The roar of the motorcycle engine cut through the night air as Steve McCall—Mackiavelli— leaned forward, gripping the handlebars tighter. The city lights streaked past him in a blur, neon reflections bouncing off his visor.

  His HUD displayed a flashing waypoint, marking his destination: Sarah Daniger’s apartment. The streets were mostly empty at this hour, the world outside quiet, but inside his mind, there was nothing but noise.

  She got hacked. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. Mack’s fingers twitched on the throttle as he replayed the moment in the arena—Dani standing there, her avatar flickering, the word HACKED flashing above her head like a death sentence. Then, the way she vanished.

  His jaw clenched. He had to fix this.

  Tapping the communicator built into his helmet, he dialed her.

  Steve: "Daniger, you home?"

  A pause. Then a crackled response.

  Sarah: "Yeah, I… yeah. I don’t know what to do, Mack. I can’t log back in, and I’m locked out of everything. The contest, my account, my damn life." Her voice wavered, frustration thick in her words. “I’m not ready to give up, but I don’t even know what my options are.”

  Mack’s fingers tightened on the grips, his voice steady.

  Steve: "You don’t have to. I have an idea. Meet me at the lab—I’ll get you back in."

  A beat.

  Sarah: "I… I don’t know if I can get there in time."

  Mack glanced at his GPS. He was already close.

  Steve: "Tell me where you live."

  When she gave him her address, he nearly laughed.

  Steve: "You’re practically next door. Hang tight. I’m picking you up."

  Sarah: "Wait, what?!"

  But the line was already cut. Ten minutes later, Mack pulled up outside her apartment complex, engine rumbling beneath him. He barely had time to remove his helmet before Sarah emerged, hoodie pulled over her head, backpack slung over one shoulder.

  Her eyes met his, and for the first time, there was vulnerability there—something he wasn’t used to seeing from the fire-wielding competitor who had torn through the tournament. She took one look at the motorcycle and frowned.

  "I don’t do bikes."

  Mack smirked, reaching behind him and grabbing the extra helmet he always carried.

  "You do tonight."

  She hesitated, arms crossing.

  "You do realize that hacking and wiping someone’s account is illegal, right? That whoever did this could actually destroy my chances of finishing the tournament? I need to be at that event."

  "Which is why we’re wasting time standing here instead of getting your account back."

  He smiled and she stared at him.

  "You better not wreck."

  Mack grinned, extending the helmet to her.

  "I won’t, if you hold on tight."

  She huffed but took the helmet. A moment later, she was seated behind him, arms awkwardly at her sides.

  "You’re gonna wanna hold on better than that."

  She muttered something under her breath, but after a second, she hesitated, then wrapped her arms loosely around his waist. The moment he pulled away, her grip tightened. The city blurred past them as Mack wove through the streets, taking the fastest possible route toward the lab. Sarah’s fingers curled slightly against his jacket, and though he wouldn’t say it aloud— he felt it.

  The warmth of her body against his back, the subtle way her arms pressed into him. For a moment, he forgot about the tournament. About the fight. About everything. Then he heard her voice, softer than before, coming through their helmet comms.

  Sarah (Helmet Comms): "I don’t know if I can afford school next term."

  The words surprised him.

  Steve (Helmet Comms): "What?"

  Sarah (Helmet Comms): "Tuition. Classes. I needed this tournament to help me stay enrolled. I mean, I know I made it through the first phase of the Quarterfinals, but… what if I can’t even compete now?"

  Mack frowned. He had no idea she was struggling with tuition.

  Steve (Helmet Comms): "Funny. I heard from a little birdie that you might be getting a grant."

  Sarah (Helmet Comms): "A… little birdie?"

  Steve (Helmet Comms): "Professor Jensen. He mentioned looking into some grants, and I gave him a few I knew about for students in tech. You’ll have options."

  Sarah was silent for a long moment. Then—she smacked his arm.

  Sarah (Helmet Comms): "You knew about this and didn’t tell me?!"

  Mack laughed.

  Steve (Helmet Comms): "I figured I’d wait until I had good news."

  She groaned.

  Sarah (Helmet Comms): "Even though you won’t be able to beat me in this tournament, huh?"

