Roth headed toward the whack-a-mole arena after an overwhelming victory in the burrowthon. As he swam through one of the gravel lanes, he thought of Zin’s shocked face and laughed. He still couldn’t believe how easy it had been. If the rest of the games went as smoothly as this, he had the Molympic Games in the bag!

The trip from the finish line of the burrowthon to the whack-a-mole arena was uneventful. He had half-expected the assassin to come after him, but the moles were listening. They would likely kick him out of the games if he dared.

The whack-a-mole arena was packed. A jumbotron had appeared out of nowhere on one of the walls, featuring a scoreboard and a list of the participants. Eight teams comprised of five moles, each warmed up in their colorful uniforms, diving in and out of holes in the rock. Each field featured 15 holes, five by three, connected by tunnels. Several such fields were scattered throughout the arena for teams to practice in, but the game would take place in the field at the center.

On one corner of the arena, whackers warmed up. Many of the hammers Roth had seen placed over supports drilled into the rock wall were taken. Six whackers heroically swung the heavy, giant hammers, creating gusts of wind strong enough to make Roth’s cape flutter.

Five moles with golden fur and wearing red uniforms headed toward the whack-a-mole field at the center of the arena, and the whole place went quiet. The whackers put their hammers on the holders, and the other teams of mole divers all stepped out of the tunnels, congregating around the central field.

Sensing that the arena’s eyes were now focused on them, one of the reigning champions squeaked a greeting. “Welcome to whack-a-mole, the second sport in this edition of the Molympic Games!”

The announcement caused all the moles in attendance to cheer with excited squeaks. Roth smiled at how festive the atmosphere felt. It was a great improvement over the silent starting line of the burrowthon.

Another one of the mole divers continued. “The rules of the game are simple. There are eight teams of mole divers and eight whackers. The whole team of mole divers has to emerge their heads ten times. Teams win one point for each mole that isn’t hit by a hammer each time they emerge.”

Another athlete took over explaining the rules: “On the other hand, whackers have to hit as many moles as possible. For each mole hit, they gain one point. Half the teams and the whackers are eliminated each round until only one whacker and one team of mole divers remain. The winner of the last fight becomes the champion of whack-a-mole!”

Congratulations on participating in this edition of the Molympic Games!

The second sport is whack-a-mole. Swing the hammer to hit as many moles as possible. Attacking other participants is forbidden.

First round: Molcules vs. Happy Tunnelers

Roth sighed in relief. He was glad he wasn’t going first. This would give him a better chance to figure out how the game worked. One of the mole whackers walked over to the hammers and brought it over to the field. Molcules’ arms were wrapped in bandages, and he easily carried a giant green hammer on his shoulder. Molcules would go against the Happy Tunnelers, an energetic bunch of moles that wore black and white uniforms.

Molcules took his position, spat on his hands, and then grabbed the hammer, lifting it high above his head. The team of moles dove into the field, disappearing from view.

3, 2, 1… GO!

As soon as the system signaled the start of the game, the five mole athletes immediately emerged from their holes. They had managed to come all out almost simultaneously. Molcules grunted and swung his hammer, trying to hit two moles next to each other. One dove back in too quickly, but the hammer grazed the other. A counter on the top of the arena attributed the points of the first round.

1 - Molcules | Happy Tunnelers - 4

There were ten rounds, meaning 50 points were up for grabs. A few seconds passed, and the moles emerged again. One of them arrived earlier this time, and Molcules hit it, as well as a second one that appeared close by.

Roth scratched his beard in thought. The more coordinated a team was, the harder it was to hit more than one mole. If all five heads appeared and disappeared in sync, the whacker had less time to swing the hammer. One of the moles had messed up in this second round and emerged early, costing their team one point.

The longer the game went, the more sure Roth was that it was rigged to favor the mole divers. To win a game, whackers had to hit an average of three moles every round. Molcules could only do that once in the 9th round when the mole team completely messed up their tempo.

The game ended with an overwhelming victory for the Happy Tunnelers. They won 36 to 14. The arena reset in preparation for the second game. A team called the Wormholes, dressed in warm green t-shirts featuring a cartoon worm design, entered the field, eliciting cheers from their fellow mole divers. Roth chuckled at their name but quickly turned serious as he spotted Zin approaching the hammer wall.

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The assassin picked up one of the hammers effortlessly and dragged it toward the whack-a-mole field. The wormholes fearlessly dove into the ground, preparing for the start of the second game.

3, 2, 1… GO!

This time, the team didn’t emerge right away. They waited several seconds before the five heads sprang up across the field. Zin swung his hammer with impressive speed, hitting three heads and scoring three points. Roth gulped. He was swinging the hammer as if it were a light dagger. Zin was a rogue specialized in speed. What kind of bonuses or equipment did this player have to be able to carry a 1-ton hammer like that?

