The Golden Mouse Internet Café had transformed. What began as a local tournament had exploded into a genuine gaming event, with spectators filling every available space and crowding doorways. The once-quiet café now hummed with excitement as the semi-finals approached.
Aiden sat in the break room, eyes closed, gathering his strength. The quarter-finals had pushed him to his limits, but they'd succeeded. Two more matches stood between them and the prize that would change everything.
"Feeling better?" Sophia asked, setting down a protein bar and energy drink beside him.
"Getting there," Aiden replied, accepting both gratefully. "How's everyone else holding up?"
"Elena's analyzing footage of Night Wolves' previous matches. Marcus is doing equipment checks. Liam..." she smiled slightly, "is being Liam—watching everyone without being noticed."
Aiden nodded, taking a long drink. "And what about you?"
Sophia's professional facade slipped momentarily, revealing genuine fatigue. "Managing. Just like old ER shifts—the patients don't care if you're tired."
The door opened as Marcus entered, his broad frame filling the doorway. "You need to see this."
They followed him to the main floor where the atmosphere had intensified. Local news crews had arrived, setting up equipment near the main stage. A gaming livestreamer with a considerable following was interviewing eliminated teams, while tournament officials in newly-printed "Golden Mouse Tournament" shirts directed traffic.
"Old Man Jo's café is getting more publicity than he's seen in years," Marcus observed.
Elena waved them over to their terminal cluster, her face tight with concern. "We have a problem," she said quietly. "Someone's been at our equipment."
Aiden immediately checked his terminal, noticing subtle differences—the keyboard angled slightly wrong, the monitor settings changed from his preferences.
"Tampering?" he asked, voice low.
Elena nodded. "I was reviewing Night Wolves footage when the system locked up. Rebooted and found several performance throttling programs running in the background. Checked everyone's stations—all affected."
"Can you fix it?" Marcus asked.
"Working on it, but these are locked-down café systems. I don't have admin rights to purge everything." Her frustration was evident. "Whoever did this knew what they were doing."
Aiden didn't need to look to know who was responsible. Across the room, Blackthorn's team lounged at their premium stations, surrounded by sponsor equipment and tech support. Blackthorn himself was giving an interview, his polished smile never reaching his eyes.
"We need to talk to Jo," Aiden decided.
Before they could move, Vale approached with a tall, lean man whose hands never stopped moving—adjusting goggles pushed up on his forehead, fidgeting with circuit-patterned tattoos visible on his forearms.
"Heard you might have technical difficulties," Vale said without preamble. "This is Kai, our team's artificer. He's... good with computers."
Kai nodded, eyes already analyzing their terminals. "Performance throttling? Classic. Simple but effective. Time constraint makes it particularly nasty."
"You can help?" Aiden asked, surprised by the offer.
"Competing teams should win or lose based on skill, not sabotage," Vale said simply. "We'd expect the same courtesy."
Elena stepped aside somewhat reluctantly as Kai sat at her terminal, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Nice system... shame about the bottlenecking." He produced a small device from his pocket, connecting it to a USB port. "My own cleanup utility. Café admin might not like it, but what they don't know..."
Within minutes, Kai had restored their primary systems, removing the performance constraints and reverting settings to their original configurations.
"Should run properly now," he said, disconnecting his device. "Might want to check peripherals too—sometimes they mess with mouse sensitivity or keyboard response rates."
Elena immediately began testing, her suspicion gradually shifting to grudging appreciation. "Response time is back to normal. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Kai replied with a shrug. "Wouldn't be much satisfaction in beating a handicapped team."
The straightforward admission of their confidence should have been arrogant, but something in Kai's matter-of-fact delivery made it simply honest.
Old Man Jo's voice boomed over the speaker system, cutting through the buzz of conversation. "Semi-finals begin in thirty minutes! All competing teams check your equipment and prepare!"
The announcement sent a fresh wave of energy through the café. Spectators jostled for better viewing positions while eliminated players discussed predictions. A small betting pool had formed near the counter, with handwritten odds for each remaining team.
"Blackthorn Gaming at 2-1 favorites," Marcus noted, glancing at the board. "We're listed at 5-1. Disrespectful."
"Good," Aiden replied. "Underestimation is an advantage."
Vale and Kai prepared to return to their team, but Aiden stopped them. "We owe you. Not many would help competitors."
"Consider it an investment in a worthy final match," Vale replied. "Assuming we both advance."
The implication was clear—Vale expected to defeat Blackthorn, and expected Aiden's team to defeat Night Wolves.
