Two months. That was all they had.
The international tournament had finally been announced. Dominion Order was officially placed in the qualifiers pool, set to face off against elite teams from Europe, Southeast Asia, and several wildcard invitees from North America. The community buzzed with excitement. Analysis channels broke down matchups. Speculation ran rampant on forums. Predictive tier lists shuffled by the hour. Fans debated draft strengths, coaching history, and roster synergies.
Then came the message that raised eyebrows:
Oblivion Esports:
> Interested in a warm-up scrim block? BO5. Let's set the bar.
Raihan brought it up during their strategy call. "They want a BO5 next week. Should we accept?"
Oblivion wasn't just any team. They were perennial international contenders—top 8 finishers in multiple major events, known for their icy composure and suffocating macro control. A sparring session with them wasn't warm-up—it was a trial by fire.
"Let them come," Vyr said coolly, his voice edged with conviction.
The match was set. A closed-door BO5 scrim. Dominion Order, fresh off a streak of dominant performances, entered with cautious optimism.
But they were utterly outclassed.
Game 1: Oblivion ran a tempo-heavy draft and dismantled Dominion's jungle pathing. Rotations were snuffed out before they began.
Game 2: Dominion tried to bring the heat early. They forced fights, invaded buffs—only to fall into perfectly baited traps as Oblivion flipped the script late game.
Game 3: A complete dismantling. Oblivion's top laner crushed Tenzin in lane. Twice. Cassian, the once-defeated rival, closed out the match with surgical precision and a flawless KDA.
0–3.
And then Cassian spoke up in the post-lobby:
"Still playing with memories and hype? You're good… but not good enough."
It wasn't even taunting. It was cold fact. And it landed harder than any trash talk.
---
The team atmosphere the next day was somber.
Losing to Oblivion hurt more than anyone wanted to admit. Dominion Order had been on the rise, filled with newfound confidence after their regional dominance. But now? That dream felt… far.
During a long night of VOD reviews and stat analysis, Tenzin finally broke the silence.
"I've been thinking... I'm holding us back," he said quietly.
Zee scoffed. "Come on, bro. It was one scrim."
"No," Tenzin said, more firmly. "I've watched every game. My rotations are delayed. I lose pressure in lane. I'm not the player I used to be. I think I peaked too early."
Airi glanced over, concern etched on her face. "Tenzin, no one's blaming you. This was a team loss."
But Tenzin wasn't searching for pity—he was seeking honesty.
Then Echo's voice cut through the call—crisp, calculated. "You're missing something, Tenzin. Not heart, not skill. Perspective."
Vyr leaned in. "Let me show you what that perspective looks like. Let me take your place—just for this tournament."
Everyone went silent.
Raihan blinked in disbelief. "Wait... you?"
"I've been training," Vyr said. "Quietly. Echo's been drilling me every night. Meta reports, matchup simulations, playstyle analysis. I've built a training regimen around each of you."
"It's a risk," Airi said, brows furrowed. "You're not playing daily like us."
"I don't have to," Vyr said. "I'm not here to play solo. I'm here to patch the holes. Let me become the pressure sponge. Let me lead from the lane."
Everyone looked to Tenzin.
Tenzin studied Vyr for a moment, then nodded. "I've seen what you do when the stakes are high. I trust you."
And just like that—it was decided.
---
The next morning, Vyr's training ramped up to another level.
Up at 5:30 AM. Morning gym session. Full shift at his job managing logistics across four stores. Then: solo queue grind, team review, scrims, VODs, Echo-guided micro-drills.
His life was structured like a machine.
And behind that machine, Echo fed him everything:
Frame-perfect reaction training
Hero-specific muscle memory routines
Macro theory across evolving metas
Custom scrim recreations of real scenarios
He focused not on his own strength—but on amplifying the team. He knew where Raihan faltered in rotations. Where Zee overcommitted. When Airi needed space. He trained to fill those gaps, like glue holding glass together.
He didn't just return to form.
He reinvented himself.
And during all this, AscendX was growing fast in the background.
---
Scrims resumed. The team improved. Even their coaching division picked up traction.
Until finally—the bracket for the international qualifiers was revealed.
And fate smiled.
Dominion Order vs. Oblivion Esports. First round.
The same squad that had destroyed them in scrims.
Airi looked at the screen. "Well… time to rewrite history."
---
Game day. Lights dimmed. Crowd buzzed.
Both teams were called out. Dominion Order first. Fans clapped as the squad walked out—Zee, Airi, Raihan… and then, someone unexpected.
A tall, well-built figure stepped onto the stage.
The audience tilted in confusion. Whispers swirled.
Caster 1: "Wait a second... is that Vyr? The founder of Dominion Order? He's playing?"
Caster 2: "Not just that—he's listed as their EXP laner. When did this happen?"
Chat exploded.
"THAT'S VYR???" "Didn't know he looked like that IRL… tall and built damn." "Founder turned player? Didn't even know he gamed."
Vyr walked with calm confidence to his seat, Dominion Order's jersey fitting him cleanly. With his black undercut, sharp jawline, and composed eyes, he looked every part the leader—but this time, not as the mind behind the brand. This time, as a player.
The camera zoomed in as he nodded slightly to the crowd.
Caster 1: "He's definitely got presence. But let's be honest—no one really knows how he plays."
Caster 2: "Exactly. EXP lane's a demanding role. And Benedetta isn't banned?"
As bans rolled in—assassin junglers, control mages, priority roamers—Benedetta was left open.
Caster 1: "She's a mechanical beast. High risk, high reward. Would be a bold pick for your first game."
Then, the hover.
And the lock-in.
Caster 2: "He LOCKS Benedetta. Vyr's sending a message. Whether it's confidence or madness—we're about to find out."
Cassian across the stage smirked, but his brows raised just slightly.
No one expected Vyr to be physically present. Until now, he'd only tuned in from overseas. But there he was, flesh and blood, jersey and all, facing down the same rival that crushed them weeks prior.
Game 1 began.
---
And from the first wave, Vyr moved like he had something to prove.
Minute 3: He sidestepped every crowd control with frame-perfect dashes under turret. Solo kill secured.
Minute 5: Faked a rotation to mid, baited the enemy jungler, returned just in time to catch the wave and freeze it.
Minute 8: Full-map macro flank. Timed his ultimate perfectly. Dove two carries. Airi chained her burst immediately. Clean execution—double kill.
Caster 1: "WHO IS THIS GUY?!"
Caster 2: "He's dissecting Oblivion's setup like a surgeon. That's not rust—that's brilliance."
Tenzin, watching backstage, exhaled slowly. "Now I see it. It's not the hands. It's the mind. That's what I was missing."
Game 1: Dominion Order victory.