Ashen sat in the lounge, eyes half-lidded. The walls hummed faintly, full of lights and screens he still hadn't figured out.
The tournament continued above, roaring with cheers, but down here the waiting room was quiet.
His gaze wandered and stopped again on the strange rectangular box he had noticed before.
A vending machine.
That's what they called it.
The last time he'd used it, he'd picked a yellow drink. Bitter. Foul.
The taste had clung to his tongue like poison. But his body hadn't dropped dead, so perhaps it wasn't lethal.
"…Another one shouldn't hurt," he muttered.
"Maybe I simply picked a bad one."
Ashen stood and approached the machine. A line of colored cans gleamed behind glass.
His eyes narrowed. No yellow ones this time. Good.
One, however, caught his attention.
EnCross.
Letters carved in silver, beneath it a line of text: Sweet. Energizing. Refreshing.
"…Sweet? Energizing?" He tilted his head.
"That sounds suspicious."
But curiosity gnawed at him.
He pressed the buttons with a sharp tap, slid coins into the slot, and listened as a metallic clunk echoed inside.
The can dropped.
"…That's it?" He bent to pick it up.
"Hmph. Strange magic."
Then a thought struck him. He turned, pressed more buttons.
Again. And again.
By the time he stopped, the machine was empty, coins gone, and he stood before two arms full of clattering cans.
He sighed. "…I am officially broke now."
"Unless I win this tournament."
He carried the drinks back to the bench and tossed them onto the seat with precise accuracy, each can landing upright in a neat line.
It looked absurdly ceremonial, as though he had prepared an offering to some ancient god of beverages.
Ashen sat.
Examined the can.
Turned it over.
No instructions.
"…How does one…?"
He pressed against the top. Nothing.
Tapped the sides. Nothing.
He frowned.
There must be a method… a seal, perhaps?
The lounge was empty. No one to ask.
So, with a low exhale, he simply pushed his fingers into the thin metal lid.
A soft crunch rang out as it gave way, liquid hissing out like a beast freed from its cage.
Inside, a pale blue liquid glimmered.
Transparent, faintly bubbling.
Ashen sniffed it. The scent alone sent a small jolt through his chest.
"…It smells alive."
He sipped. The sweetness struck instantly, fizzing against his tongue, flooding his head with energy.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…Hah. Not poison. Addictive."
He tilted the can back, drinking deeply. Each gulp echoed.
The carbonated bite danced on his tongue, and for a brief second—
--
A memory surfaced. A sword beneath him, spanning the horizon.
His body reclined across its broad back as he drank from a jug of wine.
Wind howled, clouds split, the entire world lay beneath his feet.
--
He blinked. The vision faded.
"…Interesting."
Another sip. And another.
The pile of unopened cans gleamed beside him, waiting.
[Audience Chat]
[SkyPiercer_88]: …Did he just buy every single drink in the lounge? 💀
[Arg_1]: Bro must be a hermit to not know how to open a Can of Soda.
[ArcaneScholar]: He looks like he's preparing a ritual, lol.
[IronFist]: Bro ripped open the can with his fingers. Who does that??
[ViolinDemon]: LMFAO he looks dead serious too. Like "yes, this is cultivation."
[Arest11]: Oi forget the drinks, anyone else noticing the rain? My side of the continent's drowning—
[StormCaller]: Bro, we're talking about soda. Focus.
[SkyPiercer_88]: Nah nah let him cook. Watch, this'll matter later.
Ashen finished another gulp, leaned back, and exhaled.
"…This stuff is good."