The room was dark.
Not in the sense that there was no light at all—just that it was dim.
Soft illumination ran only along the perimeter, calm and cool, not straining the eyes.
The center remained half-lit, as if all attention was deliberately drawn there.
In the middle was an open space.
Five platforms arranged in a semicircle.
Each held a massive chair, tilted back, almost fully reclined.
In front of them—monitors.
On the armrests, on both sides—smooth dark spheres, resembling glass orbs.
I immediately understood: this wasn't just equipment.
This was most likely the entry point to the arena.
Angelina stepped forward while Mark and I stayed near the edge of the room.
The center remained empty.
"Let's go over the map first," she said.
A hologram flared to life above the platforms.
It assembled gradually—lines, contours, geometry.
The map seemed to calibrate itself.
Shapes shifted one after another.
Triangular.
Square.
Hexagonal.
Circular.
Sometimes strange and jagged, as if randomly assembled.
"The space is always different," Angelina said. "You can't choose the shape."
The image changed.
Now—climate.
Rain.
Snow.
Heat.
Strong wind.
Then—terrain types.
Jungles.
Urban districts.
Mountains.
Industrial zones.
"The map is always random," she continued. "Always.
Even in world championships."
I frowned.
"So it can't be selected?" I asked.
"It can't," she replied shortly. "By anyone.
Not organizers. Not the government."
She looked at us closely.
"The only exception is training mode.
Only there can you choose the map."
I filed that away.
Training mode.
The only place with control.
The hologram shifted again.
"Up to level thirty, classes are standard," Angelina said.
"Two ranged fighters.
Two melee fighters.
One tank."
She looked at Mark.
"You're either a ranged fighter or an assassin. Your build fits."
Then she turned to me.
"And you…" she narrowed her eyes. "You're bigger.
Tank suits you better."
I stayed silent.
"When you enter the system," she continued, "you'll have two bars.
Health and energy."
The hologram changed to an interface.
"Skills consume energy.
Energy regenerates."
"There are bottles on the map—for health and energy."
She paused.
"When your health hits zero—you're out."
"So… one attempt?" Mark asked.
"One," Angelina nodded. "Always."
She looked at us intently.
"In official modes, there may be extra lives.
In illegal ones—never."
"Here, you either survive or you don't."
I swallowed.
"What about time?" Mark asked. "Or is it last-man standing?"
"Usually until the last one," she replied.
"If one person from your team survives and defeats everyone else, only they receive the reward.
The rest lose everything."
"And if no one finds anyone?" I asked.
She smirked and changed the projection again.
The map began to shrink slowly.
"After twenty minutes, the zone starts closing.
Outside the zone, health will continuously drain."
"The system won't let you hide," she added.
"If you stay inactive, your health will also decrease."
"This is a fight," she said simply.
Something tightened inside my chest.
"So what exactly do we do on the map?" Mark asked.
Angelina switched the display.
"Upon entry, you'll be offered your first set of skills.
Five options."
"Over the course of the match, you can collect up to ten skills.
It depends on how many points you earn and how long the match lasts."
"Each skill can be upgraded up to level five."
"And how do we upgrade them?" I asked.
"Crystals," she answered.
Points lit up across the map.
"They spawn randomly.
You attack them—earn points."
"Attacking crystals doesn't consume energy."
"You distribute points yourself:
damage, penetration, health, defense, lifesteal."
She looked at Mark.
"For ranged fighters—penetration and damage."
Then at me.
"For tanks—health and defense.
Your job is to protect the team."
She paused.
"And one more thing."
Her voice hardened.
"Everything you feel there will feel real.
Pain. Fear. Falling."
"If you fail to defend yourself—you'll feel the hit."
"This isn't a video game," she said.
"It's a matrix."
The room seemed to grow quieter.
"We'll start with an urban map," she added. "The simplest one.
I'll be your opponent."
I tensed.
"Don't run," she said. "Find me."
"And how?" Mark asked.
"The system will guide you.
Direction and approximate distance."
She nodded toward the platforms.
"You're the blue team.
I'm red."
"Sit down."
We approached the chairs.
I lay back.
The strap clicked, securing my body.
"Hands on the spheres," Angelina said.
"Close your eyes."
I placed my palms on the orbs.
"And don't move," she added. "Don't open your eyes.
If you move or blink, the system won't be able to immerse you in the matrix."
I closed my eyes.
A vibration spread beneath my hands.
Weak impulses ran across my skin, up to my wrists.
My heart was beating too fast.
I was scared.
But I didn't open my eyes.