The Extra's Rise

The virtual battlefield shimmered as Ren's avatar shattered into a cascade of light, the system chiming his elimination. My chest heaved, sword still buzzing in my hand from the duel's final clash. The energy blade's afterglow lingered in the air where his neck had been moments before—a clean, precise strike that had ended our rivalry, at least for this simulation.

He was out—Ren, perpetually stuck at 9,900 points, gone from the competition. I stood alone on the fractured ground, glowing cracks spiderwebbing beneath my boots like veins of molten gold in obsidian. The destruction around me told the story of our battle—scorched earth, fractured pillars, the scattered remnants of his shadow-wolves that had nearly flanked me twice.

I tapped my wrist interface, pulling up the holographic leaderboard that hovered in translucent blue:

1. Seraphina – 12,500 points

2. Jin – 11,800 points

3. Arthur – 10,200 points

4. Ren – 9,900 points (eliminated)

Third place. My grip tightened on my sword until the simulation's haptic feedback pushed back against my fingers. The leaderboard confirmed what I already knew: I'd spent too long trapped in a duel when I should have been securing objectives.

Duelling wasn't the point of the Tactical Simulation event. While I'd been locked in my grudge match with Ren, Seraphina and Jin were outpacing me, racking up points through territorial control and objective completion. This wasn't just about fighting skill; it was about strategy, resource management, troop deployment—control of the battlespace. I'd been too narrow, too focused on the immediate threat rather than the bigger picture. Time to adapt or get left behind.

I opened the tactical map with a gesture, the terrain spreading out before me in miniature. Three primary targets glowed with opportunity: the western fortress standing sentinel over a rugged valley, the northern relay station nestled between twin mountains, and the southern vault buried partially underground. Each represented a substantial point haul, but they were fortresses in their own right—NPC guards with advanced combat AI, automated turrets with predictive targeting, and rival players circling like vultures, waiting for someone else to weaken the defenses before swooping in.

My troops were in rough shape—their armor dented from the last skirmish, morale indicators hovering at 65%, energy reserves depleted from covering my flanks during the duel with Ren. Going solo against any of the major targets would be suicide with Jin and Seraphina still in play. I needed a plan, and fast.

"Arthur. Central ridge. Now." Seraphina's voice snapped through my comms, cool and firm as it always was during combat. Her icon pulsed on the map, holding the northern sector with her frost elites—specialized units that had earned her a reputation for locking down entire regions with ice barriers and cryogenic traps. I smirked. She wasn't just my girlfriend in the real world—she was my lifeline in this simulation.

"On my way," I responded, ordering my remaining soldiers to hold defensive positions as I sprinted across the glowing terrain. Jagged cliffs rose like teeth into a blood-red sky, the simulation's environment reflecting the intensifying competition as we approached endgame. The ground beneath my feet changed from cracked obsidian to luminescent crystal, each step sending ripples of light outward like disturbed water.

She waited atop the ridge, silver hair catching the crimson light of the virtual sun, her frost-armored figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the sky. Her ethereal elven face was all business, but her eyes softened when they met mine—a quiet care slipping through her icy front, visible only to someone who knew where to look.

"You're slipping," she said, voice edged with concern. "Third doesn't suit you."

I crossed my arms, the simulation perfectly rendering my defensive posture. "You here to drag me up out of pity? That's not like you, Sera."

A faint smile broke her composed facade. "Not pity. A promise." She stepped closer, her tone dropping so the system wouldn't relay it to other competitors. "I told you I'd be your first. So I'm here to get the lead."

Her words hit deep, echoing a night in the real world when she'd whispered that vow, her hand in mine, moonlight spilling across her face. She wasn't just my partner here—she was my anchor in both realities. "You've already got that title," I said, the corner of my mouth lifting. "Let's make the system agree."

"Deal." Her smile vanished, replaced by tactical focus, the transition seamless. "The western fortress. It's a monster—three-layered gates, elite NPC guards, turrets with overlapping fields of fire—but the points will vault you past Jin and me. We take it together. My elites, your troops. You claim it."

I pulled up the fortress on the map—a jagged stronghold perched on a cliff edge, surrounded by a shimmering forcefield that indicated its high-value status. Jin's undead scouts prowled nearby, bone-white markers circling the approach; he'd move on it soon if we delayed. The defenses were brutal, but with Seraphina's frost units complementing my more balanced force, it was doable. "Smart," I said. "We hit it fast, before Jin consolidates."

We regrouped at the cliff's base, our forces blending—my battle-scarred soldiers with their adaptive armor beside her frost elites, their icy plating glinting with arcane energy. The fortress towered above, its shadow heavy across the valley floor. Jin's scouts snarled in the distance, their bone-white forms shifting between patches of shadow. I raised a hand, feeling the weight of command. "Seraphina, crack the gates. I'll lead the push once we're through."

She nodded, her blade flaring with frost energy that crystallized the air around it. "Move."

