Game Era – Lost Odyssey

At the auction site on the other side of Luo City, the event had long concluded. News crews, arriving late, missed the two extravagant bidders who’d splashed astronomical sums on virtual gear, along with their bold flair. The reporters had no choice but to turn their cameras and mics on auctioneer Peter and the sparse audience, digging for details about these mysterious legends. But they unearthed little of value.

After fending off the media, Peter could finally clock out. As he left the auction hall, he couldn’t resist muttering to his assistant, “I keep feeling like number seven—the guy with the sunglasses—looks familiar. I’ve definitely seen him somewhere, but I can’t place it.”

The assistant nodded knowingly. “A sharp, stylish guy like him? Anyone would think he’s familiar. His vibe could rival a Hollywood star.”

“It’s not that,” Peter grumbled, shaking his head, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. After a quick goodbye to his assistant, he slid into his car and drove home, racking his brain for the man’s face. A few blocks later, a massive Extreme Olympics billboard caught his eye, and it hit him. Slamming the steering wheel, he exclaimed, “It’s Dumas! That lunatic, the biggest nutcase in the world!”

But then doubt crept in. Since when did Dumas go without his signature aquamarine amulet? Puzzled, Peter settled on a vague conclusion: Probably just someone who resembles that maniac Dumas.

The much-anticipated Ultimate Hunt was about to begin. If the battle for the All-Around King of Riders was the climax of the Extreme Olympics, then the final event of the Nine-Event All-Around, Ultimate Hunt, was the peak of that climax! Though criticized and boycotted by many international groups, it reigned as the highest-rated event every games, embodying everything extreme sports stood for: style, danger, thrill, gore, and risk. It tested every human limit—guts, strategy, psyche, composure, skill, stamina, patience. A duel of intellect and physique, it was the rawest, most brutal life-or-death showdown between competitors!

Like Russian roulette, it started as an underground, illegal extreme sport, often tied to gambling or gang disputes. It originated with mob conflicts—when rival gangs faced a stalemate but couldn’t afford an all-out war, they’d settle it this way. Each side sent a champion, armed, into a remote, enclosed area—an abandoned island or dilapidated church—to hunt each other down. The last one standing won victory for their faction. Less costly than a full firefight, it became a go-to for underworld resolutions. Later, it spread quietly among hardcore extreme fans, evolving into a bloody betting game or a reckless thrill-seeking contest.

Of course, when it joined the Extreme Olympics, the cruelty, gore, and inhumanity were stripped away. With lifelike electronic simulation tech, riders didn’t need to kill or die to feel the rush of Ultimate Hunt. Audiences, too, could witness near-real carnage through the same tech. Perhaps humanity’s innate thirst for blood and savagery explained why—despite protests—it undeniably overtook last century’s top sport, soccer, as the highest-rated extreme event on TV.

Xia Feng prepared for this final contest. Though countless cameras were trained on him, his mind kept drifting to his rock climbing loss. He’d been the first to summit the Federal TV Tower, but he hadn’t anticipated the women’s bonus points, which pushed Jasina’s total score seven points ahead. That left him at a steep disadvantage now. In Ultimate Hunt, each kill earned one point, with eleven opponents total. To win, he’d need over eight kills—not just that, he’d have to stop Jasina from scoring too. An almost impossible task, unless he took her out first!

After a final check of his firearm, Xia Feng fired seven shots at a fifty-meter electronic target. The screen flashed his results: five bullseyes, two nines! That score could medal in an Olympic shooting event, but Xia Feng shook his head, dissatisfied, swapping in a fresh magazine. These electronic guns were uncannily realistic—weight, grip, recoil, and sound mimicking a real Kovac pistol perfectly. The only difference? No bullets. A computer calculated impact points to determine hits.

After two more test magazines, he set the gun down. Staff quickly fitted him with a skintight electronic suit, like sharkskin, covering everything but his eyes, mouth, nose, and ears—a second skin. If an electronic shot hit it, the suit delivered a numbing jolt at the impact site, mimicking the pain and weakness of a real wound. A strike to a vital spot? Lights out—you’d pass out like you were dead.

Layering his competition gear over the suit, Xia Feng stood quietly, awaiting the small door to the arena. What lay beyond? How big was it? Any cover? Added hazards? None of the competitors knew—not a map or hint provided. He suddenly recalled a childhood game, Battle Royale, but even that had tips, maps, overpowered weapons, and endless ammo. Not here—just two magazines, fourteen rounds total.

Beep! Beep! Beep! After three buzzes, the arena door sprang open. Xia Feng charged out without hesitation. Caution wasn’t an option—he had to take Jasina down before she scored, or the crown was out of reach. Ultimate Hunt wasn’t about survival time; it was about kill count—one point per takedown. Like modern soccer favored offense, this event rewarded aggression.

Beyond the door lay a dim, rundown underground parking garage. Xia Feng darted forward, varying his speed to dodge aim, scanning the layout fast. It wasn’t large—scattered with a dozen cars and a few load-bearing concrete pillars, perfect for cover. But they’d do him little good. Luring foes as bait was his only play now.

A gun barrel poked from behind a pillar. Xia Feng dove, sliding forward on momentum. By the time the shooter realized Xia Feng was at his feet, Xia Feng’s gun fired. The man clutched his forehead and crumpled—a fatal hit!

No time to grab the fallen weapon, Xia Feng rolled under an SUV. Gunfire erupted around him like popping beans. Flat on the ground, he peeked out, spotting a pair of feet exposed under a car chassis nearby. One shot, and the figure collapsed; a second to the heart finished him.

Rolling out, Xia Feng leapt onto a car roof by the wall, fully exposing himself! The move caught everyone off guard—they froze for a split second. In that instant, his gun barked again, dropping a competitor twenty meters away who’d carelessly peeked out—one shot, lethal!

“This kid’s a born killer!” A heartfelt exclamation shattered the room’s silence. The hand with the pink diamond ring clenched tight, its owner fixated on the TV wall with mounting tension. The screen split into nine feeds, overhead angles exposing nearly every player, but only number three, Xia Feng, held the owner’s gaze.

“Brilliant!” The corner figure chimed in. “Fast moves and surprise tactics to seize the initiative, bold strikes to create openings—I’d bet his reaction speed’s under 0.1 seconds!”

The slender, pale hand sprang into action, fingers dancing over a keyboard like a virtuoso pianist. Moments later, Xia Feng’s recent moves flashed on-screen, his fastest reaction clocking at 0.087 seconds!

“God! Unreal! How many people in the world react under 0.1 seconds?” The hand froze midair, its owner stunned.

“I know of two: Dumas and Jasina!”

“Why not mention yourself?” The hand lowered as its owner relaxed. “Though I know you don’t care about physical prowess—you value willpower and spirit more.”

The corner figure ignored the flattery, saying coolly, “I think you’ve already got your top pick. He’s a genius warrior and killer!”

The owner chuckled, “You know me well, just as I know you!”

“Let’s not decide yet—you haven’t seen Jasina perform,” the corner voice replied. No sooner had he spoken than the screen erupted with a game-changing twist.