Floyd didn't enter the room but stood at the door and introduced Cordelia, "This is our new sharpshooter. She was picked up from the youth academy this year at just 16. It's a shame she's so young, lacking experience and a bit shaky on the mental side, so she hasn't really shown what she's capable of yet. But she's got potential, loads of it. Next season, she'll be unstoppable."
EW Club, having clinched the championship three times in a row, obviously had its fair share of substitutes and newcomers.
But their current roster, with Floyd being the oldest at 22, still had a couple more years in them, so there wasn't an immediate rush to bring up new talent.
No one could have anticipated the curveball life threw at them—a car accident that left EW Club scrambling.
Floyd knew well enough that Cordelia was only here as a stop-gap solution. A talent like hers, akin to Mr. Watkins', wasn't destined for the esports scene. So, the focus on nurturing new talent remained.
Cordelia nodded, understanding his point. She suddenly realized why there had been such a dejected atmosphere around them.
They didn't trust her.
Understandable, given they were a team used to fighting side by side for years, and she was but a newbie, an outsider.
Raising her gaze, Cordelia pushed the door open and walked in. The room, previously buzzing with hushed conversations, fell silent instantly.
But the vibe was off, marked by a general disinterest and a deliberate avoidance to make eye contact with her, signaling clear resistance.
Only the shooter, Karl, let out a disdainful "hmph."
In this charged silence, Cordelia turned to Karl and said, "How about a solo match?"
Karl, visibly young with a face yet to lose its youthful innocence, was instantly riled up. "Fine, a solo it is. I'll give you a free kill. If you manage to take me down once, you win. But if you lose, I expect you to quit on your own!"
Since the accident, and with the subsequent withdrawal of sponsors, endorsements, and streaming contracts, the club had been financially bleeding.
Floyd had dug into his own pockets, using his earnings from the years, to keep the team afloat and ensure the club wasn't sold.
This had brought some stability back, and with renewed focus, the team set their sights on victory again.
Despite Floyd's best efforts, they kept losing.
Gradually, online chatter branded EW Club as "Floyd and his four dunces."
It was aggravating, but with injuries still healing, their hands were tied.
They were no longer the champions they once were.
Then, out of nowhere, a wealthy buyer swooped in, injecting a hefty sum into the club, brightening everyone's prospects.
However, the mood was short-lived when they learned that the new owner had appointed a new lead shooter.
A student! And a girl!
What was this? A joke?
Concerns and tensions flared among the team.
After all these years, the game had become more than just a game; it was a passion. Though the championship seemed out of reach for the year, no one wanted to see their hard work go down the drain, especially not after laying eyes on this young lady...
She was the kind of beautiful that turned heads, hand-delivered by the new owner, clearly pampered all her life.
As these thoughts crossed their minds, Cordelia had already seated herself in front of a computer.
Used to mobile gaming, this was her first foray into PC gaming, which promised more complex controls but fundamentally the same strategy and approach.
She looked up at Floyd, inquiring, "How do these keys work?"
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