Chapter 87: Round Of Sixteen

The first match of the tournament was about to begin, and I didn’t want to sit in the backstage room staring at the delayed broadcast stream. I wanted to feel the real atmosphere.

"Let’s go out front," I told the squad. "We have VIP floor credentials. Let’s watch from the crowd."

We headed into the VIP section right near the front of the main arena, but as we walked down the aisle to our seats, we ran straight into TitanSkell.

Standing right at the center of their lineup was Lowgun, Amanda’s former team captain. The moment his eyes landed on Amanda wearing a Zenith Esports jersey, his jaw dropped in genuine shock. But the surprise quickly melted into a condescending smirk.

"Well, well, well," Lowgun sneered, looking her up and down. "Look who managed to scrape together a new team. Zenith, huh? You guys must be desperate if you made her your captain. You’ve already lost."

He looked past Amanda, eyeing the rest of us with a laugh. "Do you kids even know what she did? Do you know why she got kicked off a real team?"

Amanda went completely still, her eyes dropping to the floor. The color drained from her face as Lowgun pulled out his phone, tapping a clip and holding it right in front of us.

It was the footage from her final tournament with her old roster—the match where her mechanics completely crumbled under pressure, leading to a brutal loss. The video captured her former teammates trash-talking her on camera, treating her like absolute garbage before dropping her from the organization.

Amanda stood there, visibly shaken, her shoulders tense as the memory hit her like a punch to the gut.

Before he could keep enjoying himself, I stepped directly between Lowgun and Amanda, cutting off his line of sight. "That’s enough."

Lowgun blinked, scoffing as he looked at my clean suit. "And who the hell are you supposed to be? Her manager?"

"I’m Zenith’s lead investor and shot-caller," I said, my voice ice-cold and unbothered. "And her past doesn’t mean a thing today. She’s the captain of this roster because she’s better than anyone you’ve got."

Lowgun let out a loud, mocking laugh, and his teammates joined in right behind him. "Right. So you’re relying on a sugar daddy now to buy your way into tournaments? Unbelievable."

He shook his head, brushing past us with his squad. "Enjoy your five minutes of fame, Zenith. We’ll be waiting to humiliate you on stage."

Piercer looked like she was about to jump over the VIP railing and throw hands, while NightEye was practically vibrating with rage. Angelo immediately stepped beside Amanda, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Big sis... are you okay?" Angelo asked softly, his eyes filled with worry.

Amanda took a sharp breath, forcing a small, strained smile as she nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, Angelo. Don’t worry about it."

She was lying. I could see the slight tremor in her hands and the deep self-doubt creeping back into her eyes.

I looked at her, my mind racing. Angelo meant well, but I knew better. Amanda was carrying a heavy mental block, and if she didn’t get her shit together and clear her head before our bracket was called, TitanSkell wouldn’t even need to cheat to beat us. We couldn’t afford to let her break down now.

I pulled Amanda aside, away from the noise of the crowd, and gave her a second to catch her breath. My bad on messing up that snake’s name earlier—LownGun really thought he did something back there.

"Look at me, Amanda," I said, my voice steady and grounded. "If you need to vent, talk about what happened, or clear your head before we go up there, now’s the time. We’ve got space."

Amanda stared at the ground for a second, her hands still slightly clenched, before she let out a long, slow exhale. She shook her head, forcing her posture straight. "No... I’m fine, Ethan. Seriously. I don’t need to talk about him or that old game. I’m good."

She was putting up a wall, trying to play the tough captain, but I could still see the edge of anxiety in her eyes. Dismissing it wasn’t going to fix it.

"You don’t have to prove anything to LownGun, and you don’t have to carry that old loss onto the stage with you today," I told her, making sure she met my gaze. "That video was from a dead team with zero chemistry. You’re leading a completely different beast now. Piercer, NightEye, Angelo—they trust your calls. I trust your calls. But you actually have to be here mentally, not stuck in that clip."

Amanda looked over at the rest of the squad. Piercer was still glaring in the direction TitanSkell had walked off, NightEye was cracking her knuckles, and Angelo was watching Amanda with complete loyalty.

Seeing her team ready to go to war for her finally broke through the freeze. The tension in her shoulders dropped, and a real, dangerous spark returned to her eyes.

"You’re right," Amanda said, her voice dropping into that cold, sharp focus I needed to hear. "LownGun thinks he can tilt me before the match even starts. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. Let’s get to our player lounge and warm up. Our match is up next."

"That’s what I like to hear," I smirked. "Let’s go show LownGun what a real team looks like."

I was back in our private lounge, leaning into the leather couch with my feet up, taking it easy while the arena announcers hypes up the next bracket. When the chime finally echoed down the hall signaling it was Zenith’s turn, the squad grabbed their gear and made their way out through the tunnel.

I walked out to the VIP front-row seating to watch it unfold live.

As Zenith took the stage, the crowd’s reaction was lukewarm at best. They didn’t really know who these four players were, but the Zenith logo emblazoned across their chest and their clean team aesthetic drew plenty of eyes and whispering casters. People were curious if the brand’s heavy backing actually meant anything on the glass.

They found out within three minutes.

The match was an absolute, undisputed massacre.

Whatever lingering doubts Amanda had from LownGun’s taunts were completely erased the second her hands hit the keys. Operating like a cold, calculating machine, she routed the opposition straight into Piercer and NightEye’s crosshairs. Piercer was playing with a violent, terrifying level of aggression, sliding around corners and taking heads off before the enemy team could even set up their default defense.

The opponent tried to adjust in game two, but Luna and Piercer completely closed the trap. Working in perfect sync—Piercer taking the entry contact and Luna holding the cold off-angles to clean up the trades—the duo racked up the highest kill count the tournament had seen all morning. Angelo locked down every site retake, and NightEye didn’t give up a single inch of map control.

It ended in a clean, brutal 2-0 sweep in a best-of-three series.

The opposing team didn’t even get a chance to force a third map. There was no tactical pause, no comeback attempt, and no miracle recovery that could save them from getting completely dismantled.

When the final VICTORY banner flashed across the massive arena screens, the crowd erupted into sudden cheers, thoroughly stunned by the dark horse team that had just stomped through the Round of 16 without dropping a single round.

Amanda stood up, taking off her headset with a calm, satisfied smirk, and glanced directly toward the TitanSkell section before looking over at me.

Round one was down. The message had been sent.