In shadows deep, where silence sings,
nAts begins his deadly wings.
A phantom's grace, a lurking art,
He tears the game and breaks the heart.
Through winding paths, his steps so light,
A specter born to own the night.
With perfect aim, his bullets fly,
A star ascends, no dream can die.
The anchor firm, he holds the site,
A fortress built with fearless might.
No breach, no storm, no rushing crowd,
Can shake the stance of nAts, so proud.
But when the team cries for an entry,
He answers loud—an iron sentry.
Through walls and smokes, he crafts his way,
The enemy falls; the crowd’s in sway.
In clutch, he stands, so calm, astute,
And somehow, too, he’s just so cute.
With every frag, a tale unfolds,
A legend’s path, a life of gold.
For in the end, through rounds and maps,
One truth remains—he is nAts.
Discord