The cab rolled to a stop in front of a sleek glass building glowing with neon accents. Aarav stepped out, clutching his backpack like a lifeline. The sign above the entrance read: Phoenix Strike Gaming House.
He swallowed hard. This is it.
Inside, the atmosphere was electric—rows of high-end PCs, LED lights pulsing in sync, walls lined with trophies and posters of past victories. The faint hum of cooling fans mixed with the rapid-fire clicks of keyboards. It felt like stepping into another world.
A tall guy in a team jersey approached, grinning. "You must be Aarav, right? The rotation guy?"
Aarav blinked. "Uh… yeah."
"I'm Zayn," the guy said, offering a fist bump. "Welcome to the madhouse."
Aarav managed a weak smile and bumped fists. His eyes darted around, taking in the players lounging on beanbags, screens flashing game stats, and the massive trophy case gleaming under spotlights.
Then he saw her—Rhea.
She stood near the main setup, headset around her neck, confidence radiating like a spotlight. Her sharp eyes flicked to Aarav, sizing him up in an instant.
"So," she said, walking over, voice cool and commanding. "The guy who roasted our rotation."
Aarav froze. "I… didn't mean—"
Rhea smirked. "Relax. You were right." She extended a hand. "Rhea."
He shook it, feeling the weight of her grip. "Aarav."
Her gaze lingered, assessing. "You play solo queue?"
"Mostly," Aarav admitted. "Never in a team."
"Figures," she said, turning toward the rows of PCs. "Let's see if you can keep up."
Aarav followed, nerves buzzing like static. The setup was overwhelming—custom rigs, ergonomic chairs, giant monitors glowing with vibrant maps. He slid into a seat, hands trembling as he unpacked his gear.
Zayn leaned over. "Don't sweat it, man. First day's always brutal."
Aarav forced a smile, but his stomach churned. He logged in, the familiar game interface greeting him like an old friend—but today, it felt different. This wasn't his dorm room. This was the big stage.
Rhea's voice cut through his thoughts. "We're running scrims in ten. Show us what you've got."
Aarav nodded, heart pounding. He glanced around—every player looked calm, confident, like they belonged. He felt like an imposter in a world of giants.
As the countdown began, Aarav whispered to himself: "Don't choke. Just play."
The match loaded. The arena beckoned.