Seven sat alone at a bar. It wasn’t the first time in his life, and he sorrowed at the thought, knowing that it wouldn’t be his last time.

  The music was not only loud, but lively in its intense ambiance; the band on the nearby stage playing classic remixes inspired by songs from various realms abroad.

  The lights just bright enough to see those next to you with the exception being the tile lit dance floor just behind Seven that created a scene like that of music videos shot in raves.

  Seven sat his glass down on the bar, taking a moment to himself before he ordered another drink. The sound of his drink touching down on the clean surface of the marble framed glass bar top brought back memories of cleaning his father’s nightclub; countless times long passed rushing into his mind, before even older mental images pushed them aside, making him smirk to himself.

  His recent interactions with his former brothers and sisters was interesting, and left him wanting more.

  Seems like Troy and everyone are truly finding themselves, while I…

  He looked at his empty glass, shaking his head. Unable to feel anything but shame, he thought of the goals he’d set aside to embrace the lifestyle being imparted to him by his adopted father.

  It’s your time off Seven, clear your mind, and enjoy yourself, you’re here to gamble, my boy, nothing more, nothing less.

  The fight being shown nearby had put him on the edge of the plush barstool he sat on, until his thoughts distracted him that was. Seven knew that if he hadn’t taken a few shots before he started betting, he’d have been up and pacing with every moment he had to wait for the event to finish, and with how hard it had been for him to relax as of recently, he was happy to sit and bask in his growing buzz.

  “Come on you idiot, fight back,” roared Seven at the screens hovering above the bar. The holograms giving a close up perspective that allowed the bar goers to feel as if they sat feet away from a brawl being held on their living room floors. The bloody fight before him doing nothing but making him think of the losses he couldn’t erase from his mind.

  It was just a few losses Seven, it’s not like you’re on a losing streak, just push them aside and move forward and stop acting like you’ve never bloody lost before… cursed Seven mentally.

  He’d bet on the Demon to win against Troy, and won. However the night didn’t end how he’d believed it would. The match had pushed The Demon well beyond what most fans of professional fighting thought his opponent would be capable of. Yet, Seven had been there, and couldn’t believe the sight. His sister had changed, and not slightly, but drastically.

  He’d seen Troy lose dozens of fights in his adopted father’s nightclub, only to push one of the strongest fighters in Maelstrom’s youth competitions to his limit.

  Bastard had to put an arm through her chest to stop her… thought Seven sucking his teeth at the thought.

  This action alone lost Seven his bet, and disqualified The Demon. Seven rarely lost, and couldn’t help but take the bet personally, having had lost a large amount of his personal fortune as a result.

  Only for Seven, what mattered to him was what he saw after the fight. A familiar young boy absolutely man handling The Demon was broadcasted across the realm.

  He knew he wasn’t the only one shocked. The cameras had kept rolling after his sister had been maimed, extending the scheduled programming well beyond what anyone expected to see.

  Sovereign Arson Omni huh, going to have to keep my eyes on him. Doesn’t seem like there is much about him on the Holo-Web so far, but with what I saw… that will change…

  Seven sighed to himself, looking away from the hologram above him that displayed one of the many events being showcased at RaidCorp Coliseum. Very rarely did Seven get time to himself since being adopted, but as a lover of bets, the resort had become one of his favorite places in all the realms.

  I guess there are some perks to becoming a rich kid, thought Seven chuckling to himself.

  He took in the atmosphere of the betting bar and smiled, having a feeling that he would without a doubt make his credits back. His sense for the volatility that was betting and gambling was unparalleled. He’d already made an incredible amount of money, only having had lost once since he’d arrived.

  The event was supposed to be nearly insurmountable by any but those who were relatively well known. With a few exceptions here or there, Seven believed the smiling savant known as Carter Gestalt was nothing more than a cocky son of a bastard. Seven fully believing that the Cultivator was soon to learn how incredible the world of Cultivation truly was, and was more than likely about to be swept away like many of the other idiots that signed up for RaidCorp's many seemingly rigged events.

