The first drag of the cigarette stung Adrian's lungs, but that pain was somehow soothing – a temporary escape from the bitterness that always clung to his life.
From the window of the speeding taxi, his sharp eyes couldn't stop sweeping over the scenery of Samsara City, a magnificent city only accessible to the upper-middle class and above.
In the distance, the silhouettes of 15-meter-tall Mecha Sentinels belonging to the Faralan nation's Guardian Forces patrolled arrogantly, their giant metal feet trampling the faded old national emblem on the asphalt.
Their master's guard dogs.
The taxi passed a high boundary wall separating Samsara's Elite Sector from the Slum District.
From the taxi's faint speaker, a news announcer's voice was interrupted by signal interference.
"...L-latest report on the Red Faction's attack on the Aetherium supply line in Sector 7. The Faralan Guardian Forces are increasing vigilance..." Adrian tilted his head, listening for a moment.
...The Red Faction. The same idiots who bombed the Aetherium bridge, only for it to be replaced overnight? he thought cynically. It's been almost two years since they first appeared, but there's been no progress at all, they're just a naive group operating without a grand plan.
Adrian took another drag of his cigarette. Then he turned his gaze back to the cityscape that felt disgusting to him.
To the left, skyscrapers reflected dazzling light.
To the right, stretched a large, cave-like area leading underground – the Aetherium Energy mines.
Corporate transport Mecha passed overhead, spewing dust and pollution fumes.
Besides, they're too strong… The Mecha Sentinel R1. The Knightmares V4. and the newest, the Juggernaut 01. New models always come every year, while the Red Faction is still using Knightmares V2.
Resources are truly crucial.
And… the Faralan Arcology knows it, lately mines are everywhere, it seems they plan to take all the Aetherium. It's a subtle way to eliminate the rebels, taking all the Energy so they can't operate.
Adrian took the last drag of his cigarette, with a casual motion he flicked the butt out the window, ignoring their cleanliness regulations.
He sighed. You were right, Leo, cigarettes make me a little calmer.
His destination now was the exclusive club 'The Gilded Cage'. A place where the local elites gathered and gambled.
After five minutes, he finally arrived.
He got out of the taxi, his face immediately putting on his everyday mask – a friendly persona.
He glanced at his briefcase. Behind the steel lining, hidden were a data chip containing credits and a weapon – a cautious habit in a city like Samsara. In fact, just in case, he had modified it to avoid trackers.
In front of him were already guards dressed neatly in uniforms from the security company – bowing respectfully to him, thinking he was one of them.
However, the most important thing was still the identity check process. The Gilded Cage was the largest gambling den in Samsara; not just anyone could enter without an invitation or an identity registered in their system.
Calmly, Adrian took a card from his pocket and swiped it. Identity data began to read.
What appeared on the screen wasn't his name, but the identity of a man named Volcots – a card he had managed to steal months ago.
One of the guards suddenly stopped him. They asked to check the photo on the ID card, because if it didn't match, Adrian could be branded a thief.
Adrian handed over his card fearlessly. His photo was clearly displayed there. Because truthfully, the system only needed the chip from the card for access, not a photo match. Adrian had dismantled the chip from Volcots' original card, then made a fake card with his own photo. Even so, the thin aluminum connection on the card was still slightly visible because a replica would never be as seamless as the original, and so far he had always passed the checks.
But this time, a small doubt nagged at Adrian.
The guard at the door this time was a different person than usual.
The guard's brow furrowed as he inspected his card.
Adrian cleared his throat, trying to ease the building tension.
"Seventeen years old? You're very young, huh?" said the guard.
Adrian sighed in relief, then immediately put on a smile. "Yes," he answered briefly.
Satisfied, the guard returned his card.
Adrian accepted it and responded with a slight nod. Of course, he thought to himself. What matters is the card, not how old you are.
The listed age, seventeen years old, was chosen deliberately — not without reason. It was his real age. Not out of naivety, but as a subtle insult to their system. A small statement that even a seventeen-year-old could easily mess with and navigate their security.
