Chapter 209 You Lost
People around were in shock:
"Oh my God, what's happening? Is she really going to challenge him? I sense today's drama will outshine the competition."
“Quick, I'm going to live stream this. It'll totally boost my follower count.”
“I'm starting my stream too.”
The chatter escalated rapidly, creating a buzz while Reese sat calmly in her chair, her face a picture of composure with not a trace of fear, as Alyssa anxiously bit her nails beside her.
Leaning in cautiously, Alyssa whispered to Reese, “Are you sure about this? Our chances seem slim. You might not realize just how good he is; he's the star player of his team.”
Reese looked at Alyssa with a puzzled expression: "You trust him but not me?"
“That's not it, Reese. It's just that there's a gap in our skills, and he did win the championship last year. We can't compare to these pros."
What Alyssa truly feared was the possibility of Reese losing, and the unthinkable prospect of following through on a reckless bet.
If Malcolm found out, he would be livid, and Alyssa was well aware of how much he treasured Reese.
“But you have to agree to one thing,” said Reese, her intentions going beyond just showing off her skills.
"What is it?” Alyssa had never met anyone like Reese. Others might have been nervous, but here she was, chatting away.
“If I win, you need to forget about him because he doesn't deserve your support or admiration."
Alyssa didn't fully understand the feeling of heartbreak, regardless of whether her affections were romantic or not, but she knew it didn’t justify hurting someone.
The realization that Reese was doing this for her made Alyssa feel an indescribable rush of excitement and surprise—it was like hitting the jackpot.
Her spirits lifted instantly; she was the kind of person who could let go when needed and nodded her consent right away.
"I'll listen to you."
It made sense to follow the advice of someone as clever as Reese.
She was the kind of girl who could take it or leave it—no matter how down or lost she felt, sympathy was not forthcoming. At this moment, Alyssa Flynn had to be strong, fighting to maintain her pride.
Reese heaved a sigh of relief. Thankfully, she had her wits about her—it could get messy if she was the obstinate type.
“So, that's settled. Come on, grab your four teammates, and I'll just pick a few ringers from the crowd,” Reese said, the picture of calm with confidence oozing from his expression. Alyssa, however, was worried—after all, they were facing a seeded player. They usually played just to please the fans; this was a whole different ball game.
Reese had already shocked everyone by stepping up to the challenge. Now, her bold claim of randomly picking a few good fighters did seem a tad arrogant.
"She must be out of her mind—thinking any random picks stand a chance. Even if she picks a few decent fighters, they're no match," one bystander muttered.
"I don't think she's got the skills—it's just crazy talk," said another.
Even I had to chuckle; it seemed like a unanimous verdict—Reese was crazy to even consider competing.
Her demeanor grew even more daring, with a gleam of arrogance in her eyes.
“Remember, you said this—no regrets,” challenged an onlooker.
"Regrets? The word's not in my vocabulary," Reese shot back, never one to make decisions lightly.
And so, Reese did just that—randomly picked a few fighters who simply knew how to throw a punch and sat down. Pulling out her phone, she selected her favorite character, Little Joe, while her opponent chose an assassin.
There were gasps in the audience. "It's on purpose. Everyone knows the bane of a mage character is an assassin—it's like going in with the intention to kill."
"No mercy, then," someone remarked.
"What do you expect with her not knowing her limits? It's her own fault."
"The show's about to start, and I've got to admit, her looks alone have me excited."
The buzzing excitement was palpable, mostly among the men.
Reese had no time to waste. "One round decides it," she declared.
Her adversary scoffed dismissively, "You really are clueless until the very end, aren’t you?"
Without missing a beat, Reese retorted, "We'll see who's clueless."
With a snort, he was determined to show this woman the meaning of professional.
The people watching were absolutely stunned by Reese's moves—not only had she not faltered once, but after leveling up to five, she didn't just stick to the middle lane. Instead, she chose to roam, lying in ambush and launching surprise attacks from behind that nearly drove her opponents to the brink of collapse.
In theory, mages should fear assassins, but Reese turned that fear on its head. She wasn't just slaying her opposition; she was doing it with such finesse that they scrambled for cover without knowing where to hide. The moment they ventured out, Reese was there to catch them, her precision like that of someone who could track their every move.
Her own teammates couldn't even come to the rescue, tangled up by Reese's allies and leaving her to handle the offensive alone.
The coach on the sidelines watched in disbelief, never before having seen a player with such audacity.
"She's a genius, through and through."
Others overheard the compliment. "What's going on? Is the coach really praising her?"
"But didn't you notice? Her gameplay is smooth, like a river flowing through pre-carved channels. It's clear she had a strategy. There isn’t even an ounce of randomness. She takes the initiative, fully aware that once an assassin finds an opening, it's not easy for a mage to turn the tide."
"So she struck first, preventing any chance of getting suppressed and losing the ability to fight back."
"This lady is not all talk; she's genuinely skilled."
"But beating professional players? That can't be easy. Could she be some retired pro?"
"How should I know?"
Alyssa looked utterly dumbfounded, her gaze vacant, her eyes unblinking.
How could Reese be so formidable? Alyssa knew she was good, but to compete with professionals? That was fierce.
The victor was clear—Reese had won, hands down.
Her opponent's face contorted as if he'd swallowed something foul, and in a fit of frustration, he pounded his fist on the desk. "How did this happen?!"
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