  For the second time in a few short fortnights however, Seven was once again wrong. He lost his small bet, and now flicked his eyes between two screens.

  One held Carter Gestalt. The young Cultivator was currently beating down a near never ending line of challengers. Sometimes multiple at once.

  The spectacle became more and more ridiculous as Seven watched. This Carter Gestalt was supposedly a completely unknown talent, and had thus far shown no affinities for any mana of any kind. This was nothing but camouflage as far as Seven was concerned.

  I’d have to be an idiot to believe that you aren’t some HonorBorn scion slumming it down there, kid.

  Seven’s gut was telling him that the youngster was dangerous for many more reasons than just the deadly combat efficiency being displayed in the cage. Not only could he tell that Carter had some sort of sensory abilities aiding him. He could also tell that the Cultivator’s durability was astonishing.

  Though battered and bruised, Carter Gestalt simply kept fighting. He’d seen him kicked, punched and choked numerous times. Slapped with summoned weaponry, and even assaulted with various mana based skills.

  None of which had done anything to Carter but slow him down temporarily at best. Beside all of these obvious factors that pointed Seven toward Carter being a good bet, there was also one other detail that showed Seven that he’d found his newest money maker while on vacation.

  “Hey pretty lady,” said Seven, lifting his flash drive toward one of the bartenders nearby. The beautiful girl swiftly approached, leaving the group of visitors across the bar from him without a single word to excuse herself from the conversation they’d struck with her.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Hey cutie, you need another?”

  Seven nodded, smiling at her freckled and rosy cheeks as she winked at him; her green eyes dazzling even in the low light of the bar.

  Let’s see here, got a little over eight figures on me for pocket change, let me see what I can turn this into by tomorrow morning.

  “Could you also put half a seven on this Carter Gestalt kid to win that event, oh and another half a seven on this Cro chick,” asked Seven, gesturing between the screens he was watching with his flash drive in hand.

  “For sure, and do you want more of the same to drink,” asked the bartender, holding onto Seven’s hand far longer than necessary to take his payment method from his extended fingertips.

  I’ve been drinking since this morning woman, no need to try so hard for a tip.

  “Yeah, I’ll have another, what is it that you’ve been serving me anyway, it’s delicious, and packs a punch, but after a while it feels like I drank a high grade health potion, leaves me feeling more revitalized than wasted?”

  “I know right, it is new, so I’ve been giving it to anyone who asks me to surprise them, its selling faster than I can get the bloody stuff stocked, some alchemist on the lower floors is brewing it right out of RaidCorp’s basement I guess,” said the bartender, lifting the bottle to show Seven. The label read, Refined Mischief, and sported three stars on the front.

  The unique design was absolutely eye catching; stylized like a graffiti tag seen on the sides of dilapidated buildings in the bronze sector of Maelstrom; the art of the unknown brand had been seemingly painted on the front of the tear shaped bottle to completely captivate drinkers.

  “Hmm, thats nice to look at, how much for the bottle?”

  “Can’t sell it too you by the bottle, my boss would kill me, the cheaper versions I can, but as far as three stars and up, its shots only.”

  Seven felt his brow furrow against his willful attempt to keep the features of his face smooth and unaffected. Only truly expensive liquors were treated this way, making him wonder exactly how much he was paying per shot.

  “Wait, are you saying there are two versions rated even higher than the one I’ve been drinking?”

  “Yeah, two star, and one star.”

  Seven’s eyes widened at the bottles she lifted from behind the counter. One a matte orange with two black stars on the face of the bottle. While the other bottle was a glimmering multicolored mass that moved like the lava lamp he’d seen in the Realm Traveller’s Branch museum on a field trip as a child.

  Why do those look like places I’ve been before?

