[DEATH GAME ARC]
The heavy rain that had plagued Site 2 for days had finally ceased, leaving behind a crisp, cool air that filtered through the medical and lounge wings of the Lockout facility.
Inside the recreation hall, however, the atmosphere was anything but serene.
The air was thick with intense focus, fierce rivalry, and the greasy, irresistible aroma of freshly cooked fast food.
On a massive widescreen television mounted to the wall, four high-speed racing vehicles roared around a sharp, asphalt curve on a digital track.
“Drift! Drift now, you idiot!” Rihasa screamed, his thumb mashing the controller buttons so hard the plastic creaked under his grip.
“Shut up, Rihasa! I know how to handle a hairpin turn!” Tez yelled back, leaning his entire body to the left as if physically steering his digital car.
“The reward is mine! Nobody touches that plate!”
At the center of the coffee table sat the holy grail of their current competition: a massive, overflowing plate of limited-edition honey chili potatoes, gleaming with a glossy, sweet-and-spicy glaze, flanked by four chilled cans of Red Bull.
The bet was absolute—the winner of the grand finale race would claim the entire plate and all the drinks for themselves.
No sharing.
No second chances.
“You guys talk too much. Precision engineering always triumphs over raw emotion,” Weza said calmly, his metallic cybernetic eye gleaming slightly as he calculated the optimal entry angle for the final stretch.
“Oh, really?” Sha smirked, his fingers flying across the controller with smooth, practiced rhythm.
“Then explain why you’re currently in third place, metalhead!”
“Wait—what?!” Weza gasped.
Right on cue, Weza’s digital vehicle clipped the inner guardrail at maximum speed.
┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ GAME CRASH: WEZA
│
│ Cause: High-Speed Barrier Collision
│
│ Result: Vehicle Vaporized / ELIMINATED
│
└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
“NOOOOOOO! MY HONEY CHILI POTATOES!” Weza shrieked, clutching his head in utter despair as his screen flashed dark red.
“The physics engine in this game is completely rigged!”
“One down! Three to go!” Tez laughed wildly, tightening his grip on his vehicle’s steering wheel.
“I’m taking the inside lane!”
“Tez, don’t! That’s the wrong angle for a drift!” Sha shouted.
Tez ignored the warning, forcing his car into a violent power-slide around the final S-bend.
The tires smoked on-screen, lost all traction, and slid straight off the cliffside edge into the ocean.
┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ GAME CRASH: TEZ
│
│ Cause: Improper Drift Angle / Total Momentum Loss
│
│ Result: Off-Course Wipeout / ELIMINATED
│
└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
“NO WAY! I WAS SO CLOSE!” Tez slammed his controller onto the couch cushions, pulling his hair in frustration.
“How did that drift fail?! I executed it perfectly!”
“Because you drive like you fight—with zero strategy!” Rihasa mocked, his car neck-and-neck with Sha’s azure vehicle as they approached the final checkpoint.
“Now it’s just between us, Sha! I can already taste that sweet honey glaze!”
“Dream on, Rihasa! Aqua Shark instincts never fail on a straight path!” Sha bellowed.
The tension in the room skyrocketed to a boiling point.
Unconsciously, both Sha and Rihasa began leaking actual Maana into the living room.
Thick green vines began sprouting from the carpet under Rihasa’s feet, while a swirling aura of blue water vapor condensed around Sha’s hands, causing the room’s temperature to drop.
“Hey! Don’t bring real Maana into a PlayStation match!” Weza yelled, backing away.
“I DON’T CARE! I’M WINNING THIS!” Rihasa roared.
The digital speedometer peaked, engine sounds screeching from the sound system.
BOOM!
Without warning, a glowing, dense sphere of metallic energy shot straight through the exterior wall of the lounge, flying with absolute velocity!
It ripped through the air, completely obliterating the plate of honey chili potatoes, and slammed dead-center into the television screen!
The entire screen shattered into a million exploding glass shards and electrical sparks.
Dead silence fell over the room.
Smoke curled up from the ruined console and the scorched wall.
The honey chili potatoes lay ruined on the carpet, coated in monitor dust and wire debris.
Sha and Rihasa stood frozen, their controllers still held out, their mouths wide open.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” Sha and Rihasa shrieked in unison, their aura exploding into full visibility.
“MY POTATOES! THE SCREEN! OUR MATCH!” Rihasa stomped his foot so hard the concrete floor cracked.
“I DON’T CARE WHO DID THIS, I AM GONNA DESTROY THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!!”
“Calm down, both of you! Look at the debris!” Tez commanded, drawing his weapon as he stepped in front of the group.
The metallic ball sitting in the wreckage of the television began to unfold itself, hummed softly, and projected a high-definition, three-dimensional light stream into the center of the room.
The smoke parted, revealing the glowing, life-sized hologram of a slim, dangerously relaxed man wearing elegant, aristocratic military attire.
┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ COMMANDER TRANSMISSION
│
│ Name: Trace Falger
│
│ Identity: Dictator / Leader of Site 4
│
│ Abilities: Teleportation & Blood Copy Technique
│
└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
The holographic figure adjusted his white gloves, a sharp, patronizing smile stretching across his face as he looked down at the four boys.
“Hello! My dear cute kids… I know how much you love playing games!” Trace Falger spoke, his voice smooth, theatrical, and dripping with condescension.
Tez’s eyes narrowed into slits as he stepped forward, shielding his teammates.
“So… you are TRACE FALGER. The dictator of Powerland.”
“You are gonna pay for that screen, you bastard!” Rihasa yelled, pointing a trembling finger at the hologram.
“And for my lunch!”
Weza crossed his massive mechanical arms, glaring at the projection.
