Riven stood slowly, his boots scraping against the cold floor of the waiting room. His fingers tightened around the grip of his gun, his knuckles whitening. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, like a drum calling him to battle. This was his second fight. Another gamble.
The metallic door of the arena groaned open, and blinding sunlight poured in. Riven squinted as he stepped forward, the sound of cheering hitting him like a wave. The arena was massive — a coliseum of stone and steel, surrounded by a crowd thirsty for violence and thrill.
Judge (amplified through speakers): "On the left side, we have Riven — the unlucky gambler!"
The cheer was mixed. Some fans were intrigued, others skeptical. They had seen his shaky victory in the previous round. They knew the odds were rarely in his favor.
Riven raised his gun and spun it once in his hand — mostly for style. It was a coping mechanism more than anything. His face was unreadable, but inside, he was a storm of uncertainty.
Judge: "And on the right — Nuin! The ghost of steel! She can phase through any solid object!"
A woman stepped into the arena. Slim, confident. Her boots didn't even seem to press into the ground. Her entire presence felt like smoke — untouchable, eerie, and dangerous. Her eyes locked onto Riven's with a detached coldness.
Judge: "1… 2… 3… GO!"
Riven didn't hesitate. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
[NEW GOPT DETECTED: 12% CHANCE TO FIRE A RANDOM PIECE OF MATTER]
BANG!
A normal bullet whistled through the air. Nuin didn't even flinch. The bullet passed right through her torso like she was mist.
Riven cursed under his breath and immediately fired again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Two more bullets sliced through the arena, missing entirely — ricocheting off stone, disappearing into the dust.
But the third — the third was different.
It didn't hit Nuin.
It hit the ground behind her.
BOOM!
The explosion cracked the earth like thunder. Fire burst from the crater, licking at Nuin's back as she staggered forward, coughing. Her eyes widened. She wasn't hurt by the bullet… but by the blast that came after it.
[GOPT LOST: 12% CHANCE TO FIRE RANDOM MATTER]
The flames curled upward, heat distorting the air. Nuin tried to phase through it — but it wasn't solid. Her gift failed her. Her defense meant nothing.
The fire melted parts of her outfit, then her skin. She screamed — a sound that rattled even the more bloodthirsty in the audience — before collapsing into the flame. Her body cracked and crumbled like paper catching fire.
In seconds, she was nothing but ash.
Riven lowered his gun, smoke rising from the barrel. He stared at the spot where she stood, stunned at what just happened. He hadn't expected the explosion. He hadn't expected a win this fast. It was luck… again. Or something close to it.
Judge: "WINNER — RIVEN!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps. Some were stunned, some excited, others still skeptical — wondering how long this gambler's luck would last.
Riven turned and walked slowly out of the arena. His boots dragged. Each step felt heavier than the last.
As the metal door closed behind him, sealing the arena off once more, the cheering became muffled. The echo faded, replaced by the hum of quiet fluorescent lights and the low buzz of nerves in the break room.
Nox was already there, lounging back in a corner chair with his legs crossed, fingers laced behind his head.
Nox: "Well, that was… fiery."
Riven sat across from him, setting the gun on the table between them. He didn't answer immediately.
Nox: "Guess she couldn't phase through anything that wasn't solid."
Riven: "Apparently not."
Nox: "Still, I've never seen a Gopt like that. 'Random matter'? Sounds unstable."
Riven: "They're all unstable."
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at his weapon. It looked ordinary, scratched up and worn from use, but it held within it the most unpredictable ability in the tournament.
[NEW GOPT DETECTED: 7% CHANCE NOTHING COMES OUT OF THE GUN WHEN SHOT]
Riven let out a sigh and slowly facepalmed.
Riven: "Just great…"
Nox: "Another one?"
Riven: "Yeah. This one has a chance to fire absolutely nothing."
Nox (chuckling): "You're basically playing Russian Roulette in reverse."
Riven didn't laugh. He leaned back in his chair and turned toward the matchup board on the far wall. Dozens of names were listed — each with a fate tied to violence. Riven's name was creeping up the bracket, and he wasn't sure how much longer his luck would carry him.
He could hear the crowd again, faintly. Another match must've started. More blood, more chance, more people testing their limits.
Nox leaned back further and looked over at Riven.
Nox: "You know… I'm starting to think your power isn't just luck. It's more like… selective chaos."
Riven: "It's definitely not control. Half the time, I don't even know what my bullets will do until it's too late."
Nox: "And yet you're still alive."
Riven: "For now."
Silence returned for a moment. The two of them sat there — not quite friends, but not strangers either. There was a quiet bond formed in shared danger. In a tournament where death was the only certainty, sometimes the only comfort came from the people who understood what it felt like to walk that tightrope between survival and annihilation.
Riven: "Have you ever thought about leaving this tournament?"
Nox (shrugging): "Sure. But where else would I get to use my powers like this? Shadow-walking isn't exactly useful at a desk job."
Riven: "Fair."
Nox: "And you?"
Riven didn't answer right away. His eyes drifted down to his gun again.
Riven: "I didn't choose this. I was born with the Gopt technique. I just learned to survive with it."
Nox: "But surviving's not the same as living."
Riven smirked slightly.
Riven: "Maybe. But it's close enough for now."
Another roar erupted from the crowd. The speakers crackled.
Judge: "WINNER — DARYN, THE GLASSFALL MAGE!"
The room trembled slightly under the sound. The tournament was getting bloodier. Stronger opponents were rising. And soon, Riven would have to face them.
But for now, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Just for a moment.
There was still time before his next gamble.