  “Woah, have you tried the one star?” asked Seven, pointing at the bottle with the single white star on its face. The bartender shaking her head in response before sharing what she did know of the beverage.

  “Nope, not after I served the first few shots to them over there,” said the bartender with a point over his shoulder.

  Seven glanced back to see a guy dancing with a group of females. The group moving not only in sync, but with an abundance of energy and joy. Their eyes more exhilarated as if they were high on extremely exotic drugs, rather than the dull eyed gazes normally seen in nightclubs after an excess of expensive alcohol.

  “They seem to be having a good time…”

  Seven turned back just in time to see the bartender shaking her head.

  “Yeah, they’ve been like that since last night when they walked in, thought I’d be making a killing on the stuff, but it looks like all you need is one shot, and you’re done, unless you’re extremely bold…”

  The bartender pointed out a woman snoring in a nearby booth. A pool of drool blossoming out around her face. Seven laughed, as the bartender snapped and a pair of woman came from seemingly nowhere to remove the sleeping patron.

  Should I try one, I mean I’ll only need one…

  He glanced back at the dancing group, before looking at the bottle of kaleidoscopic liquor once more, and smiling.

  “How much for a shot?”

  “A full seven…”

  What in the bloody embers is in that sparking bottle, the blood of a ember fire breathing dragon!

  “Wow, a whole seven figures for a single shot, what are they putting in that stuff…”

  The bartender shrugged.

  “No clue, but every one of my coworkers that serves it says that their customers all come back raving about how they feel absolutely amazing the next morning after drinking it.”

  Seven couldn’t help but want to try the drink. He’d come to have a good time placing bets, and had to admit to himself that he’d wanted to drink until the loneliness that crept into his mind and soul was so suffocated that it became a mere afterthought; hoping that struggling to stand and think straight could temporarily replace the darkness that seemed to follow him lately.

  He looked back at the smiling faces of the dancing group a final time, making the decision for himself.

  Spark it, why not, not like I have anything to loose, right…

  “How about we try it together,” asked Seven, receiving a smile from the beautiful blond. The woman’s curls bouncing as she nodded at him with a smile.

  “Sounds like fun!”

  The bartender lifted the bottle and twisted the tip open, causing a hiss and a soft steam to escape from the lid, and poured two shots as his eyes widened; pushing one toward Seven.

  He lifted his own shot glass, and moved to clink glasses, pausing just before their drinks made contact.

  “Hey, what’s your name anyway?”

  “I thought you’d never ask cutie, the name is Vivid, and you?”

  “Really, Vivid, that’s such a beautiful name, my name is Seven, nice to meet you, Vivid.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Seven.”

  Seven looked at his shot once more, and back toward the two holograms he’d been watching, having a thought to secure business before pleasure.

  “Hey, before we do this, put half another eight on those two events for me will ya, if I win, I’ll tip you kindly, in thanks you know, for being my good luck charm and bringing my spirits up.”

  Vivid blushed, nodding as she tapped Seven’s flash drive twice on the bar; the station table dinging twice, once for each five hundred thousand credit bet being placed.

  “You’re locked in, you know something I don’t?”

  Vivid looked between the screen with Carter Gestalt, and the screen that showed Cro standing in the dark of an alleyway twirling two short swords; the blackened blades still somehow glimmering in the darkness even though no light was anywhere to be found. The young woman only visible due to the infrared filter being used by the drones that recorded the event she partook in.

  “Naw, I just got a feeling…”

  Vivid shrugged, winking before pressing her glass to Seven’s own and smiling once more.

  “Cheers, to winning a bunch of credits!”

  …

  Micro waited patiently. She didn’t know what place she currently fell in the rankings for the event she found herself in at Arson’s prompting for her to get out of the pocket apartment, but didn’t care if she won or lost. She hadn’t had this much fun in season cycles.

  Guess I got used to loss of life, and my own potential death around every corner. But this… This is child’s play.