“I think you’re just afraid now because the people are calling us the saviors of Powerland—the Legends! Is that it? Because we crushed two of your commanders and liberated their sites?”
Trace Falger tossed his head back and let out a light, melodious laugh that echoed chillingly through the ruined lounge.
“YES! I appreciate your enthusiasm, and congratulations!” Trace clapped his hands together mockingly.
“Congratulations for defeating the absolute trash of my world… ‘Legends’. You little kids actually believe you can stop my dictatorship? Just as I thought… you are all just children playing with powerful toys. You run around waving your Maana, but you don’t have the slightest clue what a real fight or a true war actually is!”
Tez scoffed, holding his ground.
“Hmm! Just ‘children’ who conquered two of your major Powerland sites. How pathetic does that make your army, Trace?”
Trace’s smile flickered for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening.
“A kid with no manners… your name is Tez, isn’t it?” Trace straightened his cloak.
“So, Tez… if you love playing games so much, why don’t you step up and join my personal favorite?”
The four boys exchanged glances.
“Game?” the Legends asked together.
“Yes! A little kids’ game…” Trace smirked.
“What type of game are you talking about?” Tez asked, his voice steady.
Trace leaned closer to the hologram projector, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
“A DEATH GAME!”
Rihasa blinked, scratching the back of his head in confusion. This story is hosted at g.com.
“What? Is this a new console release or did we miss an announcement? Hey Sha, you play way more titles than me… have you played that one?”
Sha rubbed his chin, looking genuinely puzzled.
“I don’t know, maybe it’s an Xbox exclusive? We mostly play PlayStation games here… but I’ve never heard of a title called Death Game.”
Trace Falger’s face twisted in sheer annoyance, his aristocratic composure breaking.
“YOU FOOLS! It’s not a console video game!” Trace barked, his voice booming through the speaker.
“It is a real, blood-soaked combat tournament where warriors fight for their very lives! Win and survive, or lose and DIE!”
The room fell quiet as the weight of his words sank in.
“If you have the courage to back up your arrogant titles, come to my domain—Site 4 of Powerland,” Trace continued, regaining his slick composure.
“It is also known across the realm as the House of Lord Aoffs. Gather your strength and meet me at the abandoned Aoffs Mansion. I am waiting for you… kids!”
SPARK!
BZZZZT!
The metallic sphere flared with intense heat and detonated in a tiny flash of light, completely destroying the hologram projector and leaving behind only a pile of silent ash.
The boys stood in the ruined lounge, surrounded by broken glass and scorched furniture.
“What do we do now, Tez?” Weza asked, his mechanical eye scanning the residue left by the device.
“Let’s consult the Master immediately,” Tez decided, turning toward the door.
“To the command room. Now!”
Meanwhile, far across the region in the dark, fog-drenched borders of Site 4…
Inside a colossal, decaying gothic cathedral that served as the heart of the abandoned Aoffs Estate, heavy obsidian thrones lined the perimeter of a massive stone amphitheater.
High above the arena, seated on an ornate throne crafted from black iron and dark velvet, sat Trace Falger.
Surrounding him in the shadows were dozens of figures—merciless mercenaries, rogue Maana wielders, cutthroat bounty hunters, and elite commanders from surrounding rogue territories.
Trace swirled a glass of dark red liquid in his hand, looking down at the assembled crowd.
“My dear allies and honored guests,” Trace announced, his voice carrying effortlessly through the vaulted hall.
“The Death Game will commence in exactly one week! The rules are simple: absolute battle, no restrictions, total survival. And for the champion who stands victorious over the corpses of all other contenders…”
Trace waved his hand toward the center of the dark chamber.
A thick, swirling pillar of pitch-black smoke parted, revealing a hovering, ancient crystalline structure.
Deep within the crystal, an terrifying, primal energy pulsated with ancient power, casting eerie obsidian reflections across the faces of the audience.
┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ THE TOURNAMENT PRIZE
│
│ Item: Pristine Mythic Artifact
│
│ Classification: Legendary Power of the Ancient Era │
│ Status: Dormant / Awaiting Worthy Inheritor
│
└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
“…You shall receive a Legendary Power of Myth!” Trace declared, his eyes flashing with madness.
Gasping and murmurings broke out across the amphitheater as lethal mercenaries and shadowy villains eyed the hovering artifact with pure greed.
From the darkest corners of the room, monstrous silhouettes and infamous warriors shifted forward, their thirst for power ignited.
Back at the Lockout HQ, the central communications terminal hummed as Master Kaizo’s towering projection flickered into view before the four boys.
“Master,” Tez spoke up, looking up at the screen.
“How did Trace Falger get his hands on a Mythic Power? I thought all ancient powers of that scale were sealed away in Pristones or protected by ancient spirits!”
Master Kaizo closed his eyes, leaning heavily on his staff as he contemplated the situation.
“I do not know how he uncovered it, Tez,” Master Kaizo answered solemnly.
“But one thing I know for certain: a true Mythic Power cannot be forced or controlled by ordinary means. It chooses its host based on pure worthiness. Trace is hosting this bloody tournament because he knows that after a warrior slaughters dozens of powerful opponents and breaks through their physical limits, the raw density of their battle spirit will force the Mythic Power to awaken and accept them.”
Master Kaizo opened his eyes, staring down sternly at Tez, Sha, Rihasa, and Weza.
“Tez, Sha, Rihasa, Weza… I am placing the absolute responsibility of this mission onto your shoulders. You must enter Site 4, survive the tournament, defeat Trace Falger, and reclaim that Mythic Power before it falls into evil hands!”
The four boys stood straight, their previous antics completely forgotten, replaced by unwavering determination.
“Understood, Master!” the Legends shouted in unison.
“We won’t let you down!”