"LET THE GAME BEGIN!!"

  The announcer’s voice thundered across the arena. This wasn’t Ying’s first match in the Hyshen Arena—the largest, most ruthless battleground ever built to test who was worthy to survive. Grug, the team’s sharp-eyed mage, stood beside her as they headed down the bottom lane.

  Before ten minutes had passed, a deafening sound echoed from mid-lane.

  "FIRST BLOOD!!"

  The crowd exploded. Cheers, screams, fanatic energy. Someone had been killed instantly. Ying’s stomach sank. Who died? She took a step toward mid-lane, but Grug grabbed her wrist. His face was tense, eyes filled with fear. “We need to stick to the objectives, Ying.”

  “I just need to know,” she muttered, gently pulling away. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Don’t—don’t leave me like that…”

  Ying slipped into the jungle. She farmed fast, gathering as many souls as she could, moving between shadows. Then—she heard it. Rumbling. She dropped low into the tall grass.

  And watched.

  A devastating teamfight was underway in the mid-lane clearing. Precision. Perfect shots. Perfect dodges. Every strike calculated, cold, efficient. It didn’t feel like a game. It felt like war.

  Grug crouched beside her, whispering a curse under his breath. “I want to go in there,” she said.

  “Are you crazy?! Do you even know who those motherfuckers are?” His voice cracked. “They’re Valirion. One of the worst teams you’ll ever run into.”

  Ying’s eyes stayed locked on a woman at the center of the fight—a marksman wielding a scoped wooden rifle. “Who’s she?”

  Before he could answer, the marksman turned. And shot Grug clean through the skull.

  "SAVAGE!!"

  The crowd roared. A frenzy of voices screamed her name. “Ming! Ming! Ming!!”

  Ying froze as Grug’s body began to disintegrate beside her. Her breath hitched. Her fingers trembled. Ming stared straight at her. Short black hair. Mercenary red outfit. Golden, unblinking eyes. She raised her rifle—then paused.

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  Ying saw hesitation. Just for a second. A flicker.

  Then: “Myke!”

  A voice cut the tension. A man emerged—towering, dark-skinned, cracked black armor, wrapped in chains. A heavy dagger in hand. Ying barely blocked the strike. She parried, spun, struck—but the chain wrapped around her spear. It yanked her in close. Too close. His eyes locked on hers. Wolf eyes. A veteran’s eyes.

  Suddenly, a teammate tackled Myke aside, just long enough for Ying to recover. “You okay?” the tank asked.

  She barely nodded. A single shot rang out. The tank dropped—bullet in his skull.

  "ACE!!"

  Now only she stands in front of Ming. The tank charges, but she jumps over him and slices his neck—he's down. Then the witch takes out a dark orb to burn her to ash, but she dodges everything. Her speed is outrageous. She knocks the witch with her spear and slashes her.

  Ying goes for Ming—but Myke stops her with his chains, stabbing her in the head and pulling her down. Ming comes closer to check if Ying is still alive, and just as Ying's eye meets hers—she shoots her.

  -------------------------------------------------------0-------------------------------------------------------

  In the locker room, the feeling of defeat still lingers. Ying arrives with an exhausted body. Everyone else feels the same. Most blame each other for failing to keep the formation; others just call the team weak as fuck.

  Then Grug walks in front of her.

  "You should've stayed in the lane and focused on the goddamn objectives."

  "How should I know?! I was curious about the first blood," she replies.

  "Oh, you blame it on your 'curiosity,' huh? Because of you, we lost," one of the team leaders says.

  "YOU CAN'T BLAME IT ON MY NATURE, OKAY!!" she shouts.

  "Why can't all of you at least cooperate together?!"

  "You are the biggest mistake I’ve made... You should’ve stayed in your jolly show-off arena," the leader continues.

  Her heart sinks after he says that. For all the arenas she fought with them, she'd dreamed of being the best—and breaking the archetypes of being "cute."

  Soon, Myke appears. Her teammates begin to tremble.

  "W-what are you d-doing here?!" Grug says.

  He doesn’t answer. His eyes scan the room until they land on Ying.

  "You." He points at her.

  She goes speechless.

  "Have a walk with me."

  The locker room goes silent. As he leaves, they whisper about Ying behind her. She turns her head.

  "If you keep doing this to me..."

  She removes her badge and throws it on the ground.

  "I'm leaving."

  Then she walks out and slams the door.

  Later, as she searches for Myke, she finds herself near Ming. Her face is as stoic as ever—but then she senses Ying and walks calmly toward her.

  "Ying, right?" she says.

  Ying is still trembling. This is the marksman who showed no mercy—and now she’s walking toward her.

  "I'm sorry... for what I did... I apologize," Ming says quietly, then walks away.

  Ying is left confused. The only thing she'd seen in Ming before were killing-machine eyes.

  Now... she saw something else.

  Something heavier.

  Something even Grievous could recognize.

  Either way, she puts it aside—and goes looking for Myke.