Jace Varn stumbled through the neon-drenched alleys of New Cascadia, the rival player's blood still sticky on his knife. His shoulder throbbed from the graze, but the level-up surge dulled it—HP ticking back to 75/120 like some magic Band-Aid. The System HUD flickered in his vision, a constant buzz now, tagging everything: "Low-Traffic Alley - Safe for Now," "Residual Threat: NeoTech Patrols - Evade." He wiped the blade on his pants, heart still hammering from the scrap. That guy—Level 5, eyes glowing with the same chip curse—had come out of nowhere, claiming the core like it was his birthright. Rivals. The whispers about players weren't just edge; they were killers.
"f**k this game," Jace muttered, ducking under a flickering holo-ad pushing "Neural Upgrades for the Elite." The city hadn'
