Alan sat at the kitchen table, staring at his parents across from him. His mom’s arms were crossed, her expression skeptical, while his dad flipped through a stack of bills, barely glancing up.

“So, you’re telling us,” his dad began, setting the papers down, “that you want to skip college—defer for a year—to play video games?”

Alan nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yes. But it’s not just playing games. It’s professional gaming. Esports is growing, and there’s real potential for a career.”

His mom sighed, shaking her head. “Alan, that’s not a job. That’s a hobby. How much money are you even making right now? Zero?”

“I get it, but—”

“No, you don’t get it,” she interrupted, her voice tinged with frustration. “You have 5 admissions to choose from. You worked hard for that. You were talking about studying computer science since sophomore year, and now you want to throw it away to… what, play computer games all day? How is that a future?”

Alan clenched his fists under the table. “It’s not throwing it away. It’s delaying it. Just one year. I want to see if I can make this work.”

His dad shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “And what happens when it doesn’t? When this esports thing fizzles out and you’re a year behind your peers? What will you have to show for it?”

Alan opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss. They weren’t wrong, but they weren’t seeing the bigger picture either.

After an awkward silence, his mom spoke again, her voice softer this time. “Alan, we just don’t want you to regret this. College is a sure thing. This? It’s not.”

Alan stood abruptly, pushing his chair back. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered, retreating to his room before they could say anything else.

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He shut the door behind him, flopping onto his bed with a sigh. His parents didn’t understand. How could they? Gaming wasn’t a career to them—it was a distraction, a waste of time. He stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. How could he convince them otherwise? How could he show them that gaming wasn’t just a fleeting obsession but a legitimate path?

His eyes drifted to his computer across the room. The National ESL Premier League. He remembered watching the matches in his past life. That had been the first official Riot League in North America, a milestone that legitimized the scene for a lot of doubters. If he could play something that big…

“No,” Alan thought. “When I win something that big, they’ll have to take it seriously.”

Another idea struck him. Live-streaming. He’d seen how Twitch would explode in popularity in just a few years. It wasn’t just about playing games; it was about building a brand, creating a presence that sponsors and fans couldn’t ignore.

But he couldn’t do this alone. He needed his team. He needed to know they were as committed as he was.

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Later that night, Alan messaged the group. “We need to talk. Can we meet at the café tomorrow?”

The next evening, only Balls and Travis showed up, both settling into their usual seats with their drinks in hand.

“So,” Balls began, leaning back in his chair, “what’s the big meeting about? We planning our victory parade?”

Alan shook his head, leaning forward. “I’m serious about this. I want to know—how far are you willing to go for this team? Would you pause your college or work plans to pursue gaming full-time?”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

The question hung in the air for a moment. Balls scratched the back of his neck, glancing at Travis.

“I mean,” Balls said slowly, “college isn’t going anywhere. I can take a gap year if this really takes off. It’s a risk, sure, but it’s one I’m willing to take.”

Travis nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Same here. I’ve been working part-time, but it’s not like I love my job. If we’re serious about this, I’m in.”

Alan exhaled, relief washing over him. “Good. That’s what I needed to hear. Now, I’ve got another idea. It’s a little out there but hear me out: we should start streaming.”

Balls raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-sip from his energy drink. “Streaming on Twitch?”

“Yeah like as soon as possible,” Alan doubled-down. “We’re grinding in solo queue and playing tournaments. It’s good content. Building a brand now will pay off later. Sponsors, fans, opportunities—they all come from exposure.”

Travis smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Look at Mr. Visionary over here. What, you planning our merch line next?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. In a few years, streaming is going to be huge. If we get a head start, we’ll be ahead of the curve. It’s not just about playing well, it’s about being visible.”

Balls nodded thoughtfully, setting his drink down. “He’s not wrong. Even now, people are following big names, watching their solo queue games. But… we’re not exactly big names yet.”

“That’s why we start now,” Alan said. “We’ve got the skills. All we need is consistency and some personality.”

Travis grinned, nudging Balls. “You hear that? Personality. Better stop being such a bore, man.”

Balls shot him a mock glare. “Says the guy with the most boring name on the team. Travis? Really? What are we, a basketball team?”

Travis laughed. “Hey, at least it’s not ‘Balls.’ What are you, a middle school joke?”

Balls shrugged, completely unbothered. “It gets people’s attention. That’s more than I can say for ‘AlanZhong.’”

Alan smirked. “What’s wrong with my name?”

Balls leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Everything. It’s just your name. No flair, no punch. If you’re serious about building a brand, you need a tag that makes people remember you. Something with weight.”

Travis snorted. “Yeah, like ‘BigTree’ or ‘TallGuy.’”

Alan shook his head, laughing despite himself. “I’m not picking something that dumb.”

“Then pick something better,” Balls said, crossing his arms. “C’mon, man. You’re the scaling king. You’re playing Kassadin and Veigar, champs that turn into monsters late game. Your name should match that energy.”

Alan fell quiet, the teasing fading into a more serious line of thought. Balls had a point. His tag had always been just his name—a placeholder, a default. It worked for him in the past, but now? He wanted more. He needed more.

He thought about his life. About standing out for all the wrong reasons. Growing up tall but feeling small inside. Being noticed but never truly remembered. His height had always made him visible, but his lack of presence had kept him forgettable. That wasn’t who he wanted to be anymore.

He wanted to dominate. To tower over the competition, not just physically but in skill, in legacy. He wanted to be the kind of player people talked about long after the match was over.

“Titan,” Alan said softly.

Balls raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“That’s my name,” Alan said, his voice firming up. “Titan.”

The word settled in the air, heavy and deliberate. It felt right. Bigger than life, unshakable. A name that captured everything he wanted to be.

Balls grinned. “Now that’s a sick name. Fits you perfectly.”

Travis nodded approvingly. “Alright, Titan. You’re leveling up.”

Travis leaned back, spinning his chair lazily. “Guess I should change mine too. Something cool, something stylish. Like…” He paused, smirking. “BladeSong.”

Alan raised an eyebrow. “BladeSong?”

“Yeah,” Travis said, grinning. “It’s sharp, precise, elegant. You hear that name, you’re thinking, ‘This guy’s a freaking legend.’”

Balls groaned. “You’re such a try-hard.”

“Hey, it beats ‘Balls,’” Travis shot back.

“Whatever,” Balls said, rolling his eyes. “At least mine’s iconic.”

Alan chuckled, watching the exchange. For all their teasing, he felt a renewed sense of camaraderie. They weren’t just teammates—they were building something bigger, something that would last.

“Alright,” Alan said, standing up. “Let’s make it official. New names, new start. We’re streaming tomorrow.”

Travis grinned, punching in his new tag. BladeSong appeared on the screen, sleek and stylish.

Alan typed his name in next. Titan.

The bold letters gleamed on the screen, and for the first time, Alan felt like his tag matched his ambition.

Balls shook his head, laughing. “Fine, but don’t blame me when everyone’s asking for autographs after one stream.”

“Good,” Alan said, smirking. “We’re just getting started.”

As they queued up for a match, their new names glowing in the lobby, Alan felt a sense of purpose settle over him. This wasn’t just a name change—it was the beginning of something bigger.

“Let’s make it count,” he muttered, his resolve hardening. Titan was ready to rise.