Ego Check: The Game That Changes Everything Rewrite

The bustling hallways of the school were already alive with the usual chaos—lockers slamming shut, laughter echoing from clustered groups of friends, and the hum of conversations blending into an indistinct cacophony. Raxian stepped through the double doors, and the world seemed to momentarily slow down. The familiar sights and sounds surrounded him, but for the first time, they felt... distant. Foreign.

He had barely made it three steps inside when his friends spotted him.

"Yo, Rax! There you are, man!" One of them, Bryce, called out, waving him over. The others followed suit, their voices a mix of excitement and curiosity.

"Dude, where the hell have you been? You missed, like, a whole week!"

"Yeah, we were starting to think you'd dropped off the face of the earth!"

"You good? You didn't answer any of our texts."

Raxian forced a grin, the kind he had practiced in the mirror all week. "Yeah, sorry. I was sick. Nothing serious, though." His voice was steady, casual even, but it lacked its usual spark. The kind of spark that had always made him the loudest, most confident one in the group.

A few of his friends nodded, buying the excuse without hesitation. Bryce clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Man, you had us worried for a second there. Glad you're back, though."

Another one chimed in with a teasing smirk. "Bet you were just grinding League the whole time, huh? Trying to hit Diamond while the rest of us were stuck in class?"

Normally, Raxian would have fired back with some cocky remark, something to reestablish himself as the undisputed king of banter. But today, he just shrugged. "Nah. Didn't play much." His tone was flat, almost dismissive, and it was enough to make a few of them pause.

Bryce raised an eyebrow, his grin faltering. "You sure you're okay, dude? You seem... I dunno, different."

"Yeah, you're not even roasting me for that time I inted in ranked last week," another friend joked, but there was a nervous edge to his laugh.

Raxian waved it off, brushing past them toward his locker. "I'm fine. Just tired." The words were automatic, rehearsed. He wasn't sure if they were more for his benefit or theirs.

The group exchanged glances behind him, their worry evident, but none of them pushed further. Raxian could feel their eyes on him as he fiddled with his locker, pretending to organize his things. It took everything in him not to snap at them, to tell them to mind their own business. But he didn't have the energy for it—not today.

As he closed his locker, his gaze drifted to the classroom doors ahead. The weight in his chest felt heavier with every step he took, but he shoved it down, burying it beneath the mask he wore so well.

—-----------------------------------------------

The usual buzz of the classroom greeted Raxian as he stepped inside. He made his way to his seat near the front, his movements calculated to avoid drawing attention. A few students glanced his way, but no one said much. His absence had been noticed, sure, but most people weren't interested enough to pry.

Most people, except Fayne.

From her seat across the room, Fayne's sharp blue eyes tracked his every move. She'd been watching the door all morning, waiting for him to show up. When he finally did, the first thing she noticed was the way his shoulders slumped just slightly, his usual confident posture replaced by something... subdued. The second thing she noticed was his face. There was no smirk, no cocky glint in his golden eyes. Instead, there was an unfamiliar weight to his expression, like he was carrying something he couldn't shake.

He slid into his seat, greeting his desk partner with a brief nod before pulling out his notebook. Fayne watched him out of the corner of her eye, her pen tapping absently against her notebook. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but this wasn't it. He seemed... hollow. Like he was there, but not really.

As the teacher started the lecture, Fayne found her attention drifting, her thoughts circling back to Raxian. What happened to you? She couldn't quite explain why she cared so much, but the worry gnawed at her. He wasn't himself, and no one else seemed to notice—or if they did, they weren't saying anything.

Her pen stilled as she glanced at him again, her brow furrowing. Whatever it was, it wasn't just a cold or exhaustion. It was something deeper. She just didn't know what.

—-----------------------------------------------

Even though Fayne was concerned, she couldn't bring herself to say anything. It wasn't her place, she told herself. After all, they barely spoke unless it was through their friend groups, and even then, it was only in passing. Their lives barely overlapped. Maybe it was better to let it stay that way.

She tried to convince herself of this as the day went on, but the unease lingered. Every time she glanced at Raxian, she could see the way he seemed to sink further into himself, his energy depleted, his spark dimmed. She shook her head, trying to focus on her own world. Whatever was going on with him, she couldn't fix it. Not when he didn't want her to.

—-----------------------------------------------

The whispers about Sable hadn't died down. If anything, they'd grown louder.

Even in his detached state, Raxian couldn't ignore the way her name floated through the halls, carried by murmured conversations and excited voices. In the month since she'd arrived, the mysterious League prodigy had built a reputation for herself—one that was impossible to ignore.

