After the Fake Omega Exposure [E-sports] - Chapter 1

“And with that, we congratulate Team JG on securing the victory in this BO3.”

“Lang-Wei-Xian’s form seems a bit off lately, doesn’t it?”

As the commentator’s voice droned on, the camera cut to the players on stage. A pair of fox-like eyes betrayed an indescribable exhaustion. Chi Lang (ID: Lang-Wei-Xian) pursed his lips, shook hands with his opponents, and turned back to pack up his gear. His teammates remained silent.

Back in the lounge, Chi Lang brushed back his bangs and licked his back teeth, his irritation reaching a breaking point. “I really wish everyone would talk more during the matches,” he said.

No one acknowledged him. Only the coach patted his shoulder, while the manager stood by with a dark, oppressive expression.

A three-game losing streak was a dire situation. Chi Lang had tried to communicate with his teammates, but no one listened. He was the only one tracking map pings and enemy info.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Can we talk about what the problem is?”

At those words, everyone packing their gear looked up. A blonde-haired man put down his phone and sneered, “Talk about how trash you are?”

Blunt.

Chi Lang nodded. “I definitely have issues, but we need to communicate. In a team game, if there’s no communication, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

He wasn’t the shot-caller. The Healer wouldn’t follow him or even acknowledge him; it felt like he was playing a single-player game.

“Young Master Chi, how old are you now? You should retire when it’s time or change positions. Can you even still hold a blade?” The blonde man’s words grew sharper, stabbing directly at Chi Lang’s heart.

Age is a fatal flaw for e-sports players. Chi Lang was twenty-one this year. Among all the starting Assassins in the league, he was the oldest—a full year older than the second-most veteran player.

Chi Lang felt utterly pathetic. He didn’t dare refute them, nor did he dare get angry. All he could do was shoulder the blame. The look the manager gave him as he left told him everything: he likely wouldn’t get another chance to fight for this team.

Back at the base, he didn’t dive into match reviews like usual. Instead, he sat at his desk listening to his teammates chat. It was an atmosphere he couldn’t break into; he had never fit in since the day he arrived.

He was even excluded from the scrims. Watching the closed door of the training room, he felt a sense of loss and retreated to his room.

The faint scent of cucumber pheromones lingered in the air. Chi Lang was an Alpha currently in his “rut” period, causing his pheromones to leak. Combined with his unstable emotions, the scent had grown pungent. He lit a cigarette and stood on the balcony, staring blankly at the night sky.

How did it come to this?

Once, he was the fastest player on Server 9 to reach the ‘God-Slayer’ rank. He was the genius Assassin whose debut stunned the world, the player who snatched three consecutive league titles and two Inter-Star championships. He had never been a sub. He had seen the lows and the highs, but he had never encountered teammates like these.

Notes:

God-Slayer: The highest rank for the Assassin role in Fate’s Strife.

Inter-Star Tournament: A clash between champions from the second round of the galactic circuit.

League Structure: Round 1 (Jan–Mar); Round 2 (Mar–Jun); Round 3 (Jun–Sep).

Perhaps, as they said, he really was old.

Yet, just last year, he had won the third-round championship and made the Top 8 in the StarCraft World Series. He never skipped training. He was just a very “average” Alpha—his stamina couldn’t compare to S-Rank Alphas, and even his pheromones were the non-threatening scent of cucumber. But no matter how average he was, he treated every scrim and match with absolute seriousness. His ranked match count was among the highest in the galaxy.

His signature weapon, the Eternal Blade, was soaked in blood; many of the “souls” fallen beneath his knife belonged to IDs that echoed across the stars.

Leaning against the balcony swing, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the forums.

[Score Thread: JG 2-0 MAG]

1L: Old Man Lang-Wei-Xian. [Image]

2L: I’m giving you a 0 because that’s the lowest the system allows.

30L: What kind of delusional Assassin plays like that? You could have gone in there! You’re dragging down our “Five Little Gods.” Get lost.

410L: Five gods carrying one piece of trash. If your blade is too dull to kill anyone, at least learn how to be a meat shield.

555L: Next time just stay in the base. I’ll give you a 1 point for effort then.

Countless insults flooded his vision. He pressed a finger against his burning eyelids. Ever since joining MAG, his reputation had been in the gutter. If they won, he was “carried”; if they lost, it was “his fault.” Fans of other teammates harassed him constantly, even mocking him to his face outside the stadiums.

To say he didn’t care would be a lie. But he didn’t care that much. Public scrutiny was something a pro player had to endure. However, the dissatisfaction from his teammates was what truly exhausted him.

Before he could exit the forum, a new post with a skyrocketing view count hit the front page: [Internal Leak: MAG in talks with other Assassins. Replacement imminent? Where will Lang-Wei-Xian go?]

Usually, Chi Lang would laugh it off. Today was different. This was real.

