"No, no, no!" Jace flailed as Zeno's health bar dropped to zero for the thirteenth time. The defeat screen faded into view, but Zeno appeared unbothered.
1 Kill. 13 Deaths. 3 Assists.
Zeno tilted his head, looking for a hidden meaning in the scoreboard. "It's the milk," he said. "It's not powerful enough."
Jace closed his eyes. He had never been more frustrated in his life. "It's not the milk! You just don't understand the game!"
Zeno clicked around. "Why does she shoot milk? But why does my opponent have a bow?"
"It's fantasy, Zeno!"
He leaned back, folding his arms with a thoughtful nod. "Then I'm ready."
"Ready for what?" Jace asked flatly.
"For war," Zeno responded.
Jace groaned so loud that it sounded like it came from his soul. "You are not ready. That was a bot game. A BOT GAME, Zeno. You died to a scripted AI! And they weren't even the hardest bots! That hunter bot wasn't even using its ult."
Zeno narrowed his eyes. "It's what?"
