The neon sign above the internet café buzzed faintly, casting flickering light onto the damp pavement below. Alan Zhong stood outside, clutching his headset in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His heart raced—not from nerves, but from the adrenaline coursing through him as the weight of his reality set in.
It was 2010.
He stepped inside, the familiar clatter of keyboards and muffled shouts washing over him like a wave. The air smelled of energy drinks and faintly of desperation, a breeding ground for gamers chasing fleeting glory. Alan adjusted his headset over his neck as he scanned the room. His height—six feet seven—made him impossible to miss. Heads turned almost instantly.
“Yo, is that AlanZhong?”
“The guy who hit 2000 LP in solo queue? No way.”
“He went 20-1 on Kassadin last week. I watched his stream. Dude’s a monster.”
Alan ignored the whispers, his focus razor-sharp. He wasn’t here to bask in admiration or prove himself to casuals. He was here for one reason: to rewrite his history.
In 2025, Alan Zhong had been a washed-up ex-pro, his career long buried beneath regrets and missed opportunities. He’d watched from the sidelines as legends rose, players like Faker becoming icons while Alan remained a forgotten relic. It had gnawed at him for years, the thought that he had the talent but never the mindset to be the best.
Then, like a miracle—or a cruel joke—he’d woken up here, in 2010. The year League of Legends began its meteoric rise.
The chance was surreal. Impossible. But it was real.
Alan clenched his fists. The game hadn’t changed, but he had. He wasn’t just a mid-laner anymore; he was a mid-laner who knew the future. The champions, the metas, the playstyles, the stars waiting to rise—he knew it all.
And he knew what it would take to surpass them.
Including Faker.
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He found an empty station and sat down. The chair creaked under his weight as he powered on the computer. As the League of Legends client hummed to life, Alan stared at the screen. He hadn’t played on the old client in years, and the simple interface felt like a relic compared to the sleek versions of his past life.
Still, it had everything he needed.
Summoner: AlanZhong
Rank: Challenger
Role: Mid Lane
Mains: Kassadin
Elo Rating: 2050
Win/Loss: 73/19
The numbers spoke for themselves. Alan’s dominance in solo queue had carried him to the top of the ladder, but this wasn’t about grinding LP. As a player from the future, ranked was easy to climb in. Alan needed to prove he could dominate in competition, where the stakes were higher and the pressure unrelenting.
As he reviewed his stats, a notification blinked to life in the corner of the screen.
System initializing…
“Congratulations, Alan Zhong. Prove your worth in this match to unlock your potential.”
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
His breath caught. A translucent interface materialized in front of his eyes, faintly glowing and almost ethereal.
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Quest: Claim Your Destiny
Objective: Win your first match in Go4LoL to unlock the Rookie Pack.
Reward: System activation and Rookie Pack.
Failure: System functionality will remain locked.
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Alan’s pulse quickened. His hands hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. This was new. This wasn’t part of the timeline he remembered.
“A literal system?” he muttered under his breath. “This is insane.”
The screen pulsed faintly, almost teasing him. The words “Rookie Pack” glowed with an aura of potential, a promise of power waiting to be unlocked. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just a cheat—it was an advantage, one he’d need to rewrite history.
A Discord notification broke his trance.
Balls:
Yo, get in Discord. We’re in the lobby. This is Go4LoL, man—we gotta show up big. Team Green Tipped Bananas is taking it all!
Alan smirked. Balls was the top laner for their team, a player Alan had befriended through solo queue. Their team name was a joke, but they were serious about competing. This was Go4LoL—one of the earliest amateur tournaments in the game’s history—and Alan knew its significance. This was where players first made their mark. A strong performance here could open doors.
He joined the Discord call, greeted by a mix of familiar and fresh voices.
“Alan’s here!” Balls announced. “We’ve got our mid-lane god. How’s it feel to hit 2000 LP again?”
“Feels good,” Alan replied, his voice steady. “But ranked doesn’t mean much. Let’s see how tonight goes.”
Their AD carry, a sharp-tongued player named Travis, chimed in. “Just don’t int, Alan. I heard unRestricted’s bot lane is cracked.”
Alan smiled faintly. “Focus on your own lane. I’ll handle mine.”
The banter lightened the mood, but the tension was palpable as the game lobby loaded. Their first opponents, unRestricted eSports, were no slouches. Well-practiced and coordinated, they had a reputation for punishing overconfidence. A win against them would be a statement.
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The draft began, and Alan hovered over Kassadin. It was a bold choice, given Kassadin’s weak early game, but Alan didn’t hesitate. This was his comfort pick, his ace in the hole.
In return, his opponent selected Annie.
Alan narrowed his eyes. Annie was a dangerous counter, built to punish Kassadin’s scaling playstyle. The matchup would be brutal early, but Alan knew if he could survive, he’d dominate.
The game began, and the tension was immediate. Annie shoved the wave relentlessly, forcing Alan under turret. Every time he stepped forward to last-hit, her Disintegrate chipped away at his health. To make matters worse, the enemy jungler camped mid, lurking in the fog of war, ready to pounce.
“Play it slow,” Alan muttered to himself. “Don’t give them any openings.”
Balls’s voice crackled through Discord. “Need help mid?”
“No. Just stall. I’ll scale.”
The game dragged on, with unRestricted pressuring every lane. At 18 minutes, their Annie roamed bot with a Flash-Tibbers engage, securing a devastating double kill. Alan gritted his teeth as unRestricted turned their attention to Baron.
“They’re moving topside,” Alan said, his voice steady despite the pressure. “We need vision around Baron.”
Balls chimed in. “I can TP, but I’m slow as hell on Cho’Gath.”
Alan’s fingers hovered over his R key. One mistake would be the end of the game. But he’d seen this scenario before, in countless scrims and solo queue games. The enemy team would overcommit. He knew they would.
“Stay back,” Alan said. “I’ll handle it.”
The enemy team started Baron. Alan flanked from the jungle, his Kassadin blinking into the pit with Riftwalk. The chaos was immediate. He unleashed a devastating combo, melting their backline. A double kill turned into a triple as his teammates cleaned up the stragglers.
“Quadra kill!” the announcer’s voice blared through the café speakers.
The crowd erupted in cheers, spectators crowding around Alan’s station. His team secured Baron and snowballed to victory.
“GG!” Balls shouted. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
Alan leaned back, adrenaline coursing through him. Travis chimed in, “Alright, Alan, I admit it—you’re cracked. But don’t let it go to your head.”
As the victory screen appeared, a soft ding echoed in Alan’s mind.
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Ding!!
“Conditions met. Rookie Gift Pack unlocked. Please check your system.”
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Alan’s heart raced. This was it—the first step toward rewriting his legacy.
“Faker,” he whispered under his breath, staring at the system’s interface. “I’m coming for your throne.”