The plane touched down with a screech of tires against sun-scorched tarmac. Heat waves rippled above the asphalt as Alex "Caelux" Evans stepped off the aircraft, his hoodie pulled low over his face. The air smelled of jet fuel, asphalt, and the unmistakable tinge of decay, as if the city itself was slowly withering away.

  His headphones pumped a steady stream of old-school Linkin Park, the lyrics drowned in static noise as the world blurred around him. "I tried so hard and got so far..." But this wasn’t just another trip. This was the beginning of something else—something bigger.

  Waiting for him at the airport exit stood two men in black suits, their posture rigid, faces void of emotion beneath mirrored sunglasses. They didn’t introduce themselves. They simply gestured toward a waiting black Cadillac Escalade, its polished exterior gleaming like a predator’s skin beneath the Nevada sun.

  The moment Alex stepped inside, the doors locked with an ominous clunk.

  The Cadillac rumbled down I-15, the Vegas strip shrinking in the rearview mirror. The neon glow faded into the desert’s infinite emptiness, swallowed by a wasteland of cracked roads, forgotten motels, and the skeletal remains of abandoned gas stations.

  A dried-up lakebed stretched to the horizon, a wasteland bleached by time. To the left, a motel’s "No Vacancy" sign flickered weakly, buzzing like a dying insect.

  Alex leaned forward, eyeing the road ahead.

  "Where the hell are we?"

  No answer. The men in suits didn’t even acknowledge him.

  An hour passed. The Escalade rolled into a dead city, an urban corpse of shattered glass, collapsed buildings, and rusted cars long since abandoned.

  Alex felt a chill creep down his spine.

  It was like something straight out of a zombie apocalypse movie.

  The vehicle pulled up to a decrepit skyscraper, its skeletal frame jutting against the bruised skyline. The doors unlocked silently.

  No words. No instructions. Just the expectation that he’d obey.

  Alex stepped out, boots crunching against shattered glass and debris. The Escalade disappeared into the mist, leaving him standing before the gaping maw of the building.

  He inhaled, pushed open the rusted doors, and entered the abyss.

  The lobby was cavernous, swallowed in half-light and shadow. Dust hung thick in the air, illuminated by flickering fluorescent bulbs, their glow cold and sickly.

  Murmurs. Groups of midlaners stood in uneasy clusters, hushed voices exchanging theories laced with paranoia.

  "Bro, this is some government black ops shit."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Nah, this is battle royale levels of sus."

  A familiar voice called out. "Whew. Hey man, how’s it going? I never thought I’d see a familiar face here."

  Alex turned.

  Ethan "Zephyr" Hayes grinned, casual as ever. He extended a hand.

  Alex glanced at it. Then walked past him.

  Behind Zephyr, Brandon "BZhao" Zhao chuckled. Tall, lean, muscular—an apex predator with sharp Asian features and a grin that reeked of arrogance.

  "Not gonna lie, champ. I never thought you’d be rejected this early."

  Zephyr smirked. "He likes me. He’s just having a bad day." (Arrogant fucker. I’ll make sure I crush you so hard next year, you grab a rope yourself.)

  Alex clenched his fists.

  BZhao scoffed. "Whatever, bro. Sounds kinda gay to me."

  A few of the bystanders laughed. Alex ignored them.

  Then, the lights flickered violently.

  A massive LCD screen roared to life at the front of the hall.

  Was it there before?

  The murmurs in the crowd rose into a fever pitch.

  And then—

  Faker’s face appeared.

  Silence. A presence so absolute it swallowed the room whole.

  The floor rumbled. A stage rose from the shadows, metal grinding against metal.

  The lights shifted, centering on a small figure standing at its peak.

  She was delicate yet commanding, her black hair streaked with iridescent purple, catching the light like a blade reflecting the moon.

  Her smile was sweet yet wicked, her presence bending the air around her.

  A whisper cut through the crowd.

  "It’s our goddess…"

  Alex’s stomach turned.

  Soo-Ah "LilMochi" Kim, better known as Summer Kim, stood before them. The world’s most worshipped e-girl.

  "Hellllloooo Twitch! It’s ya girl LilMochi!" she giggled, striking a sickeningly cute pose.

  "Smile, guys! You’re on stream!"

  Some of the simps grinned like mindless Aberrant Titans, their faces warped with devotion.

  Alex exhaled. Pure disgust.

  Then, the drones emerged, cameras whirring, lenses glinting like mechanical eyes.

  The stage lights flared to full power.

  "WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE MIDLOCK PROGRAM!"

  The hall erupted into chaos.

  What the fuck is going on?

  The screen flickered. Faker spoke, his Korean calm and deliberate.

  Nobody understood.

  Soo-Ah frowned. (Damn it, that’s too polite. How the fuck are we supposed to rile up these idiots?)

  She raised her mic. "The Demon King poses a question for everyone: 'What is the most important trait of a midlaner?'"

  "Adaptability!"

  "Synergy and Teamwork!"

  "Game Knowledge and Macro!"

  Faker spoke again. Soo-Ah smirked.

  "All important. But secondary to one absolute."

  The room stilled.

  She stepped forward, eyes gleaming.

  "A true midlaner doesn’t just crush their opponent. They erase their existence. They don’t lead their team—they command it. They don’t ask for loyalty—they demand it. A true midlaner is not a player.

  They are a Monarch!"

  Silence. Then—

  "At least that's what the Demon King said." She does a peace sign in front of the camera. Charming.

  A slow, eerie chuckle.

  A lone figure stepped forward, his black hair catching the light, the faintest glimmer of blue threaded through it.

  He grabbed Soo-Ah’s mic.

  "Look no further. I AM the true monarch. All of you? You are nothing but my leveling materials!"

  "Bend the knee."

  Laughter. Derision. Amusement.

  "What a retard"

  "Autistic fuck"

  "Delulu"

  A few looked at him with quiet interest.

  Fewer took him seriously.

  Soo-Ah grabbed the mic back. She smiled at the cameras and waved.

  "Hi there, my lovies and everyone else watching! This is the first episode of Project: Midlock! The Demon king (faker) imposes his challenge: Who among our king-candidates can rise up to become the Monarch-hero who can slay the demon king? Stay tuned after some words from our sponsors!"

  a Raid Shadow Legends ad plays.

  Project Midlock had begun.