Since that day, the Tianze team never made it to the finals again. In the spotlight? Highly anticipated? A genius jungler? The higher you are lifted, the harder you fall.

　　“His strength was grossly overestimated; his real ability isn’t enough to be the core of a top team.”

　　“Lacks motivation—after joining a top team, he let himself slack off.”

　　“Too selfish, obsessed with personal highlights, and lacks communication and cooperation with teammates.”

　　The discussions about Brian Bennett gradually shifted from lavish praise in the first season to a growing number of negative comments. Five years passed, and eventually, there was no more talk—because no one had any expectations for Brian Bennett anymore. The once brilliant rookie now seemed like just another ordinary player on the KPL stage.

　　“I’ll work twice as hard next season.”

　　This sentence, in the fifth year, the tenth season, Brian Bennett did not say.

　　A few days later, Adam Bennett saw news about his brother: the Tianze team’s official spokesperson announced—Brian Bennett’s retirement. There was little regret in the comments below the news, only some old fans’ frustrated complaints.

　　In the past, whenever he saw criticism of his brother, Adam Bennett would patiently argue with people. This time, he couldn’t be bothered. He sent his brother a message as he rushed out the door, and as soon as he reached downstairs, he saw Brian Bennett carrying bags and packages—he hadn’t been home once in five years, having devoted himself entirely to matches and training.

　　“Bro…” Adam Bennett felt a lump in his throat.

　　“I’m back.” Brian Bennett smiled. Five years ago, after his first failure, he smiled because everything was just beginning, and he was full of confidence about his future—his smile was full of hope. Now, five years later, he failed again, and he smiled, but this time his smile couldn’t hide the helplessness and bitterness.

　　“It’s not your fault,” Adam Bennett said. This was the same comfort he’d sent Brian Bennett after his first finals loss. Every season after that, whenever Brian Bennett lost and was eliminated, he thought the same and sent his brother a message of encouragement.

　　“I’m still not good enough, next…” Brian Bennett shook his head. His reply was always the same. But this time, after saying the first half, he cut himself off after just one word of the second half.

　　“Next semester you’ll be a senior, right? Time to prepare for the college entrance exam?” Brian Bennett started a new sentence with that word.

　　“Yes.”

　　“Do your best!”

　　“What about you, bro?”

　　“Me?” Brian Bennett heard the question and couldn’t help but glance back, “Back then, I gave up the college entrance exam to go pro, but at least I never stopped studying—I got a correspondence degree. I’ll find a job first, then maybe consider grad school.”

　　“That’s not what I meant. I mean, what about Honor of Kings?” Adam Bennett said.

　　“Honor of Kings… If you want to rank up, I can carry you!” Brian Bennett laughed.

　　“You know that’s not what I mean…”

　　“I know what you want to ask. Five years as a pro—are you asking if I’m really okay with it? After working so hard for so many years and doing everything I could, honestly, it’s not about being okay with it or not. I chose to retire because I’ve let it go—I don’t see it as a regret anymore. So, that’s that!” Brian Bennett put down his luggage, raised his hand, and patted Adam Bennett as he spoke.

　　“Bro…”

　　“I’m heading up. Mom and Dad are home, right? Don’t come back too late yourself.” With that, Brian Bennett turned and walked into the building. Adam Bennett watched his brother’s back, feeling an indescribable sadness. He knew his brother said those words, but how could he really have no regrets? But at this point, there was nothing more to say.

　　“Bro, let me help you with your bags.” Adam Bennett called out and was about to catch up. But just as he reached the entrance, he suddenly heard soft sobbing from inside the stairwell. Adam Bennett froze, not going in, just listening as the sobs grew louder and finally turned into heart-wrenching cries.

　　Is there any unwillingness?

　　Any regrets?

　　Why did I even bother asking such pointless questions…

Chapter Two: The Boy Who Guides the Game

　　Autumn came and went, and in the blink of an eye, a year had passed.

　　Watching the withered leaves fall outside the window, Brian Bennett felt a bit melancholy. Today was the opening day of the KPL autumn season. For the past five years, he had always started a new journey on this day, full of anticipation. No matter how busy he got afterward, he was always excited and hopeful. But now…

　　“Brian Bennett, is the seating chart for tomorrow’s opening ceremony done yet?” Someone burst into the office, calling out loudly.

　　Brian Bennett’s thoughts were pulled back to the computer in front of him by the shout, and without turning his head, he replied, “I’m working on it.”

　　Now, Brian Bennett was a graduate student working in the student affairs office at Dongjiang University. Although it wasn’t much more relaxing than being a pro player, his life no longer had the same sense of hope and passion as before. What would the future hold? Even Brian Bennett himself didn’t know—he could only focus on the task at hand.

　　“Hurry up, we need to mark the field before dark. Everyone’s waiting on your seating chart.” The urging voice came from behind again.

　　“Don’t go, I’m almost done.” As Brian Bennett spoke, his hands got busy again. The sound of the keyboard and mouse filled the air as the divisions for each department on the school map were quickly outlined on the screen.