The betting floor was alive, a swarm of noise and heat. Cash hit tables, crypto chips slid from hand to hand, smoke hung so thick it blurred the lights. Every voice chased the same name.
Enoch Lander.
He wasn't famous yet, but his fights were legend in the underground. The scars across his arms said enough. Calm eyes, measured stance—he looked like a man who had already lived through worse.
Across the cage stood Kane Bernard, slim, unscarred, still wearing the street kid's hood that marked him as fresh meat.
"Easy money," someone laughed, tossing a stack toward Lander's side.
"Kid's dead weight," another muttered.
Still, a few gamblers loved long odds. They whispered about luck, about rookies who sometimes did the impossible, and slid their chips onto Kane's name.
The referee stepped forward—broad shoulders, eyes replaced by chrome lenses that glowed under the lights.
"Players," he barked, voice booming through the hall. "Open your Stake menus. You know the rules. Whatever you offer, the winner takes. Cash, gear, augments—doesn't matter."
A translucent window blinked across Kane's vision.
STAKE: Select Item
His stomach knotted. There was only one thing worth risking. He keyed it in.
Silver Glider Boots.
Chrome-threaded, sleek, worth a fortune—and the last gift his mother had ever bought him.
He hesitated a breath, then locked it.
Across the cage, Lander typed in his own entry: 2,000 grands.
The stakes chimed and flashed on the overhead screens.
Kane Bernard → Silver Glider Boots (2,500 grands)
Enoch Lander → 2,000 grands
The crowd roared.
"Kid's crazy!"
"That's charity for Lander!"
Referee David lifted a mechanical arm for silence.
"Free-trial confirmed. Starting stats equalized: Strength 10, Vitality 10, Intelligence 10, Agility 10, Sense 10.
Your HUD is your life. The chip rewrites you in real time. When HP hits zero…" He let the pause drag. "Odds of survival drop fast. Treat this like the real thing."
A shiver ran through the rookies in the stands; the veterans just grinned.
"Stakes locked," David said. "Begin!"
The overlay sharpened behind Kane's eyes—bars for health and stamina, a glowing tab marked Specials. His pulse spiked.
Lander tilted his head. "Those boots are real, huh? Two-and-a-half K easy. You sure you want to lose them?"
"They're a gift," Kane said, forcing a smirk. "I don't plan to."
He struck first.
His fist cracked against Lander's nose. Blood sprayed.
[Lander HP 96/100]
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Lander wiped his face and grinned. "Not bad—for a rookie."
He moved like liquid. An arm hooked Kane's, legs coiled, and the world flipped. Kane hit the cage hard enough to rattle the frame.
[Kane HP 87/100]
Pain shot through his ribs, but adrenaline drowned it. He pushed up, eyes locked on his opponent.
They circled. Kane feinted, kicked. Lander blocked and countered—one, two, three strikes. The fourth smashed across Kane's jaw.
Blood hit his tongue. "He hits like a truck," he muttered, and drove his head into Lander's chest, following with a knee that slammed him into the mesh.
The crowd howled. Two rookies trading blows like veterans. Their bars dropped in near-perfect rhythm.
Lander caught him in a choke, muscles steel-tight around Kane's throat.
[Kane HP 70/100]
[Stamina 84 → 72 %]
"Not today!" Kane gasped. He jammed his elbow into Lander's ribs—once, twice, again. The grip loosened. Kane twisted free.
Then the fight blurred. Fists, knees, bone, steel. Every hit shaved another sliver off their health. Sweat slicked the floor. The crowd's roar became a single, rising hum.
Lander swung high; Kane ducked and kicked his thigh. The bigger man staggered. Kane drove a shoulder into him, slamming him down. Lander rolled, caught Kane's arm, twisted until fire shot up his shoulder.
"Give up," Lander growled.
"Never," Kane rasped, wrenching loose.
They broke apart, both barely standing.
[Kane HP 39/100]
[Lander HP 41/100]
Stamina meters guttered under thirty percent.
Both men glanced at their Skill tabs. One activation could end it.
Lander's jaw tightened. No gimmicks. I finish this myself.
Kane's thought mirrored it. No shortcuts.
They closed the tabs.
No skills. No mercy.
They charged.
The collision echoed like thunder. Kane's punch snapped Lander's jaw even as Lander's hook slammed into Kane's ribs. HUDs bled red.
[Kane HP 12/100]
[Lander HP 0/100]
Lander dropped, body hitting the mat with a heavy thud.
David raised his arm. "Winner—Kane Bernard!"
The hall exploded. Some gamblers cursed, others screamed in joy. A few clutched their winnings, stunned that the long shot had landed.
Kane stared down at the fallen man. "Is he dead?"
David knelt, scanning. "Unconscious. He'll live. You need med-time, too."
Sean Morgan muscled through the crowd, grinning wide. "That's what I'm talking about! Rookie drops a jujutsu vet—you just bought yourself a name, kid."
Kane barely heard him. His HUD flashed red, his knees went weak. He felt Sean's hand catch his shoulder as darkness rolled in. The last thing he heard was the chant:
"Kane! Kane! Kane!"
When he woke, the world was quiet except for the hum of fluorescents. The infirmary smelled of disinfectant and rust. Pain gnawed at every muscle.
The HUD shimmered back to life.
Free Trial Complete
Victory Confirmed
Rewards: +2,000 grands
EXP: +3 (all stats)**
Strength 3 Vitality 3 (HP 30)
Agility 3 Intelligence 3 (EP 30)
Sense 3
+10 Distributable Points
Skill Gained: Dash Lv 1 (10 EP)
Kane let out a shaky breath and smiled despite the ache.
Now he understood the Quantum grind.
Blood, pain, numbers, survival.
And this—this was only the beginning.