Esports wasn't just entertainment anymore. It had become a global money machine, standing shoulder to shoulder with the biggest sports in the world. Leagues and teams ran international tournaments, trading players for staggering sums of money. What started as kids yelling into plastic headsets had, in less than two decades, grown into one of the largest entertainment industries on Earth.
Stadiums that once hosted football or boxing now thundered with holographic projections of warriors, mechs, and monsters tearing through virtual arenas. Prize pools rivaled the GDP of small nations. Teams traveled the globe with entourages of trainers, nutritionists, brand managers, even psychologists. Champions weren't just players anymore — they were idols.
The secret weapon behind it all was full-dive VR. The first time a player felt the weight of a greatsword in their own hands… the first time they sprinted barefoot across a battlefield and almost forgot it wasn't real grass underfoot… the world changed. The line between game and reality blurred, and no industry adapted faster than esports.
Every year, the International VR Championship rotated its main event. Last year it was Strike Front, a military sim where squads clashed across ruined cities. The year before, Mythic Dominion, a high fantasy siege where castle walls crumbled under digital catapults. Of course, other genres always had their place — but for developers, the dream was clear: make a game big enough to ride the hype and be featured again, year after year. For the players, it was no different. They weren't just gamers anymore — they were athletes in every sense of the word.Fans argued endlessly about their favorites.
St. Patrick, a U.S.-based squad, dominated the FPS scene, reigning champions for three years straight. There were other honorable mentions, sure, but fans rarely cared if you weren't winning.And then there was Red Legion — the pride of the scene, the most feared name in esports. Backed by money, discipline, and world-class facilities, their reputation was carved into every match: cold, efficient, terrifying. At the center stood their captain, Vassili Vassilikov — especially in the genre closest to my heart: fighting games.Vassili wasn't untouchable. He had taken losses, even heavy ones, but those defeats only sharpened his legend. No one in the last four years had lifted more trophies in the fighting game scene. Finals, championships, international circuits — his name always found its way onto the bracket. Year after year, while other stars rose and fell, he remained. Some called him ruthless. Others said he was calm to the point of robotic. But everyone agreed on one thing: if you were talking about fighting games, you couldn't avoid his name. Vassili was the face of the genre.
---In a cramped game café on the far side of the city, a battered wall screen buzzed with static before cutting to the latest broadcast.The feed opened on a battlefield of stone and flame. Out of the haze came a black-armored warrior, hammer in one hand, rune-buckler in the other. The café erupted as kids rushed the screen."It's him! That's Vassili again!"The announcer's voice rolled like thunder:"This year, we welcome you to a new battlefield — a place for every warrior who fights until their heart is content. For all the battle-hungry maniacs out there… welcome to ArenaX. The ultimate test of skill, will, and imagination!"The trailer cuts to combat.A glaive swept low, sparking against stone. Vassili's buckler flashed, runes spiraling into a golden wave that shoved the glaive wide. His opponent stumbled. In the same motion, Vassili slipped past the blade, shield tilting the shaft aside. Then the hammer came up. A brutal uppercut.The impact lifted the opponent clean off their feet, their avatar shattering mid-air into pixel sparks. The camera froze on Vassili's back as though he were staring down the audience itself.
The café went wild."Look at him! That's the Vanguard class — it's insane!"
"Bro, I wish my Vanguard even looked half that clean."
A random kid snorted. "Man, you don't even have early access. Stop lying." Laughter burst out around him.
Another shook his head. "Hammer's still clunky, man. Longsword's the way.. Plus, isn't it boring just copying him?"Debate exploded instantly — voices overlapping until it was just noise. That was ArenaX's magic. The game hadn't even launched yet, and already imaginations were on fire. Every frame of the trailer was dissected. Some swore hammer-buckler would be the future meta. Others claimed only Vassili could make it look that good.At the edge of the commotion, a young man slipped past without slowing down.
---The café wasn't glamorous. Paint peeled at the corners; the soda machine rattled before coughing out drinks; the neon sign outside blinked one letter short of spelling Café. But for the gamers inside, it was sacred ground. Rows of sleek black pods lined the floor, each humming with the low mechanical buzz of hardware waiting for launch. The air smelled faintly of energy drinks, instant noodles, and overheated wiring.A young man stepped up to the counter. The receptionist — glasses sliding down her nose — barely looked up from her tablet."Name?" she asked flatly.
