Ethan stared at his phone for a full five minutes before finally deciding to leave the house. The shoes he found on the rack—feeling familiar but not quite right, like everything in this world—were already tied on his feet. His backpack, feeling lighter than he remembered, hung on one shoulder.
The morning air of Silvercrest City greeted him with a freshness he didn't expect. In his old world, the city where he lived always felt stuffy, full of pollution and noise. But here, even the air felt different—cleaner, more orderly, like a city managed with extreme efficiency.
Or maybe that was just his imagination.
He walked to the bus stop, his eyes sweeping the scenery with new intensity. Every detail felt important now. Every small difference was proof that this wasn't a dream, not a hallucination, but a new reality he had to navigate.
A large electronic billboard at the intersection displayed an advertisement for this season's Legends of Aetheria Championship. Five women in heroic poses, their team jerseys gleaming under studio lights. The caption read: **"STARFALL VANGUARD: DEFENDING THEIR CROWN."**
Ethan paused for a moment, staring at the advertisement. In his old world, ads like this would feature male teams. Here, it was the reversed norm.
*I can get there*, he thought suddenly. The thought came with a confidence that surprised even himself. *I have the skills. I have the knowledge. I just need a chance.*
The bus arrived with a hiss of hydraulics. Ethan boarded, showing the student card he found in his wallet—a photo of himself in this world, slightly healthier, slightly more confident. He found a seat in the back and pulled out his phone again.
The message from the unknown number was still on the screen. He scrolled up, reading previous conversations. The contact name was "Marc" and from the chat history, they were clearly close friends. Many messages about games, strategies, and practice plans together.
Ethan typed a new reply: *"What time and where?"*
The response came almost immediately: *"7 PM. Axiom Netcafe, basement floor. You forgot? We discussed this last week."*
*Last week.* Of course. The version of Ethan in this world had a life, memories, appointments that he—the real Ethan—didn't have. He had to be careful. One mistake could make people suspicious.
*"Sorry, brain fog. See you tonight,"* he replied.
*"Cool. Oh, btw, I heard your sister's playing in regional qualifiers this weekend. You watching?"*
His sister. Vicky. Pro player.
Ethan felt a strange mix of emotions—pride for a sister who technically wasn't his sister, and envy for achievements he never reached in his old world.
*"Maybe,"* he replied.
The bus stopped in front of campus. Ethan got off and walked through the university gate that was the same yet different. Familiar buildings but with slightly different names. Students walked back and forth, and Ethan began to notice patterns.
Groups of women discussing game strategies animatedly, their laptops open displaying match replays. On a park bench, a man sat alone, casually playing a game on his phone. No intensity, no competitive focus that Ethan saw in the women's groups.
This was a world where expectations were truly reversed.
He found his class—or at least, the class he was supposed to attend based on the schedule on his phone. Introduction to Digital Marketing. The professor had already started talking when he entered, but only gave him a brief glance before continuing.
Ethan sat in the back row and opened his laptop. Instead of opening lecture notes, he opened a browser and started researching.
**Legends of Aetheria professional scene.**
He spent the next two hours—with the lecture as background noise he ignored—reading every article, watching every clip, studying every detail about the competitive scene in this world.
The structure was similar to his old world. Regional leagues, international tournaments, season championships. But the player composition was vastly different.
- **Top 50 ranked players:** 47 women, 3 men.
- **Professional teams in regional league:** 40 teams, only 3 had male players, and all in substitute positions.
- **Popular streamers:** 90% women.
The opinion articles he read were more painful. "Why Esports Isn't for Men," "Biological Limits of Competitive Gaming," "When Passion Meets Reality: Stories of Male Gamers Who Finally Accepted."
Every article was like a dark mirror of the sexist arguments he'd read in his old world, just with reversed genders.
And worse, in this world, the local version of Ethan had once believed those arguments. He could feel vague memories—shame when trying to join teams and being rejected, frustration when no one took him seriously, eventual resignation that maybe "they were right."
But he—the real Ethan—knew that was bullshit. Gender wasn't a factor in gaming skill. Reflexes, game sense, decision making, mechanical skill—all could be trained by anyone, regardless of gender.
He had proof: himself.
A pop-up notification appeared on his laptop. The Legends of Aetheria client displayed a message: **"Daily Quest Available: Win 3 Games."**
Without thinking, Ethan clicked login. The game loaded, displaying his profile in this world.
