb, meanwhile, sat down on the nearest plastic chair with his slushie, sipping calmly. “Yup,” he muttered, “this is my life now. Watching my best friend argue with a celebrity in front of the Doritos shelf.”

 

---

 

“You think you can judge me?” Sylus’s voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “Some nobody in a hoodie who hides behind a screen?”

 

Zayne bristled. “I’m not a nobody. I’m Dawn_Zy. The one who beat you. Twice.”

 

Sylus’s nostrils flared. “Beginner’s luck.”

 

“Skill,” Zayne snapped.

 

“Cheating.”

 

“Coping.”

 

The cashier coughed awkwardly. “Uh, do you two want to take this outside?”

 

“NO,” they barked in unison.

 

---

 

By now, they were practically circling each other between the snack aisle and the soda fridge, the air thick with tension and secondhand embarrassment.

 

“You want to keep talking big, huh?” Sylus’s eyes glinted with challenge. “Fine. Prove it.”

 

Zayne stiffened. “…What?”

 

“You heard me.” Sylus smirked, the kind of smirk that had launched a thousand fangirl tweets and a thousand of Zayne’s rage spirals. “You and me. One on one. No excuses.”

 

Zayne’s pulse skyrocketed. His brain screamed, say no, run away, abort mission. But his pride—the same pride that had led him down this stupid path in the first place—snapped his mouth open and said:

 

“Fine.”

 

Sylus’s smirk widened. “Fine.”

 

Caleb slurped his drink noisily, looking between them. “…Are you two about to duel in the middle of a convenience store?”

 

“Maybe,” Sylus said sharply, still locked on Zayne like a hawk. “You want a fight? You’ve got it.”

 

Zayne’s hands shook, but he forced his chin up. “Don’t cry when you lose.”

 

Sylus scoffed. “Don’t disappear when you do.”

 

---

 

And just like that, the gauntlet was thrown.

 

The cashier ducked behind the counter. Caleb finished his slushie.

 

And Zayne Li, unemployed disaster, had officially declared war on Sylus Qin, national champion.

 

It was messy. It was stupid.

 

And it was only just beginning.

Chapter 16: Hands Were Thrown (and So Were Egos)

Notes:

Poor Caleb, he just wants the slushie 😔 help him please

The convenience store showdown escalated.

 

One minute, Zayne and Sylus were chest-to-chest, glaring like rival bosses before a cutscene fight. The next minute—

 

“OW, MY FACE!” Zayne yelped as Sylus shoved him backward into the chip display. Bags of Doritos rained down like confetti.

 

“You hacked my account, didn’t you?!” Sylus barked, fistful of Zayne’s hoodie collar.

 

Zayne flailed, clutching at Sylus’s sleeve. “That’s slander! You don’t have proof!”

 

“Your face is proof!”

 

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

 

“Neither does your win record, but here we are!”

 

---

 

Caleb Xia, to his eternal despair, had seen many disasters in his twenty-five years of life. But this? This was a new low.

 

Two grown men—one a world-famous esports champion, the other his perpetually unemployed best friend—were currently wrestling in front of the refrigerated drinks aisle.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Caleb muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just wanted a slushie.”

 

---

 

Sylus swung, Zayne ducked (poorly), and both tumbled to the linoleum floor in a tangle of limbs. The cashier shrieked and ducked behind the counter again.

 

“You think you can humiliate me?!” Sylus snarled, attempting to pin Zayne down.

 

“YOU HUMILIATED YOURSELF!” Zayne yelled back, kicking wildly. One sneaker connected with Sylus’s shin. Sylus yelped.

 

“That’s assault!”

 

“That’s karma!”

 

---

 

By the time Caleb pried them apart—physically dragging Sylus off Zayne like a bouncer separating bar brawlers—they both looked like they’d just crawled out of a dumpster.

 

“ENOUGH!” Caleb shouted, voice echoing through the store. Both Sylus and Zayne froze mid-snarling like scolded toddlers.

 

“You’re grown-ass men!” Caleb snapped, clutching each by the scruff of their hoodies. “Do you hear me? Grown. Ass. Men. And you’re rolling around on the floor like preschoolers fighting over a crayon. In public!”

 

Sylus opened his mouth. “He—”

 

“NO!” Caleb’s glare shut him up instantly.

 

Zayne tried too. “But—”

 

“ZIP IT.”

 

They both wilted. Caleb sighed, shoulders sagging. “Unbelievable. Get your asses back to the apartment before I lose brain cells.”

 

---

 

So that’s how Caleb ended up herding two bruised, sulking idiots through the streets like a tired babysitter.

 

Back at the apartment, he plopped them onto the couch. Sylus scowled. Zayne sulked. Both had visible scratches and swelling.

