A/N: Chat/Messaging:

Y/N: Hey!

Friend: Hello!
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3rd POV

The next morning, Y/N arrived at the Kingsguard Esports facility, still feeling the buzz of excitement from yesterday's tryouts. He had officially made it—he was now a member of the Kingsguard Academy team. The sleek glass doors slid open as he stepped inside, revealing the same state-of-the-art training area he had seen the day before. But this time, the weight of his new role hung over him.

Inside, several of his new teammates were already warming up. There was an unspoken energy in the air, a mix of focus and anticipation. The room was filled with the soft hum of keyboards and the distant clatter of mouse clicks. He took a deep breath, feeling his nerves bubble up again, but pushed them down. He had been given this opportunity for a reason.

As he made his way toward the main practice area, a voice called out to him from across the room. "New guy! Over here!"

He turned to see a tall, lanky figure approaching with a wide grin plastered on his face. The guy had a laid-back air about him, the kind of person who seemed like he never took anything too seriously.

"Name's Riot," the guy said, clapping Y/N on the back. "I guess I'm your new teammate. Saw your plays yesterday, man. You were pretty slick out there."

Y/N chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease away. "Thanks. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'm here."

Riot laughed. "Get used to it. This is just the beginning, dude. You think tryouts were tough? Wait until Coach gets his hands on you."

As if on cue, the door at the far end of the room opened, and the coach, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, stepped inside. Behind him were two other players—Jetstream, the team captain, and a short, intense-looking guy with a permanent scowl etched on his face. (Y/N) recognized him immediately: Demetrius "Bl4z3" Cullin, the team's entry fragger. Known for his aggressive style and insane mechanical skill, Bl4z3 had a reputation for being fiercely competitive—and not always the easiest person to get along with.

"His aura... It's scarring"

"Alright, listen up," the coach barked, his voice cutting through the noise. The room fell silent as everyone turned to face him. "For those of you who haven't met him yet, this is Y/N, our newest recruit. I expect everyone to help him get up to speed, but don't baby him. He's here because he's got potential, but potential alone doesn't win matches. Understood?"

A chorus of nods and murmurs followed. Bl3z4, however, didn't say a word. He just crossed his arms and stared at Y/N with a look that could only be described as cold indifference.

"Now, get to your stations. We've got a lot of work to do."

•••

The first practice session began, and Y/N quickly realized that the learning curve was steeper than he had anticipated. The pace of the game at this level was entirely different from the ranked matches he had played before. Everything was faster, more precise. The team's communication was lightning quick, and the strategies were far more intricate than anything he had ever seen.

During a scrimmage match on Split, the coach's voice echoed through the comms, barking orders and calling out mistakes. "Y/N, you're out of position again! You need to rotate faster. We can't afford to leave B-site wide open."

He grimaced, quickly adjusting his positioning. But as soon as he moved, Bl4z3 cut in over the comms, his voice sharp and annoyed. "How many times do I have to tell you to check your corners? You're getting picked off too easily. Step it up."

The criticism stung, but Y/N) gritted his teeth and pushed through it. He knew this was part of the process—he had to get better, and fast. But Bl4z3's constant jabs were starting to get under his skin. Every mistake Y/N made seemed to earn a sneer or a pointed comment from him. It was clear that he wasn't thrilled about having a new player on the team, and Y/N could feel the tension between them growing with each passing round.

After several more scrims, the session finally ended. The team gathered around the coach for a debrief, and as expected, Y/N's performance was under the microscope.

"You've got good mechanics, Y/N, but you need to work on your decision-making. You're too reactive right now, and that's costing us rounds," the coach said bluntly. "Bl4z3, help him with his positioning. You've got experience with this."

The professional didn't look pleased with the assignment, but he nodded stiffly. "Yeah, sure."

The coach dismissed the team, and as the other players began to pack up their gear, Y/N lingered near his station, feeling a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but Bl4z3's attitude was making it harder than it needed to be.

As Y/N was about to leave, Riot approached him again, his usual grin still in place. "Don't let Bl4z3 get to you, man. He's like that with everyone. He'll warm up eventually. Probably."

