The kings Avater

"You're doing this on purpose, right?" Chan guo snapped, her voice tight with frustration as she clenched her fists at her sides.

Ye Qiu leaned back lazily, barely reacting. "This is just how I play," he said with a faint smirk. "Looks like you overestimated me."

Smack!

Her palm slammed hard against the desk between them, the sound sharp enough to make him flinch slightly. She didn't say anything for a second, just stood there, glowering at him like he owed her his soul.

Meanwhile, the chaotic voices of their teammates echoed loudly through the headset, each of them shouting complaints over the last.

"Bro, we're getting overrun out here!"

"What the hell is even happening right now?"

"Chan—uh, Cyber, where the hell are your reflexes?!"

She ground her teeth, still staring daggers at Ye Qiu. But then something flickered behind her eyes—a sudden idea. Her brows lifted.

"Alright, look," she said, turning fully to face him now. "Just use that Cyptht move like you did earlier."

Ye Qiu raised a brow. "Like you even know what that is?"

"I don't, okay?! I don't know what the hell it is—" she snapped, waving her hands. "But use it!"

She pointed wildly at the screen. "Look—just look! There's only... one... two... three…" She started counting the monsters surrounding them. "Four... five... seven... nine... oh my God, there's no end to them!" she groaned as the enemies kept respawning.

Ye Qiu was already glancing at the corner of the map when her tone suddenly changed.

"Wait. Wait—look!" Her voice pitched higher with excitement. She squinted and pointed again at a faint flicker in the distance. "There! Do you see that little green spark over there, far back near that ridge? That has to be the dungeon entrance!"

Ye Qiu narrowed his eyes. The glow was tiny—easy to miss—but she had spotted it.

"If you could just use the Cyptht move a few times—maybe four, tops—to clear out a chunk of these guys and break a path," Cyb explained, "then strike that spark. That's our shot."

He didn't say anything, just kept maneuvering lazily, almost like ignoring her again.

Her lips tightened. "Ye XIU!" she shouted, slapping the table again.

"I mean," Ye Qiu began, unfazed, "how do you even know I can use that move again? I barely remember what I did the first time—could've been a fluke."

Chan guo leaned forward, eyes blazing. "Try. I don't care if it was divine intervention—recreate the miracle. You did it once, you'll do it again."

He gave a little shrug, then finally sat up straighter. Truth be told, her idea wasn't bad. Her eye for details was sharper than he gave her credit for. Not everyone would spot a hidden dungeon cue from across a sandstorm-filled desert map.

She flopped back into her chair dramatically and reached for the mic.

"Alright guys, I'm back," she said as calmly as she could, trying to put on her boss voice.

Immediately, Midnight exploded in her ears.

"ARE YOU F*CKING FOR REAL RIGHT NOW—?!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, BOSS!" she bellowed back, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I HAVE A PLAN NOW."

Even Ye Qiu jerked at the volume, blinking at her in surprise.

Back on comms, a brief stunned silence followed. Somewhere, PhantomX coughed awkwardly. "Well... damn."

Ye Qiu shook his head, a faint smirks creeping onto his face. Now I get why I heard her voice all the way from the second floor, he thought.

With a quiet exhale, he placed both hands on the controls and started executing her plan.

Just like her perpetually mean-looking face, Chan guo's behavior didn't help her case either. She looked harsh, and surprise—she was harsh. Loud, sharp-tongued, hot-headed, and painfully unapologetic. Whatever way you'd describe someone difficult to deal with, she'd probably already been called worse. And the crazy part? She knew it.

Some would say her attitude was inborn, that she popped out of the womb swinging fists and barking orders. But the truth was far more complicated.

CyberDiva hadn't always been this way. Once, long ago, she was softer—still loud, still wild—but softer. But after losing both her parents at a young age, everything changed. Their death cracked something inside her, forced her to grow up overnight. She didn't have the luxury of grieving like other kids. Not when vultures were circling.

Her uncle—her father's own brother—was one of the first to show his true colors. Within weeks of the funeral, he tried to take over the one thing her parents left behind: the family cybercafé. The place wasn't just a business. It was her father's legacy, her mother's memory, her last piece of home. And he wanted to sell it off like some old furniture.

But she didn't let that happen.

At just 17, she stood her ground. She fought him—legally, emotionally, physically if needed. While her friends were prepping for graduation, she was reading contracts and begging customers to keep coming back. While others went off to college, she dropped out of school and threw herself fully into the café.

It wasn't easy.

The systems were outdated. The rent was brutal. There were days she barely made enough to buy noodles for dinner. But somehow—through blood, sweat, and a truckload of caffeine—she built it up. Upgraded the machines. Started hosting small-scale game nights. Brought in a team of part-time staff. The place went from barely surviving to becoming one of the most popular underground gaming hubs in the area.

But all that came with a cost.

Somewhere in between protecting what was hers and building something new, Chan guo had to armor up. Her walls got higher. Her mouth got sharper. Smiling became optional. Trust became extinct.

So now? She wasn't just mean. She was trained to be mean. A one-woman army with zero patience for nonsense.

And yet, here she was—desperate to get accepted into a team that required her to play nice with others. Irony much?

No matter how badly she wanted to join the Sleeping Moon team, she couldn't help herself. The "boss" in her kept creeping up. Even when Midnight was doing her a massive favor, her pride wouldn't just sit quietly. It twitched. It snapped. It yelled.

"Just say thank you," she'd remind herself.

But then her mouth would open and out came, "Don't tell me how to lead my fight, Boss."

So yeah. Cyberdiva was chaos in a headset.

And as much as her team didn't fully get her, and as much as she wanted to dial it down for their sake... it wasn't that easy.

Because after all she'd fought through, after all the betrayal, abandonment, and clawing her way up—this version of her? The loud one? The brash one?

This was her armor.

And she didn't take it off for anyone.