It was best-of-three; with two straight losses, the other team was already finished. One by one, they pulled off their headsets, glaring at me with undisguised resentment. “This chick plays disgusting. Is it even really her on the account?” “No way—she’s definitely cheating. How else could she play that well?” “Yeah, half the time I swear my skills hit her and she didn’t even take damage.” Hearing their muttering, I couldn’t help but laugh. I lifted my lids lazily, all contempt. “Why are you all staring at me? A bunch of dumb pigs.” Gilbert chimed in, “Pathetic.” Wingstorm added, “Trash.” Suzie followed, “Embarrassing.” Radix, after holding it in forever, finally blurted, “What a trash.” The other side bristled at the stream of insults. “We demand a review of this woman’s records! How can she be the best player? How did they even win?” I shrugged, unconcerned. “Check all you want; if you find anything, I’ll call it a loss.” “Who even is this woman? How can a girl play this well?” That made me laugh in anger. “And what if I am a girl? Girls can’t be good?” The review came back quickly—no cheats, no hacks. Brad’s face turned an ugly shade of green. “Impossible. We don’t believe it. There’s no way Raelyn is that strong!” “Why not?” I smiled, throwing the question back. Brad sneered. “Someone who had zero presence before—suddenly she’s a pro, beating everyone? That’s not real!” I scratched my ear. “Remind me—what’s today’s date?” “Don’t dodge the question.”Brad was about to keep arguing when one of his teammates nervously tugged on his arm. “Boss, look!” Brad turned with an impatient snap. “Look at what?” “Today’s ranked ladder—first place is someone called Raelyn!” Brad’s expression shifted, though he tried to stay defiant. “No way. That has to be Gilbert renaming his account.” But then his eyes landed on second place: “Mad Little Brook.” “I didn’t originally use that ID,” I said with a mocking smile, “but I figured you’d cry about it not being me, so I changed it just now. What’s wrong, do you want me to log in right here and show you who’s ranked first?” The match was still live; Brad had no choice but to grit his teeth and mutter an apology. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” Once the words were out, he turned to leave with his teammates. “Not so fast,” I said coolly. “We still have something to settle.” “What are you talking about? We don’t even know you outside of this.” I dropped my headset at his feet. “Mr. Brad, care to explain why our side suddenly lost all sound?” Sweat broke out along Brad’s temple. “That’s something you should take up with the organizers. What does it have to do with me?” “Because the shadow on the recording is you, pulling our headset cables. That’s why we played in silence—and still beat you. Which just proves you’re pathetic.” “Recording? What recording?” Brad frowned. I curved my lips into a smile. “Funny thing, when I got here, I noticed there weren’t any security cameras. To avoid exactly this sort of problem, I set up a few of my own mini spy cams.” As I spoke, I paired the feed via Bluetooth and cast it onto the big screen. “See for yourself—this isn’t you?” The footage showed Brad glancing around, then slipping behind our team unnoticed and yanking the headset wires, before strolling off as if he’d just gone to the bathroom. He’d been clever, avoiding the livestream cameras and staging a cover. What he hadn’t counted on was me having a backup plan.“Wanting to win is fine, but not like this. Mr. Brad, your club’s culture is on full display.” Brad’s face went deathly pale. Everything had gone out live; Arrowstorm Club was finished. The massive werewolf of a man shut his eyes—and two thick tears rolled down his face. After the match, both teams had to step outside for the usual press Q&A. In front of the crowd, Brad clenched his jaw and announced, “I hereby declare the Arrowstorm Club is disbanded as of today.” The club that had basked in glory for a year was gone in an instant. Brad slunk away with his team. We stayed behind to face the reporters. “Ms. Beck, how did you manage to play at such an extraordinary level?” I smiled faintly. “With my hands.” The reporter pressed on, unwilling to give up. “Then could you share some tips for all the young fans who dream of getting better at gaming?” I thought for a moment. “Study hard, play less.” The reporter’s face twitched, speechless. Finally, she turned in desperation to Gilbert. “Mr. Beck, do you have anything you’d like to say?” Gilbert, thrilled it was finally his turn, grinned. “Where do we pick up the prize?” The reporter crumpled, covering her face as she fled. With that, the tournament came to a definitive close. I had replaced Gilbert as the new top player, sparking a frenzy of imitators and a wave of strategies dubbed the “Raelyn style.” But that was a story for another time.