 

Caleb fetched the first-aid kit, slamming it onto the coffee table with the force of parental disappointment.

 

“Sit still,” he ordered, snapping on rubber gloves like a war medic.

 

“I don’t need—” Sylus began, only to wince when Caleb dabbed disinfectant on a scrape.

 

“OW!”

 

“Shut up,” Caleb said calmly.

 

On the other end of the couch, Zayne hissed as Caleb slapped a bandaid across his cheek. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

 

“A little,” Caleb admitted, deadpan.

 

---

 

Ten minutes later, Sylus sat with a bandage across his jaw, Zayne with gauze taped to his forehead, both looking like they’d lost a playground fight.

 

Caleb crossed his arms, looming. “Now. Do either of you want to explain why I had to break up the Battle of the Man-Children in public?”

 

“He hacked my account,” Sylus accused immediately, pointing at Zayne.

 

“I did not!” Zayne shot back, voice an octave higher. “And even if I did, you deserved it!”

 

Caleb groaned so hard his soul left his body. “Oh my god. Both of you. Shut up.”

 

---

 

But Sylus wasn’t done. He turned, eyes narrowing at Zayne, voice low and dangerous.

 

“Listen, Dawn_Zy—”

 

Zayne froze, breath catching. Caleb dropped his ice pack.

 

Sylus smirked at the reaction. “Oh yeah. I know. I connected the dots. Dawn_Zy. Zynecornium. You’re sloppy.”

 

Zayne’s stomach dropped to his sneakers.

 

“You have two options,” Sylus continued, leaning closer. His bruised face and smug grin made him look like a villain straight out of a soap opera. “You get me my account back before the finals… or I expose you. I’ll go online, tell everyone who Dawn_Zy really is. Face, name, everything.”

 

Zayne’s heart practically launched out of his chest. “Y-you wouldn’t.”

 

“Try me.”

 

Caleb’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, are you two actually threatening blackmail in my living room right now?”

 

“Yes,” Sylus and Zayne said in unison.

 

Caleb dragged a hand down his face. “I need new friends.”

 

---

 

The apartment fell into tense silence, the hum of the fridge filling the air.

 

Zayne glared at Sylus. Sylus smirked back. Caleb sat between them, wondering if it was too late to fake his own death and start over in another country.

 

The war wasn’t over. Not even close.

 

If anything, it was just getting started.

Notes:

So..uhm, face reveal at
IG: @hanmoontea
Tiktok (more like a tiktok gremlin I am): @hanmoontea
Twitter (Commentary lunatic): @hanmoontea

Chapter 17: Mod-Gate

Notes:

I would go ballistic and jealous when someone used mods in their games SHARE IT WITH ME YOU MOTHERFU-

The war table wasn’t a table at all.

 

It was Caleb’s old computer desk, covered in energy drink cans, greasy chip bags, and exactly one very annoyed Caleb Xia, seated in front of the monitor like a reluctant general.

 

To his left: Sylus Qin, esports superstar, arms crossed, bruised cheek glowing under the desk lamp. To his right: Zayne Li, hoodie up, sulking so hard it was practically a weapon.

 

“This,” Caleb muttered, hands flying across the keyboard, “is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And I once installed twelve different mods just to give Skyrim better cabbage textures.”

 

“Just hurry up,” Sylus snapped, leaning in. “Find my account, restore it, whatever you have to do.”

 

Zayne, slouched in the chair, perked up. “Wait… you don’t already have backup files or recovery?”

 

Sylus snorted. “Who has time for that?”

 

“BRO,” Zayne said, smacking the desk. “You’re literally the national champ! This is like—like an author not saving drafts! You’re insane!”

 

“I’m efficient,” Sylus shot back.

 

“You’re reckless,” Zayne growled.

 

Caleb groaned. “You’re both annoying. Shut up and let me—” His words cut short. His eyes widened. “Oh. Ohhhh no.”

 

Both Sylus and Zayne leaned closer. “What?”

 

Caleb hesitated, then hit a key. The screen lit up with Sylus’s account files, and a neat little folder labeled: ‘ML Enhancements.’

 

Zayne blinked. “...Enhancements?”

 

Caleb clicked. The folder opened.

 

The monitor displayed a horrifying collection of third-party mods, auto-aim scripts, and damage multipliers.

 

Zayne’s jaw dropped.

 

Sylus immediately lunged for the mouse. “Don’t click those—!”

 

Too late. Caleb clicked.

 

A cheat menu popped up with cheerful, mocking font:

 

[Welcome Back, Qin_Master. Current Cheats: Active.]

