Eli woke up late the next morning to the sound of his phone vibrating against his desk.
Sunlight bled through the blinds — the first real light he'd seen in days. His head ached, not from lack of sleep this time, but from remembering too much of the night before.
He reached for his phone. One new notification.
Email: "Congratulations, Prometheus_9 – You're In."
No sender address. Just that single subject line.
He tapped it open.
Welcome to the Shadow Circuit.
A tournament for those who see beyond the ladder.Prize Pool: $50,000.
Round Two begins in 72 hours. Team registration required.Location: Disclosed on arrival.
For confirmation, reply: I accept the climb.
Eli read it twice, then a third time. He should've deleted it. But instead, he whispered it aloud like a dare:"I accept the climb."
He didn't even mean to say it into the phone's mic. But when he did, the email vanished — deleted automatically.
The day passed in a blur of disbelief. $50,000. That was more than he made in a year at the print shop. But who organized this? Why him?
He went out for air. He didn't have a plan — just a direction. His feet led him toward a small row of internet cafés on Hollowbrook's east side. He hadn't been in one for years; most players used home setups now.
The first café he walked into was dim, narrow, and buzzing with white noise — keyboards, fans, conversations overlapping.
He ordered a cheap coffee and took a seat near the back. Rows of monitors reflected ghostly faces. He logged in to Eternal Nexus on instinct, his fingers finding comfort in repetition.
He queued for one casual match, half just to test his ping.
"Hey, uh, you taking mid?" a voice said beside him.
Eli turned.
The guy at the next station had messy brown hair, a half-eaten bag of chips, and a grin that looked both confident and sleep-deprived.
"Depends," Eli said. "You jungling?"
"Always," the stranger said. "Handle mid and I'll keep you alive. Username's Grassnyerman."
Eli nearly choked on his coffee. "Wait. What did you say?"
"Grassnyerman. Yeah. Like—grass—near—man. Don't ask. It was a dumb meme from high school."
Eli stared, trying to process the coincidence.
"You're the Grassnyerman?"
The guy squinted at him. "Wait, no way. Are you… Prometheus_9?"
Eli froze.
Then, before he could answer, Grassnyerman laughed so loud it turned heads. "Bro! You're the guy I flamed last night! Oh my god, small world!"
Eli rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Great first impression, by the way."
"Hey, I was just trying to push your mental resilience! Think of it as training."
"You called me 'mid diff' eight times."
"And look at you now — already recovered! Character development!"
Eli tried not to smile. He failed.
Grassnyerman leaned back, grinning. "Alright, let's queue up. I'll prove I'm not a total jerk."
The match started like chaos wrapped in caffeine.
Grassnyerman's jungle pathing was perfect — aggressive, creative, absurdly confident. He narrated everything he did out loud like a streamer with an audience of one.
"Watch this invade. Textbook. I'm basically an unpaid tutorial," he said.
He got invaded and died thirty seconds later.
Eli burst out laughing.
"Okay," Grassnyerman said, respawning, "slight detour in the tutorial. Advanced technique: strategic donation of first blood."
They lost, but Eli didn't care. It was the first time he'd enjoyed losing.
After the game, they grabbed sodas from the vending machine and sat by the window.
"You really play here every day?" Eli asked.
"Pretty much. My apartment's got the world's worst Wi-Fi. Half the time I freeze mid-fight and come back to a gray screen and regret."
Eli chuckled. "That's brutal."
"Yeah, but this place? It's got soul." He gestured around at the neon lights, the hum of keyboards, the smell of instant noodles and dreams. "You can feel everyone chasing something."
Eli nodded slowly. "Yeah. I get that."
They sat in silence for a moment, just listening. The room sounded like ambition in stereo.
Then Grassnyerman leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Hey. Off-topic question. You ever heard of something called the Shadow Circuit?"
Eli's heart skipped.
He tried to sound casual. "Why?"
"Got this weird email this morning. Tournament thing. Big prize. Looks shady, but kinda legit. Said something about 'those who see beyond the ladder.'"
Eli's pulse quickened.
"I got the same one," he said.
Grassnyerman blinked. "No shot. You're kidding."
"I'm not."
They exchanged a look — disbelief mixed with curiosity, the kind that borders on excitement.
"Well," Grassnyerman said finally, "guess we're teammates, huh?"
Eli frowned. "Wait, what?"
"The email said 'team registration required.' You, me — that's two. We find three more and we're set."
Eli hesitated. "You realize it could be a scam, right?"
"Then we'll get scammed together."
Eli laughed. He couldn't help it. The guy had an energy that was impossible to resist — chaotic, ridiculous, genuine.
"Fine," Eli said. "But we do it smart. We figure out who's behind it first."
Grassnyerman raised his soda like a toast. "To curiosity and bad decisions."
They clinked cans.
As they were packing up to leave, a notification popped up on Eli's screen.
Message from: RookGood. You found your jungler.
Eli froze. The color drained from his face.
Grassnyerman noticed. "What's up?"
Eli turned the monitor toward him.
Grassnyerman read it, then looked at him, puzzled. "Rook? That's one of the organizers, I think. My buddy mentioned that name when he played in an invitational last year."
"Last year?"
"Yeah, said it was like an underground LAN — no spectators, no cameras. Only the players and the match."
Eli stared at the screen. His reflection wavered faintly in the glass, the words still glowing.
Good. You found your jungler.
Grassnyerman whistled. "Well, looks like we're actually in this thing."
Eli nodded, still processing. "Yeah. I guess we are."
They both looked toward the café door as someone entered — tall, hooded, carrying a duffel bag with the Eternal Nexus logo stitched in silver.
The man paused, scanning the room, then smiled faintly when his eyes landed on them.
"Prometheus_9. Grassnyerman."
His voice was calm. Familiar.
It was Rook.
"Welcome to the Circuit," he said. "Hope you brought your best game."
Eli and Grassnyerman exchanged a glance — half disbelief, half electric excitement.
Grassnyerman whispered, "So… this is really happening, huh?"
Eli swallowed hard, watching Rook approach.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "It's happening."