The cheekiness from winning the burrowthon disappeared, and Roth focused on his adversary. Zin's performance was lackluster but efficient. He never missed a hit and moved the hammer with incredible swiftness. At one point, he could swing the hammer quickly enough to hit four of the moles! Roth could only imagine how much faster he could move when attacking with his daggers. The game ended with a clear victory for Zin: 31 to 19.

The assassin dragged the hammer back toward the wall and glanced at Roth with a wicked smile. Roth raised his chin, showing Zin he wasn’t afraid.

The games kept going, with every whacker losing until only Roth and one of the mole teams remained.

Next game: Pax vs. Golddiggers

As luck would have it, Roth was stuck facing last year’s champions in the first round. The team of five mole elites confidently marched in perfect synchronicity and dove into the field holes while Roth headed toward the hammer wall. He reached for one randomly and felt it in his clawed mole hands.

You are carrying too much weight. You are [Heavy].

You move 50% slower.

Roth glanced at Zin, who smiled triumphantly as if he could read the same notifications that Roth was receiving. Roth grinned. Let’s see how much longer you can keep that stupid smile on your face, Zin.

Human Form!

Roth’s stats doubled, and his back straightened. The [Heavy] debuff was immediately lifted, and the hammer became lighter. He swung the hammer a couple of times, causing gusts of wind powerful enough to rustle the fur of the distant moles. This was just right for his stats. Zin’s smile didn’t look as cheeky anymore, but he still looked confident.

Let’s give that jerk a little surprise.

Ant Form!

Roth's skin hardened and reddened. Two antennae popped up from his head, and two mandibles emerged from the corner of his lips. His eyes grew blacker, and he felt a surge of strength. The hammer suddenly felt weightless. Satisfied, Roth walked over to another hammer and picked it up. He experimented with swinging a hammer in each hand and hit the wall a few times, shaking the whole chamber.

Looking over at Zin, he found the assassin’s jaw practically touching the ground. He wasn’t the only one. Every mole in the arena had shrunk back at the unprecedented sight of someone being able to carry a hammer in each hand. Roth waited for a few moments, and seeing that no one stepped forward to say this was against the rules, he strolled toward the field. No one had even dreamed that someone who could carry two hammers simultaneously would come along. Roth faced the 15 holes before him, lifting both hammers high, ready to bring them down.

3, 2, 1… GO!

The Gold Diggers chose to emerge from the holes immediately. Roth brought both hammers down, hitting four heads on his first attempt, scoring four points. The moles quickly resurfaced, and Roth swung the hammers again, getting three of them this time.

This team was composed of mole elites, significantly faster than the other teams. To worsen the situation, they took a fast approach to the game, letting only the minimum time elapse between each emergence. Many teams varied the interval between emergences to leave the adversary on edge, but these elites were giving it their all to play a fast-tempo game.

Roth struggled to keep up, even with two hammers, but by the time he reached round five, one of the elites made a mistake. Keeping such a fast tempo came with its downsides. Even the seasoned champions couldn’t keep up perfect synchronicity at this speed. Roth hit the head that had appeared early, and as the other four appeared, he managed to hit all of them. He had scored five points in one round!

Zin’s shout of disbelief echoed from the sidelines, but Roth remained focused. He never stopped swinging both hammers. He didn’t have to wonder whether the moles would come from the left or the right. He could cover both directions.

By the time the round was over, Roth checked the scoreboard and lifted one of the hammers in victory. He had scored 35 points, surpassing any previous whacker’s score. Roth looked over at where Zin had been standing but failed to spot him. He smirked. It looked like Zin had already figured out he couldn’t compete with Roth in this sport and had thrown in the towel.

*

"Well, that didn't go well," Eron said in a regretful tone.

"I don't know how he did it. I had no idea he could carry so much weight and still move that fast,” Zin lamented as he punched one of the walls.

"I’m getting worried," Eron said to Zin. "He’s already won half the sports. You've won whack-a-mole before, but you've never managed to win both the burrowthon and whack-a-mole."

Zin turned serious. "It's fine. He won’t win."

“But Zin, this is the first time that my script is going to face the scrutiny of NPCs and players. After seeing what this guy can do, I don’t feel confident.”

Zin clasped his hand on Eron’s shoulder. "That doesn’t sound like you, Eron. You’re the number one broker in the game. I’m the number one player. Roth has a few tricks up his sleeve, but from what I know about him, he’s not as intelligent as you. You’ve given it your all in the script. Have confidence in your work.”

Eron nodded, a little more relaxed.

“The script has been written and delivered. There’s nothing we can do about it. I want your full focus on the cockroach races. Got it?” Zin turned his back toward his companion and started walking away.

"W-where are you going?" Eron asked, his question echoing in the tunnel.

"Up to the surface," Zin answered.

“What for? Aren’t you going to stay here to see the rest of the games?”

Zin kept walking. "No. I have another competition to participate in. I’m heading up to Charlesville."