Reincarnated Avatar; I got 2 SSS-Rank Unique Skills
Chapter 197: A nice time in Miami

Chapter 197: A nice time in Miami

Miami, U.S.A...

The sun hung low over the crystalline waters of Club Echelon’s private vacation villa, casting golden glints across the infinity pool that overlooked the vast, cloud-brushed sky of the Avatara Isles.

The villa like was extravagantly modern; sleek marble flooring, sound-reactive lighting, and zero-gravity lounge pods but right now, it was just home to tired champions enjoying the warm afterglow of conquest.

The 20-man team, now unofficial legends of the Grand Monastery clear, had claimed every square meter of the poolside.

Drinks clinked. Laughter echoed. Flip-flops were discarded with no regard for elegance.

Benjamin floated lazily on a giant inflatable duck, shades on, a mock cocktail in hand. "I swear to the gods of RNG," he said, gesturing with his plastic umbrella drink. "If Aria flexes that crit combo from Phase 4 one more time, I will drown myself in this pool and respawn out of shame".

Aria, lying on a recliner in an obscenely expensive bikini she claimed she somehow got as a dungeon drop didn’t even look up.

"Cry about it, duck-boy," she said, stretching lazily. "I hit a 71-chain combo with cooldown desync. The server should’ve handed me the MVP title and a statue in the Grand Monastery".

"You got MVP because Noah forced the rest of us to peel mobs like onions for you, right?" Caleb asked, who was wearing full sunblock under an umbrella, reading patch notes on a waterproof tablet.

Hearing his question, Benjamin burst out laughing, spitting out the cocktail he was drinking. "Wow, hahaha, that was a good one".

"Caleb, tell me, you’re changing, you were never this funny".

Caleb chuckled. "People change".

"Yeah Caleb," Noah said from his shaded hammock. "But to be fair, I think peeling mobs is your hidden fetish, bro".

"That is slander". Benjamin looked flabbergasted.

Genevieve, sipping something green and suspiciously potent chuckled. "Oly slander if it’s false".

Laughter erupted.

Gabriel, leaning against the railing in a sleeveless shirt that did nothing to hide his ripped in-game avatar, was busy adjusting the saddle on the projection of his newly summoned Seraph of the Broken Bell.

The mount had a hidden fiction to actually project it into reality. Though it was just a virtual projection, it was still a cool sight to see.

The radiant mount floated beside him, shimmering smugly.

"Alright," Gabriel said, clapping his hands. "Team Phoenix Rising, time to roll out". He looked at his teammates. "The new season is starting soon, and I’m not about to show up jetlagged because you degenerates wanted to sunbathe for a few more days like retirees".

His team, equally glamorous and cocky, were already packed. Selene, his second in command waved at the others. "Try not to get soft while we’re gone".

Benjamin paddled the duck float toward them with tragic effort. "Take your stupid shiny bell horse and go, you dopamine junkies".

Gabriel smirked, walked past Noah, and muttered. "Nice doing business with you. You got five days max before you regret trading it".

Noah, sipping a drink that looked far too classy for a poolside scene, didn’t even glance up. "In five days, I’ll be riding a dragon that pisses lightning. You can keep your wind chime".

Gabriel laughed. "You’re really insufferably annoying".

With that, he joined his teammates, waving goodbye to the rest of the raid party before leaving.

Team Scarlet Rose, led by Jonathan already left yesterday.

Watching them leave, Aria stretched again and rolled over. "Good riddance. Now there’s more alcohol and pool for us".

"Don’t drink too much!" Noah glared at her sternly.

Aria flinched slightly at his tone, then casually waved her hand. "Relax, I’m just taking a few cups. Nothing enough to affect my finger coordination".

Genevieve raised her drink.

"To bad decisions and legendary clears".

"Cheers". The rest responded with smiles.

The laughter resumed. The sun lingered. For one last day, they were just players... shameless, sun-soaked, and victorious.

...

The next day, their vacation came to an end.

Team Echelon returned to England.

They had a great time in Miami.

And on that same day, in the Warstar channel in England, there was a nation-wide English system announcement.

Having gone all out with the promotion, drawing attention to the announcement that was scheduled, millions of Warstar fans in England turned to the Warstar channel on the scheduled time.

The black screen faded into gold-engraved letters, as an epic orchestral hum rises. Amid the hum, text appears in ancient font.

[ENGLISH SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT – 08:00 SERVER TIME]

["They said it couldn’t get bigger."]

["They said they’d seen it all."]

