The café seemed to grow quieter when Rook stepped forward.
He wasn't wearing anything remarkable — black hoodie, worn jeans, the kind of face you forget as soon as you look away — but the air around him shifted. It wasn't authority he carried, exactly. It was confidence that didn't need to prove itself.
Eli's mind blanked. His throat went dry.
"You're… Rook?" he managed.
The man smiled faintly, a quick, restrained expression that didn't reach his eyes."Names are fluid in this world," he said. "Let's just say I'm here to welcome you to something bigger than the ranked ladder."
Renzo — Grassnyerman, Eli reminded himself — leaned forward with a smirk. "You're the guy sending cryptic messages at three in the morning? I thought that was marketing spam."
Rook's gaze flicked toward him. "Spam doesn't usually offer fifty thousand dollars."
"Touché," Renzo said.
Eli's pulse quickened again at the mention of the prize. He tried to sound calm. "If this is real, why us?"
Rook looked between them, studying their faces. "Because both of you have what most players lose on the climb — hunger. One of you burns too fast," he nodded at Renzo, "and the other hides the fire until it almost goes out." His eyes turned to Eli. "That combination can win games. Maybe more."
Renzo grinned. "You make us sound like some tragic buddy duo."
Rook ignored that. He pulled a small black envelope from his pocket and placed it on the table. "Your next match isn't online. You'll receive the location tomorrow night. Bring your setups. No phones once you're inside. The rest you'll learn there."
Eli stared at the envelope but didn't touch it. "Why the secrecy?"
"Because visibility kills purity," Rook said softly. "Too many eyes ruin the game. The Circuit is for players, not spectators."
He glanced toward the café's window, where the last light of evening bled into gray. "You'll find the rules inside. If you agree, show up. If not, stay home and keep grinding ladder until you burn out like everyone else."
Before Eli could speak, Rook turned and walked toward the exit. He didn't rush, didn't look back. Just melted into the quiet like he'd never been there.
The bell above the door chimed, then silence.
Renzo let out a low whistle. "Well. That was either the coolest thing I've ever seen or the start of a documentary about bad life choices."
Eli exhaled slowly. "Probably both."
The envelope sat between them like a loaded gun. Neither moved for a moment.
Then Renzo reached over, tapped it with one finger, and grinned. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Probably not," Eli said.
"That this is definitely worth doing."
Eli sighed. "Of course you are."
Renzo tore open the envelope before Eli could protest. Inside were two small cards, each with a different symbol printed in white ink — one a rook piece, one a blade wreathed in flame.
Underneath was a single line of text:
Round One: Team Trial.Time: 23:00Location: The Underpass — Hollowbrook East.
Renzo tilted the card. "The Underpass? That the same place under the old train line?"
"Yeah," Eli said. "Abandoned years ago."
"Perfect place for a possibly illegal tournament," Renzo said cheerfully. "Man, this is gonna rule."
Eli stared at him. "You're way too comfortable with this."
Renzo shrugged. "Look, either we get murdered or we win fifty grand. I like those odds."
Eli tried not to laugh, but it came out anyway — quiet, tired, genuine. "You're insane."
"Renzo," he corrected. "By the way. My name's Renzo."
Eli blinked. "Wait. That's actually your name?"
"Yeah. Italian mom, gamer dad. I got the weird combo pack." He extended a hand. "You're Eli, right?"
Eli nodded slowly, shaking it. "Yeah. Eli."
Renzo leaned back, smiling. "Cool. Now we're not just gamer tags with trust issues."
For the first time, Eli realized how good it felt to have someone else there — someone who wasn't a username or a ghost in chat. Someone who made all the weirdness almost bearable.
They stayed another hour, talking about the game — builds, metas, mechanics. The kind of talk that used to fill Eli's college nights before life got small and predictable.
Renzo was better than he expected — analytical beneath the jokes. He described jungle routes like a strategist drawing maps, explaining why every timing mattered.
"People think the jungle's about aggression," Renzo said, tapping his empty soda can for emphasis. "It's about rhythm. You fall out of rhythm once, the whole game collapses."
Eli nodded. "Same for mid. Every wave, every ward, it's like a heartbeat. You can feel when it's off."
Renzo grinned. "See? That's why we'll win. Two guys with unhealthy relationships to timing."
Eli chuckled. "We don't even have a full team yet."
"Then we'll find one," Renzo said. "We got seventy-two hours. Plenty of time."
Eli wasn't so sure, but the way Renzo said it made it sound possible.
When they finally left the café, the streets were empty. The flickering sign above the door buzzed once and died again — the same way it had the night before.
They walked in silence for a while. Hollowbrook at night always felt half-forgotten, the kind of city that slept with one eye open.
Renzo shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets. "You think that guy — Rook — is, like, ex-pro or something?"
"Maybe," Eli said. "He talks like one. Or like someone who misses it."
"Yeah," Renzo said thoughtfully. "Had that vibe. You know, like he's already seen what happens when people make it to the top."
Eli looked up at the faint city lights. "And he still wants to drag us there."
Renzo laughed. "Maybe he just wants better company."
They reached the corner where their paths split.
"You heading home?" Eli asked.
Renzo shrugged. "Yeah. Gotta tell my roommate I'm entering a secret tournament under a bridge. He'll be thrilled."
Eli smiled. "See you tomorrow?"
"Count on it," Renzo said. "Try not to overthink it too much. We're either geniuses or idiots — no in-between."
Eli watched him disappear down the street, his figure fading into the orange glow of a streetlight.
When he turned back toward his apartment, the city felt quieter again. The hum of his thoughts returned — that restless, hungry rhythm that never quite went away.
At home, he placed the card on his desk. The rook symbol glimmered faintly under the monitor's light.
He sat there for a long time, staring at it. Wondering what he was walking into. Wondering if the climb had finally found him first.
His phone buzzed once. A new message.
Rook: Round One begins in 48 hours. Be ready. No second chances.
Eli typed a reply but stopped before sending it.
Instead, he whispered it aloud again — the same words from the email, quiet and certain.
"I accept the climb."
The monitor flickered once, and his reflection in the dark screen seemed to smirk back — as if Eternal Nexus itself had been listening.