In the dimly lit basent, a 19-year-old man sat slouched on a worn-out couch, his thumbs furiously tapping on the screen of his mobile phone.
His eyes narrowed with intense focus, and his lips pressed so he couldn't be distracted.
Suddenly, the dreaded words appeared on the screen.
[You Have Been Slain]
A loud, mocking electronic voice echoed from his phone, telling defeat. His grip on the phone tightened, and his face flushed with anger.
The in-ga chat exploded imdiately.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Lol, weak. Eat more grass, goat.]
His hands trembled as he opened the chat box to retaliate. Words? He had words! He just wasn't great at them. But this ti, he'd let this trash-talker know who he was ssing with.
He furiously typed:
[GoatEater69: At least I don't sll like grass!]
He hit send. Silence ca. Then, another reply popped up imdiately:
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Bro, are you okay? That's the best you've got?]
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Sll like grass? Lmao, go play Candy Crush, noob.]
The young man gritted his teeth as the heat rose to his face. "Hmph, let's see who are you calling noob," he muttered, hyping himself up as if he were preparing for an esports finals match.
His fingers moved across the keyboard again with anger; it was like his pride as a player was in line.
[GoatEater69: At least my mom doesn't feed like a goat!]
He hit send, only to be t with an instant reply.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Buddy, you're trying so hard it's painful. Log off and touch so grass. Oh wait, you can't.]
The young man froze. His mouth opened, then closed. He had no counter. This dude was too strong.
His roast ga was as weak as his gaplay. He stared at the screen as another ssage appeared.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: GG EZ. Don't uninstall the ga; uninstall yourself.]
Defeated both in the ga and in chat, the young man slumped back into the couch. He sighed and whispered to himself, "How can I lose twice in five minutes? Even my cobacks have cooldowns."
"This ga is really toxic... or maybe it's because of my IGN," he muttered, glancing at the na GoatEater69 hovering over his avatar.
"But that guy's IGN is cursing my race 'NandudurogNgBisaya', but he has skills, while I don't." He sighed deeply, sadness washing over him as he exited the ga lobby.
Just as he was about to close the app and move on with his night of self-loathing, a notification popped up on his screen.
[New ssage From: NandudurogNgBisaya]
His heart sank, and he knew this couldn't be good. He tapped on it hesitantly, and there it was.
(If you want to know, their first chat is in the lobby when the match ends. Now it's a private chat.)
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Bro, do goats even know how to use a phone? Asking for a friend.]
The young man's eyes twitched. Anger surged through him, and he quickly fired back.
[GoatEater69: At least I don't talk like a goat!]
He hit send, smirking slightly at his effort. But almost instantly, the reply ca.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Are you sure? Your gaplay was basically 'baaaah.' I was farming you like grass.]
His smirk vanished. His hands trembled as he typed again, trying harder this ti.
[GoatEater69: Well, at least I'm not soone who has to has to farm noobs to feel good about myself!]
He sent the ssage, crossing his arms triumphantly. He nodded, satisfied with his coback.
Surely, this ti, he had the upper hand. But the next reply arrived before he could blink.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Noob? Bro, you're not even a noob. You're a tutorial bot that failed its programming.]
The young man's jaw dropped. He felt his soul leave his body montarily, but he shook his head and leaned forward.
"No. Not again. I will win this ti." He cracked his knuckles like he was gearing up for a final boss fight and started typing furiously.
[GoatEater69: You know what? At least I'm not so loser who's so bored that he has to insult people on the internet because no one in real life wants to talk to him!]
He hit send, breathing heavily as if he'd just cast an ultimate spell. The screen stayed silent for a few seconds. Was this it? Did he actually win?
Then the reply ca.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: You sure? You sound pretty mad for a guy who just got 'rekt' by soone with zero effort. Touch so grass, GoatEater.]
The young man groaned, his face red. But he wasn't done yet. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, his mind racing. He had to say sothing, anything, to regain so dignity.
Finally, he typed:
[GoatEater69: Yeah? Well, at least I... I don't use hacks! I know you're cheating!]
He hit send and waited. The reply ca almost imdiately.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Cheating? Bro, I was playing with one hand while eating pizza. You were my dessert.]
He froze. His hands dropped the phone onto his lap as he stared blankly at the screen. No words ca to his mind. Nothing. He was officially out of ammo.
The chat box pinged again, as if to deliver the final blow.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: GG, uninstall. Don't co back until you've taken a goat managent course.]
He sighed deeply as he slumped back into the couch again, whispering to himself, "Why do I do this to myself? Maybe this is what I get for naming myself GoatEater69.
As he stared at his screen, the young man's hands trembled slightly. His IGN, GoatEater69, mocked him as if it were alive.
"How can I not argue back? Even reading my own roasts feels like a toddler wrote them," he muttered, shaking his head in despair.
He sighed deeply, staring at his rank: Bronze—the bottom of the ladder.
But then a spark of inspiration hit him. "Wait a second... what's his rank?" he said to himself, his finger hovering over the player's profile.
If he could dig up sothing embarrassing, maybe, just maybe, he could turn this roasting match around.
He clicked on the player's na, NandudurogNgBisaya, hoping to find sothing to use.
His breath caught in his throat as the stats loaded.
