5
The Top Rankers
The game arenas were not difficult to locate. Having been too busy trying not to die earlier by what was chasing me on the ground-still was while actively running, I didn’t give the sky the attention it deserved.
Skyscrapers that were identical to each other throughout the city shone the designated games they would host up into the sky. Lights that displayed the heart, diamond, spade, and club were all enormously reflected against the dark clouds that had enveloped the rundown city.
Confidently cutting down everything in my path with my expanded inventory of items and much better physicality, the card hanging from my neck was guiding me to one of these death game buildings. When I say guiding, I mean physically pulling me by the neck like my life depended on the timer. Because it did.
[0m14s]
Footsteps.
Turning into the street that would lead me to my game, I could barely make out the weapon that had awaited me at neck level. Using my momentum to slide under the chrome silver blade extending into a pulsing purple laser much like my claws, I summoned my retrievable axe. Using my other hand to gain traction and jump back to my feet, I let loose the obsidian black axe that had enveloped itself in white matter for the seconds she allowed to pass.
Earth’s Greatest Box Opener
Rank: 567,881
??2
Her body disintegrated into dust before she even had a chance to strike the building behind her.
[You Have Eliminated Earth’s Greatest Box Opener!]
[20 Points allocated to Agility]
I had no time to loot her pile of dust or even give the engagement a thought.
The building was so close. Triggering my boots to step into the white portal that was blinking rapidly in front of the grand entrance, I held my breath and closed as I instantly closed the distance between us.
[0m01s]
The building was so close. Triggering my boots to step into the white portal that was blinking rapidly in front of the grand entrance, I held my breath and closed my eyes as I instantly closed the distance between us.
I awaited a laser from the sky to fry my brain.
Or the feeling of every part of my body deciding to turn into dust.
When several seconds passed and neither of those happened, I opened one of my eyes. Then the other.
Where just a moment ago I stood in what I believed to be an apocalyptic movie set in downtown Manhattan, the place I found myself was..different.
Very different.
A sunny horizon complimented the best looking patch land of freshly cut grass I had ever seen. I stood there then, appreciating the warmth on my skin and a fresh type of air I hadn’t even imagined possible.
“Hell of a view, ain’t it boy?”
I spun around, raising my hand in preparation to strike at the voice-and realizing it was only my bare hand that came up in that old default boxers stance.
“No fighting here while we wait, don’t worry,” the man continued, politely holding his hands up in surrender.
I judged him to be in his late forties by the first signs of aging and the occasional strands of gray hairs that maxed with the brown. Speaking with a southern Texas accent, and judging by the fact that he had found the coolest looking cowboy hat I had ever seen, it was no wonder he was in such a good mood. If only he had been able to find a pair of pants. Or shirt.
Earth's Greatest Rancher
Rank: 538,272
??2
Instead of the usual red diamond floating above his head indicating an enemy, a curious yellow question replaced it instead. More curious, was that I felt no life essence from him-that strange source that made me want to rip out the chest of that poor bloke from the street. A bit embarrassed, I lowered my hands. “Sorry about that,” I responded, offering the man a handshake, “Greatest Sandwich Artist. Or GSA. Having been in a fight or flight mode constantly has made me a bit paranoid.”
“Boy, the only reason we’re still alive and not eaten by one of those Sharkai creatures is because we are paranoid,” he said, accepting the handshake.
“Sharkai? You mean..”
“Sharks. Sharks that run on little baby feet. Trust me, you don’t want to know the other details. To be honest, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe me.”
“I’ll tell you about my experience with Timmy if you tell me how fast those Sharkai run.”
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Timmy?”
Rancher’s story was unique in that he didn’t actually earn a living tending to any livestock. Ensuring the animals of the barn were safely locked up and fed before a coming storm, he found himself refilling bowls of chicken feed late at night while visiting his recently born Grandson. Before he even realized what had happened, he just blinked and found himself randomly trapped in a white escalator pod. Maybe he had died. Maybe he was permanently living in a white padded room, snuggly strapped onto a VIP bed of a psychiatric ward while being fed all kinds of pills.
I didn’t believe him on the latter theories, judging him to be as good of a character and as sane as anybody I had ever come across in the real world. The disgust upon hearing my solo crusade against a school of children before knowing the context was evidence enough. His duo partner also died early on, and so he spent most of his time playing it very carefully: avoiding conflicts out in the open, prioritizing dropped and uncontested loot instead of fighting against unknown variables.
“If you two are done shooting the Brokeback mountain sequel,” a feminine voice called out to us, "you mind coming over so we can get this party started?”
Earth's Greatest Fake Wedding Guest
Rank: 376,652
??7
“Brokeback wha-”
“I will NOT tolerate such hatred towards a culture defining classic,” Rancher growled, taking a step towards the stranger and pointing a finger in her direction," especially not from one who looks like a Sunday night's discount.”