Her elites unleashed a coordinated storm of ice, the temperature around the massive gates plummeting until the metal itself became brittle. I charged, my troops following in perfect formation, smashing through the now-weakened entrance. The sound of fracturing metal echoed across the valley as we burst inside.

The interior was a death trap. NPC guards lunged from defensive positions, their spears flashing with energy, wall-mounted turrets spitting concentrated plasma. I dodged a bolt that would have removed my avatar's head, my sword slicing through a guard's chest plate, my mind racing through variables—left flank's thin, turrets prioritize targets at maximum range, guards focus on highest threat value. Time to shift the battlefield.

"Spread out!" I yelled, the command indicators flashing above my troops. "Pull their fire in multiple directions!"

It worked. My soldiers fanned out across the courtyard, drawing aggro from different defense systems, while Seraphina's elites cut deeper into the fortress's core. The simulation registered the effectiveness of the tactic, NPC defenses faltering as they struggled to prioritize targets.

Then Jin hit. His undead horde burst from the shadows where they'd been gathering strength—skeletal warriors and rotting hulks slamming into our flank. I spun, sword blazing with energy, carving through three attackers in a single sweep. "Hold the line!" I shouted, repositioning to stall his advance.

"Arthur, the core!" Seraphina's voice cut through the chaos of battle.

I saw it—a glowing orb at the fortress's center, wrapped in a pulsing dark shield. This was the capture point, the objective worth thousands of simulation points. Jin dropped from a higher level, his twin shortswords whirling with dark mana, his voice a low hiss. "Too late, Nightingale." He lunged at me, blades aimed for vital points.

I parried the first strike, metal screaming against metal, shoving him off-balance, then countered with a diagonal slash. He dodged with unnatural speed, summoning more undead from the ground itself, their bony claws scraping at my legs. "Seraphina!" I called, weaving through the mass of enemies. "Pin him down!"

She was there in a heartbeat, her frost blade clashing with Jin's shortswords, ice energy meeting dark power in a spectacular collision that the simulation rendered as a shockwave of color. I seized the opening, charging the barrier that protected the core, Purelight energy igniting along my sword's edge. One strike, two, three—the shield cracked, fracture lines spreading like a spider's web, then shattered completely. I grabbed the core, feeling the simulation register the capture as my points spiked dramatically:

1. Arthur – 15,000 points

2. Jin – 13,200 points

3. Seraphina – 12,800 points

4. Ren – 9,900 points (eliminated)

"End Jin," I said, locking eyes with Seraphina across the battlefield. "I'll take the lead for both of us."

She nodded, diving back into combat with Jin, her frost elites forming a barrier between him and the exit. I activated a tactical teleport, the simulation blurring around me as I relocated to the final arena—a massive, scarred field with ancient pillars ringing its circumference, a massive crystal pulsing at its heart. The ultimate objective was guarded by a titan, a colossal construct of stone and crackling energy, its eyes tracking my arrival.

Jin arrived moments later, his remaining undead trailing behind him like a tattered shadow, but no sign of Ren—just as it should be. His elimination was permanent for this round.

"Minions are yours," I told my troops, the command indicators flashing confirmation. "I've got the titan." I rushed forward, dodging a devastating fist that cratered the ground where I'd stood, teleporting with God Flash to flank the massive construct. My sword chipped away at its stone legs—slow its mobility first, then disable its arms, control the fight's pace.

Jin joined the assault, his dark spells gnawing at the titan's core, our moves syncing despite the rivalry. The titan's defenses were formidable, its programming adaptive, but between my precision strikes and Jin's area damage, we made steady progress. It swung again, a massive arm sweeping across the arena, but I slid beneath it, dragging my blade along its underside where the armor was thinnest.

The titan buckled under my Radiant Cascade—a series of pinpoint strikes to critical junctions—and Jin's dark magic that corroded its structural integrity. It collapsed in a heap of stone and dissipating energy, the simulation registering its defeat with a thunderous boom. The crystal at the arena's center gleamed with promise, no longer protected.

We sprinted toward it simultaneously, our hands slamming against its surface together. The simulation froze, time suspended as the final scores calculated and flashed across our vision:

1. Arthur – 18,000 points

2. Jin – 16,500 points

3. Seraphina – 15,200 points

4. Ren – 9,900 points (eliminated)

I stepped from the simulation pod, the real world rushing back in a wave of sensory input. My pulse gradually slowed as the adrenaline of virtual combat faded. The training center hummed with activity around us—other cadets analyzing their performances, instructors making notes, maintenance drones checking the pods for mechanical issues.

Seraphina emerged from her pod nearby, her cool mask of professionalism lifting with a hint of pride when our eyes met. Jin glared from across the room, silent in his defeat but already calculating his next approach—I could see it in the way his fingers twitched, mentally reviewing the simulation's key moments.

Seraphina walked over, her steps measured, voice soft enough that only I could hear. "You won. I kept my word."

I grinned, running a hand through my hair, still damp from the pod's neural interface. "Wouldn't have without you."