The match loading screen flickered before Aiden's eyes, displaying the battlefield where the 2v2 battle would take place.
[LEAGUE OF THE ANCIENT]
[MAP: CRESCENT VALLEY]
[MODE: PVP MODE - WAGER]
[COMBATANTS: BLADEMASTER88 & DEATHDANCER VS ARCHITECT & FORTRESSWALL]
[WAGER: 400 GOLD TOTAL POOL]
Crescent Valley—a map notorious for its narrow passages and strategic chokepoints. Perfect for Marcus's defensive style.
"Match begins in thirty seconds," the system announced in its mechanical voice.
Aiden glanced over to station 17, where Marcus sat hunched over his keyboard. Unlike Aiden's lean frame, Marcus was built solid, his broad shoulders and strong arms reflecting years of construction work. A bandage wrapped around his right knuckles—fresh from today's job site, no doubt. His face remained impassive, but his eyes held the intensity of a guardian preparing for battle.
[Architect]: They'll rush mid to control the river crossing. Classic pincer attack from their history.
[FortressWall]: I'll hold the line. You work your magic behind me.
Simple. Direct. Efficient. This was why Aiden preferred teaming with Marcus. No posturing, no unnecessary chat—just tactical coordination. In the realm of excessive trash talk and flashy displays, their silent efficiency was almost revolutionary.
The battlefield materialized around their characters with a shimmer of digital light. Marcus's avatar—a heavy-set warrior in battered plate armor with a massive tower shield—stood resolute beside Aiden's battlemage. The tower shield bore dents and scratches that weren't just cosmetic; each mark represented a battle survived, a team protected.
Across the valley, their opponents' characters materialized: BladeMaster's flamboyant dual-wielding swordsman in crimson armor that probably cost a week's worth of Aiden's rent, and DeathDancer's lightly-armored rogue whose daggers gleamed with poison effects that required premium currency to maintain.
[BladeMaster88]: Look what crawled in from the budget bin. That armor's so last season, Fortress.
[DeathDancer]: Let's make this quick. I've got a date with the top of the leaderboard.
Marcus didn't respond to the taunts. Instead, he was already moving into position, his character taking the forward point of their formation with practiced precision. His silence spoke volumes—a veteran who knew battles were won through action, not words.
The battle horn sounded, its deep resonance filling the cafe through Aiden's headphones. Immediately, BladeMaster and DeathDancer rushed forward, exactly as Aiden had predicted. They moved with the coordination of players who had partnered frequently, utilizing premium speed-enhancing gear that gave them first strike advantage.
"Here they come," Aiden murmured, fingers dancing across the keyboard.
Instead of retreating from the initial rush, Marcus planted his shield firmly at the narrowest part of the center path. He activated "Immovable Stance"—a basic defensive skill that most players overlooked in favor of flashier abilities. In Marcus's hands, however, the simple technique became a foundation for an impenetrable defense.
Low-tier skill, S-tier execution, Aiden thought, already positioning for his follow-up.
BladeMaster reached them first, blades whirling in a show of expensive animation effects that left light trails across the screen. His character leaped high, attempting to vault over Marcus to reach Aiden's more vulnerable battlemage.
That's when Marcus revealed why they called him FortressWall.
With timing honed through countless battles, he triggered "Rising Bulwark," extending his shield upward at precisely the right moment. BladeMaster's character slammed into the unexpected barrier, the impact animation sending him sprawling backward.
[BladeMaster88]: What the—?!
The cafe speakers carried his surprise to everyone nearby, drawing grins from the onlookers gathering behind Aiden's chair.
Before BladeMaster could recover, DeathDancer appeared from the shadows, attempting to flank their position. Again, Marcus demonstrated his spatial awareness, pivoting his character and executing a shield bash that intercepted the rogue mid-strike. The collision sent DeathDancer tumbling into a nearby ravine, costing precious seconds as the character climbed back up.
"Now," Marcus called across the cafe, his deep voice carrying easily despite the ambient noise.
Aiden didn't need to be told twice. With the opponents momentarily disrupted, he unleashed a carefully prepared combination. Not the most powerful spells in his arsenal—those would come later—but ones strategically chosen to complement Marcus's defensive positioning.
A wall of ice sprouted behind their opponents, cutting off their retreat. A grease spell slickened the ground beneath BladeMaster's feet as he attempted to regain balance. A minor wind gust—normally used just to push back lightweight objects—became devastating when directed at a character struggling for footing.
"Textbook," someone whispered behind Aiden as BladeMaster's character tumbled, slamming into his own teammate who had just climbed back up from the ravine.