"You're facing Blackthorn," Aiden observed. "They won't play fair."
"We're aware," Vale said, a gleam of determination in his scholarly eyes. "We've prepared accordingly."
As they departed, Elena approached, eyebrows raised. "Strange to have such cordial relations with the enemy."
"They're opponents, not enemies," Aiden corrected. "There's a difference."
"Tell that to Blackthorn," she muttered, nodding toward the far side of the café.
Blackthorn was deep in conversation with tournament officials, his expression carefully controlled despite the tension evident in his posture. Whatever he was arguing for, he wasn't getting his way.
"Semi-finals update!" Old Man Jo announced. "Match one: Architects of Destiny versus Night Wolves! Match two: Horizon Guild versus Blackthorn Gaming! Winners advance to championship round!"
The announcement triggered a fresh wave of excitement through the crowd. Local gaming enthusiasts who had initially come to watch were now fully invested, picking favorites and discussing strategies.
"We need to review Night Wolves footage," Aiden said, pulling his team back to their terminals.
Elena already had clips queued up. "They're unlike our previous opponents. Less tactical, more... instinctive."
The footage showed a team that fought with coordinated aggression—not the careful strategy of Shadow Directive or the illusion tactics of Mystic Vanguard, but raw, overwhelming force applied with uncanny timing. Their matches had been the shortest of the tournament, brutal dismantlings of their opponents through sheer offensive pressure.
"Their leader, Fenris, plays a berserker with dual axes," Elena explained. "Highest damage output in the tournament so far."
"Their healer uses druid forms," Sophia observed. "Shifting between healing and damage as needed. Highly flexible."
Marcus studied their tank, noting the unorthodox equipment choices. "Light armor, high mobility. Sacrifices protection for speed. Could be exploited."
"Their support uses crowd control almost exclusively," Elena continued. "Stuns, roots, slows—no direct damage abilities."
Liam spoke up, his quiet voice immediately drawing their attention. "They're hunters. They pick one target and eliminate it before moving to the next. No wasted effort."
Aiden nodded, recognizing the pattern. Night Wolves didn't fight for positional advantage or map control—they fought to eliminate opponents as quickly as possible, maximizing the period when they had numerical superiority.
"They'll target our weakest link first," he concluded. "Or whoever they perceive as most dangerous."
"That would be you," Elena said bluntly. "Your control abilities disrupt their hunting pattern."
"Or Sophia," Marcus countered. "Without healing, we'd be vulnerable to their aggressive style."
"We need redundancy," Aiden decided. "Everyone prepared to shift roles if targeted. Sophia, split healing priorities instead of full concentration on Marcus. I'll prepare mobility runes for emergency repositioning."
As they discussed adjustments, the café continued filling. What had begun as a local tournament now resembled a regional competition, complete with livestreaming setup and a commentators' table near the main display.
Across the café, the atmosphere around Vale's team had shifted. Where they had previously displayed scholarly concentration, now they emanated focused intensity. Vale was speaking quietly to his team, Maya nodding with precise understanding while Riven, the unassuming prodigy, appeared lost in thought, fingers tapping complex patterns on the table's edge.
Blackthorn's team projected absolute confidence, their sponsor-branded equipment arranged with precision, their expressions revealing nothing. Their technical support staff had positioned themselves strategically around the café, ostensibly to capture footage but effectively creating a perimeter.
"Five minutes to semi-finals!" came the announcement. "Teams to your stations!"
The crowd responded with growing excitement, conversations rising in volume as spectators made final predictions and placed last-minute bets. The commentators activated their microphones, beginning their pre-match analysis.
The announcement came over the café's speakers: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the semi-finals of the Golden Mouse Championship! Four teams remain from our original sixteen, each fighting for a place in today's finals and the championship prize!"
The spectators erupted in applause and cheers as the commentator continued: "Our first semi-final match features the surprising upstarts, Architects of Destiny, facing the shadow masters, Night Wolves! Following that, tournament favorites Blackthorn Gaming will battle the strategic Horizon Guild!"
On the main screen, the bracket displayed their potential path to victory—two more matches standing between them and the life-changing prize that would make Eternal Realms a reality.
Aiden took a deep breath, clearing his mind of everything but the challenge ahead. Equipment issues, fatigue, tournament pressure—all faded into background concerns as he focused on the essential task: adaptation and victory.
"Ready?" he asked his team quietly.
Four determined nods answered him as they positioned their hands over keyboards and mice, ready to overcome whatever challenges awaited.
The first semi-final was about to begin.