  He could hear the smirk in her voice.

  Mack grinned.

  Steve (Helmet Comms): "Even though you won’t be able to beat me."

  She smacked him again.

  Sarah (Helmet Comms): "Ugh, you’re insufferable."

  But her arms around him felt different now. Less hesitant. More familiar. Mack swallowed. He didn’t let his mind wander too much. Not now. But damn—the tension was back. And neither of them were denying it.

  The motorcycle screeched to a halt outside the university’s private VR lab. It was one of the most secure locations on campus, equipped with high-end VR rigs, AI-assisted diagnostics, and encrypted connections for competitive gaming research. Mack cut the engine. Sarah took a breath—then slowly, reluctantly, let go of him.

  Steve: "Come on. Let’s get you back in the game."

  She pulled off her helmet, shaking out her hair. He almost didn’t catch himself staring. Almost.

  Sarah: "You’re not gonna let me live this down, are you?"

  Mack smirked, opening the door for her.

  Steve: "Nope."

  She rolled her eyes but walked inside. Mack walked in behind her.

  We need to fix her account. Fast.

  And if we find out who did this? They’re gonna regret it.

  The lab was empty at this hour, save for the low hum of cooling fans and the glow of dozens of holo-screens. Mack led her to an open terminal, booting up a secure system. He tapped a few keys.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Steve: "Alright. Let’s find out who tried to screw you over."

  Sarah sat down beside him, pulling her backpack onto the desk. Then—the alerts started flashing. A digital trail. Encrypted pings. Logs of forced disconnects. And a signature. Sarah’s eyes widened.

  Sarah: "No way…"

  Mack’s expression hardened. The screen flickered. A name appeared in the data logs.

  D.W.III.

  “Dirk Welsby III” Mack growled.

  Sarah’s hands clenched into fists.

  Sarah: "That son of a—"

  Mack exhaled, his fingers tapping the desk.

  Steve: "We can’t prove it. Not yet."

  Sarah turned to him.

  Sarah: "Then we catch them in the act."

  Mack met her gaze. For a split second, everything disappeared. The fight. The game. The hack. It was just her. Him. And a new battle about to begin. Sarah adjusted the school lab headset over her head, the weight slightly different from her personal one. Steve stood beside her, his fingers flying across the secure login console, ensuring every detail of the system was airtight.

  Steve: "Alright, your account access looks clean, no forced admin locks, but I don’t trust it yet. I’m shutting down your other headset remotely—just in case they left backdoors open."

  He tapped a command, and Sarah’s old device blinked out from the system logs.

  Sarah: "So I can log in?"

  Steve: "Yeah, but I’m going in first."

  She rolled her eyes.

  Sarah: "Seriously?"

  Steve: "Yeah. If Welsby or any of his goons left something nasty behind, I’d rather it hit me than you."

  She hesitated. He was protective—annoyingly so. But she didn’t argue. Steve grabbed another headset, connecting it to the same system. His Mackiavelli login flashed across the screen, loading instantly. He adjusted the visor over his head and activated. The world around him vanished.

  The arena flared to life as Mackiavelli’s avatar materialized in the competitor’s box, the roaring crowd a stark contrast to the silence of the lab. He stretched his hands, rolling his shoulders, feeling the weight of the digital battlefield settle around him. A second later, Dani flickered into existence next to him, her avatar solidifying in full combat gear. The announcer’s voice cut through the arena.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): "AND JUST LIKE THAT—DANI SHAW IS BACK IN THE GAME! HACKERS COULDN’T KEEP HER OUT, AND NEITHER WILL KIRA TEMPEST IN THIS NEXT ROUND!"

  Dani winced at the attention but waved toward the crowd.

  Hexa (Private Chat): "Glad you’re back. Thought we were gonna have to stage a rescue op."

  Shiro (Private Chat): "Nah, she’d have hacked the game herself before that."

  Vessa (Private Chat): "More importantly, how was the ride with Mack?"

  Dani froze.

  Dani (Private Chat): "Shut up."

  Hexa (Private Chat): "Nooope. Spill."

