Claimed By The Ruthless Esports Boss

From the back cover

I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.

Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.

He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.

Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.

I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?

I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.

"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.

I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.