The crowd around their stations had grown. From the corner of his eye, Aiden could see curious onlookers gathering, drawn by the display of technical skill rather than flashy effects. This wasn't the usual spectacle of premium gear and explosive ultimates—it was a chess match played with pixels and patience.
[DeathDancer]: This is bull! Your cheap tactics won't save you!
They always say that, Aiden thought. Right before they lose.
While their opponents recovered and charged again, Marcus cycled through defensive skills with methodical precision. Never using the same block twice, he created a rhythm of protection that allowed Aiden to weave attack patterns between the defensive beats.
"Shield Wall!" Marcus called out, activating his character's signature ability.
The massive shield in his character's hands glowed with golden light, expanding into a semi-transparent barrier that covered their position. What made Marcus exceptional wasn't just that he used this high-level defensive skill—it was his timing. Most players deployed Shield Wall reactively, after taking damage. Marcus used it proactively, anticipating the exact moment before BladeMaster unleashed his ultimate attack.
The spectacular display of BladeMaster's "Thousand Blade Fury"—an expensive premium skill with elaborate visual effects—crashed harmlessly against the golden barrier. Twenty simultaneous strike animations, each representing real money spent on the character, rendered completely ineffective by Marcus's perfectly timed counter.
Aiden allowed himself a small smile. This was why he enjoyed teaming with Marcus. Where others saw gaming as a showcase for their purchased advantages, Marcus understood it as a tactical exercise. He used basic skills with masterful timing, turning simplicity into an art form.
From behind the safety of the wall, Aiden unleashed his own combination attack. No wasted mana, no superfluous effects—just precisely calculated damage directed at the structural weaknesses in their opponents' formation.
[System]:CRITICAL STRIKE!
The notification flashed as Aiden's final spell struck home, depleting DeathDancer's health bar. With one opponent temporarily removed from battle, Marcus transitioned seamlessly from defense to offense, his character charging forward with shield still raised.
The spectators' murmurs grew louder as they witnessed something rare in League of the Ancient—a tank player who understood that the best defense could become the perfect offense.
BladeMaster, now isolated, unleashed a desperate flurry of attacks against Marcus's advancing wall. But each strike glanced off the angled shield, the damage reduced to negligible numbers that scrolled almost mockingly above Marcus's character.
"Check," Aiden muttered as he positioned himself for the finishing sequence.
With BladeMaster focused entirely on Marcus, Aiden completed his spell combination. A binding circle appeared beneath their opponent, rooting him in place as Marcus's shield slammed into the immobilized character with devastating force.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: BLADEMASTER88 AND DEATHDANCER HAVE BEEN DEFEATED!]
[ARCHITECT AND FORTRESSWALL WIN!]
[200 GOLD TRANSFERRED TO EACH VICTOR]
[CURRENT BALANCE: 1540]
A smattering of applause broke out among the spectators. Not the wild cheering that accompanied flashy solo victories, but the appreciative recognition of strategic execution.
[BladeMaster88]: Cheap tactics. Rematch with no shields!
[DeathDancer]: Whatever. Pay-to-win would've worked if the server lag wasn't so bad.
Always excuses. Never acknowledgment that strategy could triumph over spending power.
The satisfying chime of gold being deposited into Aiden's account blended with the ambient hum of the Golden Mouse Internet Café. The victory against BladeMaster and his partner had been more challenging than expected, but with Marcus's steady defense and Aiden's tactical precision, they'd emerged victorious.
"Rematch?" Marcus called across the stations, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
"Their pride won't let them walk away now," Aiden replied, already accepting the challenge request.
[LEAGUE OF THE ANCIENT]
[MAP: CRESCENT VALLEY]
[MODE: PVP MODE - WAGER]
[COMBATANTS: BLADEMASTER88 & DEATHDANCER VS ARCHITECT & FORTRESSWALL]
[WAGER: 400 GOLD TOTAL POOL]
The second round played out faster, but just as decisively. BladeMaster and DeathDancer changed tactics, trying to flank and separate them, but Marcus adapted immediately, positioning his shield to cover their vulnerabilities while Aiden controlled the battlefield with area denial spells.
Another win. Another payday.
With 200 gold added from the 2v2s and 100 from his earlier solo match, Aiden's balance had climbed by 300 gold. Real-world value? About $30—not a fortune by any standard, but in Aiden's carefully budgeted life, it was a significant sum. Lily's science program was $75; he was now $45 closer to that goal.
"Three wins, no losses," Marcus said, cracking his knuckles as he stood behind Aiden's chair. Despite his imposing size, there was a gentleness to his movements, a careful control that spoke of someone who knew his own strength. "That's what I call a productive night."
