Ruho stared at the fifteen briefcases arranged across the stage, three in front of each guest. They all looked identical sleek black metal, silver latches, no distinguishing marks whatsoever. This was pure chance. Pure luck. And his luck had been shit since he died.
"A job like this," Tyrix announced suddenly, his voice dropping an octave, "calls for MACHO RIX!"
Before Ruho could ask what the hell that meant, Tyrix's body began to transform. His muscles expanded rapidly, his sequined jacket straining at the seams as his arms inflated by what had to be fifty pounds of pure mass. His top hat shrunk proportionally probably to maintain the cosmic balance or something until it was a tiny thing perched on his glowing head. His shoulders broadened. His chest pushed out. Even his bow tie looked more aggressive somehow.
And he was already tall Ruho had estimated seven foot eight but now he looked like a bodybuilder who'd been stretched on a rack and then fed nothing but protein powder and divine steroids.
Tyrix struck a pose. Double bicep flex. The crowd lost their minds.
"MACHOUUUUUUUUUUU!" Tyrix bellowed in his deeper voice, winking at the audience with his non-existent eye.
The stadium erupted. People were screaming. Someone threw a bra onto the stage where it came from in the afterlife, Ruho had no idea. Elvis gave an approving nod. Even Lu Bu looked mildly impressed.
Ruho just stood there, bewildered. "What is happening right now?"
But he had better things to focus on. Like the cute "girl" sitting a few feet away who kept glancing at him and then looking away quickly. The one with the crop top and the impossible proportions. "She" seemed interested, right? The wave earlier. The blush. That was interest.
Ruho tried what he thought was a smooth smile in her direction. Tried to project confidence despite being covered in dried blood and wearing torn pants with no underwear.
The femboy's (unknown to ruho) face went bright red again and they smiled back, tucking a strand of hair behind their ear.
"RUHO!" Tyrix's voice cracked like a whip, and suddenly a massive muscular hand grabbed Ruho's shoulder and spun him around forcefully. "Eyes on the GAME, kid! You can flirt AFTER we determine your fate! Now, let's start with our most DISTINGUISHED guest!"
Tyrix gestured dramatically toward Lu Bu, his muscles still absurdly inflated.
"The thousand-man general! The warrior who made armies flee at the mention of his name! The strongest fighter of the Three Kingdoms era! LUUUUU BUUUUUUU!"
Lu Bu stood up from his chair. Up close, he was even more intimidating. Ruho had thought he was six and a half feet, but no the man was easily seven and a half feet tall, maybe more. He towered over Ruho, all muscle and armor and barely contained violence. His expression was neutral, but his eyes tracked every movement Ruho made with predatory precision.
Ruho approached Lu Bu's three briefcases nervously. He examined them closely, looking for any kind of tell a scratch, a dent, a slight difference in color. Anything that might indicate which was good and which was bad.
Nothing. They were completely identical.
"Right," Ruho muttered. "Guess it's just... random then."
He reached for the middle briefcase. Middle felt safe. Balanced. Not too left, not too right. The Goldilocks zone of choices.
Lu Bu's hand slammed down on the briefcase to the right with enough force that the pedestal underneath it shook.
"This one, boy," Lu Bu said, his voice deep and certain.
Ruho blinked. "Uh, dude, I'm picking, not you. That's kind of the whole point of the game."
He tried to reach for the middle case again. Lu Bu's hand moved faster than Ruho thought possible for someone his size, pressing down on the middle briefcase. His fingers gripped the edges.
And slowly, deliberately, the metal began to dent.
The crowd went silent. Even Tyrix stopped flexing.
Lu Bu's expression didn't change. He just stared at Ruho with those intense eyes and said, very slowly, very clearly:
"Pick. The. Right."
The briefcase was literally crumpling under his grip. The metal groaned. The silver latches bent.
Ruho gulped. "Okay. Okay! Right case. I'm picking the right case. See? Picking it now."
He grabbed the right briefcase quickly, before Lu Bu could crush it entirely. The warrior released his grip and stepped back, satisfied.
"EXCELLENT CHOICE!" Tyrix boomed, his muscles flexing involuntarily. "Our first selection has been MADE! Let's see what fate has in store for Ruho! OPEN IT!"
Ruho fumbled with the latches. They clicked open smoothly, and he lifted the lid.
Inside, floating in a field of soft golden light, was a glowing text display. Words materialized in the air above the case, large enough for the whole stadium to see:
LAUNCHED SPLINTER
"What does that—" Ruho started.
"LAUNCHED SPLINTER!" Tyrix interrupted, his voice booming as he struck another pose, biceps flexing. "An ABILITY that allows the user—" flex "—to transform ANY piece of wood—" flex "—that they can easily pick up—" flex "—and launch it like a PROJECTILE—" double bicep flex "—at speeds ranging from SIXTY—" flex "—to THREE HUNDRED—" flex "—miles per HOUR!"
The crowd made appreciative noises. It sounded... okay? Not great, but okay.
"That's the most mid ability ever," Ruho said flatly. "I can throw sticks fast. That's it. That's the power."
Lu Bu let out a bark of laughter that sounded like boulders grinding together. "HAHA! A weapon fit for making TOOTHPICKS, I see? What will you do, boy? Defeat your enemies with SPLINTERS?"
The crowd erupted in laughter. Even Plato was smiling. Elvis chuckled. The Spartan daughter was openly laughing.
The femboy spoke up quietly, their voice soft but clear. "I think it's cool... With some versatility, it could be used for—"
"BOOOOORING!" Tyrix cut in, his massive arm sweeping dismissively. "Am I right, folks?"
The crowd laughed harder. People were slapping their knees. Someone was wiping tears from their eyes.
The femboy looked down at their feet, their shoulders slumping slightly, clearly embarrassed.
Ruho felt a spike of annoyance not at the femboy, but at Tyrix for cutting them off. "Thanks," he said quickly, catching the femboy's eye.
They looked up, surprised, and gave a small grateful smile before looking away again, the blush returning to their cheeks.
Ruho turned back to Lu Bu, his irritation growing. "This is your fault, you know. The middle one probably had a better skill. You made me pick this one."
Lu Bu's expression didn't change. "Open the middle case."
"What?"
"Open. The middle case." Lu Bu gestured at it. "You think I made you choose poorly? Check."
Ruho hesitated, then reached for the middle briefcase—the one Lu Bu had dented. He opened it carefully.
Inside was a letter. Just a simple piece of paper with text written in elegant script:
INABILITY TO USE MANA FOR ONE YEAR
The stadium went completely silent.
Ruho stared at the letter. One year. He currently had twenty mana points pathetic already and if he'd picked this, he'd have had zero mana for an entire year. No healing potions. No magical assistance. Nothing.
"See?" Lu Bu said simply. "I saved you."
The crowd erupted again, but this time in cheers for Lu Bu. People were chanting his name. Someone started a "LU BU! LU BU! LU BU!" chant that spread through the entire stadium.
Ruho looked at the Launched Splinter text still floating above the right briefcase. Then at the curse in the middle briefcase. Then back at Lu Bu, who was watching him with an expression that might have been the tiniest bit smug.
"Fine," Ruho said through gritted teeth. "You saved me. Thank you."
"You're welcome, toothpick boy," Lu Bu said, and the crowd laughed again.
Ruho clutched his new ability his ability to throw sticks really fast—and tried not to think about how this was only the first choice out of five. He still wasn't sure about that count.
Four more briefcases to go. Four more chances to either get something useful or get completely screwed.
The game had only just begun.