I think PRX is burned out, from playing in toronto then saudi then coming back just days before VCT. Give my boys some breakkkk. PRX 2-0

We are no longer watching. We are riding.

The seats are worn. The windows rattle with every breath of the engine. The walls are marked with smudged fingerprints, old ticket stubs, and pieces of belief left behind by those who boarded long before we knew where this train was going.

It doesn’t matter where we got on.

We’re here now.

We were there when it slowed. When it slipped into the valley and smoke poured into the cabin — when the silence nearly drowned the rhythm. Some said it was over. That it had run its course.

But the engine only paused to remember.

Not to stop.

We held on through the lower bracket bends, through the dark tunnels where the air grew tight and no one clapped anymore. Then something shifted — we felt it first in the floor, not the sound but the pull. It picked up again. Fast. Angry. Alive.

We passed broken cities. Sen’s fell in silence. Wolves ran beside us for a stretch — young, furious, trying to drag the wheels off their path. But they faded behind us like a dream that didn't survive the morning.

Now we’re climbing.

The metal screams.

We hold our breath as the sky opens around us. The final tracks are straight and cold and cruel. They don’t forgive. They don’t curve.

At the end, they wait.

Fnatic.

Not a team. A monument. Built from repetition and precision and winters that do not end.

And yet here we are — riding fire into frost.

You can feel it in the air: this is the last stretch. The last lights. The last stop.

No one speaks in the cabin now. We’ve all said what we needed to say. Some sit with their hands clasped. Some press their foreheads to the glass.

I grip the rail. My pulse matches the engine.

This is what it means to believe in something — even when no one else does.
This is what it means to believe in something too fast to hold and too wild to tame.

This is what it means to ride with Paper Rex.

And just before the final bend—

the train does not slow.

It screams.

It rises.

It tears through the cold with every scar it earned, with every name that ever doubted it, with every memory of silence it was forced to carry.

Because trains weren’t made to stop.

They were made to arrive...

The rails had never been so loud.

Not since the beginning.

I found Alecks standing where the track meets the edge of the old forest — coat flaring behind him, eyes sharp.

Smoke curled on the wind. Steel roared in the valley below. The train was back.

But it wasn't the same train.

It was faster.

Feral.

Forged in the fires of failure, rebuilt by hands that remembered what it meant to lose, and vowed never again.

"They’re not riding to prove a point," Alecks said as I stepped beside him. "They’re riding because it’s who they are."

The names were carved into the engine now — not painted, but etched deep:

Jinggg, wide-eyed fury, standing where the rails trembled, swinging momentum like a hammer.
f0rsakeN, the storm’s blade, slicing before the wind even touched you.
Patmen, the spine of steel, seeing paths no map ever drew.
D4v41, voice of calm in chaos, hands steady at the throttle.
something, quiet fire — unassuming, unstoppable — the coal that never ran out.

They passed Sen City like it wasn’t even there.
The monuments cracked.
The old kings watched from the shadows as PRX rolled on, leaving nothing but dust and disbelief.

But the tracks ahead… they were different.

"The Wolves are hunting now," Alecks said, and for the first time in days, I felt the cold.

New blood.
Teeth sharp from climbing, not falling.
No fear, because fear hadn't had time to settle in.

"They’ve never known failure," he continued. "That makes them dangerous. They don’t know what they can lose yet."

I looked out. The sky was bruised, clouds curling like breath over battle.

The Wolves stood between Paper Rex and the summit.

Young. Hungry. Relentless.

"This isn’t a stop," I said. "This is a proving ground."

Alecks smiled — not wide, but deep.

"Let’s see if the Wolves can stand on tracks made for champions."

He turned, hands behind his back, watching as the Paper Rex train screeched into the curve ahead.

There was no brake.

No turning back.

Only rails.
Only fire.
Only the Final Station waiting just beyond the ridge.

And the Wolves?

They’d better be ready.

Because we are coming.

Edit: Wow they actually did it, I'll cook a masterpiece for the grandfinals 😈

Is this the loser of SEN-PRX or GEN-WLV? Come on vlr gotta update this old school user interface atleast let us know who matches who

I'm gonna drive my way to the bank, I'm gonna sell my house, then bet EVERYTHING on G2. I mean this can't even be called a contest.

I found my way back to Alecks' garden as the week unraveled into silence.

The garden had changed.

The weeds had been trimmed back, and someone had repainted the old signs. The tracks, though still quiet, seemed to hum faintly beneath the silence — as if remembering something.

He was there, as always, cup in hand. The steam curled in the cool air.

“You hear it?” he asked before I could speak.

I paused. At first, nothing — just the wind through leaves, the low murmur of insects. But then… faint, like a memory held too long, a distant rumble.

“They said it stopped,” I murmured.

He nodded slowly. “It did. For a moment. Lower bracket’s a valley. Cold. Unforgiving. We crashed harder than we ever had.”

I sat beside him. “So this is it?”

Alecks chuckled, the kind that tastes of both sorrow and stubborn hope.

“Nah,” he said, eyes glinting. “The engine still breathes. Maybe bruised. Maybe stripped of paint. But it never really broke. You don’t stop something like that. You just give it time to remember.”

A pause.

“Remember what?”

“Why it was built.”

The sun broke through the clouds then, slicing gold across the rusted steel. In that light, the tracks didn’t look so tired. They looked ready.

“They’ll ride again,” he said, standing now, voice firmer. “Not to run it back. Not to prove anyone wrong. But to arrive. At the place they were always meant for.”

I looked out at the horizon. And there, just barely, I saw it.

Smoke.

Distant.

But coming.

I think this is GENG 2-1 W but PRX should be fine in the lower bracket. It's dirty and the railway is rusty down there but the train will still be stopping on their final destination ---->🏆

Who will play? mindfreak or patmen?

Come on TS, don't break our hearts :<

Can someone care to explain why patmen is subbed out again?