X stared down the scope of his magic-rifle from several thousand feet in the air, floating quite easily with the use of his Airsuit. With a cheeky grin, he pulled the trigger and watched as the Hero’s head was splattered on the pavement.

“Tch, too easy”

A sonic boom rang out and he turned to look at the fighter jets that whistled through the air faster than the speed of sound. His magic-rifle morphed into several small parts before rearranging into two blades.

“Time for the Game to really begin then?” he asked jovially. “Took him long enough.”

His Airsuit blurred as he raced forward towards the formation of Fighter Jets, the humans inside wide-eyed. Only two had the time to bank fast enough to avoid the collision, his blades slicing the jets in half. They ejected as fast as they could.

X let them be, his swords reverting back to his large magic-rifle. He took aim towards the human below, hiding inside the tank with “Gerald’s Avatar” over the top.

“Panzy,” X snidely said. “Hiding behind your tech isn’t gonna save you this time.”

The magic-rifle began to hum and hiss as he charged up the core and fired slightly before it went critical.

Everything flashed and he found himself at a bench in a small park, sitting across from Gerald.

“You haven’t been practicing enough Gerald. You’re falling behind,” X, short for Xavier, picked up the can of Throttle as he stood and walked away from the dumbfounded youth

Xavier walked down the paved street, looking around at the domed city. Skyscrapers hung high in the air, collection runes glimmering brightly from the outside. The runes powered the facility, leaving none of the ambient mana to go to waste. 

Horland was established before history’s records could date back to and was inhabited by his people, the Vork, who all were tall, skinny, and had a light blue hue to their skin. Their eyes were larger than humans, and their ears were little more than holes in their head, but that didn’t stop them from regularly outperforming the other city domes.

Xavier’s eyes took in the amazing scenery, nature being blended into the large dome city quite well, and began walking away from the residential district towards the manufacturing district. 

Only the bottom half of the Rankers had to work and their Rank determined how long they were required to work. The only rule for Horland was that every citizen had to play at least one Game before the end of the week.

Xavier entered the plant, the runic display scanned his face and automatically opened the door in front of him to allow him entry. He sighed as he shrugged off his leather jacket and donned the button-up they forced upon him. It was baby blue with a frocket, matching every other worker. The only thing special was his name and Rank being displayed: Xavier Malkov, Rank 5193.

Another worker handed him the headset he dreaded so much and he placed it on his head, instantly hearing the shouts and buzz of the day.

“X, where the fuck have you been?” His shift-lead, an absolute dick-of-a-guy, shouted out over the comms.

“I’m walking in now,” he replied as the door in front of him did another scan, opening up to the loud workplace.

He walked to his workstation where he packaged foodstuffs into a box, enchanted it with an increased longevity rune, slapped a label on it, and then passed it down the line to be shipped off to their client.

This was how people survived in Horland. Anybody above Rank five thousand had their food brought to them three times a day. Every meal packed with the proper sustenance to maintain perfect physical and mental performance.

“Another day of wasted time,” Xavier said as he looked at the Rank on his shirt, messing up the rune he was inscribing. “Shit.”

He fetched another box and quickly switched the contents, correcting his mistake, but his work had already backed up by then. Of course, that was when his dickhead lead walked over, face redder than a Snorlgax’s ass, and began ripping into him.

“You lazy shitbag. You realize how lucky you are to have this job? If it weren’t for your parents’ years of hard work, I’d throw your useless ass out this second. You know who gets chewed out when you make stupid mistakes like this, right? Right?!” That was only the beginning.

Xavier could usually tune out the tirade of nonsensical drivel that spewed out of lardo’s toxic mouth, but today he seemed to have a stick rammed up his ass. As Xavier kept working to catch up, the stupid git grabbed the collar of his shirt and pinned him back against the line Xavier worked on.

“Don’t you dare fucking ignore me!” Xavier’s eyes narrowed and a knife flickered into existence firmly pressed against the man’s kidney.

“Touch me again, and I will make you understand why you will never pass my Rank,” Xavier’s steely eyes dared the other man to keep up his shit. “Give it a week, I won’t be here then. Until that happens, keep your filthy hands off me pig.”

His lead’s face had drained of color, but Xavier was a higher Rank and therefore had a higher social standing. There would be no repercussions for his actions, meanwhile, his piece of shit lead would be left out to the wolves for assault.

The knife pricked against his lead’s skin until the man let off of him and stormed away, slamming his fist into the hardened wall. The runes flashed and his lead swore as he cradled his hand.

“Fucking shit for brains,” Xavier turned back, the rush of adrenaline fading made his arms feel heavy. A new rhythm was quickly established as he continued to verify the contents, rune the boxes, and then slap the shipping labels on them.

The afternoon waned into darkness and a buzzer rang, signifying his release. 

“Thank fuck,” he swore angrily, the day’s events still left a bad taste in his mouth and anger in his heart. “I need to Game ‘cause there’s no way I’m putting up with that fuck for another week.”

High-stakes games could build Rank, but the task of finding someone at a similar or higher Rank to Game with oftentimes was a bigger challenge than winning in the first place. Too many people waited for the Official Games that came once a month with higher returns for winning or for the bi-annual Tournament. Gaining Rank day-to-day? That was damn near impossible.

He tore the headset off and threw it at the poor worker who watched him storm out of the building. His jacket was thrown over his shoulder and he rushed outside. His main priority was getting out of the-.

“Hey, you little shit. I bet you won’t ignore me now,” his lead called out. Three other workers stood at his side, glaring at him. “We’ve decided to take you down a notch.”