League of Legends: League of Unknowns

In the dormitory, the members of Team ‘Daemons’ crowded in around Asmodai’s computer.

It wasn’t a particularly long recording, but the Daemons players watched with rapt attention. Even Asmodai, seeing it all again, found other moments of brilliance that he hadn’t noticed earlier, when he was busy farming minions in-game.

Watching the replay now, observing Zyra’s every movement and action, it only re-affirmed their initial judgment!

“This guy certainly plays like a pro,” Kang agreed.

As professional gamers themselves, they could easily spot one of their own from the slightest details. Coach Huang Kang was a canny analyst, and he was saying this even before the first fight had broken out.

A pro-gamer possessed incredibly high APM, and unconsciously dodged aside from enemy skills. Although he might appear to be moving at random, each move was calculated, and no skill went to waste.

That was what it meant to play like a pro.

“Whoa, that was awesome! He blocked your hook with a plant!”

“Yeah, that was absolutely perfect!”

When everyone saw Zyra doing that, they reacted with shock. Even the haughtier members of the team saw this with interest. After all, it wasn’t every Support player who could see through their opponents’ schemes and their teammates’ vulnerabilities with such clarity.

“Ah, Asmodai, that was a reckless double-Flash—” The coach shook his head when he saw Asmodai going all-in, but suddenly fell silent when he witnessed Zyra’s response to it, his mouth hanging slightly ajar.

“He’s fast… he’s so fast! He dropped that Exhaust on you even before your first basic attack reached him!” Coach Huang Kang exclaimed.

A double-Flash constituted a very abrupt and startling assault, but the speed of that Exhaust on Asmodai, hitting him the very instant he came within reach, suggested that Zyra’s player had seen it coming!

Watching it as a spectator, one might chalk it up to an instinctive reaction perhaps—but Kang knew that there were even some pro-gamers who weren’t this fast!

Next came Zyra’s devastating skill combo, concluding with that last, spectacularly prescient spike shot. Watching this, Huang Kang was beside himself. If this replay was made publicly available, it wouldn’t be surprising to see it in some ‘Top 10’ list in the official game forums. It was simply incredible!

Although the whole thing only lasted twenty minutes, and the average viewer might say it was just a player who had a lot of experience playing Zyra, Huang Kang could tell there was a lot more to it than that—he was certain that player had received professional training before!

“What do you think, coach?” Asmodai asked.

When the coach didn’t reply, Charon spoke first. “I think this Zyra is extraordinary. We all know where Yi Qin’s ability level is at—it should have been a simple matter for the two of you to defeat them utterly. However, Zyra countered you at every turn, and made you pay dearly for every kill you got. It’s a pity that Yi Qin was so clumsy here… it’s hard to say which way the fight would have gone, otherwise.”

Coach Kang nodded. “That’s true. Asmodai, have you added him as a Friend yet?”

“I’ve sent him a Friend Request, but he followed Yi Qin out of the game early. I don’t know if he’s even seen it yet,” Asmodai replied.

“Right. Note down that ID. If possible, I’ll try to meet up with him,” Coach Huang Kang said.

“Coach, perhaps we’re being too hasty? It could just be that this player was in unusually good form that game. We’ve only seen barely more than ten minutes of laning. It’s hardly uncommon for us to come across skilled players in Ranked play.”

“As I’ve said, this guy has the makings of a pro. If we develop his talent further, he’ll be a real contender,” Coach Huang Kang declared earnestly.

“I’ll keep a close eye on him!” Asmodai swore. Like the coach, he saw something truly special in that player, even in those brief ten minutes.

For players of their caliber, ten minutes was enough to tell.

***

The next few days, whenever Asmodai was playing on his alternate account, he’d send another Friend Request to that player’s ID.

To his disappointment, the player didn’t respond.

Asmodai found it peculiar that a player of such ability would go several days in a row without logging on. He started up ‘LoL Box’ ¹ so he could look up that player’s match history.

Sorting through the details, it appeared that this player mainly partnered with Yi Qin to play in Ranked games.

Asmodai refused to give up, and fell into a habit of looking up that player’s match history on a daily basis. Three weeks passed, and not a single new match.

Asmodai even went as far as to seek out Yi Qin, but she’d gone abroad, and likewise had never logged into the game since then. This discovery had left him with a certain sense of loss.

***

True to Asmodai’s research, Yu Luocheng really hadn’t played a single game on that account in over three weeks.

At first, Yu Luocheng had concluded that Snowfall had just been in a foul mood at the time. Things should be back to normal after a few days. However, this whole month, he’d yet to see her again.

She’d neither logged into the game, nor her QQ. He didn’t have her number, so calling her was out of the question.

She’d just vanished from his world, without any notice nor explanation.

For the longest time, Yu Luocheng had made a point of logging on every week to chat with her for a bit, play a few games of Ranked, talk about the latest fads on the internet, and occasionally even share a few things from their own lives… but although he’d been curious, there had always been a certain line he’d never dared to cross.

When spending time in her company became a habit, became a reason to look forward to the weekends, Yu Luocheng had added her to a mental list of his most precious, cherished friends, long before he’d ever been graced by the sound of her lovely, captivating voice.

And then one day, she’d disappeared under the most enigmatic circumstances, without any clue of what had happened. As the weeks went by, anticipation gave way to despair. He often thought he saw her name lighting up in QQ, but when he reached over to click on it, he found it still grayed out after all.

He was worried, but he couldn’t think of what to do. There was a gaping void in his heart where she used to be.

Although it’s said that knowledge is food for thought, and the truth can make you whole, Yu Luocheng had spent the entire month completely focused on nothing but his studies, but although his grades were rising, his heart was still in pieces on the floor, and his anxiety seemed to be mounting with each day.

Two months, and still no reply.

On the sixtieth day, the last sliver of hope died in Yu Luocheng. She was really gone.

With her knowing, mesmerizing, elegant, gorgeous voice, she’d set his youthful heart afire, such that he’d wanted nothing more than to fly over to her and take her into his arms.

And then, with an off-handed stroke of Alt-F4, she’d severed the link between them. It was time for Yu Luocheng to stop denying it.

Nevertheless, he’d keep going on his QQ. He’d maintain that game ID at exactly that score in Ranked, so that on the day Snowfall returned, he could still be her partner, and they could reach for the higher tiers side-by-side.

Until she returned, he didn’t have the heart to play on that ID anymore.

***

“Maybe she fell terminally ill or something, and that’s why she left without saying goodbye.” Yu Luocheng continued to wonder what had happened to Snowfall No explanation he thought of was ever quite good enough.