Eli didn't remember deciding to go.One second he was staring out the window from his apartment, the next he was already halfway down the block — jacket unzipped, breath turning white in the cold.
The café lights cut through the fog like a small fire in the dark. Same flickering sign. Same corner seat.He stopped at the door, heart pounding.
Through the glass, the man — or shape, rather — hadn't moved. Laptop open, hood drawn. The screen reflected faintly against the window, a soft pulse of color that looked like the login screen of Eternal Nexus.
Eli exhaled, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
The café was nearly empty at this hour. The smell of stale espresso hung in the air. The barista barely looked up as the bell above the door chimed.
The man didn't turn around.
Eli approached slowly. "Hey," he said, voice steady but low. "If this is some kind of joke, it's gone too far."
No answer.
He stepped closer until he could see the laptop screen.
It was, indeed, Eternal Nexus. But not the login screen. It was already in queue — same interface, same ranked layout. The cursor hovered over Mid Lane, locked in.
Eli's eyes flicked to the name in the corner.
Prometheus_9.
His account.
His breath hitched. "What the hell—"
The man turned.
Except it wasn't Rook.Just an older guy with tired eyes and noise-canceling headphones, startled to find someone looming behind him.
"Whoa, dude," the man said, pulling an earcup off. "Everything okay?"
Eli blinked. The username on the screen was gone. Different account entirely. Maybe he'd seen it wrong. Maybe his brain filled it in.
"Sorry," Eli said quickly. "Thought you were someone else."
The guy shrugged, put his headphones back on, and returned to his coffee.
Eli sat down at the next table, trying to slow his breathing. His hands were shaking slightly. He opened his own laptop — same glowing logo, same waiting cursor — and told himself this time it was just a normal game night.
Queue up. Focus. Nothing weird.
The first few minutes of queue felt almost peaceful. The low hum of the café machines blended with the faint music from the game. His thoughts began to organize themselves again.
You're fine. It's just stress.
Then the queue popped.
Accept.
He locked in Kira, the Blade Warden without hesitation. Reflex now. Mid lane again. Routine was comfort.
Team composition loaded:
Top: VexinMain
Jungle: Grassnyerman
Mid: Prometheus_9
ADC: owtoday
Support: TeaBagTony
The name Grassnyerman caught his eye. It was stupid, goofy even — but he'd seen it before. He couldn't place where. Maybe on the forums. Maybe in a highlight reel.
Loading screen. 65%. 82%. 100%.
He spawned in.
From the first minute, Grassnyerman was everywhere.
While Eli focused on last-hitting and watching enemy movement, the jungler was already invading the opponent's red buff — typing quick, confident messages in chat.
[All]: Jungle diff soon.
Eli smirked despite himself. Cocky junglers, the universal constant.
Then Grassnyerman pinged mid: "On my way."
Eli read it as "Don't mess this up."
The gank was perfect — or would have been if Eli hadn't misjudged the enemy's flash. Kira's blade swing sliced through empty air, missing by a fraction. The counter-attack turned deadly fast.
Double kill. Both dead.
Chat lit up instantly.
Grassnyerman: ?Grassnyerman: bro u missed the freest kill of ur lifePrometheus_9: chill, misread the flashGrassnyerman: nah u misread the game
Eli bit down on his tongue, hard. He didn't reply.
At six minutes, another gank. Same result.At ten minutes, Grassnyerman took Eli's lane farm "by mistake."By twelve, the jungler was 7/0.
And yet every ping, every message, seemed aimed straight at Eli.
Grassnyerman: mid gap hugeGrassnyerman: maybe uninstall?Grassnyerman: wait r u that Prometheus_9?
Eli froze. That last one shouldn't have mattered — but it did.
Prometheus_9: what do you meanGrassnyerman: nvm lol just heard u from the shadow ladder ;)
He stared at the message. His pulse picked up. That phrase — "Shadow Ladder." He hadn't mentioned it to anyone except Jess. Not even on stream or chat logs.
He typed quickly.
Prometheus_9: who are you?
Grassnyerman: funny question, man. who r you?
Eli felt the world tilt slightly. He glanced around the café. Everyone else looked normal — people scrolling, sipping, typing. But it felt like the air had shifted, like the background hum of the espresso machine was synced to his heartbeat.
The game went on autopilot. His hands moved, but his mind wasn't in them.
At twenty minutes, his team surrendered.
Defeat.
The post-game lobby loaded.He clicked "View Profile" on Grassnyerman.
Error. Profile not found.
The cursor blinked. The game client froze. Then a small window appeared in the corner of his screen — text only.
System Message: "Congratulations. You have qualified for Shadow Circuit Round Two."
The message vanished as fast as it appeared. No screenshot. No trace.
Eli sat back in his chair, staring at the empty screen.
He opened Discord, ready to message Jess — to tell her what happened — but a new notification appeared first:
Grassnyerman sent you a friend request.
He hovered over Accept for a long moment. His hand trembled, index finger shaking slightly.
The barista called out, "Closing in ten!"
Eli blinked, suddenly aware of the world again. His coffee had gone cold.
When he finally clicked Accept, the café lights flickered once.
Then a chat box opened.
Grassnyerman: next round's starting sooner than you think. better get some sleep.
Eli typed back.
Prometheus_9: what is this? who are you people?
Grassnyerman: players. just like you. some of us climb faster.
Prometheus_9: where do I find this "round two"?
There was a pause. Then one final message appeared.
Grassnyerman: check your mirror when you wake up. you'll see it.
Eli's screen went black.
He tried relaunching Eternal Nexus. Nothing.
He glanced at the window's reflection — half laptop, half ghost. For a split second, he thought he saw something faint flicker across the glass: a logo, maybe, or a rank emblem he'd never seen before.
Then it was gone.
Outside, the café sign buzzed twice, then burned out completely — leaving Eli in the glow of a dead screen and a reflection that didn't look entirely like his own.