Chapter 95

Chapter 95:

“You want to compete right now?” Fernanda asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied Kevin.

“Yeah, right now,” Kevin replied, jutting his chin out with a hint of arrogance. “What, getting cold feet? You can still back out. Just pack up and leave.”

“No, I was just thinking,” Fernanda replied, a sly smile tugging at her lips, “it’s a weekday. The Central Square probably won’t have much of a crowd. But if we wait until the weekend, there’ll be plenty of people to hear you declare yourself a loser. What do you think?”

“Keep dreaming! There’s no way I’m losing!” Kevin snapped, his glare sharp. “You might as well start packing now—make it easier for yourself later!”

“Kevin!” Ector cut in, his voice sharp. He shot Kevin a pointed look. “If you’re going to compete, just do it already. Enough with the trash talk.”

Kevin snorted, brushing off Ector’s words. Clearly, Ector was taking Fernanda’s side. But once she lost and was kicked out, Kevin was certain Ector would change his tune.

Kevin called Erika over to witness the match.

“Is it happening now?” Erika’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she rubbed her hands together. “Don’t mess this up, Kevin!”

“Relax. You know how good I am,” Kevin replied, his voice brimming with confidence.

Erika laughed, her faith in him unwavering. She had every reason to trust his skills. The game was wildly popular, and nearly everyone around her played it. Kevin had even coached some of her friends, and they couldn’t stop praising him, saying he could easily go pro or make a career as a streamer.

Erika took a deep breath, reassured. Seeing Fernanda lounging downstairs no longer bothered her. Soon, Fernanda would be packing her bags and leaving.

She wouldn’t have to deal with Fernanda again. The thought alone lifted Erika’s spirits.

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Meanwhile, Fernanda casually pulled out her phone, her fingers moving with practiced ease as she logged into the game and selected one of her many alternate accounts. She set up a private room and waited for Kevin to join. He glanced at her profile, raising an eyebrow when he saw it was a beginner account with barely any matches played.

“Have you even played this game before?” Kevin’s tone grew skeptical as he studied Fernanda. “If you haven’t, let’s just drop it. I’m not the kind of guy who preys on beginners.”

Erika nudged him, her disbelief obvious. What was wrong with him? If Fernanda was inexperienced, his victory should be effortless. Beating her would take no effort at all.

Fernanda let out a quiet laugh, her gaze drifting to Kevin. “Don’t worry about me,” she said lightly. “Just focus on playing your best.”

Kevin hesitated, still unsure, but after a moment’s pause, he started the game and selected his champion.

Because Fernanda’s account was new, she only had access to the most basic champion, one with straightforward abilities. In this game, champions with flashier, more complex skills were favored by experienced players, allowing for showy gameplay and high-skill maneuvers.

To Kevin, Fernanda’s choice of such a simple champion spelled certain defeat. She didn’t have the tools to display any real skill. He shook his head and sighed. She was setting herself up for failure. He’d even given her an out, told her she didn’t have to play if she was inexperienced. But still, she insisted.

Arrogance, Kevin thought, was the quickest path to humiliation against someone truly skilled.

He selected a champion full of style and complexity, determined to show Fernanda what a real pro looked like and leave her awestruck.

Leaning back on the sofa, Kevin settled in, with Erika beside him, eyes glued to the screen. While Erika wasn’t much of a player herself, she knew enough to recognize real skill—and in her mind, Kevin was leagues ahead.

After clearing a wave of minions, Kevin turned his focus to Fernanda’s champion. His brows furrowed in frustration. He couldn’t ignore how precise every one of her moves was.

True mastery, he knew, lay in the details—those small, nearly invisible decisions that separated the elite from everyone else. When Fernanda took him down for the first time, Kevin’s casual demeanor disappeared. He leaned forward, his easy smirk gone.

The second kill left his shoulders tense, his jaw tight.

By the third, sweat beaded down his temples, his fingers slipping against the screen as he struggled to keep up.

Desperation drove him into a wild skirmish, forcing his skills to the limit. But as his fingers slipped, the screen lagged just long enough to leave his champion frozen—a perfect target for Fernanda.

“Damn it!” he snapped, panic in his voice. “My screen glitched!”

“That’s not my problem,” Fernanda replied evenly, her gaze unwavering. “No one else made your screen freeze.”

“Hey, stop acting smug!” Erika shot Fernanda a glare. “So what if you’ve killed him a few times? Kevin’s going to win in the end. Just watch.”

Wait!”

Kevin, usually quick with a comeback, was silent.

Because Fernanda was right. The fault was his, no matter how unfair it felt. And deep down, he knew—he wasn’t going to win.

His pulse raced as he tightened his grip on the phone, hands trembling ever so slightly.

Kevin watched helplessly as Fernanda’s minions marched toward his base. But she didn’t attack right away. Instead, she waited, her champion perfectly poised for his revival.

The moment Kevin respawned, he tried to act, but Fernanda surged into the fountain, unleashing a flawless barrage of skills. Her timing was impeccable, taking him out right in his own base.

Kevin’s chest tightened as the screen faded, announcing his defeat. Fernanda’s champion fell as well—her only death of the match.

Humiliation burned through him.

Her minions swept in, dismantling his base and sealing his loss.

“Well, that’s that.” Fernanda stood, dusting off her hands. “Time to go.”

“Where to?” Erika demanded, her expression twisted in disbelief. “Kevin hasn’t lost yet! You need to play two more rounds. Best of three! Kevin can still win!”

“Really?” Fernanda tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Ask him yourself if you’re so sure.”

Kevin said nothing.

Erika couldn’t see it, but Kevin knew—even if they played a hundred rounds, the result would be the same.

Luck might matter if their skills were close. But Fernanda’s dominance was absolute.

They weren’t even in the same league.

How did she get this good?

Kevin stared at Fernanda, his mouth half-open as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“Alright.” Fernanda’s smile was as composed as her tone. “Time to keep your end of the deal. Shall we head to the Central Square?”

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