"Have you seen her stats? Insane KDA."

"Apparently, she's coaching a Diamond team already."

"I heard she's top 100 in the region. Can you believe that?"

The more he heard, the more it gnawed at him. He still didn't know who she was, but the weight of her reputation pressed against him like a challenge he hadn't accepted but couldn't ignore. It wasn't jealousy—he told himself it wasn't—but something about her rise made him feel smaller, like his own struggles were insignificant in comparison.

Who the hell is she? And why can't I stop thinking about her?

—-----------------------------------------------

After school, Raxian wandered the streets, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He had no direction, no destination. His friends had tried to rope him into their plans for the afternoon—something about watching a movie they had been talking about—but he'd declined. The thought of their laughter, their energy, felt exhausting. Just existing was hard enough.

The city buzzed around him as he moved, neon signs flickering to life in the fading light, the hum of traffic filling the air. But it all blurred together, like static in the background of his thoughts. His feet carried him forward, but his mind remained stuck, looping through the same frustrations and questions that had plagued him for weeks.

Eventually, he found himself by the riverbank, the water reflecting the glow of the city lights in rippling patterns. He walked along the path, the sound of his footsteps mixing with the gentle rush of the current. The cool air nipped at his skin, but he barely felt it. His thoughts were elsewhere.

What am I even doing? What's the point of any of this?

He followed the path until it led him to a tunnel, the dim light casting long shadows on the graffiti-covered walls. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the confined space, and he paused, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. That's when he saw her.

—-----------------------------------------------

She was leaning casually against the wall, her stance relaxed yet exuding a quiet confidence. Her long-sleeved uniform shirt was tied around her waist, giving the otherwise formal attire a cooler, more rebellious touch—similar to how Raxian styled his own. Her wavy black hair, fading into blue at the ends, fell freely to her waist, catching the faint light in a way that made it shimmer. She wore ear pods, her green eyes distant, as if lost in thought.

Raxian stopped in his tracks, his curiosity piqued. There was something about her presence that felt... magnetic. She seemed completely at ease, like she belonged there in that tunnel, surrounded by the faded graffiti and the faint hum of passing cars overhead.

What's she doing here? he wondered. She didn't seem to notice him at first, her focus elsewhere, but the faintest furrow of her brows suggested she wasn't as detached as she appeared. There was an intensity about her, a quiet energy that made her seem untouchable yet deeply intriguing.

Raxian cleared his throat, the sound echoing slightly in the tunnel. The girl's eyes flicked toward him, her expression unreadable as she pulled out one of her ear pods.

"You lost or something?" she asked, her tone cool but not unkind.

Raxian blinked, caught off guard by the directness of her question. "Uh... no. Just... walking."

She raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Huh. Weird place to just walk."

Her voice had a melodic quality to it, smooth but with an edge that hinted at confidence. Raxian felt a flicker of annoyance at her casual dismissal but pushed it aside. Instead, he shrugged, leaning against the opposite wall of the tunnel.

"Could say the same about you," he said, his tone matching hers.

The girl chuckled softly, her green eyes studying him for a moment. "Fair enough." She tilted her head slightly, the streaks of blue in her hair catching the light again. "You're from Westview High, right?"

Raxian nodded, his curiosity growing. "Yeah. You?"

She gestured to her uniform, the tied-up shirt emphasizing her point. "What gave it away?"

Her sarcasm made him smirk despite himself. "Fair point."

For a moment, silence settled between them, the sounds of the city muffled by the tunnel's walls. Raxian couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about her, but he couldn't place it. Her cool demeanor, her presence—it all felt like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

"I'm Raxian," he said finally, breaking the silence.

The girl gave him a small nod, her expression unreadable. "Sable."

Raxian froze, the name hitting him like a shockwave. His mind raced, connecting dots that suddenly seemed glaringly obvious. The rumors, the whispers, the mystery—she was the Sable everyone had been talking about. The League prodigy. And now, here she was, standing in front of him in a tunnel, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But he didn't let the realization show. Instead, he kept his expression neutral, his golden eyes steady as he studied her.

"Well, Sable," he said, his voice carefully casual. "What brings a League prodigy to a place like this?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her smirk returning. "Word travels fast, huh?"

"You could say that."

She shrugged, leaning more comfortably against the wall. "Sometimes you just need to get away, you know? Clear your head. Not that different from what you're doing, I'm guessing."

Raxian didn't respond immediately, his mind still reeling from the encounter. Sable... The girl who had unknowingly become his rival, his obsession, his challenge. And now, she was here, right in front of him.

