Arc 1: League of the Ancient and The Dream of VR
The alarm's shrill beeping sliced through Aiden's dreamless sleep. His hand moved automatically, fingers fumbling to silence the device before it could disturb the apartment's thin walls. 4:30 AM. Another day, another grind.
He sat up and ran his fingers through his disheveled dark hair, blinking away exhaustion as his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the worn curtains. The apartment was quiet save for the distant hum of early morning traffic and the occasional creak of the aging building.
"Three hours of sleep," he muttered, calculating the hours until his next shift. "It'll have to do."
Aiden moved with practiced efficiency, washing his face with cold water to shock away fatigue. The bathroom mirror revealed what he expected—a lean face with dark circles beneath observant eyes that looked older than his twenty-three years. Engineering student to convenience store clerk and professional gamer wasn't the career trajectory he'd planned.
But plans had a way of changing when life decided to deal a different hand.
He moved silently down the narrow hallway toward his sister's room, careful to avoid the floorboard that always creaked. Gently pushing open the door, he peered inside. Lily lay curled beneath a worn comforter, her textbooks still scattered across the bed. Even in sleep, her expression remained serious, so much like their mother's that it made his chest tighten.
She'd fallen asleep studying again. At fourteen, Lily shouldered responsibilities no child should have to bear, maintaining perfect grades while dreaming of a future where she could "fix people like mom." He carefully gathered the books, placing them on her desk, and adjusted the blanket over her shoulders.
"Sleep well, Lily," he whispered. "I'll be back before you wake up for school"
On the desk lay a permission slip for a science program—one that could open doors for her future. The $75 fee wasn't extravagant, but it might as well have been a fortune given their financial situation. Aiden committed the number to memory, adding it to his mental tally of expenses: $100 for rent, $25 for utilities, $50 for groceries, and the ever-growing medical bills now at $1,240 for this month alone.
He opened the refrigerator, finding it predictably sparse. Taking out a container of leftovers, he left it on the counter with a note: "Eat before school. Buy your dinner, I'll be coming home late. Don't forget your science homework. –A"
Aiden grabbed an energy bar for himself and checked his phone. No messages from the hospital—no news was good news when it came to their mother's condition. He paused at the family photo still hanging in the entryway: his parents smiling, Lily missing her front teeth, and himself holding a science fair trophy. A lifetime ago.
The pre-dawn air hit him with a chill as he stepped outside, pulling his worn jacket tighter around his shoulders. The walk to the bus stop would take fifteen minutes—time he used to plan his day, calculating earnings and expenses with the precision he once applied to engineering problems.
Minimum wage meant $7.25 an hour—just enough for a sandwich and a bottle of water after a four-hour shift. He did the math every morning, even when he didn't want to. Every dollar had a name, every hour a cost.
As the bus rumbled along its route, Aiden's gaze drifted to the sprawling hospital complex they passed. His chest constricted, the familiar weight of guilt settling over him like a shroud.
Seven years ago. The call that changed everything. Mom and Dad were supposed to be home an hour ago. He'd promised to pick them up, but the gaming tournament had run long. Just one more match, and then he'd go. Just one more win to secure his team's position. When his phone rang, he'd ignored it twice before finally answering.
"Aiden Kim? This is Memorial Hospital. There's been an accident..."
He forced himself back to the present, pushing away the memory as the bus approached the convenience store. The SuprMart sign flickered weakly in the early morning darkness, the 'e' permanently burnt out. His kingdom for the next eight hours.
...
"I need to speak to a manager. This is unacceptable," the woman hissed, perfectly manicured nails tapping on the counter. "The price on the shelf clearly said $32.99, not $39.99."
Aiden maintained his professional smile, despite being five hours into his shift with only a ten-minute break. "I apologize for the confusion, ma'am. Those labels were changed yesterday, but it seems one was missed. I'd be happy to adjust the price for you."
The woman sniffed, her designer bag probably worth more than his monthly rent. "Well, I should hope so. Some of us have important places to be."
As he processed the adjustment, Aiden calculated how many more hours he'd need to work to cover Lily's science program. Three extra shifts would do it, but that meant less time for the betting games at night, which brought in better money.
"There you go, ma'am. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience," he said, handing over the receipt.
She left without a word of thanks, the bell chiming her departure. Aiden's manager, Mr. Park, emerged from the back room with a knowing look.
"Tough customer?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Aiden replied, already restocking the display the woman had knocked over during her complaints.
"Listen, Kim," Mr. Park said, lowering his voice. "I know you've been picking up extra shifts. If you need more hours, I can see what I can do. My nephew was supposed to work Saturday, but he's flaking again."
Aiden's mental calculator immediately adjusted. Saturday would mean missing a local tournament at the internet cafe, but the stable income was tempting.
"I appreciate it, Mr. Park. I'll take it."
"Good man," his boss nodded. "Finish your shift and get some rest. You look dead on your feet."
Rest was a luxury Aiden couldn't afford, but he nodded anyway. In six hours, he'd be at the internet cafe, fingers flying across a keyboard, turning virtual gold into real money.
...
