The next morning, the early light seeped through the curtains of Elian's room, stirring him from a restless sleep filled with vivid memories of the previous night's match. His head still throbbed slightly from the intense flow state moments, and his body ached from the toll of the game. But today, something else stirred within him—a quiet determination to master what had once seemed uncontrollable.
Elian sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes as he tried to clear the lingering haze of fatigue and adrenaline. He glanced at his phone on the bedside table; there were no messages, no notifications from Meta—only silence. The absence was palpable, a reminder that the digital crutch was gone, and now everything depended on him. He exhaled, feeling the weight of that realization settle on his shoulders.
