Aiden's eyes snapped open before his alarm, the faint pre-dawn light barely filtering through the threadbare curtains. His body ached from the eight-hour shift at the convenience store followed by eight hours at the Golden Mouse. The numbers scrolled through his mind: $32.50 from yesterday's wins, $29 from the shift, minus $10 for tournament registration, leaving just enough to scrape by and inch closer to buying the pod for bigger opportunities—if they could secure the remaining fees from the tournament winnings.
He dragged himself from bed, careful not to wake Lily who had fallen asleep surrounded by textbooks.
In the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face, the mirror reflecting dark crescents beneath his eyes. Three hours of sleep wasn't enough, but there was no other choice.
"You're up early," Lily said, appearing in the doorway with her hair disheveled. "Tournament day?"
"Registration opens at eight," Aiden replied, forcing energy into his voice. "Need to be first in line."
"I made lunch for you," she said, holding up a worn container. "PB&J and those energy bars on sale."
Aiden smiled, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Thanks, lil sis. How's the science project?"
"Almost done. Ms. Chen said my proposal on neural regeneration treatments was 'ambitious.'" Her face brightened. "If I get into the program, I could learn techniques that might help Mom."
The weight settled back on Aiden's shoulders. Another reason they needed this win.
...
The Golden Mouse hummed with nervous energy when Aiden arrived. Players hunched over terminals, practicing last-minute strategies while Old Man Jo collected registration fees at the counter. Marcus stood nearby, counting crumpled bills.
"Hey, Architect," Marcus called, using Aiden's nickname. "I've got my share."
"Same," Aiden said, pulling two fives from his wallet. Twenty dollars gone—meals he'd have to skip this week.
Elena approached, dressed in designer jeans that probably cost more than Aiden's monthly rent. Despite leaving her family's wealth behind, she still carried herself with polished confidence.
"Registration secured?" she asked, handing over a crisp ten-dollar bill.
"Almost," Aiden replied. "Just waiting on—"
"I'm here," Sophia interrupted, her nurse's precision evident in her punctuality. She handed Aiden a ten. "Picked up a night shift to cover this."
They all looked toward the corner where Liam lurked, thumbing through a dog-eared paperback. Feeling their gaze, he approached silently, placing his contribution on the counter without comment.
"Team name?" Old Man Jo asked, pen hovering over the registration form.
Aiden glanced at his teammates. They hadn't discussed this.
"Architects of Destiny," he said finally. The others nodded in agreement, recognizing the reference to Aiden's class and their shared ambition.
"Fitting," Elena murmured.
Old Man Jo scribbled the name down and stamped the form with finality. "You'll be playing in Bracket A. First match at noon against the Crimson Sentinels." He slid a tournament schedule across the counter. "Tournament rules are different from regular play. Make sure you read them."
Aiden's eyes scanned the document, his engineering mind dissecting the information.
All matches: Ruined Citadel map. Victory conditions: elimination of all opposing players or capture of the Central Nexus. Revival stations active but limited—three per team, with five-minute cooldown.
He passed the paper to his teammates. "Revival stations," he noted. "But only three uses per team, and healers are still critical."
Sophia nodded. "If I go down, no one gets revived."
"Revive priority is Sophia first, then Aiden," Marcus said, his tank instincts kicking in. "Elena and I can hold ground longer, and Liam can stealth if needed."
Liam's eyes flickered from his book. "Central Nexus capture is faster than full elimination. We should prioritize that if possible."
The café door swung open, and conversations quieted as a group of five entered. Unlike Blackthorn's flashy entrance days earlier, this team moved with quiet purpose. Their leader, a tall man with sharp features, scanned the room with analytical eyes.
"Vale and the Horizon Guild," Elena whispered. "They dominated the west side qualifiers last month."
Aiden watched as Vale approached the registration desk, his movements measured and deliberate. There was something different about him—not the arrogance of Blackthorn, but a scholarly confidence. Old Man Jo processed their registration, and Vale turned, his gaze meeting Aiden's for a brief moment before he nodded in acknowledgment.
"Did you see their match against the Void Walkers?" Elena continued. "Their formation was like something from an ancient battle manual."
Aiden made a mental note to watch their matches closely. Any team that caught Elena's attention was worth studying.
His contemplation was interrupted by a wave of dizziness, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. He steadied himself against the counter, hoping no one noticed.
"You look like hell," Marcus murmured, concern evident in his voice. "When did you last sleep? Really sleep?"
"I'm fine," Aiden insisted, straightening. "Just need some caffeine."
Before Marcus could press further, Old Man Jo's voice boomed across the café. "Tournament orientation in fifteen minutes! All teams gather at the main screen!"
...
The main monitors had been configured to display the tournament brackets. Thirty-two teams, single elimination. The journey to the finals would require five consecutive victories against increasingly skilled opponents.
Old Man Jo stepped onto a small platform, microphone in hand. "Welcome to the Golden Mouse Championship Tournament!" The crowd responded with enthusiastic cheers. "Sponsored by Blackthorn Gaming, this tournament offers not only bragging rights but a prize pool of $2,500 plus gaming equipment for the winners!"