The question was: what was he going to do about it?

For all the rumors, for all the whispers that had built her up to some untouchable legend, Sable stood before him as just… a girl. A normal, chill girl leaning against a tunnel wall, her hands tucked into her pockets, her stance casual. She didn't radiate the larger-than-life presence he'd imagined. No boastful smirk, no air of superiority. Just a faint, quiet confidence.

She was nothing like what he had expected—and somehow, that made her even more intriguing.

The girl who had ignited a storm of speculation across the school didn't seem remotely interested in her reputation. If anything, she seemed almost oblivious to it. Her green eyes, framed by the loose waves of her black hair, didn't hold the sharpness he had anticipated. They were focused, sure, but calm. Measured. Like the rumors didn't matter to her at all.

What the hell? This is the girl who's been tearing up the League ladder? His thoughts swirled, conflicting emotions tangling together. Part of him felt disappointed—he had expected a cocky, fiery rival to fuel his frustration. Someone who would challenge him directly, get under his skin, and push him to be better out of sheer spite. Instead, she was... ordinary. Human. And that realization made her seem so much larger than life in a completely different way.

"So," he found himself saying, his voice filling the tunnel's quiet. "You're really her, huh? Sable."

She quirked an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Depends. Who's asking?"

"Just curious," he replied, leaning against the wall opposite her. "I've heard the rumors. League prodigy. Insane mechanics. Untouchable rank. All that jazz."

Her smirk grew slightly, but it was more amused than prideful. "Rumors are just that—rumors. People like to exaggerate."

"Are they wrong, though?"

Sable shrugged, her posture relaxed. "I mean, I'm not bad, if that's what you're asking. But it's not like I'm some big deal. I just like the game."

Her nonchalant tone threw him off. No boasting. No flexing. Just a simple statement, as if being one of the best players around was no different than saying she enjoyed a hobby. It was... humbling.

Raxian blinked, his frustration fading slightly as something else took its place. A spark of curiosity. Maybe even motivation.

"Fair enough," he said, his voice quieter now. He glanced down at the path beneath his feet, his mind spinning. He had spent so much time building her up in his head, imagining her as some rival to surpass, some mountain to climb. But now that he had met her, the reality was so much simpler—and somehow, that made it all the more powerful.

If someone like her could climb to the top, why couldn't he?

—-----------------------------------------------

After a few more moments of idle conversation, Raxian said his goodbyes and made his way home. The encounter lingered in his mind, playing over and over like a highlight reel. Sable hadn't done anything remarkable in their brief meeting—no grand speeches, no demonstrations of skill—but somehow, she had left a mark on him.

The truth was, she hadn't been what he expected at all. And maybe that was the point. For all her skill, all the hype surrounding her, Sable was just a girl who loved the game. She wasn't chasing fame or validation. She was simply playing because she wanted to. Because she enjoyed it.

That thought stuck with him as he sat down at his desk later that night, the glow of his monitor lighting up his room. He logged into League, his fingers hovering over the "queue up" button. For the first time in weeks, the weight on his chest felt a little lighter. The frustration was still there, sure, but it didn't feel as overwhelming as before.

He queued up, the familiar anticipation bubbling in his stomach as the match loaded. But this time, something was different. This time, his thoughts weren't clouded by doubts or anger. Instead, he found himself wondering: What would Sable do in this situation?

The first game was rough—an uncoordinated bot lane, a jungler who disconnected mid-match. Normally, it would have sent Raxian spiraling, his temper flaring as he slammed his fist against his desk. But now, he paused. What would Sable do? Probably shrug it off and keep playing. She wouldn't let one bad game ruin her focus.

So he didn't either.

The next few games followed a similar pattern. Raxian made mistakes, his teammates made mistakes, but instead of spiraling, he adapted. He paid more attention to his decision-making, his positioning, his timing. And slowly, he started to feel a shift. A clarity he hadn't felt in weeks.

By the time he logged off, he was still stuck in Emerald, but for once, he didn't feel trapped. He felt... determined.

—-----------------------------------------------

As he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, Raxian's mind wandered back to Sable. He didn't know much about her—barely anything, really—but somehow, she had already started to change the way he saw the game. She had reminded him of something he had lost along the way. Something simple.

The joy of playing.

It wasn't about winning or losing. It wasn't about proving himself to anyone. It was about the challenge, the strategy, the growth. The same things that had made him fall in love with League in the first place.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he closed his eyes. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he had a purpose again. A direction. And it all came back to that girl in the tunnel—the one who had shattered his expectations just by being herself.