Aiden nodded, "You in tomorrow night?"
"If there's gold on the table, I'm there." Marcus grinned as he checked the transfer. "These rich kids keep underestimating us. They've got the gear, but they don't think."
"Thinking's the part they can't buy," Aiden murmured, closing the transfer window.
With his balance now sitting at 1,540 gold, Aiden calculated he could cash out around $150 after the platform's commission—enough for Lily's science program with a bit left over. It wasn't the windfall he'd hoped for, but it would do.
He reached for his bag, ready to log out and head home. Three hours of sleep awaited him before his next shift—another day, another grind.
As if reading his thoughts, Old Man Jo appeared beside his station, coffee mug in hand. The café owner's weathered face bore the lines of someone who had seen the rise and fall of countless gaming legends within these walls.
"Cashing out tonight, Architect?" Jo asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.
"Have to," Aiden replied, already navigating to the conversion page. "My sister's got a school program coming up."
Jo nodded, understanding in his weathered face. "Shame. Big fish coming in tonight. Word is they're looking for challenges."
Aiden's finger paused over the mouse. "How big?"
"Biggest I've seen in months." Jo lowered his voice. "Blackthorn Gaming. Professional team. Their captain's been throwing money around, embarrassing locals with high-stakes matches."
The name was familiar—a rising star in professional gaming circles, backed by corporate sponsors and trust fund money. Blackthorn himself was rumored to be the heir to some tech fortune, playing games while living off his family's wealth. The kind of person who would never understand what it meant to play for survival rather than entertainment.
Aiden's mind calculated rapidly. Professional players meant higher stakes, but also significantly more risk. The rational decision would be to take his winnings and leave. Lily's program was almost covered. The rent was secure for another month. There was no need to gamble what he'd already earned.
"What kind of wagers are we talking about?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual despite the quickening of his pulse.
"Started at 500 gold, now up to 1,000 per match. Nobody's taken them down yet." Jo sipped his coffee. "They're calling it 'pest control'—removing 'unworthy players' from the higher ranks."
Something cold settled in Aiden's stomach. Players like him—those gaming for survival rather than entertainment—were exactly the kind of "pests" elite gamers wanted to eliminate. It wasn't just about the gold for people like Blackthorn; it was about maintaining the exclusivity of their domain, keeping out those who didn't belong.
"When do they arrive?"
"About twenty minutes. You sticking around?" Jo asked, a knowing gleam in his eye.
Aiden glanced at the clock—3:17 AM. If he left now, he could get three hours of sleep before his morning shift. If he stayed...
The image of Lily's science permission slip flashed in his mind, followed by the stack of medical bills on their kitchen counter. He closed the conversion window with a decisive click.
"I'll stay." He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness that had settled into his muscles. "But I need something stronger than this," he added, gesturing to his empty energy drink can.
Jo chuckled. "On the house. You bring in enough business as it is."
While waiting, Aiden messaged Marcus, who had moved to the café's small food counter.
[Architect]: Big opportunity coming. Professional team looking for challenges. 1,000 gold wagers.
The reply came after a moment's pause:
[FortressWall]: That's Blackthorn, right? I've seen their matches. They're not just good, they're vicious. You sure about this?
Aiden wasn't sure. One thousand gold was nearly a week's worth of grinding condensed into a single match. It could cover Lily's science program with enough left over for groceries and bills. But losing would wipe out everything he'd earned tonight.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he weighed the possibilities, calculating risks against rewards with the precision of his engineering background.
[Architect]: I'm staying. No pressure if you want to head out.
The reply came quickly:
[FortressWall]: And miss the show? Hell no. I'll back you if needed, but be careful. These guys aren't here just to win gold.
The cafe's atmosphere shifted subtly. Conversations quieted as heads turned toward the entrance. Aiden didn't need to look up to know who had entered; the change in energy was palpable.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the entertainment has arrived," announced a voice that carried the unmistakable polish of privilege. "Who's brave enough to challenge the champions of Northern Regional?"
Aiden kept his eyes fixed on his screen, but his heartbeat quickened. Everything he'd worked for tonight—everything his family needed—was about to be put on the line.
But somewhere beneath the anxiety, a different emotion stirred. Here was an opportunity to prove that skill and strategy could triumph over purchased advantage—that the "Architect" deserved his place in this digital battlefield regardless of his real-world circumstances.
He straightened in his chair, fingers poised over the keyboard, ready for what would either be his greatest victory or his most costly defeat.