  The fake nighttime sky of the floor they were on was perpetual, creating the perfect playground for the event she now found herself in.

  “Looks like we got another one,” whispered Micro to herself.

  A young woman was running down the alleyway Micro stood in, rushing to get to the next street. Micro didn’t know if the woman was running toward or away from an opponent, but shook her head as she blew by Micro, not even glancing in her direction.

  I could get used to this…

  Practicing with her untapped affinity was not only rewarding, but left her often wondering if she was quickly becoming like that of the scions of Maelstrom. She stepped silently from the shadows, strolling toward the woman who’d paused at the alley’s edge, crouching as she pulled free a sniper’s rifle from a spacial inventory that once would have made Micro jealous.

  Micro slowly took a deep breath, crouching behind the woman, lifting her blades. One pointed tip toward the armpit on the left side of the woman’s body, while the other was aimed toward the midsection of her torso on the right side. Micro exhaled slowly, breathing on the back of the woman’s neck as she spoke.

  “Hey there…”

  “Son of a—“

  The woman’s curse was cut off before she could even jerk in alarm. Micro’s left blade slipped into the woman’s heart, while her right slid silently into the woman’s lung.

  Micro let go of her weapons, clamping a hand around the woman’s mouth with one hand, catching the dropped sniper rifle with the other; the weapon vanishing as Micro stored the stolen rifle in one of the many identical spatial inventory watches that had been given to her and the rest of the members of the pocket apartment gang by Arson after their return from Endless.

  She lowered the woman’s body single handedly. Her hand clamped down over the woman’s face in a vice grip as she brought her free hand up, raising an extended finger to her lips as the woman bled out, shushing the woman as her frantic eyes fluttered about wildly in panic.

  “This will be over soon, don’t worry, you’ll do better next time,” said Micro, tapping both her weapons, storing them in her watches depths with a simple extended finger pressed on the handle of each blade. She pursed her lips, her brow furrowing momentarily, until she seemed to come to a realization and smiled.

  “As long as I don’t sign up again…”

  The woman’s avatar dispersed in a burst of light, and Micro snickered, slowly rising and walking toward a nearby shadow, whistling until she stepped into the void.

  “Another one bites the dust, another one bites the dust!”

  …

  Corbin was having the worst day of her life. She’d spent all her available points on her resort ticket to get into an event. An event that she’d not only lost, but where the generated Avatars of the players were given the actual weapons of the attending competitors.

  “I can’t believe I lost my sparking rifle!”

  She walked into the betting bar her friends had been in prior to her event, and headed directly for the bar.

  She had to push through the dense bodies between her and her destination, growing even more annoyed with every shoulder and elbow she felt necessary to toss around to move people out of her way. None there seemingly effected by her sudden spurts of violence.

  In her disgruntled state, she didn’t notice the oddities within the bar until she’d sat down, and looked around.

  The entire bar was in the midst of absolute pandemonium. Where there had been an heir of civilized betting and drinking before she’d left, the area had shifted into an utter celebratory festival.

  Her friends, all gyrated on a nearby table that she knew would have flipped long ago if it wasn’t made from the dense white and black marble the club’s interior primarily consisted of.

  The song being played throughout the bar was being sung by what Corbin assumed was everyone gathered. No one searching for the words as if this was the dozenth time it was being played, and as Corbin turned back toward the bar she realized, her favorite bartender was dancing atop the bar with a guy she’d never seen before. A medallion hung from his neck; the number seven made from a peerless diamond swinging as he twirled the beautiful blonde as they screamed the song at the top of their lungs.

  “Kenny, Kenny, Kenny and the bets!”

  Corbin’s brow furrowed, and she shrugged; grabbing a strange bottle with a white star before the pair atop the bar managed to kick it over as they twirled by above her, Corbin beginning to bob her head as she poured herself a shot in one of the many nearby glasses just barely in reach behind the bar.

  “Don’t mind if I do…”