While Quinn logged into the game, the crowd of spectators wasn't the only group keeping an eye on him. Among the unseen watchers was Logan.
The rising chatter on the forums had finally reached him—videos, posts, whispers about a mysterious player called ThePunisher who seemed to bend the game itself. As one of the minds behind the system, Logan couldn't let it slide.
It gnawed at him. The system was flawless—or so he thought. And yet, here was someone doing the impossible.
So, he set a trap. Every time ThePunisher logged in, Logan's system would ping him. That way, he could spectate directly without ever needing to be on the player's friend list.
"Come on," Logan muttered, his eyes locked on his monitor. "Show me how you're cheating."
But as he watched match after match, his jaw tightened. The red energy Quinn wielded… it wasn't any ability Logan had ever seen. And worse, the system logs confirmed it: Quinn had only selected one earth ability before entering the pod.
"This doesn't make sense," Logan whispered, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He bypassed layers of encryption, scraping for player data. Most was scrambled—safety protocols. Still, after several minutes, he struck.
[User: ThePunisher][Login Location: Military Base 2]
Logan's lips curled into a sharp grin. "Well… isn't that convenient."
The boy who now stood before Quinn barely reached his chest. His dark green hair was neatly parted, but the heavy black bags beneath his eyes made him look far older—or far more broken—than his age suggested.
But it wasn't his appearance that shook Quinn. It was the word that fell from his lips.
"Punisher."
Quinn stiffened. His gaze darted around the pod room. No one else seemed to notice—the other users were either immersed in their pods or too far away.
"How did you do it?" Logan asked flatly. He didn't wait for a reply, brushing past Quinn to run his fingers along the VR pod's surface.
He shut his eyes briefly. "No modifications… then how?" His voice grew more frustrated with each syllable.
When he turned back, his eyes landed on Quinn's watch—the glowing number 2 on its face.
"That's impossible," Logan hissed, stepping closer. "What's your ability?"
Quinn's pulse quickened. Should I run? If I do, will he strike me down right here?
Recognition hit him like a stone. That hair. That presence. Quinn remembered him from the entrance test—the boy with the Exoskeleton suit, the one who'd shattered records with a level 8 rating.
Quinn had nearly been broken by level fours. Against this boy? He had no chance. And if Logan was stronger than eight—something the system couldn't even measure—then running was pointless.
"You're not thinking of running, are you?" Logan tilted his head, a manic twitch tugging at his eye. His voice cracked, unraveling into raw obsession. "I'm not finished questioning you. You broke my game! How? I could understand a hack—but this?" His words spilled out faster, his breath ragged. "This makes no sense! I need to understand!"
He inched closer with each step, his frustration warping into madness.
Then—thump. Something slipped from Quinn's sleeve and landed between them.
The book. His parents' book.
Logan froze. Slowly, almost reverently, he bent down and picked it up. His bloodshot eyes lit with a dangerous gleam.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"That's mine!" Quinn snapped, reaching out.
But Logan yanked it back, clutching it behind him like treasure. His smile was thin, crooked. "No. Not until you give me answers. If you don't want to talk here… fine. Come to my room. We'll discuss privately. No one will interrupt us there."
Quinn grit his teeth. Why does everyone else seem to know more about my book than I do?
The two walked in silence until Logan finally stopped.
They stood before a floor Quinn had never set foot on. It was in the same dormitory building—but unlike his cramped quarters, these doors were fewer, farther apart.
"What is this place?" Quinn asked.
Logan smirked. "VIP dorms. Families who make generous 'donations' to the military get their children a room here."
He swung the door open. Quinn's eyes widened.
The room was twice the size of his own, yet only housed a single bed. But it wasn't the space that stunned him—it was the chaos within. Scrap metal piled in corners. Gadgets scattered across tables. Controllers, miniature ships, strange devices humming faintly with unfinished power.
Two things stood out: a towering human-sized tube wired to a console, and a pristine VR pod—worth over 100,000 credits—resting casually beside it.
Unlike most powerful families who amassed wealth through abilities, Logan's family was different. They were engineers. Innovators. The creators of the very VR system Quinn had been using. Their wealth rivaled hunters and beast-weapon forgers, yet their influence stemmed not from bloodlines—but from invention.
Logan slid into a sleek, mechanical chair. Its arms unfolded around him, massaging his shoulders as if he were royalty. His gaze, however, never left the book.
"So," he said softly, curiously, dangerously. "Are you going to tell me your secret?"