126
The teleportation light faded, leaving Kai standing in the sterile red glow of the return chamber. The hum of machinery dulled, replaced by silence so absolute it felt foreign after the battlefield's roar. He exhaled, long and sharp, chest still burning with the phantom ache of Taejin's fists.
"Phase One… done."
His lips curved upward. He had made it. Fifty points, qualified, advanced. But even as relief settled, another thought pressed through: If I cleared it, then there's no way Moon didn't.
The chamber doors parted with a hiss. The hallway beyond stretched in silence, broken only by the faint shuffle of workers. A pair of attendants hurried past carrying scrolls, a chef wheeled a cart toward the kitchens, and a pair of cleaners moved like ghosts along the far wall.
Kai stepped out, boots clicking against the polished floor. His eyes scanned the empty corridor.
"James must still be inside," he muttered. His student's trial had begun four days later, so of course the boy wouldn't have returned yet.
Which left only one place to go.
Moon's room.
Kai jogged down the corridor, anticipation quickening his stride. The moment he reached his brother's door, he noticed it was already ajar. He pushed it open.
Inside, the light was dim, blinds half-drawn. Moon sat cross-legged on his bed, a controller in hand, eyes glued to a massive screen. Explosions crackled across it—gunfire, grenades, avatars ducking behind cover. A battle royale.
Kai blinked. "You're… playing this?"
Moon didn't look up. His thumbs danced across the buttons. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing," Kai said, stepping further inside. "Except we live in an age of hyper-immersive VR—worlds indistinguishable from reality, neural link perfection—and you're sitting here playing…" He squinted at the screen. "...a two-dimensional couch game?"
Moon shrugged, firing a round that downed an enemy. "VR's overrated. I like this. Simpler. Cleaner. No nausea."
Kai couldn't help laughing. "You're unbelievable."
Kai hopped onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as it bounced him once, twice. He leaned forward toward his brother, grin stretched wide and mischievous, the kind of grin that begged to be punched.
"So? Tell me," he prodded, voice light with anticipation. "How was Phase One? Don't tell me you failed. You cleared it, right?"
Moon's eyes flicked toward him—brief, sharp, dismissive—before returning to the glowing screen in front of him. His thumbs clicked against the controller. "Looking at that dumb grin on your face," he said flatly, "I'm guessing you passed."
Kai's grin only widened, smugness radiating off him. "Damn right I did. So—you didn't?"
Moon's mouth tugged upward, a faint, crooked smirk. "Nope."
The word landed like a stone. Kai's face fell, grin collapsing into open-mouthed surprise. "Wait, what? You—seriously?"
Moon didn't look at him. His fingers kept moving, his voice maddeningly calm. "Seriously." At last, he set the controller down on the bed beside him, leaning back on his palms. "Didn't qualify. But…" His gaze flicked up, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "I got something better out of it."
For a moment, Kai just stared, his chest tightening. Sadness pricked at him—maybe even frustration. But then he reminded himself. This was Moon. His brother wore failure like other people wore rainwater: something that slid off his skin without leaving a mark.
Kai exhaled hard and flopped down beside him, shoulders sinking into the mattress. "Better?" he pressed. "What the hell could be better than passing?"
Moon only picked the controller back up, attention sliding lazily back to the game on his screen. "Rather than me explaining it," he murmured, voice low and infuriatingly casual, "why don't you watch for yourself?"
He slid his tablet-device toward Kai.
Kai snatched it, curiosity sharp in his eyes. The screen flickered to life—and his brows shot up immediately. "No way…"
The feed rolled. A dense jungle stretched across the display, humid mist clinging to towering trees, shadows shifting with every gust of wind. It wasn't an arena, not even close—this was raw wilderness, untamed and merciless. And there, in the middle of it, was Moon.
Not the quiet, controller-clicking brother sitting on the bed, but a wild version of him—eyes glinting with that unhinged grin, body moving like a predator unleashed. Across from him towered Turu, the Gandharva streamer, his ethereal form weaving through the underbrush. The fight was vicious, primal, every second of it beamed across the multiverse for strangers to devour from the safety of their screens.
Kai's jaw tightened as he watched his brother trade blows and taunts, blood spraying against green leaves, laughter echoing through the dark canopy. He wasn't shocked by Moon's recklessness—that insanity was baked into him—but seeing it like this, carved into pixels and streamed for millions, was something else entirely.
The fight built to a fever pitch, chaos tearing through the jungle. And just as Moon's maniacal laughter carried him into the final exchange—
SMACK!
Kai slapped the back of Moon's head.
Moon flinched hard, nearly dropping his controller. "Ow! What the hell was that for?!"
"You absolute moron!" Kai barked, though his grin betrayed him. "You had it. You could've beaten him. Why the hell didn't you use Kuro?!"
Moon rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly. "…Forgot."
Kai's jaw fell open. "Forgot?! You forgot your bonded beast in the middle of a fight to the death?! Who forgets that?!"
Moon laughed sheepishly, his eyes drifting back to the screen. "When my… let's call it 'maniacal mode'… kicks in, my brain gets a little slow. Strategy isn't exactly my strong suit when I'm having fun."
Kai just stared at him, utterly dumbfounded, before tossing the tablet back onto the bed. "Unbelievable. You're literally your own worst enemy."
But then his eyes caught the scrolling live chat from the fight. Words lit up, endless streams of reactions. And one phrase stood out, repeated again and again:
Crownless King of Pain.
Kai blinked. Then a sound broke from his chest—first a snort, then a full laugh.
"Pfft—hahahaha! No way. Crownless King of Pain?! That's what they're calling you?!"
Moon's face reddened instantly. "Shut up."
Kai slapped his knee, practically howling. "Oh my god. That's so edgy! It sounds like a name a fifteen-year-old writes in their notebook while listening to sad music!"
"Shut. Up." Moon's tone was dangerous, but the more serious he got, the harder Kai laughed.
Kai doubled over, gasping for breath. "Bro, I can't—'Crownless King of Pain'? Hah! What's next? 'Emperor of Suffering'? 'Duke of Angsty Bruises'?!"
Moon grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. Kai caught it mid-air and still couldn't stop laughing.
Kai leaned back, wiping tears from his eyes. "God, the public really did you dirty with that one. It's iconic. I'm calling you that forever."
Moon glared, cheeks flushed crimson. "Do that and you'll die in your sleep."
Kai grinned wickedly. "Long live the Crownless King!"
Before Moon could throw something heavier than a pillow, Kai's device buzzed. A sharp tone cut through their bickering.
Kai glanced at the caller ID. His laughter faded, brows lifting.
"Tom?"
Both brothers exchanged a look.
The screen blinked, waiting.
To be continued—