I should have listened. I shouldn’t have tried to commune with it, I should have listened to their warnings. Let this be a cautionary tale to you all—do not contact the boosted forbidden one, ignore the whispers.

There I was, a lowly Iron II scrub (although, let’s be real, I didn’t belong there, it’s just my teammates fault I lost every game) with a dream to climb as high as those who have come before me. I wanted to rise up the ranks to greatness, to be known as rank 1 challenger, to dethrone the likes of TFblade, or whatever no-life streamer holds the rank 1 title at the moment. I knew that no one would ever see or appreciate my skills. My precision tower dives. My LCS worthy Yasuo 1v5s. My collection of Amumu skins. All of it, sadly, going under the radar.



That was, until I met… him.

I was browsing through the one true League of Legends subreddit, r/yasuomains, speaking to my fellow elites, when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. An ad speaking of a method by which to gain ELO, fame, and the respect of my father. I clicked, and instantly regretted it as he appeared on my screen. I had seen him before. I had heard predictions that he was truly the God of the boosted. The King of false confidence.



Svenskeren.



I should have known he was boosted! That’s the only explanation for the myriad of questionable silver-rank plays he makes in the LCS! He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. My soul, for as much ELO as he could gain me. How could I refuse?



To my dismay, the highest he could get me is Diamond IV. Now my soul is damned to an endless stream of boring midlane matchups, slightly above mediocre play and the crushing knowledge that I have doomed myself to being just out of reach of Challenger, or even Master rank. This is the truest form of hell, to be stuck in purgatory due to one’s own ambitions.



God is dead. And C9’s jungler tower dove to kill him.

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