CHAPTER 9 : Winner Winner

After an intense match, the words "Winner Winner Chicken Dinner" flashed across the screen in vibrant neon lettering, pulsing to the rhythm of the victory music. Sera let out a victorious cheer, pumping her fist in the air as electric satisfaction coursed through her veins. The neural feedback from her high-end gaming gear sent tingles of simulated adrenaline through her body, amplifying the natural rush of her win.

"Damn, that was amazing!" she exclaimed, leaning back in her custom ergonomic chair, its smart-fabric automatically adjusting to her posture. Her heart pounded as the residual thrill of virtual combat lingered in her system. The room around her glowed with the soft blue light of her streaming setup, casting long shadows across her collection of tournament trophies. "I don't think I've ever had this much fun in a game before. The responsiveness is just... it's like the game knows what I want to do before I even move."

Her stream chat exploded with messages, scrolling so fast she could barely read them all:

"Queen Sera carrying as always! 🏆👑" "This game is insane, it doesn't feel like an F-rank at all! More like B at least!" "Damn, I'm downloading it now! Link in bio?" "The way those bullets curved around that obstacle was SICK!" "Did anyone else notice the mana signature flares when she got that headshot?"

Sera chuckled as she read the messages, her fingers instinctively reaching to adjust her mana-infused headset, its crystalline nodes glowing with a soft amber light. But just as she was about to respond, she felt an unusual fatigue settle over her—not the normal tiredness after streaming for hours, but something deeper, like her very energy was being siphoned away. She glanced at the mana indicator on her gear—the small crystalline display showing nearly depleted levels, the normally vibrant blue light now a dull, pulsing red. A wry smile crossed her lips.

"Alright, guys, I'd love to keep playing, but my mana's almost out," she admitted, tapping the gauge with her index finger, the soft ping audible to her viewers. "This game is pulling way more than the usual rate—and honestly? Worth every drop." She stretched, feeling the familiar strain in her shoulders from maintaining perfect posture during intense gaming sessions. "I'll stream this again later—there's no way I'm stopping now! I wanna explore every part of this game, especially that desert map they teased in the tutorial. But for now... I need a break and a serious mana recharge."

Her chat flooded with reactions, the sentiment tracker in the corner of her screen showing mostly disappointed emojis mixed with understanding ones.

"Noooo, don't leave us! 😭😭😭" "Queen, rest well! We'll be waiting!

Get those mana crystals ready!"

"The addiction is real, huh? This game's mana consumption is no joke!"

"Did you notice how the physics change when your mana gets low? That's some next-level programming!"

She laughed, running her fingers through her hair, the subtle glow of residual mana making the strands shimmer momentarily. "Yeah, yeah, I know! But seriously, this game is on another level. The creator must be sitting on a gold mine of innovation. Alright, I'll see you guys later. Don't forget to download it yourselves—link in my profile! Bye, everyone!"

She ended the stream with her signature two-finger salute and removed her gear, carefully placing the headset on its charging stand where it immediately began to pulse with energy as it drew mana from the room's ambient field. She stretched her arms overhead, feeling her spine pop in three distinct places. The digital clock on her wall showed it was nearly midnight—she'd been streaming for six hours straight without even noticing.

Meanwhile, in a modestly furnished apartment across town, Max let out a long sigh and removed his own gear, the developer's version significantly bulkier than consumer models, with exposed wiring and diagnostic panels that glowed with data streams. His body felt stiff from sitting too long, muscles protesting as he stood. He stretched before turning his attention to his computer screen, the multiple monitors displaying various metrics and user feedback reports. His eyes scanned the rankings, algorithms sorting player data in real-time, and a small smirk formed as he saw his position—30th on the global developer chart, a position that had jumped twelve spots in just six hours.

"Not bad," he muttered, leaning back in his chair, the worn leather creaking under his weight. The room around him was cluttered with development tools—circuit boards, mana conductors, half-assembled peripheral devices, and notebooks filled with handwritten code. The walls were covered with pinned design documents and concept art for his game, evolving from crude sketches to polished renders as they progressed across the space.

At that moment, his phone buzzed, the crystal core in its center lighting up with a familiar signature. He picked it up to see Sera calling, her profile picture animated with her latest victory pose.

"Yo," he answered, his voice rough from hours of silence.

"Max, what the hell did you make?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine excitement that made him sit up straighter. "This game is crazy! I mean, the mechanics, the physics—hell, even the gunplay—it's too good! The way the bullets adapt to terrain resistance, how the mana feedback adjusts to your emotional state during combat... it's revolutionary. There's no way this is an F-rank game."

