The morning after the 1 HP clutch, my phone wouldn't stop vibrating.
Notifications. Mentions. Friend requests.
Clips of my last fight were everywhere.
"Who is this 1 HP guy?"
"That grenade timing was insane!"
"New rising player?"
I stared at the screen. It was just a ranked match… right?
Then a new message popped up.
BattleNation Esports: Official Invitation
My heart skipped.
I opened it.
"We've been tracking your recent matches. We would like to invite you to the qualifiers for the Global Survival Championship."
Global?
This wasn't just ranked grinding anymore.
This was real esports.
The Pressure Builds
Razor called instantly.
"Bro, you got it too?"
"No… just me," I said quietly.
Silence.
Then he laughed. "Leader, huh?"
But I knew what this meant.
If I joined, I'd need a new squad.
Stronger players.
Pro-level strategy.
This wasn't random hot-drops anymore.
This was war with brains.
Training Mode Activated
For the next week, I barely slept.
Aim training for hours.
Recoil control drills.
Studying pro teams' rotations.
Learning zone prediction patterns.
I stopped rushing fights.
I started thinking like a champion.
One night during scrims, I met her.
Username: ViperQueen
She wiped my entire temporary squad alone.
Cold aim. Perfect positioning.
After the match, she sent one message:
"You're the 1 HP guy, right?
You think you can survive against real players?"
Challenge accepted.
First Qualifier Match
The tournament lobby felt different.
100 players.
All silent.
All dangerous.
No silly rushes.
No random shots.
Only strategy.
Circle shifted to Miramar's open desert.
No trees. No rocks.
Just pure exposure.
My squad—new teammates I'd just formed—looked at me.
"Call the rotation."
I took a deep breath.
High ground. West ridge.
We moved early.
Smart.
Two squads fought below us.
I waited.
Patience.
Then—
"Fire."
Clean spray. Two knocks.
Grenade finish.
Top 5.
But then…
A sniper shot cracked through the air.
One teammate down.
Second knocked.
Only me and one more.
And from the kill feed…
ViperQueen eliminated Squad Alpha.
She was here.
Final circle.
1v1.
Again.
My health? 40 HP.
Her movement? Smooth. Calculated.
She peeked.
I almost shot—
But stopped.
Instead, I rotated left, used smoke, changed elevation.
Outsmart, not outgun.
She didn't expect that.
Final spray.
Silence.
You placed #1
The qualifier crowd chat exploded.
And a new message popped up from her:
"Not bad… 1 HP Legend.
See you in finals."