The kings Avater

Almost every news station across the country buzzed with the same headline.

"The Dragon Team Returns to the Arena—But Can They Survive Without Everstay?"

It was the most anticipated match of the month, and social media was drowning in speculation. From gaming forums to streaming platforms, from street-side cafés to virtual watch rooms, everyone had an opinion—and most weren't kind.

Inside the live comment room of a popular gaming channel, thousands of viewers flooded the screen:

@GameGuru85: No Everstay, This isn't the Dragon Team. This is a filler episode.

@RealPlayer77: LOL they should just rename themselves to Lizard Squad. No bite left.

@SomiFanGirl: Somi's great but c'mon… Everstay was the backbone. Without him they're toast. Sorry not sorry.

@Anonymous_X: Grayworm's strategies are outdated. Omega plays like he's daydreaming. And Sparrow? Who even is that?

@TeamPhoenixStan: I'm only watching to see them crash and burn. Gonna be a historic flop. 🍿

@RuthlessReviewer: This match is their funeral. Can't wait for the gravestone: "Here Lies a Broken Team."

@TooSavage4U: The last time I saw this much potential wasted, I was watching my ex's mixtape drop. 💀

@DragonTillIDie: Haters gonna hate. They've still got fire. I believe in them. Especially Somi—she's fierce.

@OmegaAppreciator: Omega's actually a beast when focused. If he shows up tonight, they might surprise everyone.

@NoHopeGaming: You can't "surprise" your way through tactical battles. No Everstay = No chance.

@TheCommentator99: Even Everstay logged out on them mid-battle. That says a lot. Maybe he saw the future.

@ViralSpill: Watch them lose and then post some dramatic apology vid like, "We tried our best." 🙄

@Respect010: I don't like their chances, but I won't count them out till I see the match. Let's see if they still got some fight left.

A young man stood at the edge of the zebra crossing, his thumbs scrolling idly through the toxic ocean of commentary. His hood was pulled low over his eyes,

It was a cool afternoon—the kind that followed a quiet rainstorm. The clouds still lingered, grey and soft, and the ground was damp with scattered puddles. There was something almost peaceful in the stillness, a lull before the storm.

He lifted his hand and slowly pulled back his hoodie.

Long dark hair spilled out from under the cap, falling in layered strands down to his collarbone.

It was Omega.

He paused, locking his phone as his gaze drifted upward. Across the street, mounted on the corner of a skyscraper, a massive LED screen played news coverage in sharp high-definition.

The footage cut to the familiar face of the channel's anchor—a sharply dressed young woman with piercing eyes and a practiced smile.

"Tonight marks the Dragon Team's long-awaited return to the battlefield. But this time, for the first time ever, they'll enter the match without their founding captain, Everstay. The once-invincible team will be tested in ways fans never imagined."

The screen flickered, cutting to clips of past battles, Everstay leading the charge, shouting commands with precision, the team at his back moving like a well-oiled machine.

Then it cut to silence—the clip of their infamous logout.

The anchor continued:

"With Everstay's sudden disappearance during their last major encounter, the team's reputation has taken a hit. And public opinion?"

She glanced at her tablet with mock amusement.

"Let's just say it's... not exactly in their favor."

Short clips of fans speaking were played in a quick montage:

> "They're done. Let's be real."

> "I used to love them, but a team that logs out mid-battle? Nah."

> "I'll watch, but I'm expecting a train wreck."

> "Omega's talented, but he never steps up. He's always in his head."

> "Without Everstay, the spark's gone. What's left?"

The screen shifted to live commentary from analysts at a roundtable.

"If the Dragons want to prove themselves tonight, they'll need to be more than just players—they'll need to be legends. This is do or die."

Omega's jaw clenched slightly.

He was used to noise. He had grown up in it. But there was something about seeing his name and his team dragged so openly that still struck a raw nerve.

He exhaled, a slow breath through the nose.

The traffic light switched with a loud mechanical beep. The little green walking man appeared.

Without a word, Omega tucked his phone into his pocket and crossed the road with the crowd.

His feet took him somewhere familiar: the old neighborhood where his past still echoed. And more specifically, to the one place that ever felt like home—Ms. Cho's HotPot, the tiny family-run restaurant that had kept him fed and warm through his younger days.

Back then, he had been Yu Chen, a runaway orphan who had slipped through the cracks of the state's broken system. Ms. Cho had found him one rainy evening and offered him a bowl of soup. He never left after that.

She never had children of her own, but from that night on, he was hers.

The only issue was her husband. A miserable, bitter man, often drunk and always angry. He resented Omega's presence, belittling the boy, threatening to throw him out. But Ms. Cho never wavered. She shielded Omega with quiet, stubborn love.

Now, as Omega stepped into the warm, steamy restaurant again, the memories hit like a gust of fire-scented wind. The tables, the smell of broth, the clatter of dishes—it all looked exactly the same.

He approached the counter, eyes scanning for the woman he knew as mother.

But someone else greeted him.

"Ms. Cho's not around," said a young woman at the front with a polite smile. "She just left."

Omega nodded faintly. "Oh. Okay then… Give me the usual."

She nodded and slipped into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with a warm, neatly packed box of food and handed it to him. As he reached into his pocket for his card, she raised her hand to stop him.

"Ms. Cho said you're not allowed to pay for your meals here—whether she's around or not," the woman said, gently pressing his card back into his hand.

Omega blinked, then chuckled softly as she handed his card back.

"Oh—and she left this for you too," the woman added, handing him a small pack of herbal tea. "Said it'd be good for your body."

He raised an eyebrow. "Where'd she go again?"

"The usual," the woman replied with a knowing smile.

He nodded as he turned to leave, the entrance bell jingled.

Thirteen huge men walked in.

They were loud. Hulking. Tattooed. Scarred. Some had gold teeth. Others had deep voices that rumbled like engines. Their arrival made a few customers tense up—but the rest? Totally unbothered.

These were Ms. Cho's people.

The one in front—the scariest-looking of all—grinned.

"Look who we have here," he barked. "Our little warrior!"

That was Luo Jian, Ms. Cho's twin brother, and one of the more infamous faces in the underground ring. He and his boys had always treated Omega like family. In a way, they were.

"You've been scarce, kid," another said, already pulling a seat. "Here to see Mama?"

Omega held up the food pack. "Yeah. Looks like I just missed her."

"We pretty sure know where she went," Luo Jian said with a wink. "And will catch up with her later."

"But men gotta eat first," he added, slapping Omega on the back and dropping into a chair someone had pulled out for him.

Around them, other gang types laughed and joined in, some already digging into steaming hotpot bowls.

"You sure everything's okay with you kiddo?" one of them asked, already stuffing noodles into his mouth. "Ain't nobody messin' with our boy, right?"

Omega gave a small smile, shook his head, and answered simply, "No one."

Then, with a nod of farewell, he stepped back into the street.