Max chuckled, pride warming his chest as he glanced at the framed F-rank developer license on his wall, its edges still crisp and new. "Glad you liked it. Took me a long time to get everything just right. The adaptive neural interface alone took six months to calibrate."

"I still can't believe you made this alone," Sera continued, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. "I mean, the kind of detail in this game is usually only seen in C-rank and above, where entire guilds of developers work together with corporate mana pools. And you—"

"—just did it by myself," Max finished, amused yet aware of the implications. He glanced at the collection of empty mana vials on his desk, each representing week of personal energy savings. "Yeah, I know. Had to rewrite the standard interface protocols from scratch."

Sera sighed, and he could picture her shaking her head. "Seriously, Max, what's your plan? Are you just gonna let the game run and absorb mana like all the other developers? Because with these numbers, you could rank up fast."

Max went silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the small holographic projection above his desk—sketches for future game features, environments, and character classes that only existed in his mind so far. Then, with a deep breath that carried the weight of his ambition, he said, "No. I have way too many ideas for this game. This is just the beginning. I don't want to make something and abandon it halfway like those cash-grab developers. I'm not just a game creator—I'm a game developer. I want to push this to its highest potential, maybe even cross the theoretical boundary between virtual and enhanced reality."

There was a brief pause on the other end, the soft hum of Sera's mana charger audible in the background.

"That's..." Sera hesitated before speaking again, choosing her words carefully. "That's gonna be tough, Max. You know most game creators just use the mana they collect to rank up their own power. You could become a hell of a lot stronger if you just absorbed it instead. Jump straight to D-rank with what you've collected already."

Max exhaled, shaking his head as he observed the mana counter on his monitor steadily ticking upward—each number representing energy freely given by players enjoying his creation. "If my game was trash, then yeah, maybe. But it's not. I'm gonna keep developing it and make it something even bigger. Something that changes how people think about the relationship between games and reality."

Sera let out a small laugh, the sound tinged with both admiration and concern. "Well, damn. You really are crazy, huh? Going against the entire industry standard."

"You already knew that," Max said with a smirk, running his finger along a scar on his palm—a reminder of his first failed mana circuit at age twelve.

Sera giggled, the sound warming him more than he cared to admit. "Alright, then. If that's your plan, you've got my support. And judging by the chat's reaction, a whole lot of people are gonna back you up on this. I had over fifteen thousand viewers by the end, all asking for more."

Max's smirk widened as he pulled up her stream metrics on a side monitor. "Good. Because I'm just getting started. The desert map is only about sixty percent complete, and I've barely begun developing the ocean realm."

As he hung up, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the glowing screen. His ranking—30th—felt like a stepping stone, the first foothold on a mountain he intended to climb regardless of how steep the path became. The soft blue glow of his monitors illuminated the determination on his face, casting sharp shadows that emphasized the angles of his features.

If I can push into the top 10, getting my game reviewed by the top academy will be a breeze. No political connections needed, no favors called in. Just pure merit.

And if they liked it... a scholarship might even be within reach—the kind reserved for innovators rather than those with the right bloodlines or bank accounts.

Even though his father was an A-rank hunter, a fact reminded by the occasional news article framed on the family walls and the subtle mana signature that permeated their home, Max didn't want to rely on anyone else's name. He was going to prove his worth through his own creations, carving a path distinct from the blood-soaked glory of hunting.

As Max walked down the stairs toward the dining room, the scent of freshly cooked food filled the air—his mother's signature mana-infused cooking that carried hints of traditional spices mixed with the unmistakable sweetness of enhanced ingredients. The wooden steps creaked beneath his feet, each one charmed to alert the household of movement—a hunter's precaution that had never been disabled even after years of peace.

His father, Tom, was already seated at the table, casually watching the evening news on the wallscreen TV, its holographic projection showing footage of the latest dungeon breach in the southern continent. The older man's posture remained military-straight even at home, his broad shoulders and scarred hands betraying his profession despite the casual clothes. A faint blue aura surrounded him, visible only if you knew to look for it—the mark of an A-rank hunter who had absorbed enough mana to permanently alter his physiology.

He glanced over as Max entered and gestured to the seat across from him with a hand bearing a signet ring that pulsed softly with stored power.

"Max, come sit. Dinner's almost ready," his father said in a firm yet calm tone that still carried the authority of someone accustomed to commanding teams in life-or-death situations.

Max nodded and took his seat, noting the premium silverware—enchanted to enhance the flavors of any food they touched, a luxury most families couldn't afford. The table itself was made from rare dungeon-core wood, practically indestructible and subtly humming with residual energy.

A moment later, his mother walked in carrying dishes of steaming food, each plate arranged with the precision of someone who had once catered to guild gatherings where presentation was as important as taste. She placed them on the table, smiling warmly as she took her own seat. Though not a hunter herself, she wore the distinctive pendant of a hunter's spouse—a protection charm that would activate in emergencies, linked directly to her husband's mana signature.