The Golden Mouse Internet Cafe hummed with activity despite the late hour. Rows of monitors cast a blue glow over the faces of gamers lost in digital worlds. The air smelled of instant ramen, energy drinks, and the faint tang of sweat—the familiar perfume of competitive gaming.
"Cutting it close, Kim," Old Man Jo called from behind the counter. "Your usual station's open. You've got challengers waiting."
Aiden nodded gratefully, slipping into seat 23—his lucky spot. The worn chair molded to his form, the keyboard positioned exactly how he liked it. He logged into League of the Ancient, the familiar loading screen washing over him like a homecoming.
This wasn't just a game—it was a battlefield where skill translated directly to currency. Win matches, collect gold, sell items to players willing to pay real money for virtual advantage. More importantly, accept betting challenges from other players.
His character loaded—a mid-level battlemage with stats that belied its capabilities in the right hands. Not flashy enough to attract attention, but effective enough to secure wins. Aiden had mapped every skill progression, memorized every cooldown timer, and developed strategies that compensated for the character's weaknesses.
Messages immediately pinged his inbox:
[KnightFury]: Back for more punishment, Architect? 100 gold says you can't take me in Battlefield Arena.
[BladeMaster88]: Yo Architect, 2v2? My partner and I vs. you and random. 200g wager.
The nickname had stuck after his first week at the café. While other players focused on flashy combat moves, Aiden approached games like engineering problems—analyzing patterns, identifying structural weaknesses, building foundations for victory.
He checked his current balance: 1,240 gold. Converted to real money at current rates, just $124—barely enough to scratch the surface of their monthly expenses. Not even half the rent. Not enough. Never enough.
Aiden cracked his knuckles and typed a response to KnightFury:
[Architect]: Terms accepted. Arena 7. 5 minutes.
Then, anticipating the next match, he opened a private chat with Old Man Jo:
[Architect]: Got a 2v2 lined up after this. Anyone solid online who can tank?
[GoldenMouse]: Marcus is at station 17. Boy's built like a tank in real life too. Solid player, doesn't take risks.
Perfect. Marcus had backed him before, turning Aiden's strategic plays into defensive walls. He'd need that stability against BladeMaster's team, known for aggressive early strikes.
As the first match loaded, the system flashed a briefing across his screen:
[Special Match]
Combatants: Architect vs. KnightFury
Location: Battlefield Arena – Arena 7
Wager: 100 Gold
Observers: 12
Aiden settled into his chair, his exhaustion falling away as his mind shifted into the focused state that made him formidable. Here, in this digital arena, his precise calculations and pattern recognition transformed into power.
KnightFury's character appeared across the arena—a high-level knight with premium equipment that sparkled with rare enchantments. Money buying advantage, as usual. But equipment couldn't purchase skill or foresight.
"Let's see what you've got," Aiden murmured, fingers poised over the keyboard as the countdown began.
The arena bell sounded, and KnightFury charged forward with predictable aggression, leading with a Shield Bash that would stun on impact. Instead of retreating or blocking—the expected responses—Aiden sidestepped at the last moment and triggered a low-level spell that would normally be useless against such armor.
Except he wasn't aiming for the armor.
The spell struck the ground beneath KnightFury, turning stone to mud for three crucial seconds. The heavily armored knight stumbled, momentum carrying him forward, defense temporarily compromised.
Aiden didn't waste the opportunity, chaining three precise attacks targeting the vulnerable joint sections of the armor. Not the most damaging strikes, but strategically placed to reduce mobility.
From the speakers, he heard cursing as KnightFury realized what was happening. By the time the knight regained proper footing, his character's movement speed had been reduced by thirty percent—a critical disadvantage in a game where positioning meant everything.
The battle continued for twelve minutes, Aiden systematically dismantling his opponent's strategy, never using the same combination twice, creating patterns only to break them when KnightFury adapted. It wasn't flashy combat—no spectacular finishing moves or crowd-pleasing critical hits—just methodical deconstruction.
When victory finally came, several spectators had gathered behind Aiden's chair, watching the display of technical precision.
[System]: KnightFury has been defeated!Architect wins! 100 gold transferred. Current Balance: 1340
Aiden rolled his shoulders, allowing himself a small smile. One down.
He opened a new tab and pinged Marcus at station 17:
[Architect]: Up for making some gold? Got a 2v2 challenge—200g wager. 50-50 split your way if we win.
The reply came instantly:
[FortressWall]: I'm in. Those BladeMaster guys talk too much anyway.
Aiden checked the time. Three hours before he needed to be home to get Lily ready for school, make her a real breakfast, not just instant oatmeal. Three hours to make rent, cover their mom's prescriptions, and—maybe—keep the heat running through the weekend.
He glanced back at the screen as the next match began to load, his fatigue swept away by the rising tide of resolve.
[Special Match]
Combatants: BladeMaster88 and DeathDancer vs. Architect & FortressWall
Location: Crescent Valley
Wager: 400 Gold Total Pool
Observers: 27
"Let's do this," he whispered, fingers returning to the keyboard as the familiar rush of focused clarity took hold. Tonight, he would win. He had no other choice.