"Maurice Kuroda," he said, sliding his card over the scanner.She finally glanced up, matching face to entry. He didn't stand out much at first glance — buzz-cut hair, brown eyes, a frame that leaned average on all counts. Half-Asian, half-American; his features sat somewhere in between, not sharp enough to be striking, not plain enough to vanish. The kind of face you might forget if you looked once — but remember if you looked twice."You paid for two hours. Pod twelve is available. Do you need guidance?" She tore off a slip and handed it over.
Maurice shook his head, threading past the group still arguing about hammer versus longsword. He didn't stop to join in. He wasn't here to debate metas. He was here to play.The game's official launch was still a week away, but Maurice had lucked out in the early-access lottery. Only about 100,000 players worldwide had codes — a fraction of the millions waiting for launch day. Most went to streamers, sponsored teams, and pros. The rest were thrown to the public. Maurice had clicked the signup almost without thinking. When the confirmation email arrived weeks later, he'd laughed.Early access was meant for testing builds, finding bugs, learning systems before the reset. The pros would use it to polish metas, stockpile strats, rehearse counters. Maurice smirked to himself. "But me? Nah. I'm not built like that."
He lowered the pod's hatch. Darkness sealed around him. A soft hiss of air filled his ears, followed by the heartbeat-like thrum of the system calibrating."Initializing neural link," the synthetic voice chimed.
The world flickered white.The ArenaX logo appeared, wreathed in fire with a clenched fist at its center. Maurice hovered on the login screen for only a second before selecting it.The stone courtyard of the ArenaX lobby bloomed around him, lanterns floating overhead, sky streaked violet and orange. Avatars walked in every direction, their armor gleaming, weapons slung casually at their sides. The lobby had the grandeur of Olympus itself. Far ahead stood gateways leading to the 3v3 and 6v6 arenas, their arches glowing faintly — locked for now. Only the 1v1 courts were open during early access.Maurice didn't mind. He moved toward the back, where the practice arena stood, and opened his loadout menu.Four familiar icons rotated before him — each one flawed, each one fun.A trap-heavy Rune Assassin, subclass of Rogue. Not my best build yet… but I like the idea.A sickle-brawler variant tuned for counterpunching. Flawed as hell, but… note to self: sickles are cool.A fragile glass-cannon mage. Ugh. Boring. Didn't excite me at all.And the fourth: a bucket, shaped into a crooked grin, faint orange glow pulsing from within.
Maurice tapped it, grinning wide.
"Heheheheh… today, I'll bring you to life. Ranked matches it is."The queue popped instantly.
Oh yeah, right. I don't do warm-ups. But that's just me. Maurice leaned back, chuckling. Ranked, here we go.
---The arena shimmered into form — cracked stone underfoot, pillars jutting upward like broken teeth, torches blazing against the phantom roar of a crowd that pressed like heat. A coliseum.
Maurice's avatar materialized: a dark elf, violet skin stretched lean and muscular. Stripped-down leather, soot-darkened gloves, hair cropped short with silver streaks like powder burns. No sword. No spear. No shield. Just a satchel at his hip, clinking faintly with bombs.
Across the field, his opponent spawned: silver armor polished bright, tower shield braced like a wall, longsword raised in one steady hand. The knight gave a crisp salute, then leveled the blade.Local chat popped to life.
"Bombardier? In 1v1? Seriously?" The knight's laugh echoed across the arena.
"Of all things, I get the first clown who queues ranked with bombs. You even realize we're in Ruby? I'm one win away from top rank."Maurice rolled a glowing sphere across his knuckles, smirk tugging at one corner.
"Free fireworks show, maybe. Also, word of advice — bragging about rank in local chat? Dumb move. Ruby can still get paired with Diamond. Not saying I am, but… y'know."
The knight shrugged, shield angled casually.
"As my gamertag says — Guapo. If you know me, you know I don't care who's across from me. I always play for the top."Maurice tilted his head, grinning.
"I can respect that."
He lobbed a bomb underhand. BOOM!