  Before she could respond, Byte entered the competitor’s booth, having just finished his post-match interview. Kira Tempest had been standing beside him, but as soon as Dani turned to face him, Kira gave her a glare and walked off without a word.

  Byte raised an eyebrow, tilting his head toward Kira.

  Byte (Private Chat): "What’s up with her?"

  Dani (Private Chat): "She’s about to lose to me. She just doesn’t know it yet."

  Byte smirked but leaned in closer.

  Byte (Private Chat): "So. About that bike ride."

  Dani (Private Chat): "Byte, I will physically disconnect your headset."

  Byte laughed, but his amusement faded when Dani's face turned serious.

  Dani (Private Chat): "We found something. Welsby’s signature. It was in the data logs of my hack."

  Byte’s expression darkened.

  Byte (Private Chat): "You’re kidding."

  Dani (Private Chat): "Wish I was."

  Before he could respond, the arena's speakers flared again.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): "ALRIGHT, LADIES AND GENTS! WE HAVE ONE LAST BRACKET IN THE QUARTER-FINALS BEFORE THE SEMI-FINALS BEGIN! ON THIS STAGE—WE HAVE FOUR MATCHES THAT WILL DETERMINE OUR NEXT CHAMPIONS! LET’S MEET OUR WARRIORS!"

  The crowd erupted, energy surging through the stadium. The holographic board above the battlefield flashed the matchups.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): AND THE MATCHUPS FOR THE LAST QUARTER-FINALS BRACKET ARE MACKIAVELI VS SICKBLADE DAWSON, THE ASSASSIN’S DUEL. KIRA TEMPEST VS DANI SHAW, THE ELEMENTAL STORM, AND DIRK WELSBY III VS DREVAN COLE, THE ROYAL EXECUTION.

  The crowd roared with laughter. Drevan Cole scowled at the announcer.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): WELL LET’S SEE IF YOU CAN LAST. GOOD LUCK! I WOULDN’t WANNA BE IN YOUR SHOES.

  Mack shifted his gaze toward Platform Three, where Welsby III stood, his avatar pristine, calculated, regal. Mack’s HUD flickered as he activated his custom module.

  OLYMPUS LAND SCANNER

  TARGET LOCK: DIRK WELSBY III

  SYSTEM WARNING: Some Tactical Features May Be Limited due to bandwidth usage.

  Gonna lose a little in the fight with Sickblade, but I can manage.

  Mack thought while standing on Platform One. The bell rang. DING! And the battlefield ignited. Mackiavelli and Sickblade Dawson vanished in a blink, their duel turning into a deadly game of deception and precision.

  On Platform Two, Dani and Kira’s fire and lightning clashed, the sky above them lighting up in a storm of energy. And on Platform Three, Dirk Welsby III smiled—a smile Mack didn’t trust.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): "WE’RE IN FOR A BLOODBATH, PEOPLE! AND DON’T FORGET—THIS FINAL ROUND IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY SECURE NET TECHNOLOGIES! NEVER GET HACKED AGAIN!"

  The crowd cheered, but Mack’s eyes stayed locked on one man. Dirk Welsby III. Because the game wasn’t over yet. The arena vibrated with anticipation, avatars in the audience throwing up glowing emotes, holographic banners shifting colors in rapid pulses. The tension crackled in the air as if the entire stadium had taken a collective breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): "AND IF YOU’RE JUST JOINING US—WELCOME TO THE LAST BRACKET OF THE QUARTER-FINALS! BLOOD WILL BE SPILLED, DIGITAL LIMBS MAY BE LOST, AND REPUTATIONS ARE ON THE LINE!"

  The crowd erupted, some chanting names, others flooding the chat with predictions.

  CHAT FEED EXPLODING:

  ?? Dani vs. Kira is gonna be INSANE.

  ? Mack is gonna EMBARRASS Sickblade.

  ?? Welsby bout to roll Cole like a cheap NPC.

  ?? Nah, Cole’s gonna pull some anime protagonist BS, watch.

  ?? Yo, that lightning/fire combo on Platform Two is lookin’ scary already.

  ?? SecureNet sponsored this after Dani got hacked? The irony is killing me.

  In the competitor’s box, Byte, Hexa, and Shiro weren’t holding back.

