The heat clinging to Gabriel's 1969 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 was substantial, even in the late afternoon. The deep crimson paint job of the muscle car, which he maintained with a fastidious, analytical level of detail, reflected the setting sun as he popped the door open. He tossed his gym bag onto the passenger seat—the sparring pain already a dull throb in his liver, a reminder of the error—and slid behind the wheel.
The roar of the 428 Cobra Jet engine was a deep, satisfying counterpoint to the analytical silence of his mind. He pulled out of the strip mall parking lot and headed down the dusty South Georgia highway. The world was predictable: pine trees, heat haze, and the anticipation of another dull work week.
He reached over and clicked on the radio. Instead of the local news he usually preferred, a familiar, slightly manic bassline thrummed through the speakers. It was "Feel Good Inc." by the Gorillaz. The beat was infectious, but the lyrics, about superficiality and the "windmill, windmill" of the mind, seemed ironically appropriate for his current state of profound boredom.
Gabriel let the song play, maximizing his idle time; it was better than silence.
Just as the final synthetic laugh track and drum beat faded out, the music was abruptly cut short by an aggressively upbeat commercial, layered with synthetic fantasy music.
"—heard the buzz, folks, but the numbers are in! Centurian Entertainment has broken all records before launch! We are talking about Eternium, the fully immersive, next-generation VRMMO that promises a life unlike any other!"
Gabriel adjusted the dial slightly, hoping to escape the broadcast, but the signal was locked in.
"And now, the news you've been waiting for! Centurian is announcing the Eternium Global Access Tournament! That's right—six separate continental tournaments, designed to find the six most skilled, competitive players on Earth! Each tournament is a brutal three-round gauntlet: Round One: The Mind Test—a pure logic and IQ challenge; Round Two: The Maze Runner—a test of spatial reasoning and navigation; and finally, Round Three: The Martial Battle Royale—where only the last one standing earns that Life Pod! The prize isn't just bragging rights—it's Beginner Access to the world of Eternium and your own state-of-the-art VR Life Pod!"
Gabriel scoffed. An IQ test? They're screening for raw mental aptitude, not gaming skill. He couldn't imagine sitting still for that long, trading sweat and real consequences for simulated experience points.
He pulled into his driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the heavy tires. The sunset cast long, distorted shadows across his neatly trimmed lawn. He killed the engine, the sudden silence of the summer evening washing over him.
He reached for the door handle, but hesitated.
Quantifiable stakes.
The announcer had mentioned a Mind Test, a Maze Runner, and a Martial Battle Royale. These were not random challenges; they were structured, quantifiable problems. The entire tournament was a system designed to find the most efficient candidate. A true test of intellect, perception, and applied combat skill. It was the only game he'd heard advertised in years that wasn't about luck or whaling, but raw aptitude.
Gabriel pulled his keys back, the cold metal pressing into his palm. The deep dissatisfaction from the dojo—the easy victory over David, the error of being tagged—it crystallized into a single, overriding thought.
I need a real threat matrix to calculate.
He retrieved his phone from the center console, ignoring the dead battery warning. The tournament was Tuesday. He had thirty-six hours to find the registration link and analyze the competitive field.
The world had just presented him with a challenge that required efficiency and precision. He would not let this opportunity be an error of omission.