– Auto Headshot

– Wallhack

– No Cooldown

– Infinite Diamonds

 

Zayne’s scream could’ve shattered glass. “YOU CHEATED?!”

 

Sylus flinched. “Not cheated. Strategically enhanced.”

 

“Strategically enhan—” Zayne’s voice cracked like a dying kettle. “You’ve been using mods this whole time?!”

 

“Everyone uses mods,” Sylus said flatly, arms crossed.

 

“EVERYONE?!” Zayne was red in the face now, clutching his chest like he’d been personally stabbed. “I’ve been grinding since Bronze Rank, getting my ass whooped daily, climbing with actual skill, and you—” He pointed at Sylus so aggressively Caleb thought he might sprain a finger. “YOU had cheat codes all along?!”

 

“It’s not like I’m bad without them,” Sylus retorted. “I’d still win. The mods just… speed things up.”

 

“Oh my god,” Zayne whispered, dropping into Caleb’s swivel chair like the weight of betrayal was too much. “My idol… my king of gamers… is actually a scammer.”

 

“I am NOT a scammer!” Sylus snapped, bristling. “I’m a—”

 

“A cheater!” Zayne cut in. “A fraud! A—oh my god, I can’t even look at you right now!”

 

Caleb, meanwhile, typed furiously. “Listen, I don’t care if you two are reenacting a soap opera breakup, but it’s going to take me hours to untangle this mess. Your entire account is coded like a Frankenstein monster, Sylus. Who even writes this much spaghetti code for a mobile game?!”

 

Sylus waved a hand. “Just fix it.”

 

“Just fix it,” Caleb mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “Do you know how long this will take? Days. Weeks if we’re unlucky. I should be charging you consulting fees.”

 

Sylus barely heard him. His attention was locked on Zayne, who was now sulking in full force, hoodie hood pulled up, arms crossed, face turned dramatically away like a rejected lover.

 

“I can’t believe this,” Zayne muttered. “All those times I cheered for you on TV. All those nights I watched your replays, studying your moves, thinking ‘Wow, Sylus Qin is the pinnacle of gaming.’ And now…” He let out a hollow laugh. “Turns out you’re just another scrub with GameShark 2.0.”

 

Sylus bristled. “Hey! I’m still a champion! You think trophies just hand themselves out?”

 

“Yes!” Zayne exploded, standing so fast Caleb’s chair spun. “Yes, if you’re hacking your way through tournaments!”

 

“That’s not how it works!” Sylus shot back, rising too. “Do you know how much pressure I’m under? Sponsorships, team obligations, national titles—of course I use every tool I can! It’s survival!”

 

“Survival?! You’re literally rich and famous!” Zayne’s voice cracked again, fists trembling. “Meanwhile I’ve been grinding like a cockroach in an internet café! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NIGHTS I SLEPT ON THAT DAMNED CHAIR BECAUSE I REFUSED TO QUIT UNTIL I LEVELED UP?”

 

Sylus faltered, words dying on his tongue.

 

Caleb finally slapped the desk, startling both of them. “ENOUGH!” he barked, glaring at them like a tired single dad. “Sylus, shut up about survival. Zayne, stop yelling about cockroaches. I have code to fix, and if you two keep screaming in my ear, I’m going to purposely brick this account out of spite.”

 

They both went quiet instantly.

 

The room filled with the clacking of Caleb’s keyboard, the occasional frustrated grunt, and the tense silence of two idiots trying not to combust.

 

Zayne lasted maybe five minutes. Then he stood abruptly.

 

“I can’t—” His voice cracked again, softer this time. “I can’t sit here and… watch this.” His eyes flicked briefly to Sylus, full of disappointment. “I thought you were someone to look up to. Guess I was wrong.”

 

Before Sylus could reply, Zayne shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket and stormed out of the room, slamming the door to his bedroom.

 

The silence left behind was deafening.

 

Sylus sat back down slowly, jaw clenched, bandage tugging on his bruised cheek.

 

Caleb kept typing, though he spared him a glance. “…You really messed up, man.”

 

Sylus didn’t answer.

 

For the first time in a long time, he had nothing to say.

Chapter 18: The Dealbreaker

Notes:

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. They're divorced (as if they're married already)

Caleb slammed the enter key with a dramatic flourish, like a magician finishing a trick. “And… we’re back, baby.”

 

The computer chimed, triumphant. Sylus’s Mobile Legends account—Qin_Master—blinked alive on the screen, clean, re-coded, mods scrubbed like a digital baptism.

 

Caleb sat back, wiping sweat off his forehead with the hem of his hoodie. “That, gentlemen, was three weeks of my life I’ll never get back. I hope you’re both happy.”