The family started eating, the clinking of enchanted utensils filling the silence for a few moments. Max could feel the food instantly revitalizing him, replenishing some of the mana he'd expended during development.

Then, as expected, his father spoke up, his voice carrying the subtle resonance that all high-ranked hunters developed over time.

"So, how are the exams going?" Tom asked, his deep voice carrying a weight of expectation that seemed to physically press down on the table. He took a sip from his glass, eyes never leaving Max's face. "You know, if you can't pass the game creation exam, there's always another path for you. You've already passed the hunter exam, and if you want to get into a good academy, I can pull some strings to enlist you there. The Golden Crest Guild still owes me after that incident in the northern territories."

Max froze mid-bite, his grip on his spoon tightening slightly. A sharp sting, like an arrow piercing his chest, spread through him, causing his personal mana to fluctuate briefly—a reaction his father would certainly notice with his enhanced senses. It wasn't the first time his father had doubted his path as a game developer, but hearing it so directly still hurt, each word like a small rejection of the hundreds of hours he'd poured into his creation.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, knowing that emotional fluctuations in mana were seen as weakness in hunter families.

"Dad, don't worry," Max said, his voice steady but firm as he carefully modulated his energy signature to project confidence. "Forget about failing—I've already guaranteed my pass. I'm in the top 30 now, and there are still two days left before the exams conclude. My mana collection rate is increasing exponentially with each new player."

His words hung in the air for a second, almost visible in the charged atmosphere of the dining room.

Tom's eyes widened slightly in surprise, the faint glow in his irises intensifying momentarily—an involuntary reaction from a man who rarely showed shock. Even his mother, who had been quietly eating, paused and looked at him, the serving spoon in her hand halting mid-air.

"Are you serious, Max?" his mother asked, her voice filled with disbelief, the charm at her neck pulsing in response to her emotional spike.

Seeing their reactions, Max sighed, pulled out his phone with its developer-grade crystal core, and placed it on the table. The screen projected a holographic display showing the live ranking board for the exam, names scrolling with real-time updates, showing his name clearly in 28th place, the number occasionally flickering as positions shifted by decimal points.

"See? I'm telling the truth," he said, leaning back in his chair, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction as the blue light of the projection illuminated his parents' surprised faces.

His parents leaned in to look at the projection, his father's hunter instincts causing him to analyze it as if searching for deception or danger. A long silence followed before his father let out a small chuckle, shaking his head in amazement, the sound carrying genuine warmth that was rarely directed at Max's development pursuits.

"Well, I'll be damned," Tom muttered, a rare smile forming on his face, briefly revealing the enhanced canines that all veteran hunters developed. "You actually did it. And without tapping into the family mana reserve even once."

His mother, still staring at the projection as names continued to shift positions, suddenly beamed with pride, maternal joy radiating from her in visible waves of golden mana that briefly connected with Max's own aura. "Max, this is incredible! You're really doing it!" she said excitedly, reaching for her pendant out of habit when emotionally moved.

Tom nodded, setting his fork down with deliberate care, the enchanted silver making a distinctive ring against fine porcelain. "Alright, son. I'll admit, I didn't expect this... but you proved me wrong. If you keep this up, you might even make the top 10. And those top academies... they do value innovation as much as raw power these days."

Max smirked, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. "That's the plan. I've barely scratched the surface of what this game can do. The neural feedback system I've developed could have applications beyond entertainment."

His mother reached over and patted his hand, her touch carrying the warmth of parental mana that instantly soothed his lingering frustration. "I'm so proud of you, Max. I know how hard you've worked on this. All those nights I found you asleep at your desk... they're paying off."

Hearing her words made some of the tension in his chest ease, his own mana signature stabilizing into a more confident pattern.

As they continued eating, the mood at the table felt lighter, the ambient mana of the household shifting from its usual formal rigidity to something more celebratory. For the first time in a while, Max felt like his parents were truly seeing his efforts not as a hobby but as a legitimate path forward. But in his mind, he knew—this was just the beginning of a much longer journey.

Top 30 is good... but I'm aiming higher. By the end of the exam period, I'll break into the top 20. And by the time admissions roll around, I'll be knocking on the door of the top 10. And then... maybe Father will finally understand that not all battles are fought with weapons.

As if reading his thoughts, his father raised his glass in a rare toast. "To carving your own path," he said, the words carrying both acknowledgment and challenge.

Max raised his own glass, the light catching the liquid inside and refracting into patterns that resembled his game's interface. "To exceeding expectations," he responded, meeting his father's gaze with newfound confidence.