"Who dares challenge me in my field of perfection?"
The boy's voice boomed, half choked, like even speaking strained his throat.
His thick neck twitched as his eyes scanned the crowd.
Everyone already knew who the challenger was.
Or maybe...
his neck was just too stiff to turn properly.
Finally, his gaze landed on Aziel.
Aziel still stood on the platform, leaning lazily against the wall, smirk tugging at his lips.
The boy's chest puffed out. "You. Face me."
Aziel tilted his head, mockingly casual.
"Sure. But don't complain when I slap the taste out of your mouth."
The boy's face twisted red.
The crowd gasped, then roared in excitement.
He slammed a hand on the console. "Pick up the controller, brat!"
The game loaded onto the massive central screen.
A competitive brawler.
Explosions, combos, flashing names of past champions.
The crowd pressed in tighter, buzzing with anticipation, and Zephyr along with Lyra maintained a safe distance.
Oliver slipped in beside Aziel, hands behind his back like a teacher watching a reckless student.
"Educational purposes only," he muttered.
Aziel gave him a side glance. "…Seriously?"
Oliver nodded solemnly, eyes on the screen.
"Do you even know how to play this game?"
Aziel picked up the controller, weighing it in his hand like it was some alien artifact.
"Well… actually, no. Not a clue."
Actually Aziel had played a lot of similar video games before, in his previous life.
And to him, these games were just a cheap copy of the real deal.
'Guess, the author was too lazy to figure out a new game for his book'
What was his name again?
He wondered.
Oliver's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me-"
Then, cut Oliver off with a smirk.
"But a true gamer doesn't run from a challenge. Doesn't matter the game. FPS, fighter, racing… If you're the real deal, you play them all.
That's what separates naturals from the mediocres who whine about controls. Just like how they say if you are better at one FPS game, you don't need to master others"
.
The fat boy sneered.
"Big talk. Let's see if your hands move as fast as your mouth."
Aziel cracked his knuckles, controller firm in his grip.
"Don't worry. My hands move plenty fast. You'll feel it soon enough."
The screen flared.
3…
2…
1…
FIGHT!
The fat boy's thumbs blurred, slamming the buttons like they owed him money.
His avatar burst forward with a juggernaut combo, hammer fists shaking the virtual arena.
The crowd roared. "He's too fast!" "The other guy's done for!"
But Aziel… barely moved.
His character sidestepped at the last second, letting the barrage smash empty air.
Calm down, big guy.
All brawn, no brain.
He tapped the stick lazily, landing a single jab.
Then another.
The crowd booed at the tiny pecks, until they noticed the fat boy's health bar.
Chunk by chunk, it dropped.
"What the hell?! Those aren't even combos!" someone shouted.
Oliver leaned in, blinking hard.
"Wait… he's frame-trapping him. Perfectly. Every single jab is locking him in place."
Aziel tilted his head, smirk widening.
"Oh? Didn't mean to. Must be natural talent."
The fat boy growled, hammering the controller harder, sweat dripping down his forehead.
His avatar lashed out with a desperate grab, only to whiff as Aziel ducked and countered with a clean uppercut.
KO!
Aziel spun the controller once in his hand and set it down, smirking.
"Well… that was disappointingly easy. Who's next?"
The crowd exploded into chaos.
Cheers, whistles, and laughter filled the hub.
But the fat boy slammed his hand on the console, face crimson.
"That—! That doesn't count! I was… I was warming up! My controller's been lagging since yesterday!"
"Atleast decide on if you were lagging or warming up, you buffet"
Someone shouted within the crowd, as the excuse rolled out heavy and desperate, and the crowd only laughed harder.
Aziel chuckled, tossing the controller once in his hand before holding it out to Oliver.
"Did you get a firm grasp of it?"
Oliver's eyes lit up, grin stretching. "The hell I sure did!"
The crowd roared again as Oliver snatched the controller and stepped forward, puffing his chest out like a veteran general about to lead an army.
.
The fat boy snarled, gripping his own controller until the plastic creaked.
"Fine. You! I'll crush you instead!"
The countdown blared again.
3…
2…
1…
FIGHT!
The fat boy launched into the same wild, frantic combos. Button mashing fury.
Oliver squinted at the screen. His character twitched… stumbled… then, somehow, landed a perfect counter.
The crowd gasped as everyone tried to guide oliver on what to fo and what not, as if he was even paying attention.
Moments later...
KO!
Silence.
Then the hub erupted.
The fat boy froze, staring blankly at the flashing letters on screen. His jaw worked, but no words came out.
Oliver placed the controller down with a theatrical sigh, then spread his arms to the crowd like a champion basking in glory.
"Thank you, thank you… no autographs, please."
Aziel buried a laugh into his fist, shaking his head.
'This idiot… he's enjoying it more than me.'
The fat boy's face twisted, veins bulging as he screamed incoherently, but no one heard him.
the crowd had already decided who the victors were.
Suddenly, a chair crashed against the floor with a thunderous bang.
The fat boy shot up, face twisted in rage.
"Why don't you understand!?" he roared, spittle flying. "It's the fucking chair, I said!"
Gasps rippled through the hub, the crowd taken aback as he stomped forward and seized Aziel by the collar.
Zephyr's muscles tensed, ready to step in, but Lyra's hand landed lightly on his arm.
Her eyes narrowed, calm but firm. "Wait. Let's see."
The boy's grip tightened, dragging Aziel closer, his breath heavy with grease and fury.
"You think you're so cool, huh? Mighty in some game, making everyone cheer. But what about real life?" His lips curled into a sneer. "Do you think you can defeat me there too?"
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Laughter vanished.
The cheers died out.
Whispers spread through the crowd, sharp and low.
"Isn't he the one who was beaten half-dead before?"
"If he backs down now, it's over."
"Really?."
And just like that, every gaze in the hall turned to Aziel.
His next words would decide whether he stood taller than ever, or fell lower than he had ever been.
"Real life? Careful what you wish for. Losing to me on a screen is one thing… losing out there is the kind you don't walk away from."
As he spoke, his gaze flickered down, just for a moment.
A badge was stiched onto the fat boy's coat.
It had a number imprinted on it.
He coudn't see it clearly.
But...
Two digits.
His smirk never faltered.