  Hexa (Private Chat): "Okay, but SecureNet? That’s gotta be a dig, right?"

  Byte (Private Chat): "I’m pretty sure their PR team just pulled the biggest 'we swear our product works' stunt of the century."

  Shiro (Private Chat): "Dani, you should ask them for royalties."

  Dani (Private Chat): "Focus, guys. Kira’s already sizing me up."

  Hexa snickered.

  Hexa (Private Chat): "Yeah, and? If she’s still mad about losing to Byte, just remind her who the better Tempest is."

  Byte coughed.

  Byte (Private Chat): "AHEM. I’d rather not get fried, thanks."

  Dani shook her head, rolling her shoulders, the tension coiling in her muscles even in the game’s sensory input. Kira stood across from her, electricity snapping along the edges of her sword, her eyes narrowed with pure, unfiltered focus. There was no more small talk. The camera feeds shifted, zooming in on each contestant, their weapons at the ready.

  On the far-left platform, Mackiavelli and Sickblade Dawson were already gone. No footsteps. No traces. Only shifting shadows and the occasional glint of steel in the flickering light. Then—CLANG! Two daggers met in mid-air, sparks flying, both combatants materializing for half a second before vanishing again. Sickblade’s laugh echoed.

  Sickblade Dawson (World Chat): "Fast."

  Mackiavelli said nothing, but his next strike came from above, his twin short swords slicing down. Sickblade barely dodged, spinning away, but Mack vanished again before his counter could land.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): "WELL, WELL, WELL—SICKBLADE THINKS HE CAN MATCH MACK MOVE FOR MOVE. BUT CAN HE KEEP UP WHEN MACKIAVELLI DECIDES TO STOP PLAYING NICE?"

  Dani’s HUD flared warnings as Kira lunged first, her blade coated in arcing lightning. Dani twisted, flames erupting from her boots as she slid out of range, sending a wave of scorching fire. Kira spun her sword, channeling electricity through it, and slashed forward. The fire met pure voltage, exploding outward in a shockwave that cracked the arena floor.

  Kira Tempest (World Chat): "You should’ve stayed glitched out, Shaw."

  Dani’s eyes narrowed.

  Dani (World Chat): "Nah. I came back just to ruin your night."

  She snapped her fingers and a line of fire surged forward, forcing Kira back.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): "OHHH, THE TEMPEST IS FACING THE INFERNO, AND NEITHER IS BACKING DOWN! THIS IS GONNA BE A BATTLE FOR THE AGES!"

  Dirk Welsby III stood in perfect, unshaken form, his rapier gleaming as he took a calculated step forward. Drevan Cole cracked his neck, shifting his stance, his cybernetic eye analyzing Welsby’s posture, scanning for a weakness.

  Drevan Cole (World Chat): "So what’s the plan? You just let me hit you first for a fair fight, or are you gonna be annoying?"

  Dirk smiled. Cold. Regal. Untouchable.

  Dirk Welsby III (World Chat): "I do not entertain the desperate."

  Drevan clicked his tongue.

  Drevan Cole (World Chat): "Yeah? Hope you’re entertained by losing then."

  Then he moved. And Welsby met him with absolute precision.

  Their first exchange was a blur. Dirk’s rapier snapped forward—Drevan sidestepped, a shard of metal forming in his hand as he slammed it downward. Dirk twisted, barely dodging, and their weapons clashed. The arena gasped. The duel had begun. In the stands, avatars were losing their minds. A camera panned over the audience, stopping on someone unexpected.

  A man-sized plush bear in full armor stood perfectly still, holding a banner that simply said “MACK IS LOVE. MACK IS LIFE.” The announcer paused.

  ANNOUNCER (Voice Chat): "OKAY. WE HAVE QUESTIONS. FIRST—WHERE DO I GET ONE OF THOSE? SECOND—IS IT WATCHING ME?"

  The crowd HOWLED.

  This is part of a series of stories that have lived solely in my head for many years, and I’ve finally started writing them as serialized fiction books. If you think the story sucks, feel free to tell me—it’s all part of the process. That said, I’m also looking for constructive criticism, so any suggestions are welcome and will be considered as I work to improve the series.