Les strode through the bustling streets of Ancient Arena Online, his steps lighter after the victory on the track. The thrill of the race still lingered, and his newfound athleticism brought a surge of confidence he hadn't felt in years. His bet had paid off handsomely, and the in-game currency now resting in his account would provide him with a much-needed boost—gear, resources, and maybe even some extra tools to help further his journey.
But more than the currency or the victory, it was the revelation of his skill, Life Mirror, that had him buzzing with ideas. If tapping into Kai Nakamura's athletic prowess had made such a drastic difference, what other hidden gems could he unlock from people he'd crossed paths with? He'd worked with countless athletes, strategists, and experts during his career managing VR teams—each of them a potential source of power. The thought alone was intoxicating.
As Les weaved through the crowd, his eyes scanned the game's marketplace, where players bartered and traded everything from rare weapons to enchanted armor. He'd need better gear if he was going to survive the increasingly tough challenges that lay ahead, especially if he wanted to venture into PvP zones again.
A row of shops caught his attention, their holographic signs glowing in a spectrum of neon colors. He approached a vendor selling armors specifically designed for agility-based players. Les glanced through the options, selecting a sleek set of lightweight gear that would allow him to move even faster. The currency he had won from the race was enough to cover the purchase, and after a quick transaction, he slipped into his new outfit.
The flexible armor hugged his body comfortably, and immediately he felt the difference. Every movement was smoother, more controlled. His steps felt lighter, and the weight that had once slowed him down in combat was gone. He stretched, testing the mobility, and smiled to himself. This was a good start.
But gear wasn't enough. He needed more. More skills, more experiences to mirror.
His mind returned to the many faces of his past—the VR athletes he'd managed, the strategies they had shared. Some of them had specialized in combat, sure, but there had been others who had mastered different skills—skills that could be crucial in Ancient Arena Online. His competitive streak flared, and he decided that finding those skills would be his next step. He wasn't just going to play this game like everyone else; he was going to break through its boundaries, using every advantage he could pull from his past.
Lost in thought, Les barely noticed as he approached the city's towering Coliseum, a grand structure that loomed over the landscape. The arena's metallic walls reflected the sun, casting a blinding light across the crowd gathered outside. This was the heart of the city's PvP scene, where players fought for fame, money, and sometimes just bragging rights. The very sight of it sent a chill down Les's spine. It was here where the real stakes lay. Where skill was tested against the best of the best.
As he entered the massive doors of the Coliseum, Les was greeted by a barrage of noise—the roar of the crowd, the clash of weapons, and the sound of spells ripping through the air. It was chaotic, but there was something alluring about it. Players gathered in every corner, preparing for their matches, discussing tactics, or simply watching others fight. It reminded him of the professional VR leagues, the tension and excitement just before a big game.
As he walked deeper into the arena, a holographic board caught his eye, showcasing the top players currently ranked in the PvP league. One name stood out above the rest: Warhawk—the reigning champion, with an undefeated streak that seemed impossible to break.
Les narrowed his eyes. Warhawk. The name wasn't familiar, but the reputation was hard to ignore. Players whispered about him in the streets, stories of his precision in combat, his unbeatable strategies. For a moment, Les considered challenging him. But he dismissed the thought quickly. He wasn't ready yet—not for someone like that. He needed more training, more knowledge.
However, a fight in the lower-tier matches could be exactly what he needed to sharpen his skills.
He moved toward the registration terminal, where players could sign up for open matches. A few keystrokes later, and Les was officially registered for an upcoming duel. His opponent wasn't listed yet, but that didn't matter. Whoever it was, Les was ready to test himself again.
While waiting for the match to be scheduled, Les wandered the edges of the Coliseum, absorbing the atmosphere. He could see the variety of playstyles on display—some fighters wielded massive weapons, trading power for speed, while others danced around their opponents with quick, precise strikes. Magic users filled the air with bursts of light, while archers rained down arrows from high ground. It was a world of endless possibilities, and Les knew that the more he saw, the more he could adapt his own style.
Eventually, his match was announced. The system pinged him with a notification, prompting him to enter the preparation room. As he stepped inside, the room sealed itself, giving him a few moments to focus before the battle. He quickly adjusted his gear, making sure everything was in place. His fingers hovered over his sword, his main weapon, but he also carried a few throwing knives for emergencies. They hadn't been useful in the past, but with his new speed, he figured it was worth experimenting with them now.
The countdown to the match began, and Les took a deep breath. This was it. Another step forward. Another chance to push his limits.
As the doors slid open, Les stepped into the bright, open arena. The crowd roared, but his focus zeroed in on his opponent—a tall, lanky player with a dark cloak, carrying a long spear. The player's avatar was built for reach and precision, clearly someone who specialized in mid-range combat.
Les cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, shaking off the tension. His heart beat steadily, the rush of the previous race still fresh in his mind. He knew how to move now, how to flow with the battle. His opponent wouldn't see him coming.
The announcer's voice echoed through the arena, hyping up the crowd. Les barely registered the words. His entire world shrank down to the space between him and his opponent, the sound of his own breathing, the feel of his sword in his hand.
The signal to begin blared, and both fighters launched forward.
Les moved first, testing his speed, darting to the side and closing the distance faster than his opponent expected. The spear swung wide, aiming to catch him as he approached, but Les sidestepped with ease, letting his enhanced agility take over. The spear's tip whistled through the air, missing him by inches.
Les struck low, aiming for his opponent's legs. His sword cut through the air, connecting with a satisfying thud as it struck the spearman's shin. His opponent stumbled, losing balance for just a moment—enough time for Les to leap back, creating space again.
The spearman grunted, regaining his stance, his eyes narrowing as he sized Les up.
The next exchange came quickly. The spear jabbed forward in rapid succession, each thrust faster than the last, but Les danced around them, his newfound agility making it feel almost effortless. Every movement was fluid, a direct result of the time spent tapping into Kai's abilities.
But his opponent was no amateur either. After a few missed strikes, the spearman shifted his strategy, keeping Les at bay with long, sweeping arcs, forcing him to stay on the defensive.
Les's mind raced, analyzing the fight. He couldn't rely on speed alone. He needed to outthink his opponent. A plan formed in his head, and he quickly adjusted his stance.
He feigned another dash forward, but this time, when the spear came to intercept him, Les dropped to the ground, sliding under the weapon's reach. In one fluid motion, he spun, throwing one of his knives toward his opponent's exposed arm.
The knife found its mark, embedding itself into the spearman's shoulder. His opponent yelped in pain, his grip faltering for just a second.
That was all Les needed.
He surged forward, his sword flashing as he closed the distance. One final strike, and the match was over.
The arena fell silent for a heartbeat, and then the crowd erupted into cheers. Les stood over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving with exertion but a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
Another victory. Another step toward reclaiming his place in this world.
As the system registered his win and the reward was added to his account, Les glanced up at the ranking board once again. Warhawk's name still stood at the top.
Les exhaled slowly. He wasn't there yet, but someday, soon enough, he'd challenge that spot.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Les left the arena, already planning his next move.