Roscoerama was too easy. Way too easy. It was like shooting fish in a barrel—almost as if the entire tournament was made specifically for somebody with a high-caliber eye augment.

The moment Val entered the arena, she was coincidentally dropped right smack in the center where she happened to find a high-spec sniper rifle. The gun was just lying on the ground in the middle of an abandoned construction site like an out of place ugly duckling. And if that wasn’t lucky enough, as she was trying to find a good vantage point, she found a launch pad that placed her atop the single highest location of the game map—a floating island platform where she could see all the way to the furthest corners of the battleground.

Now, all she had to do was snipe.

Immediately, she broke the attached scope off the rifle. It was getting in the way of her Razen. Then, with nothing but a sniper and her Razen, she started blasting. Her cyber-enhanced eye could zoom in onto targets miles away, and even if it didn’t, the auto trajectory software would kick in and show her exactly where to shoot from what angle.

Within minutes, it was over. Every player who had entered the tournament was shot straight through the head with a hundred percent accuracy. Her Razen even took into consideration the effects of external interferences such as gravity and wind. There was no way she could miss unless players started moving erratically, but they never had the chance to move because it was always one shot, one kill. What was supposed to have lasted for an average time of an hour had ended in less than ten minutes.

Val had won by a long shot.

…

The rest of the tournament was spent on the awards ceremony. There were a number of skeptics in the crowd who doubted the legitimacy of Val’s performance, but none could prove that she had cheated in any way. After all, cyber-ups were allowed in the rules.

She had been handed a physical trophy—which was still simulated—for her win during the ceremony but not any of the promised prize money. When she had asked the event coordinators, they answered that the actual prize was apparently going to be mailed to her instead; this ceremony was just for publicity.

Following the ceremony, a brief interview took place, but Coach started waving his hands from the back. He seemed desperate for her attention, so she quickly excused herself from the entire situation. It was annoying dealing with so many people all at once anyways. The paparazzi and crowd swarmed around, but with nimble steps, she vaulted across the stage and dashed out before anyone could see where she’d disappeared to.

“C’mon, lass!” Coach caught up beside her. “What’re you doing giving out a speech? We’re going to be late!”

“For blackjack?” Val started jogging alongside him. For someone who had made an excuse of having short legs, he sure was fast.

“No, I made a dinner reservation—yes, blackjack!” Coach wiped off some excess sweat from his forehead. “You think we’re running late for grub?”

“How much time?”

“Five”—he huffed—“minutes.”

“Five minutes?! I thought we had more time!”

“I never thought you’d”—he puffed—“win the entire tourney, lass! If it wasn’t for the speech, we wouldn’t be running around like this.”

“Wait, did you expect me to lose?”

“That way.”

“What?” In the distance was a park. Quite scenic from a distance. “Are you seriously trying to enjoy nature right now?” On second thought, it wasn’t really scenic at all. The park was decorated with a number of fake trees—the ones you’d see only at the cheapest convenience stores. But why was it fake? Couldn’t they simulate real trees? It wasn’t like it was going to cost the devs real money.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“Trust me. It’s a shortcut.” Coach started to slow down. “We should get there with time to spare.”

“What happened to teleporting? Is that not…” An image of a roller coaster passed through her mind. With it, an instinctive urge to vomit. “Nevermind. Let’s just run.”

“If ya gotta know, that only works for specific locations and VIP passes.”

“They really focused on that pay-to-win aspect, didn’t they?” The inconvenience—all this running wasn’t going to make her any stronger in the real world. This was just a waste of time. Technically though, she definitely didn’t mind.

“This is it, Val,” Coach interrupted. “This is your thing.”

“It is? How?”

“Ah, don’t tell me you still don’t get it.” He pulled out a playing card and held it up for her to see. The symbols were faced the other way. “What number is it?”

“Number? That’s an ace.” Her Razen activated on instinct. She could see behind the card with her x-ray vision. But what did that have to do with… “Wait, are you telling me to cheat?”

“Finally! You get it now?”

“What? I don’t want to cheat!”

“For god’s sake. When did thieves care about cheating?”

“I’m not a thief. I’m a boxer.”

“You’re also not a professional blackjack player. We’re trying to make money to get you back into boxing, ‘member? There’s no time to be choosy.”

A long sigh mixed in with the huffs and puffs of her breath. It felt wrong, but Coach wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t afford to be picky. Beady was waiting for her. She had promised him she’d be back.

“Over there!” Coach yelled. “The one with the black roof!” He started to run a little faster.

The building Coach had referred to came into sight. It was slightly reminiscent of an old castle. It had medieval features like those regularly spaced square roofs and cone-shaped towers. The bricks of the walls stacked up like colorless toy blocks.

Aesthetically, she thought it was unique. And when they got to the front entrance, that thought became more apparent.

The gates were open, but she couldn’t see anything inside. It was pitch black. There were no lights, no shadows. Not even a floor. She leaned in a little closer to check if her eyes were deceiving her, but nothing changed. It was as dark as ink.

“Alright, lass. In you go!” Coach pushed her in. She stumbled forward; her feet surprisingly felt solid ground.

“W-what? Coach?” She turned around, but the entrance was already gone. Coach was nowhere to be seen.

She couldn’t even see her fingers. Which way was left? Which was right? Arms shyly flailing around, she tried to feel for the wall. Anything for her to hold, to ground her back to her current reality.

But there was nothing.

“Hello?” she called out. “Someone? Anyone?” Why had Coach even pushed her in like that? When she got out, she was going to talk some sense into that man.

A ball of light suddenly flickered on. It floated in the air, rocking side to side like a falling feather. Illuminated underneath it was a table—a blackjack table. And behind the table was a man dressed in a fancy tuxedo vest and bow tie. A golden flower pattern was intricately woven into the fabric.

“Please,” he called to her. “Sit down.” He elegantly motioned her towards the chair placed in front.

“Is… this the tournament?” she asked.

The man nodded.

“Are you the main guy? Like the tournament—uh, what do you call it?”

He smiled. “I am but a simple dealer.” He pulled out a deck of cards and flung them into the air.

She jumped into boxing stance, expecting to be hit by a flurry of kings and queens… But nothing came. Instead, she was met with an unexpected sight—floating cards decorating the dark, lonely night. They hung in the empty space, sparkling, almost crystallizing, into bright, vibrant stars. Like none she had ever seen.

Worried they’d fall from the sky they were perched upon, she held her breath almost in anticipation. But the cards remained, continuing to swirl softly in place, strangely reminiscent of a lullaby. She could fall asleep just watching them hovering so freely in the air…

A finger snapped her awake.

And as if time had reversed, the cards raced back into the man’s hands. They stacked up in perfect harmony, and once he had fanned out the deck in front of her eyes, he called out with an alluring smile—

“The tournament shall now commence.”