He then descended a deep, branching staircase, like roots spreading into the belly of the earth. Each branch led him to different rooms and experiences, as if a whole world was hidden beneath this ground.
After nearly three minutes walking down the stairs, he finally reached his destination. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a series of bustling sounds greeted him.
The grandeur of "The Gilded Cage" fully hit him. The room was exactly like its name — a gilded cage, with intricately carved pillars like magnificent bars made of smooth marble. They towered at every corner, seemingly protecting its inhabitants who were happily lost in the illusion of luxury. Blood-red marble walls created a false warmth, while a giant crystal chandelier hung above, reflecting light that made everything seem overly shiny.
The atmosphere in the room was dense and deafening. A melancholic song sung by an entertainer on a small stage was almost drowned out by the relentless crash of slot machines, interspersed with the noisy cheers of gamblers lost in the tension.
Amid the crowd, hoarse voices and forced laughter could be heard — drunks trying to escape the traps of reality.
His sharp eyes then landed on a man standing rigidly in front of one of the slot machines. His face was pale, his gaze empty, following the spin of the reels of unpredictable symbols.
A familiar disgust washed over Adrian. How foolish, he mocked inwardly. Don't they know machines like that are rigged?
He continued his steps. His eyes scanned every corner of the room, looking for the table designated for him.
Finally, after a moment, his gaze landed on a table with his name card neatly arranged on it. In the middle of the table, a chessboard was set up perfectly, its pieces arranged neatly waiting for the game to begin.
Instantly, his eyes widened. His heart beat fast. Eldric? A smile spread across his lips. Him, my opponent?
"Where is my opponent?" grumbled a large old man, slamming the table. His annoyed tone echoed around. Beside him, two bodyguards with equally large builds stood firm with expressionless faces.
He knew that man well. It was...
"Grandmaster Eldric," Adrian whispered like a breath.
His spirit immediately surged. This wasn't just about victory, but about something more personal: Eldric's arrogant nature and his position as a pillar of The Gilded Cage made this match more valuable. This was his chance for another subtle insult.
If he couldn't perform grand acts like the Red Faction, at least he could tear down the arrogance of their people who so proudly enjoyed his country's soil.
With calm and confident steps, Adrian approached his table.
He placed his briefcase down and sat, crossing his legs.
He removed the hat that had been covering his face. Revealing his pale skin, his messy black hair slightly covering his eyebrows, yet completely failing to dim his genetically inherited red eyes.
There was no expression at all, just the cold face he deliberately put on to see Eldric's expression and first impression.
"Hah? A kid? My opponent is just a kid?!" Eldric hissed in annoyance. "I've been waiting so long, and this is what I get?"
Adrian did not respond to his grumbling.
From his briefcase, he took out a stack of money and placed it calmly on the betting plate.
"As agreed,"
Seeing Adrian's cold and confident attitude, Eldric instead burst into loud laughter.
"Do you know who I am, kid?"
Adrian deliberately let the question hang, intentionally making the Grandmaster wait for the answer.
"Grandmaster Eldric," Adrian finally answered, "The undefeated champion in the last 50 matches. But that history is useless now, it won't help you. Right now, it's just you and me..."
Hearing that answer, the crowd of spectators that had begun to gather broke into a low commotion. Some even laughed.
From their cheers and laughter, it seemed they had long been waiting for someone brave enough to challenge Eldric. I will represent you all, Adrian thought inwardly.
In front of him, Adrian could clearly see the Grandmaster's face turning red. A small victory. Well, Eldric... what will you do now?
After a sufficiently long pause, Eldric finally spoke:
"Very well..." He held back the tremor in his own voice, trying to remain calm.
Then his hand moved to take a sum of money and threw it onto the bet pile.
"I will double my bet. No... triple it." he said, throwing two more stacks of money. "I will teach you a lesson for your impoliteness."
He increased the bet? Adrian thought for a moment, slightly surprised by the extra prize.
Then he just nodded, responding with a thin smile.
Alright, old man…
His slim, long fingers firmly took his chess piece.
"Thank you," he said in a quiet voice, without the slightest intimidation. "I will not disappoint you, Grandmaster."