 

“Ecstatic,” Sylus said immediately, leaning in like a starving man spotting food. His username gleamed in bold font, his battle history restored, his diamonds refilled. He exhaled, shoulders sagging for the first time in weeks. “Caleb, you’re a genius.”

 

“I know,” Caleb muttered, reaching for his energy drink. “Pay me in slushies.”

 

But the room didn’t cheer. No triumphant music swelled. Because Zayne was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hoodie hood up like a street-level final boss.

 

“Well,” Sylus said after a beat, glancing back at him. “Don’t just stand there looking like the world’s angriest burrito. Give it back.”

 

Zayne didn’t move.

 

Instead, he raised a brow and said, “No.”

 

Sylus blinked. “No?”

 

“No.” Zayne pushed off the wall, walking toward the desk with exaggerated slowness, like a detective about to interrogate his perp. “You think after everything, after finding out you’ve been hacking your way to glory, I’m just gonna hand this back to you?”

 

Sylus frowned. “It’s my account.”

 

“It’s my disappointment,” Zayne shot back.

 

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t start. I just got a migraine out of remission.”

 

But Zayne ignored him, eyes fixed on Sylus. “You want this back? You’ll have to earn it.”

 

Sylus scoffed. “What do you want, a duel? I already destroyed you in PUBG—”

 

“You didn’t,” Zayne cut in, voice sharp. “I won. Remember? Winner Winner Chicken Dinner? Or did your cheat codes erase that from your memory too?”

 

Caleb let out a muffled laugh into his soda can.

 

Sylus’s jaw flexed. “…Fine. What do you want, then?”

 

Zayne leaned closer, voice low, deadly serious. “Admit it.”

 

Sylus blinked. “Admit what?”

 

“To everyone. To the media. To your fans. To the entire goddamn world. Tell them the truth—that you’ve been cheating since the beginning. Every match. Every title. Every stupid headshot on national TV.”

 

The words hung in the air like a guillotine.

 

Sylus actually reeled back, as if slapped. “Are you out of your mind?”

 

“Probably,” Zayne said, shrugging. “Sleep deprivation does that. But it doesn’t make me wrong.”

 

Sylus barked a laugh, harsh and humorless. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking? That would end my entire career. Sponsors, titles, reputation—I’d be blacklisted overnight.”

 

“Good,” Zayne snapped. “Maybe then people will stop worshipping you like some gaming god and see you for what you really are: a cheater with good hair.”

 

“Great hair,” Caleb corrected under his breath, then froze when Zayne glared at him. “—Sorry, carry on.”

 

Sylus’s smirk faltered, his usual cool edge cracking. “Listen, kid—”

 

“Don’t call me kid.” Zayne’s voice cracked with fury. “I spent years idolizing you. Posters, replays, even copying your settings, thinking if I just worked hard enough, I could be like you one day. And now?” He jabbed a finger at Sylus’s chest. “Turns out my hero is a fraud. And you expect me to just give this account back like nothing happened?”

 

For the first time, Sylus looked genuinely rattled. His mouth opened, then closed.

 

No snark came. No smug retort.

 

Just silence.

 

Zayne pressed on, relentless. “You don’t get to play victim. You don’t get to call it ‘survival.’ You cheated, and you got rich off it. Meanwhile, guys like me? We bled for every damn rank. You want your account back? Prove you deserve it. Own up to what you did.”

 

Caleb shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Uh… I’m just gonna say it. Zayne’s got a point.”

 

Sylus shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. Caleb raised his hands defensively. “Hey, hey, don’t look at me. I just fix computers. You two can fight over morals later.”

 

Sylus turned back to Zayne, voice low, almost dangerous. “I can’t do what you’re asking. Not now. Not ever.”

 

“Then you’re not getting your account.”

 

The standoff stretched, silent but electric. Caleb’s computer hummed loudly, filling the void.

 

Finally, Sylus straightened, masking his frustration behind cold detachment. He looked at Caleb, ignoring Zayne completely. “Thanks for your work. Really. You’re wasted as a hacker—you could make a fortune in IT.”

 

Caleb blinked. “Uh… thanks?”

 

Then Sylus grabbed his jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and strode to the door.

 

“Where are you going?” Zayne demanded.

 

Sylus paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder. His voice was calm, but his eyes burned. “To win. With or without your approval.”

 

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

 

The apartment was quiet, save for the low buzz of Caleb’s computer fan.

 

Zayne stood frozen, fists clenched, breath coming fast.

 

Caleb sighed, swiveling his chair toward him. “Well. That went… great.”

 

Zayne groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “I hate him.”

 

Caleb smirked. “No, you don’t.”

 

“I REALLY do,” Zayne said, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

Notes:

I'll be MIA for almost a week probably, I'm going on vacation yahoooo!!!