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At Radiance Academy in the City of Light, the Elite Academy Tournament was in full swing. Today would decide the top sixteen in each grade.
As an ordinary person living in the City of Light, Mike of House Flamestrike didn't pay much attention to the tournament. After all, this competition happened every year, and it wasn't particularly interesting. Even though this time it was being held at Radiance Academy—right here in his city—Mike still felt it had nothing to do with him.
First, he was fifteen years old, only a third-year at an Intermediate Academy.
Second, his combat power and talent were mediocre at best. It was hard to say if he'd even reach Second Circle after graduation.
Third, Radiance Academy didn't allow ordinary people inside to watch.
Given all this, Mike decided to go play Warlord's Challenge with his cousin Tracy instead.
Just as he was about to set off, he spotted his cousin Cole of House Flamestrike walking toward him. Cole was seventeen—two grades older.
"Hey, Mike, where are you going?" Cole asked.
"To Tracy's. Playing Warlord's Challenge with her."
Cole grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "What's so fun about Warlord's Challenge? Come on, I'll take you to play something way better."
"Like what?"
"Have you heard of illusion games?"
Mike shook his head. "Never heard of it."
"You're so out of date!" Cole looked genuinely offended. "This is the hottest entertainment right now. None of your classmates mentioned it?"
Mike thought for a moment, then shook his head again. "Not really. They've been talking about some 'Contra' thing lately..."
"That's an illusion game!" Cole said excitedly.
Mike didn't understand why Cole was so worked up. "Alright, well, if that's all, I'm leaving."
"Wait, don't go! Where are you going?"
"I told you—Tracy's house. Warlord's Challenge."
"Uh... Mike." Cole's expression shifted to something suspiciously friendly. "You've been saving money lately, haven't you?"
Mike immediately went on guard. "Why are you asking?"
"Cough, cough. Well, actually... I was hoping to borrow some money from you." Cole put on his most ingratiating smile.
"No money!" Mike said flatly.
"Come on, little brother. I'll pay you back next week."
"Don't start. You've borrowed money from me so many times before, always saying you'd pay it back immediately. And it always ends up being after Founding Day before you clear the debt."
"But I've never failed to pay you back, have I?"
"...No, you haven't."
"Then there you go! Mike, come on, lend me some."
"No money!"
"Hey, little brother." Cole's voice turned wounded. "Last month, to avenge you, I beat up that bully—the fat guy? And then his brother broke my nose. I had nosebleeds for three or four days!" He clutched his chest dramatically. "Are you really that heartless?"
Mike felt a twinge of guilt. "...Fine. Why do you need to borrow money anyway? You get more pocket money than me. How'd you run out?"
"It's all because of those illusion games! You don't understand—they're so fun."
"Uh... alright then. How much do you need?"
"How much do you have?" Cole perked up immediately.
After much negotiation, Mike finally agreed to lend Cole three silver marks. Out of curiosity, he followed his cousin to the place where they played these illusion games.
It was in an alley off the second intersection on the main street.
As soon as they entered, Mike frowned. The place was packed, and the air was thick with pipe smoke. Young men in their twenties and thirties sat at tables, puffing away while pressing something with their hands. Strange patterns moved before their eyes.
Mike had been ready to leave immediately—but then he stopped, watching curiously from the side.
"See? What that person's playing is the game your classmate mentioned," Cole explained. "Its full name is 'Elemental Contra.' And that guy in red over there? He's playing 'Squirrel War.' Don't you think that squirrel is cute?"
Seeing this art style for the first time, Mike didn't find it particularly cute—but it was pleasing to the eye. He watched the little squirrel on screen constantly lifting what looked like wooden boxes and throwing them at other animals. What even were those? Fire chickens?
At the counter near the entrance sat a burly man with a rough face—apparently the shop owner. Cole walked up and whispered, "Boss, any spots open?"
"Not right now." The owner pulled out a small notebook and flipped through it. "Machine seventeen will be free in about twenty minutes. No one's waiting for it. You want it?"
"Yes! Three hours!" Cole was overjoyed. He quickly handed over three silver marks.
Mike was stunned. Only after they stepped away from the fierce-looking owner did he quietly ask, "Cole, that's so expensive! One silver mark an hour?"
"Expensive?" Cole looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "You don't know—when these places first opened, it was five silver marks an hour. It's only this cheap because so many other shops opened up. Competition brought the price down."
"But still... it's a lot."
"No choice. We're not from the Moonwatch Empire." Cole sighed. "Over there, a game used to cost only five silver marks total. Buy the runestone, play it whenever you want."
"Huh? Then why not just buy one instead of paying to play here...?"
"I said used to! You can't buy those individual game runestones anymore. They're out of production."
"Why?"
"The Game Forum says the Illusionist who makes them felt the old runestones didn't have online functionality, so he discontinued them. Everything's console-only now." Cole shrugged. "But consoles have their advantages too—more games, more features."
"What's 'online functionality'?"
"Online means..." Cole launched into an explanation of the "professional knowledge" he'd picked up over the past few days.
After a fluent but somewhat disjointed lecture, Mike barely understood what "online" meant.
"Cole, you said 'Super Street Fighter' is like our Elite Academy Tournament?"
"Exactly! This game is the ordinary person's Elite Academy Tournament." Cole pointed across the room. "See that blond guy over there? He's playing the most popular game right now—Super Street Fighter."
Mike followed Cole's gaze. A blond man in a red shirt with a lion's head pattern was fighting a stocky opponent on screen.
"See the blond guy in red? His name's Ken, and he's from our Lion Kingdom! Let me tell you..."
Shortly after.
"Number seventeen! Time's up. Off the machine. And you two—go ahead. It's 2:11 PM. You can play until 5:10."
Cole's eyes lit up. He immediately walked to machine seventeen, watching the previous occupant reluctantly stand, muttering frustrated words like "I was almost going to clear that level." The moment the stool was empty, Cole plopped down—then squirmed uncomfortably at the residual warmth from the last person's backside.
He was about to restart the runestone, but then he paused, stood up, and let his cousin sit instead.
"Come on, you sit. I'll teach you how to create an account." He waved off Mike's confused expression. "Don't ask so many 'whys.' Just follow my instructions."
"Enter a password. The password can be any combination of these eighty-some characters plus Moonwatch numerals"—Cole pointed at what looked like Arabic numerals—"but you have to remember it yourself."
"What's your password?"
"Why are you asking for my password? A password is something only you should know." Cole stroked his chin wisely. "I suggest using the name of a girl you like, plus her birthday..."
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