At the mention of Blackthorn, whispers rippled through the crowd. The sponsor hadn't arrived yet, likely planning a dramatic entrance.
"Tournament mode introduces elements not found in regular play," Jo continued. "The Ruined Citadel map has been modified with revival stations. Each team can use these stations three times throughout a match, with a five-minute cooldown between uses. Remember, only healers can activate revives, so protect them at all costs."
Aiden felt a presence beside him and turned to see Vale standing there, observing the brackets with interest.
"Architect, isn't it?" Vale said, his voice carrying a professor's precision. "I've watched your matches. Interesting trap configurations."
"Thank you," Aiden replied, somewhat surprised by the compliment. "Your team's approach is... distinctive. Almost historical."
A smile touched Vale's lips. "The principles of warfare haven't changed much in three thousand years. Flanking maneuvers employed by Alexander still work today."
"Even in digital form?"
"Especially in digital form. Players become predictable when they forget history's lessons." Vale gestured toward the brackets. "We're in different halves. Perhaps we'll meet in the finals."
"Perhaps."
"Your healer—Sophia, is it? Her positioning reminds me of field medics in the Napoleonic era. Effective risk assessment." Vale's analytical gaze shifted to Aiden. "Tournament days are demanding. I hope you're well-rested."
Before Aiden could respond with a lie about his four hours of sleep, Old Man Jo's voice cut through again. "First matches begin at noon! Bracket A: Architects of Destiny versus Crimson Sentinels. Bracket B: Horizon Guild versus Steel Vanguard."
Vale nodded respectfully. "Until we meet again. Rest while you can." With that cryptic advice, he rejoined his team.
Marcus appeared at Aiden's side. "Making friends with the competition?"
"Studying them," Aiden corrected, though Vale's approach was refreshingly different from Blackthorn's hostility. "Did you see how they move? Like a military unit."
"Yeah, well, we've got our own match to worry about. You need to sit down before you fall down."
Aiden couldn't argue—the room was starting to spin again. He allowed Marcus to guide him to a chair at their assigned terminal cluster. Elena and Liam were already reviewing Crimson Sentinels' past matches on their monitors, while Sophia organized her hotkeys with methodical precision.
"I'm fine," Aiden insisted when Sophia gave him a clinical once-over.
"You're showing signs of acute sleep deprivation," she replied flatly. "Diminished coordination, microsleep episodes, cognitive impairment."
"It's not that bad—"
"I was an ER nurse for five years. Don't lie to the healer." She slid an energy drink toward him. "This isn't a solution, but it'll help for now. After this match, you're taking a break."
Aiden wanted to protest but knew better than to argue with Sophia's medical assessment. He cracked open the drink and reviewed their opponents' stats on his monitor.
"Crimson Sentinels," he murmured. "Heavy damage dealers, weak on defense. Standard rush tactics."
Elena nodded without looking away from her screen. "Their mage has a three-second wind-up on area spells. Exploitable."
"Their healer stays back," Liam added. "Never engages."
Aiden nodded, the familiar strategy work helping to focus his scattered thoughts. "We counter with basics. No need for complex plays this early."
As noon approached, the café transformed. Spectators gathered behind the competing teams, and the main screens switched to tournament view, showing both matches simultaneously. Old Man Jo took his position at the admin terminal, ready to launch the first round.
"Round One beginning in one minute!" he announced. "Players to your stations!"
Aiden settled into his chair, fingers poised over the keyboard. His character—the Architect—appeared on screen, runes glowing with potential. Around him, his teammates loaded into the pre-match lobby.
"Standard formation," he reminded them. "Nothing flashy. Save innovations for later rounds."
The screens flickered, and the loading sequence began.
[LEAGUE OF THE ANCIENT: TOURNAMENT MODE]
[MAP: RUINED CITADEL]
[MODE: NEXUS CAPTURE/ELIMINATION]
[TEAMS: ARCHITECTS OF DESTINY vs. CRIMSON SENTINELS]
[System]:Match begins in 30 seconds. Prepare for teleportation to Ruined Citadel.
Aiden blinked hard, fighting the heaviness in his eyelids. The caffeine was helping, but his reflexes still felt sluggish. He'd need to rely more on anticipation than reaction today.
On the adjacent screen, Vale's team loaded into their match against Steel Vanguard. Aiden caught glimpses of their characters arranging themselves in what looked eerily like a historical phalanx formation.
[System]:Match begins in 3...2...1...
The loading screen gave way to the Ruined Citadel map—crumbling stone structures surrounding a central plaza where the Nexus pulsed with arcane energy. They had spawned in the southwestern quadrant, with a revival station visible behind a partially collapsed wall.
"Marcus, front and center," Aiden directed, keeping it simple. "Elena, high ground. Liam, right flank. Sophia, stay with me behind Marcus."