Y/N chuckled half-heartedly. "Yeah, we'll see. He seems pretty set on me screwing up."

Riot shrugged. "He's just... competitive. He doesn't like anyone messing with his spot, and right now, you're the new guy. Give it time."

Y/N nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling that time wasn't exactly on his side.

•••

The next few weeks were grueling. Each day, Y/N arrived at the facility early to put in extra practice, working on his aim, his positioning, and his ability to adapt to the team's strategies. The more he played, the more he realized just how much he had to learn. The pressure was immense, and with every passing day, the weight of expectations grew heavier.

Bl4z3's attitude hadn't improved either. In every scrimmage, he made a point of highlighting Y/N's mistakes. Even when Y/N had a good round, he found something to criticize. It was as if he was waiting for Y/N to fail, just so he could say, "I told you so."

One evening, after an especially rough practice where Bl4z3 had been particularly harsh, Y/N found himself alone in the facility's lounge area, staring blankly at the wall. Doubt began to creep into his mind. Maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this. The pro scene was ruthless, and he was starting to feel like an imposter.

"...This is exhausting than I expected..." He thought.

"Hey, you alright?"

The voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Jetstream standing in the doorway, arms crossed, but with a look of genuine concern on his face.

"Yeah, just... thinking," Y/N replied, trying to sound casual.

Jetstream walked over and sat down across from him. "He giving you a hard time?"

Y/N let out a small laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

Jetstream smirked. "He's like that with everyone, especially the new guys. But don't take it personally. He sees you as competition, which, in a weird way, is a compliment."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "A compliment? Doesn't feel like one."

Jetstream leaned forward, his expression serious. "Bl4z3 doesn't like feeling threatened. He's worked his way up to being the team's star entry fragger, and you coming in, with your aggressive playstyle, makes him nervous. He thinks you might take his spot."

Y/N frowned. "I'm not here to take anyone's spot. I just want to be a part of the team."

"I know that. And eventually, Bl4z3 will figure that out too. But right now, you need to focus on proving yourself. Not just to him, but to the whole team. We've all been where you are—new, uncertain, feeling like we don't belong. But you do belong. Phoenix wouldn't have brought you here if you didn't."

"Phoenix? Oh, he's talking about their scout..."

Y/N looked down at his hands, the weight of Jetstream's words sinking in. He knew Jetstream was right. This wasn't about Bl4z3 or anyone else. This was about him. He needed to push through the doubts, the frustrations, and the pressure. He needed to show everyone, especially himself, that he deserved to be here.

Jetstream stood up, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's hit the practice room. I'll run through some drills with you before the others get here. We've got a big scrim tomorrow, and I want you sharp."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "Yeah, let's do it."

•••

The next day, the team gathered for their scrimmage against a rival academy team. Tension hung in the air, but this time, Y/N felt different. He had spent the entire morning practicing with Jetstream, going over strategies, improving his positioning, and refining his game sense. He wasn't just reacting anymore—he was thinking ahead, anticipating the enemy's moves.

The match began, and from the first round, Y/N felt a shift. He played with confidence, communicating clearly with his teammates and making calculated risks. On Icebox, he and Bl4z3 were pushing together toward B-site when he was picked off early in the round. Instead of panicking, Y/N used his abilities to create space, clearing angles and securing a crucial double-kill that opened up the site for a plant. His team rallied around him, winning the round decisively.

"You're catching up, nice plays Y/N" The team captain voiced out.

For the first time, he wasn't just surviving--he was contributing.

After the scrim, the team gathered for a debrief, and this time, the coach's feedback was different.

"Good work today," the coach stated, glancing their new recruit. "You're starting to find your footing. Keep this up, and you'll be an integral part of the team.

Y/N couldn't help but smile, the words filling him with a sense of accomplishment. He glanced at his teammate/rival, expecting another cold look or snide remark. But instead, Bl4z3 just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. It wasn't much, but it was something. Something to be proud of.

Maybe, just maybe... Things were starting to turn around.
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