[Challenger]
The rank glowed on the screen like it had been dipped in divine light. He stared at it, unblinking, his soul montarily leaving his body.
"C-Challenger?! That's... that's the top rank!" he stamred. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
"0.020% of the player base..." he whispered to himself, his voice hollow.
"That's like winning the gaming lottery. Does this guy even touch grass?!" He leaned forward, scrolling down nervously to check the player's mastery points.
[Level 7: Zed – 3,232,763 Points]
[Level 7: Ahri – 2,672,091 Points]
[Level 7: Sylas – 2,113,092,383 Points]
...
The young man sat frozen, his eyes twitching as he tried to process the absurd numbers. "Is this even legal?!" he gasped.
"Who has billions of mastery points on a single champion?! Is this guy from the Chinese server or sothing? But his IGN... it's literally Filipino!" He slumped back onto the couch, gripping his phone like it was a bad on.
"This... this is the pinnacle of gaming. I fought against a god."
He wanted to cry, scream, and quit the ga simultaneously. "How am I supposed to fight back with this? I wanted ammo, but I just found out I brought a wooden stick to a gunfight!" His internal monologue was interrupted by a soft
Ding!
A ssage. From NandudurogNgBisaya. His stomach churned. Nothing good ever ca from that na. He then opened the chat box.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Yo, you really out here stalking my profile, huh? Looking for dirt?]
The young man swallowed hard, gripping his phone. He didn't dare type back. But the ssages kept coming.
NandudurogNgBisaya: Bronze? Really? Did you think you'd find sothing to roast with? My IGN alone should've warned you to back off.
His heart sank. He couldn't deny it. That was exactly his plan.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Oh wait, I get it. You were hoping I'd be another bronze player like you. That's cute. But you're looking at the top of the ladder, my guy.]
The young man tried to muster a coback. "I-I wasn't stalking! I just... I just wanted to see..." He paused, shaking his head. That sounded even more pathetic in his head.
Another ssage popped up:
[NandudurogNgBisaya: You probably wanted to roast for my rank, huh? Too bad the only thing getting roasted here is you. AGAIN!]
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He needed sothing, anything to redeem himself. His mind raced.
"What do I even say to soone like this?" After a mont of silence, he typed.
[GoatEater69: At least I'm not a sweaty tryhard who plays gas all day.]
He hit send and waited. The reply ca almost instantly:
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Sweaty tryhard? You're the one who died 12 tis in 10 minutes. Who was sweating? You or your teammates watching you feed?]
The young man winced. He typed again, desperately.
[GoatEater69: At least I don't need to spend my life farming points to feel important!]
Another reply imdiately appeared:
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Important? Bro, my worst champion has more points than your entire existence. Go play chess or sothing. Maybe you won't feed there.]
He froze. Another ssage followed, twisting the knife further.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: Oh, and thanks for visiting my profile. Makes feel famous. Too bad you'll stay anonymous forever, GoatEater69.]
His hand trembled. He placed the phone down on the couch and sighed deeply.
"Why did I even try? This man isn't just Challenger in rank—he's Challenger in roasting, too."
Another ding.
[NandudurogNgBisaya: GG EZ. Next ti, bring a dictionary before you try roasting .]
The young man groaned and stared at the ceiling. He whispered to himself, "Maybe... maybe I'll just play solitaire."
Just like that, he decided playing Solitaire was safer than embarrassing himself any further. He exited the ga with a heavy sigh, muttering, "At least the cards won't roast ."
He opened the Solitaire app, the soothing visuals and absence of toxic chat easing his bruised ego.
"Ah, this is more like it," he said, clicking through the cards, finally starting to relax.
But fate had other plans.
Suddenly, a loud rumbling echoed from outside. The night was still, the sky clear, and not a single thundercloud in sight. Yet, a blood-red light tore through the heavens, descending like a vengeful deity's spear.
It shot downward, unstoppable, cutting through the atmosphere with an eerie hum. Strangely, it didn't pierce the roof or walls—it moved like a ghost, phasing through structures as though they didn't exist. Its destination? The basent.
The young man, blissfully clicking away at his Solitaire cards, didn't notice the ominous glow until it was too late. The crimson lightning struck him square in the chest, sending shockwaves through his entire body.
His bones briefly glowed like an X-ray, illuminating his skeleton as if he were part of a sci-fi experint.
A searing pain exploded through his nerves. He convulsed on the couch, unable to scream as millions of volts surged through his system.
His vision blurred, his muscles locked, and his mind scread in agony. Then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the lightning vanished. As the basent fell silent.
He toppled off the couch with a sickening thud, his body limp. Smoke wafted lazily from his mouth, and his skin had turned a sickly black, cracked like burnt charcoal. His once-bright eyes now rolled back, showing nothing but white.
He was still breathing, but barely.
Each gasp sounded weaker than the last, like a fla flickering in a storm. His mind, in its final monts, scrambled for answers, searching for a way to escape the grim reaper that lood over him.
Images flashed in his head—mories, regrets, monts of sheer stupidity. He rembered his defeats in League of Legends, his miserable roasts, and his uninstalled gas.
He even thought about the Solitaire cards, which he hadn't finished sorting. But none of it mattered. There was no escape.
And just like that, the legendary 'GoatEater69' t his end, not in glory, not in triumph, but as a victim of blood-red lightning from an unknown force
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