A flash detonated at Guapo's feet, staggering him. His sword carved the air in a blind arc.
"What the—?!" Maurice was already moving, tossing another bomb. Smoke exploded outward, swallowing half the arena in thick haze.Guapo coughed. "Cute tricks. Rude though — you could at least say start before chucking fireworks.
""…you're welcome?" Maurice called through the haze. "Don't worry, I've got at least fifteen more and be more of a honest player okay. Maybe we can hold hands after the match aswell. You know showing good sportsmanship. "He slipped between pillars, planting sticky charges at the base where stone met torchlight. Quick palms, faint glows, then nothing.Guapo pressed forward, shield high, stepping deliberately through the blasts. Sparks licked off his tower shield as bombs cracked against it. He crept closer, parried one charge aside, and snarled:
"Crystal Blade!"Blue light flared. Crystals wrapped up his longsword until it gleamed like ice. He swung in a heavy arc. Stone split with a CRACK, a pillar collapsing where Maurice had stood a heartbeat before. Another swing — a combo slicing air by a hair's breadth as Maurice ducked and wove, dropping bombs to choke off his footwork and advances. Maurice let out a sharp whistle. "Nice light show. You practicing or playing?"Guapo answered with a sudden blur — "Flash Step!" — closing the gap in a blink. His shield bashed Maurice into the wall, the longsword following in a chain of thrusts. One connected, biting red into Maurice's health bar."You little weasel!" He huffed.
Maurice staggered, coughing dust, still grinning through the pain.
"Okay, okay — you've got real fundamentals. Guess Ruby rank wasn't boosted. Respect."Guapo slammed his shield into the ground. BOOM. A shockwave rippled outward, rattling Maurice flat. Bombs spilled from his satchel, skittering across the floor with metallic clinks.The phantom crowd erupted.
Local chat spammed:"Knight's got him!"
"Bomb clown cooked lmao."The knight raised his sword for the finish—Maurice lay sprawled on the cracked stone, dust clinging to his violet skin. He looked the knight dead in the eye, lips curling into a sharp grin.
Then he snapped his fingers."Heheheheheh…"BOOM–BOOM!The pillars he'd tagged earlier erupted. Stone thundered as they collapsed inward. One slab clipped Guapo's shield arm, wrenching it wide. Another came down behind him, sealing off his retreat.
"What—?!"
Maurice rolled clear, scooping bombs into his palms." Up in it goes." the sky lit as he hurled three charges high into the air, their glow falling like cruel stars. Meanwhile the pillars kept going. One after another, the arena shook with detonations as whole sections of stone gave way. Debris toppled, raining onto Guapo as he struggled against the onslaught.
BOOM–BOOM–BOOM! Explosions tore through the coliseum. The knight staggered forward, armor scorched, shield spider-webbed with cracks. Yet somehow, he planted his feet, raising his longsword once more, voice raw full of grit."Still… standing…!"
Maurice strolled in through the smoke, twirling his last bomb lazily across his knuckles. He pressed it to Guapo's chestplate like a mocking medal." AAAND OUT!." mimicking a baseball play as he flicked it away—just as the three bombs from above came screaming down. BOOM- BOOM-BOOM...kapieeew pa pa pa. The impact chained upward. Guapo ragdolled skyward, slamming against the invisible ceiling before bursting into a spray of pixel shards while fire works started to pop in a beautiful manner.
The phantom crowd roared. DEFEAT burned across the sky in searing red letters.Maurice bent double, laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach.
"He actually went flying! Bro's an action figure! Clip that—oh, right. I don't stream."
---Elsewhere—
"WHAT WAS THAT BUILD?!"
He stared at the replay, his avatar launching like a toy. "I had him down… and I still lost to fireworks?!" His laugh cracked.
Donations pinged. The chat spammed the name, now spreading: Bombing Gremlin.
He groaned. "Whoever that is… launch week, we run it back."
---Back in the café, Maurice's pod hummed softly. In one week, ArenaX would belong to the world. Leaderboards reset. Profiles unmasked. Sponsors circling.
For now, the queue button pulsed like a heartbeat.Maurice rolled a bomb across his knuckles and grinned."Fireworks," he said, and queued showcasing his record below his feet. W211-L17.