**Username: EthanC_97**
**Rank: Platinum II**
**Win Rate: 52%**
**Main Role: Jungle**
**Most Played: Kaelen (Shadow Assassin)**
Platinum II. Good enough for a casual player, but far from pro level. Ethan smiled slightly. This would change.
He queued for a ranked game.
The loading screen appeared. Nine other players—eight female usernames, one male. A consistent pattern.
Champion select went smoothly. Ethan picked Kaelen, his jungle role. The team looked balanced—solid composition, no troll picks.
The game started.
And within the first ten minutes, Ethan felt something he hadn't felt in months in his old world: complete control.
Every gank landed. Every objective timed perfectly. Every team fight orchestrated with precision that made his teammates type "wtf jungle god" in chat.
Not because he suddenly became better. But because there was no mental baggage from losing streaks in the old world. No tilt, no accumulated frustration, no crippling self-doubt.
Fresh start. Literally.
**VICTORY.**
Second game, same. Dominant performance, clean execution.
**VICTORY.**
Third game, the enemy was stronger. Ethan had to work harder, but muscle memory from hundreds of hours of practice in the old world took over. Combos he could never execute consistently now felt natural.
**VICTORY.**
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen. **Platinum I - 78 LP.** One more win, he'd be in promos to Diamond.
"Excuse me?"
Ethan jerked, just realizing he was still in class. The lecture had ended, and the professor stood in front of his desk with an unimpressed expression.
"Mr. Cole, did you hear a single word of my lecture?"
"Uh..." Ethan quickly closed his laptop. "Sorry, Professor."
The woman—Dr. Helena Chang, according to her name tag—let out a long sigh. "This is the third time this week. If you're not interested in this course, maybe you should reconsider your major."
Third time? So the version of Ethan in this world had a reputation as an uncaring student. Great.
"Won't happen again," Ethan said, trying to sound sincere.
"Mm-hmm." Dr. Chang didn't sound convinced. "Remember, midterm is in two weeks. You're already behind enough."
She left, leaving Ethan alone in the empty classroom. He stared at his closed laptop, then at his phone. Choices had to be made. In the old world, he ignored classes for gaming and ended up nowhere. In the new world, he couldn't make the same mistake.
But he also couldn't ignore this opportunity. The chance to prove himself in a world where everyone said he couldn't.
*Balance*, he thought. *I need balance this time.*
His phone vibrated. A message from Marc again: *"Yo, you hit Diamond yet? I saw you playing earlier, winrate's insane."*
Ethan was confused for a moment before realizing—Marc must be on his in-game friend list.
*"Almost. Promos soon,"* he replied.
*"Sick. If you maintain this form, we got a good chance at the tournament tonight. Btw, you confirmed with the other two?"*
Two others? Their team had five people?
Ethan thought quickly. *"Remind me who they are?"*
Long pause. Then: *"...Bro, you serious? Jake and Riley. We literally practiced together last week."*
*Shit.* Too suspicious.
*"Joking lol. Yeah I'll text them,"* Ethan typed quickly, hoping it covered his mistake.
*"You weird today. Anyway, see you tonight."*
Ethan closed his eyes, exhaling long. This was more complicated than he thought. He not only had to adapt to a new world, but also maintain the persona of the local version of Ethan without raising suspicion.
He needed information. Fast.
Opening Instagram—or at least, this world's version called "InstaConnect"—Ethan browsed his own profile. Casual photos, some gaming setup shots, and many tags from accounts "MarcusReid," "JakeHwang," and "RileyTanaka."
He tapped Marc's profile. The profile picture showed a blond-haired guy, wide smile, wearing a gaming hoodie. His bio: *"Jungle main, taco enthusiast, aspiring pro (yeah right lol)."*
Self-deprecating humor. Ethan could work with that.
Jake: Asian guy, serious expression, glasses. Bio: *"ADC/Marksman. Precision over aggression."*
Riley: Username "RileyTanaka" but the profile picture showed... a woman? Short hair, confident smile, athletic look. Bio: *"Support main. Shot caller. Holder of team brain cell."*
Their team had one woman. Interesting.
Ethan spent the next hour in the campus cafeteria, scrolling through posts, reading comments, piecing together relationship dynamics. Marcus was his best friend, class clown but loyal. Jake was a serious mechanical player, sometimes too stiff. Riley was the glue keeping the team together, strategist and emotional support.
And Ethan? Based on comments and interactions, he was "talented but inconsistent"—a player with high ceiling but confidence issues.