Raxian didn't know where this newfound spark would take him, but one thing was certain: he wasn't giving up. Not now. Not ever.

—-----------------------------------------------

The next day, Raxian walked into school with a different energy. His shoulders were relaxed, his usual smirk firmly in place as he greeted his friends. They pounced on him immediately, bombarding him with their usual banter and teasing.

"Look who finally decided to stop slacking!" one of them joked, clapping him on the back. "You good now, or should we brace ourselves for more of your emo phase?"

Raxian chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Very funny," he replied, his tone light. "Don't act like you didn't miss me."

The group laughed, clearly testing the waters to see if the old Raxian was truly back. Normally, he'd have snapped back with some biting comment, his temper flaring at the slightest jab. But today? He didn't take the bait. He rolled with their jokes, even tossing a few of his own, but the fire that usually fueled his reactions was gone.

It wasn't that he seemed subdued—if anything, he was just as confident and lively as ever. But there was a new edge to his demeanor, a calmness that hadn't been there before. Fayne noticed it immediately from her seat at the back of the classroom. She watched as Raxian joked with his friends, his voice carrying easily through the room. It wasn't forced or hollow like it had been before. This was real.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. The change was subtle, but it was there. He wasn't the same Raxian she had seen dragging himself through the halls just a day ago. Something had shifted.

What happened to you? she thought, her pen tapping absently against her notebook. Whatever it was, it had to have happened overnight. The transformation was too sudden to be anything else. But Fayne knew better than to pry. They weren't close, and it wasn't her place to dig into his personal life. Still, the question lingered, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. She'd probably never get the answer, but she couldn't help but wonder.

—-----------------------------------------------

That evening, Raxian's newfound motivation led him to pick up his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he landed on Raze's name. They hadn't played together in a while—not since Raxian had started spiraling. He hesitated for a moment, then sent a quick message.

Raxian:

Yo, you up for some matches?

The response came almost instantly.

Raze:

My boy is back in the game! Let's gooooo.

Raxian couldn't help but smile at Raze's enthusiasm. He had needed the space over the past few weeks, but now that he was feeling more like himself, he was ready to reconnect. Together, they booted up League and queued for a normal draft game. It wasn't about climbing tonight—it was about having fun.

"Alright," Raze's voice came through the headset, a familiar mix of excitement and mischief. "I'm going APC Singed, baby. You ready to watch me ruin some bot laner's day?"

Raxian laughed, shaking his head. "You're insane."

"Nah, man. I'm a visionary."

As the champion select timer ticked down, Raxian hovered over Ekko out of habit but decided against it. Tonight was about experimenting. Giving his main a break. He locked in Kled instead, feeling a small rush of excitement at the thought of playing something different.

Their team composition wasn't bad. Jungle Amumu, Nami support, and Akali top rounded out their roster. The game loaded, and Raxian glanced at the summoner names on his team.

That's when he saw it.

AkarisLite.

The name hit him like a jolt of electricity. He blinked, staring at the screen as the realization set in. No way. What were the odds? How had they ended up in the same queue, let alone on the same team? His pulse quickened, a mix of surprise and nervousness coursing through him. AkarisLite—the player who had completely crushed him in his promos. And now they were on his side.

As the game began, Raxian couldn't help but glance at Akali's movements. The champion darted across the map with precision, every decision calculated, every move deliberate. It was mesmerizing. AkarisLite didn't just play—they dominated. Top lane was an absolute bloodbath, the enemy laner barely able to step out of their turret without getting deleted.

Raxian found himself playing differently, too. It wasn't conscious, but his movements felt more deliberate, his decisions more thought out. The chaos of the game, with Raze cackling in bot lane and their Amumu landing perfect bandage tosses, made it exhilarating. For the first time in weeks, he was having fun.

When the Nexus finally exploded, victory flashing across the screen, Raxian leaned back in his chair, a grin tugging at his lips. The game had been chaotic, messy, and absolutely incredible. But as he hovered over the post-game stats, a notification caught his eye.

Message from AkarisLite:

Didn't think we'd end up on the same team. Well played, TimeWrapped. Is it me, or has your playstyle changed?

Raxian stared at the message, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn't expected AkarisLite to remember him, let alone reach out. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of how to respond. But then, he typed back:

TimeWrapped:

Yeah, funny how that worked out. And... maybe. Guess I've been thinking about the game differently.

AkarisLite's reply came quickly.

AkarisLite:

Whatever you're doing, it's working. Keep it up.

Raxian stared at the screen, the words sinking in. AkarisLite's comment wasn't just encouragement—it was validation. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Raxian felt like he was on the right path.