Chapter 17 – Fight!!! (Grand Arena)
3:00 PM. Jean's bedroom.
The air shimmered, then snapped into clarity as Jean's clone materialized by the window, fully dressed in the same black T-shirt, jeans, and bomber jacket the original had worn that morning.
{Boot sequence complete. Clone online.}
{Looks like you, smells like you, punches like a caffeine-fueled raccoon.}
The clone walked with precise calm to the desk, plopped into the chair, and hit the power button on the custom-built desktop. RGB lights flared. Fans hummed. The screen blinked to life.
Login: JHExecutioner
Password: [•••••••••]
With a few practiced clicks, the clone launched Grand Arena—a massively popular RPG-style brawler with a diehard PvP community. One map in particular began loading: Steel Remnants – Factory Core.
{Two six-year-olds logging into a fictional game to settle a beef, pretending it's esports. How meta.}
{And how the hell do you both have an account. Isn't there an age limit.}
The clone smirked. "Being born in a rich family has it's perks."
"Enough of that. Time to get serious." the clone muttered, stretching his fingers.
{Like you could actually win.}
"Then you'd better keep your eyes open, because I'm about to murder this kid."
{Not cheering for you.}
"Don't care." The clone's fingers danced across the keyboard with clinical efficiency.
The match screen flickered in.
Two avatars stood opposite each other on the rusted map—metal beams, broken scaffolding, glowing conveyor belts, and a flickering moonlit sky stretching above. Sparks drifted like lazy fireflies.
---
Player One: JH_Executioner
Class: Martial Artist – Custom Build
Tall, lean, wrapped in black wrappings and glowing chain gauntlets. Stance wide, smirk cocky.
Player Two: MagusQuinn
Class: Arcane Duelist – Spellweaver Subtype
Flowing coat, runes etched into his arms, a cocky red scarf, and floating spell circles spinning at his back.
---
Game Chat Activated.
> MagusQuinn: Didn't think you'd show. Scared of getting cooked?
> JH_Executioner: Sorry, I was busy cleaning up your last loss.
> MagusQuinn: Cute. You think your fists can beat my spells?
> JH_Executioner: Very much so. You'll be on the death roll in minutes.
> JH_Executioner has LEFT the chat.
---
In a dim room across town, James scoffed. "Let's see if he can keep that attitude."
His avatar surged forward, flame blooming in his palm.
The round began with a BANG as energy rippled across the factory floor.
---
[ROUND ONE – FIGHT!]
Jean's clone sidestepped a blazing fire column that scorched the air where he'd just stood.
{And we're off! Welcome to the Grand Arena, where puberty-powered wizard boys throw tantrums and martial artists punch fire.}
The clone raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
{What does it look like? I'm the live commentator now. Might as well entertain myself.}
The clone chuckled. Then paused, eyes narrowing in thought.
"…Can you hack the system and assist me?"
Silence.
"Adrian?"
{If I leave you alone, you're going to embarrass us. Fine. I'll help—purely to save face.}
The clone's eye twitched. "You motherf—"
{Quit whining. Let's do this.}
"Time his spell delay."
{Already on it. He's running a seven-spell macro script. Predictable. Beat him like it's tutorial week.}
Jean's clone launched forward—sliding under a thunderbolt, vaulting off a bent pipe—and drove a brutal knee into MagusQuinn's side. The impact knocked the magician off balance, canceling his cast.
[COUNTER HIT! BONUS DAMAGE!]
> MagusQuinn: Hax.
> JH_Executioner: That comeback was so weak, maybe double-check your Wi-Fi.
James snarled in real life, tapping faster.
His avatar summoned a spinning shield dome—hexagonal glyphs glowing—then launched a flurry of spectral blades.
The clone activated Shadow Step, phasing behind James and landing a cracking backfist.
Then—
Two gut punches.
One skyward kick.
MagusQuinn flew into a chain bundle. The chains snapped and collapsed, dragging his health bar down like a boulder off a cliff.
{Ten bucks says he rage quits.}
> MagusQuinn: This isn't over.
> JH_Executioner: It will be… in about thirty seconds.
James's avatar began chanting—an enormous sigil flaring to life beneath him. The entire arena trembled.
{Ah, the desperation nuke. Big spell. Big delay. Big mistake.}
"Perfect."
The clone sprinted mid-cast—bouncing off a pipe, flipping over debris—and crashed down with a charged overhead strike just before the spell triggered.
[CRITICAL STRIKE!]
The glowing sigil cracked, then shattered like broken glass. MagusQuinn crumpled to the ground, limp.
---
> [VICTORY: JH_Executioner – KO in 2 minutes 18 seconds.]
---
Back in Jean's room, the clone leaned back in the chair, exhaling.
{Flawless. Brutal. Honestly, I might just cry for the dude.}
"Think he'll try again?"
{Why not. The games isn't over. There's still round two and three.}