*Not anymore*, thought Ethan. *That version died in the old world.*
The clock showed 4 PM. Three hours until the tournament. Ethan decided to go home for a bit—at least to see his house in daylight, maybe catch Vicky if she was there.
The bus ride home provided more observations. Another billboard for the LoA Championship. Posters at bus stops for gaming peripherals, featuring female pro players. Even radio ads talked about "ladies of esports."
The Cole house was empty when he arrived. A note on the fridge from his mother: *"Dinner in warmer. I'm home late, meeting with Tokyo client. Your dad picking up Vicky from practice at 8. -Mom"*
Ethan heated up leftovers and ate while browsing more information on his laptop. He found VODs from the last regional tournament and started watching.
The level of play was high. Very high. Coordination, mechanical skill, game sense—all top tier. This wasn't a scene he could underestimate.
But he also noticed patterns. Meta strategies, common bans, preferred compositions. Things he could study and counter.
One match featured Valkyrie Esports—Vicky's team. She played mid lane, playing a champion named Lyssa, the Arcane Duelist. Her performance was clean, confident, deadly. Team fight positioning perfect, skill shot accuracy inhuman.
Ethan felt that familiar mix of awe and envy again. In the old world, Victoria—his real sister—was never interested in gaming. Seeing her parallel version dominate on stage felt... weird.
The door opened. Ethan tensed, but relaxed when he heard a familiar voice.
"Ethan? You home?"
Vicky.
She appeared in the kitchen, still wearing her Valkyrie jersey, gym bag on her shoulder. Her long hair tied in a high ponytail, her face slightly flushed from exertion. She looked like Victoria in the old world, but with a different aura—confidence that came from recognition and success.
"Hey," Ethan said, trying to sound casual.
Vicky looked at him curiously. "You're rarely home at noon. Skip class?"
"Finished early."
"Mm." She grabbed a bottled water from the fridge, drinking half in one gulp. "I heard from Marc you're joining the Silvercrest Open Circuit tonight."
Ethan was surprised. "How did you—"
"Marc mentioned it in the regional scene group chat. Everyone knows everyone eventually." She leaned against the counter, studying him. "Are you serious about this? Or is this just for fun again?"
Loaded question. Ethan could feel the weight behind it—history from the local version of Ethan who once said he wanted to be serious, but gave up when faced with obstacles.
"Serious," Ethan said, meeting her gaze. "This time serious."
Vicky's expression softened slightly, but skepticism remained. "Ethan, we've discussed this before. This scene is brutal for guys. Not because you don't have skill, but because—"
"Because everyone assumes we're not good enough before we even try," Ethan interrupted. "I know. But that doesn't mean I have to accept it."
Silence stretched between them. Vicky looked at him as if seeing something new.
"You sound different," she said finally. "More... determined."
"Maybe I'm tired of doubting myself."
Vicky set down her bottle, crossing her arms. "Underground circuit is a good starting point. But don't expect instant results. Even if you win tonight, the path to pro is still long and full of rejection. I've seen too many guys give up halfway."
"I won't give up."
"Everyone says that." She sighed. "Look, I'm not trying to discourage you. I just... I don't want you to hurt yourself chasing an impossible dream."
Impossible dream. Painful words, especially coming from his sister—even if technically not his real sister.
"What's impossible about it?" Ethan asked quietly. "Skill can be trained. Game sense can be learned. Mechanics can be improved. Nothing about gender determines who can become pro."
Vicky's jaw tightened. "It's not that simple—"
"It should be that simple."
They stared at each other. Ethan could see conflict in Vicky's expression—part of her maybe agreed, but another part was too ingrained with this world's norms.
Finally, Vicky pushed off from the counter. "Fine. Prove it. But don't come crying when reality hits."
She walked away, footsteps heavy on the stairs to her room.
Ethan exhaled slowly. That went better and worse than expected. At least he made his stance clear.
His phone vibrated. Marc again: *"Heading out early to warm up. Meet at Axiom at 6?"*
Ethan checked the time. 5:15 PM.
*"On my way,"* he replied.
He grabbed his hoodie, checked his inventory in his bag—laptop, charger, headset. Everything he needed.
As he was closing the front door, he heard Vicky's voice from upstairs: "Ethan!"
He paused, looking up.
Vicky stood on the landing, expression unreadable. "Good luck tonight."
Not full encouragement, but not dismissal either. It was something.
"Thanks," Ethan said.
He stepped out into the early evening air, determination burning in his chest.
First tournament in the new world. First step on a path everyone said was impossible.
*Let's prove them wrong.*
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