The team moved into position without question, settling into their standard formation. Across the map, the red markers of the Crimson Sentinels approached directly—no subtlety, just raw aggression.
"Here they come," Marcus warned, his tank character raising its shield. "Standard rush."
The Sentinels charged into view—their warrior and berserker leading, mage and archer providing ranged support, healer trailing behind. Exactly as expected.
"Hold position," Aiden instructed. "Let them come to us."
The clash began with a thunderous spell from the enemy mage—a fireball that exploded against Marcus's shield, briefly illuminating the entire area. Marcus held firm, his character's stance unwavering as he absorbed the initial assault.
Elena's arrows rained down from her elevated position, focusing on the enemy healer who had positioned himself too far forward. Liam circled wide, his assassin disappearing into stealth mode as he sought a flanking opportunity.
Aiden laid down a simple trap configuration—nothing elaborate, just the basics they had practiced countless times. A stun rune at the choke point, a flame rune beyond it to catch anyone who pushed through.
The Sentinels pressed forward aggressively, their berserker triggering Aiden's trap and staggering briefly before being engulfed in magical flames. Their healer frantically cast healing spells, but Elena's sustained fire kept the pressure on.
"Liam, on my mark," Aiden called, noting the enemy mage's position. "Elena, switch to their archer."
The coordination was smooth—practiced countless times in their regular matches. Elena's arrows forced the enemy archer into cover while Liam emerged from stealth behind the mage, daggers slicing in a deadly combination that dropped the spellcaster's health to critical levels.
The enemy healer turned to assist, leaving their front line momentarily unsupported. Marcus seized the opportunity, his shield slamming into the berserker, stunning him while Sophia channeled a power buff to enhance Aiden's next spell.
Aiden's rune blast caught both the berserker and warrior in its radius, their health bars plummeting as the magical damage bypassed armor.
"Their healer's isolated," Elena reported from her vantage point.
"Take him," Aiden directed.
Liam was already moving, his assassin blinking across the battlefield to appear behind the healer. The Sentinel's support character had no chance—Liam's poison daggers ensured that each healing spell the enemy cast on himself only spread the toxin faster.
With their healer down, the Sentinels' coordination crumbled. The berserker made a desperate charge for the revival station, but Marcus intercepted, his massive shield creating an impenetrable wall.
"Focus the archer," Aiden called, and Elena responded with a precise headshot that dropped the ranged attacker immediately.
The remaining Sentinels fought valiantly but without support—the warrior falling to combined fire from Aiden and Elena, the berserker finally succumbing to Marcus's relentless pressure.
[System]:Victory! Architects of Destiny won!
The match ended almost anticlimactically—their standard tactics proving more than sufficient against the Sentinels' straightforward approach. Around them, spectators clapped appreciatively, though the real excitement was focused on the adjacent screen where Vale's Horizon Guild was executing what appeared to be a perfect recreation of an ancient battle formation, their movements precise and historically accurate.
"That was... easy," Elena said, sounding almost disappointed as she removed her headphones.
"First round usually is," Marcus replied, stretching his arms. "They were predictable."
"Save the complex stuff for teams that need it," Aiden advised, though his words slurred slightly with fatigue. The adrenaline of competition had sustained him through the match, but now the crash was coming.
Sophia noticed immediately. "You're taking a break. Now. We have at least two hours before the next match."
Aiden wanted to protest but found he lacked the energy. He glanced at the other screen where Vale's match was concluding—the Horizon Guild victorious through what appeared to be superior tactical positioning rather than raw skill.
As players dispersed to rest or review footage before the next round, Vale approached their cluster again. His team followed—a diverse group that moved with the same measured purpose as their leader.
"Clean execution," Vale commented. "Efficient."
"Standard tactics against a standard rush," Aiden replied, fighting to keep his voice steady.
Vale's gaze was analytical. "Sometimes the classics are classics for a reason." He gestured to his team. "My colleagues—Maya our tactician, Riven our adaptability specialist, Kai our artificer, and Dex our harmony support."
Aiden nodded to each in turn, noting that Riven seemed particularly unremarkable—average height, average build, nothing to suggest the prodigy Elena had mentioned earlier. Yet Vale positioned her at his right hand, suggesting importance.
"We'll be watching your next match with interest," Vale continued. "Your trap configurations have... historical parallels to Byzantine defensive systems." A brief smile. "Rest while you can. The competition only intensifies from here."
As Vale's team departed, Aiden felt the full weight of his exhaustion returning. One match down, four to go—each progressively more difficult than the last.
"Come on," Sophia said firmly, taking his arm. "Old Man Jo keeps cots in the back room for tournament days. You're using one."
Too tired to argue, Aiden allowed himself to be led away. His last glimpse before leaving the main floor was of Blackthorn finally making his entrance—expensive gaming peripherals being installed at his team's stations, supporters wearing branded merchandise, a camera crew documenting his arrival.
The tournament had officially begun, and with it, their shot at the future they all desperately needed. One match at a time, one round at a time, one step closer to Eternal Realms.
But first, sleep.