["They were wrong."]

The TV screen cut to rapid flashes of the 11th English Pro Alliance season, last season’s highlights; from Crimson Saint’s skill strikes, to Dain Ironvalor’s fury, and then to the epic final of the Warstar RPG Champions League.

The voice over was deep, commanding, and electric, adding more emotion to the recap highlights.

"Champions of Warstar... brace yourselves".

The music exploded, rising to a crescendo as the voice continued.

"The 12th SEASON of the English Pro Alliance begins in two weeks!"

"The battlefield has evolved. And so must you".

"3 teams were relegated out of the English Pro Alliance after last season, and 3 new teams will be promoted this season".

"The Team Registration Deadline is in 5 days".

"The Draft Board Reveal is in 7 days".

"While the first matchday of the 12th English Pro Alliance is in 2 weeks, 14 days".

On the screen...

CRKSH!

The logo of the English Pro Alliance shattered before reforging itself into a sleeker, darker version, the ’12’ now surrounded by a spiraling ouroborus.

And then, the closing line appeared in red-gold text.

[ENGLISH PRO ALLIANCE SEASON 12:]

["No Gods. No Kings. Only Champions."]

...

England, London, Club Echelon HQ...

12 days before the start of Season 12 of the English Pro Alliance.

The great black-glass tower of Club Echelon loomed proudly over the skyline of central London, a bastion of elite gaming culture nestled in one of the most expensive blocks in the city.

Their private floors, lavishly designed with neon-lit corridors, holo-display walls, and the scent of imported coffee buzzed to life as Team Echelon returned from their vacation in Miami, U.S.A.

They finally returned from their post-raid vacation.

Lord Doom already had a crazy reputation in the new server before even becoming associated with Club Echelon. Once he was associated with the newest club in the English Pro Alliance, his popularity only grew.

It truly exploded after his identity reveal as God Noah.

And once again, now, after leading a raid party and dominating the Grand Monastery of Aetheryos, he and his teammates were no longer just feared, they were mythologized.

But Noah didn’t believe in resting on legends.

This was why after returning to England, he gave his team 1 day of rest but the next morning, they were back in action.

The team assembled in the sprawling digital war room. Giant screens displayed the English Pro Alliance (EPA) Season 12’s new mechanics, patch notes, draft potentials, and real-time factional maps.

All the updates and new maps that would be integrated and used in the new season were also projected before them.

The A.I-powered training sim pulsed in the center, already calibrated for what was coming.

Noah, now in full leadership mode stood with arms crossed before a live hologram of the draft system. He was calm, commanding and deadly precise.

"Twelve days until the season starts," he said, his voice even. "That’s twelve days to break bad habits and lock in rotations. Twelve days to recover, not just recover but to return to our best state and aim to exceed it. No excuses".

Aria leaned against the side railing, idly cracking her knuckles. "Tch. You act like we’re rusty. I just wiped a dungeon boss with my slippers on".

Caleb glanced over, adjusting his glasses. "You also triggered three traps and almost got the cleric killed".

Benjamin, on a hover-chair chuckled. "Yeah, but she did it stylishly. Let’s give her half a medal".

Genevieve, serene as ever just sighed and pulled up healing logs. "All I know is you all keep getting hit on purpose so I’ll have more fun healing. Please stop".

Apart from the starting V for Club Echelon, the club already secured its 2 substitute players. After all, 7 pro players were needed for a club to compete in the English Pro Alliance, not just 5.

The 2 substitutes were old and new. The first was of course, Jeff, the 17-year old teenager controlling a Combat Mage Avatar who took lessons from Noah directly. He was more of an introvert; mostly quiet, but in-game, he had ice-cold precision and instincts.

And then Rosalind, a Hexblade Warlock controller. Aria recruited her after discovering her talent in her boyfriend’s hometown, Birmingham City.

She was a volatile genius with attitude to match. Fast rotations, and razor-sharp sarcasm that could compete with Benjamin.

They both stood near the edge of the sim, watching, evaluating, waiting for Noah’s cue.

Noah looked at them. "You two aren’t benchwarmers anymore. Substitute doesn’t mean passive, it means you’re ready the second someone hiccups".

"Cool," Rosalind said, smirking. "So when Aria eventually rage-quits, I’m in?"

Aria looked up with venom.

"You wish. You’ll get in when I die, which is never".

Noah coughed. "Ahem... let’s hope it never comes to that".

Jeff simply nodded, checking his crosshair calibration.

"I guess... let’s start training then".

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