While I wasn’t sure what exactly was happening right now, Sunday night’s discount did not sound like a compliment. While I did feel bad for the woman, a blonde in her mid twenties, rocking a pair of shimmering white crocs and a leopard pimp-style coat did no favor in disproving Rancher.
Her eyes widened in shock. She opened her mouth, was about to say something, then just shook her head. Looking us both over, she smiled. “And here I thought I was the only one left with a sense of humor,” she said, turning her back towards us while gesturing for us to follow, “but seriously, we really should get going.”
It didn’t take us long to find the arena. A visible white laser hovering a foot off the ground defined what must have been the boundaries of the game. A registering effect on my poker card occurred, and upon inspecting it, the 42 ?? around my neck began to glow.
I wasn’t the only one noticing the effect, as both Rancher and Fake Wedding Guest too took interest in the cards around their necks.
A sudden trembling in the ground occurred, and several meters away from us two stone pillars erupted from the ground. While this occurred, the area around us started looking more and more like some sort of FBI most wanted list as people mostly not having found any pants yet blinked into existence around us.
At this point, there wasn’t as much confusion as one would expect. A series of polite smiles, nods, glances passed over the crowd. I witnessed Earwax collector, a bald guy rocking some kind of purple sparkling KPOP band shirt and bland winter leggings, offering a a guy called Professional Whistler a fist bump. His confused recipient, a man old enough to have probably owned the mother console that came before all gaming consoles, simply stared down at it in confusion. Shaking his head, he found a somewhat empty space away from the guy.
Earth's Greatest Earwax Collector
Rank: 462,878
??5
Earth's Greatest Professional Whistler
Rank: 401,287
??6
It was exactly what I imagined a white collar office party would be-one that goes on about company family values, only for most people to not even know each other's names despite being at the company for over a decade. Lucky for us, we were spared any forced small talk as the familiar booming voice of the system announced itself.
[Initiating Game: Might. Form And Destroy]
Objective: Destroy every ranker of the enemy team to win
Players must choose which captain to fight for. Picking order is dependent on the value of the card a ranker has entered the game with
Members must choose whether to fight in top lane, bottom lane, mid lane, or jungle territory prior to leaving their fort. Lanes with no surviving rankers will become accessible to remaining teammates
Eliminated rankers will turn into shades. A shade may navigate the map freely and share information to any remaining teammates
The two pillars shook, beaming a ray of light at a patch of ground in front of them. Two portals identical to the ones that brought me to this place formed, where two figures stepped out.
“Holy shit,” Fake Wedding Guest whispered under her breath, nudging me by the side with her elbow, ”his rank.”
Holy shit indeed.
Earth's Greatest Paranormal Guide
Rank: 98
??52
“He's in the top 100!” shouted a voice from behind.
“I want to be on his team!” another voice roared from my left, with multiple people in the crowd echoing the statement.
Paranormal Guide dressed the part. Fully clothed in mostly modern attire that consisted of basic sneakers, black ski pants and the upper body part of a divers suit, the shimmering white glow of energy around him showcased the impressive amount of mythic rarity items he had been able to collect in such a short time. Judging his kill count, his stats and arsenal were definitely nothing to scoff at either.
“Folks, folks, I would be happy to play with all of you!” he responded to the nearest person, giving a woman a charismatic smile and enjoying the spotlight he was given by the system.
While people formed one of the worst formed shopping lines I’d ever seen as they hoped they would be the next to connect their poker cards to his, and by joining his team, I wasn’t so convinced.
“He’s awfully happy for someone seeing his enemy grow stronger by the second, don’t ya think?” Rancher asked.
“Not just happy,” I responded, troubled by the sight of the youngest, least experienced looking ranker I had seen since entering the arena, smiling excitedly at the crowd gathering against him, “he’s gonna start drooling if his mouth grows any wider.”
Standing at a height just below average and looking no older than twenty, the scrawny brown haired guy I couldn’t identify was enjoying the group of people gathering to kill him.
Clown class.
“It could just be bad luck,” offered Fake Wedding Guest, “the girl I spawned in with was practically useless. Seen plenty of other solo runners like you that can probably relate?”
“If this was the game of Luck, sure. But..”
“It wouldn’t fit the nature of the game,” Rancher finished for me, coming to the same conclusion, “Game of Might. The strongest get to Captain.”
“You seriously want to go the four of us, against, what? Fifty or so, including a top 100 ranker?” Fake Wedding Guest asked, not sounding convinced.
“Look, you don’t have to join us. But..” I trailed off, gesturing towards the clown ranker, “I see a guy that's the same age as my younger brother who I haven’t beaten in ANY video game out there since he graduated middle school, while wearing a default skin AND making no attempt at getting any teammates?” I shook my head, “I am not about to play against this freak.”