Ring, Ring…

“Hello.”

“Chi Lang, come to the training room for a moment.”

“Understood.”

Arriving at the door, he didn’t enter immediately. Voices drifted from inside. It was the blonde guy: “If he doesn’t beat it, the losing streak is just going to continue. I don’t care, he has to go. Swap him for any normal person—hell, go fish a rookie out of the youth academy.”

The manager said, “It’s not the transfer window yet. The League will penalize us.”

Another teammate chimed in, “They won’t penalize a standard player trade. We just won’t let him play; it’s not like we’re terminating the contract outright.”

Knock, knock…

The room went dead silent. It was awkward seeing the subject of their conversation walk in. Only the blonde guy looked indifferent, returning to his phone. The manager rubbed his nose and broke the news that Chi Lang was being moved to the bench.

Chi Lang had prepared himself, but it still hurt to be abandoned by the team mid-season. Without a transfer window, he had nowhere to go.

“Lang-Wei-Xian, look… we talked to other teams about a trade, but they weren’t interested.” The other teams had made it clear: if they wanted a player, they’d pay cash. They wouldn’t accept a trade. The implication was that Chi Lang wasn’t even worth an exchange for a rookie.

“So… you’ll be a substitute. You don’t need to attend scrims. Just think of it as a long vacation.”

Chi Lang forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. A long vacation? No pro player wanted a long vacation. It destroyed your form and your market value. To put it bluntly, after “resting” for a while, he’d be a lamb to the slaughter, forced to wait for a team to pick him up rather than choosing a team himself.

“Let’s terminate the contract,” he said.

His teammates couldn’t hide their joy. The manager asked, confused, “If we terminate, the liquidated damages are huge. Actually…”

“I’ll pay,” Chi Lang said coldly. He had a one-year contract with only a few months gone. Terminating it would cost nearly 20 million Star-credits. His annual salary was only 2 million. Between his six years of earnings, prize money, and ad revenue, he could barely afford it.

But he wouldn’t bury himself next to a water cooler. The bench was no place for him.

Seeing his resolve, the manager didn’t push further. The news of Chi Lang leaving the team was reported to headquarters and the official league, spreading across the internet instantly.

MAG fans were celebrating—they had finally gotten rid of the “weakest link.”

The online bullying reached a fever pitch when MAG, with their new Assassin, defeated Team MGC 2-0, ending their losing streak.

‘Not Famous Until Now’ (MGC) was a four-time StarCraft champion team. They were the top e-sports giants of Planet 9, boasting multiple star players. They were a force that swept across the galaxy.

However, MGC’s Assassin had been struggling lately, often falling out of formation. Consequently, MGC’s dominance had dipped slightly in the G14 season. Even so, they remained a top-tier powerhouse.

MGC Base:

“He just left like that? What does he think we are? He’s a Beta! He doesn’t have ruts or heats—how the hell is he ‘affected by me’?”

The meeting room was shrouded in gloom. The furious shouting was barely muffled by the soundproof door. Anyone passing by knew that the great Healer, Chu Jiangli (ID: Zhuque), was scolding someone again.

Standing at the long table was an “Omega” with curly blonde hair and big eyes. His exquisite features were paired with a mouth that could spit lethal poison. Chu Jiangli tugged at his neck collar and licked his lips. “Tell me, my pheromones are so faint. What does he mean, he was ‘affected’?”

It was a pathetic excuse. Everyone knows Betas can’t even smell AO pheromones, let alone Chu Jiangli’s, which were nearly undetectable due to a damaged gland and premature differentiation.

The teammates said nothing, heads down. Only the young man sitting in the side seat leaned back lazily.

Chu Jiangli walked over, every step and smile carrying a unique charm. “Feng-hui, what do you think?”

Ling Fenghui (ID: Feng-fu-chen-hui). A top-tier DPS player and a galactic e-sports superstar. Since his debut, his win rate was a staggering 80%. His proficiency with every firearm was unmatched. He was a legendary S-rank Alpha who had single-handedly driven the growth of the entire industry.

He pursed his lips, a hint of confusion in his elegant eyes. “What do I think about what?”

The room erupted in quiet snickers.

Chu Jiangli took a deep breath. “Do you think my pheromones could seduce you?”

Ling Fenghui blinked and said seriously, “No.”

“See? Even our star DPS is indifferent to my scent! How dare that guy blame me?” Chu Jiangli grew angrier, shouting at the manager cowering in the corner. “I want a new Assassin! Go buy someone. If we don’t, our first round is going to be a disaster!”

The manager smiled weakly. “Understood.”

No team manager was as “useless” as he was. He couldn’t decide a single thing. But the owner had said Ling Fenghui comes first, and Ling Fenghui listened to everything Chu Jiangli said. As the Healer and head shot-caller, Chu Jiangli held all the power. The manager was basically just an errand boy for these two “Great Gods.”