Skyler closed his eyes.

  【Entering System】

  【You have gained 61 new Luck Points】

  That matched Skyler's estimate: 48 hours over two days meant 48 points, plus a doubled bonus from Jason Han's attack—about a dozen extra.

  —I want to draw a new talent.

  【A new talent costs 30 Luck Points. Confirm?】

  —Confirm!

  【Comprehending…】

  【Comprehending…】

  【Comprehension failed】

  —What the—! Seriously? That hard?

  【Retry costs another 30 Luck Points】

  —Highway robbery… Fine. Dump the remaining 31 points into Luck.

  —The interview's soon; any edge helps.

  【Points assigned. Luck is now 132】

  【Congrats! You receive 20 flexible permanent attribute points. Distribute at will.】

  —Then all into Luck again.

  【No nesting allocations】

  —Fine… put them into Charisma.

  【Add 20 Charisma points. Confirm?】

  —Confirm. Twenty points won't boost the others much; better to raise first impressions.

  【Stamina: 27 Endurance: 28】

  【Strength: 17 Agility: 27】

  【Spirit: 37 Charisma: 39】

  【Luck: 132】

  【Session over. System concealed.】

  【Beep—】

  Skyler opened his eyes and turned to Lynn. "Does my face look different?"

  Lynn gave him a flat glance. "Looks the same."

  Skyler persisted. "Look carefully—brighter eyes, sharper lines, smoother skin…"

  "Your skin got thicker," Lynn said.

  No taste at all, he thought; forget it.

  Skyler took a deep breath, straightened his collar, and strode into the arcade.

  The twenty-square-meter shop was lined with two rows of vintage cabinets. Their lurid attract-mode loops sprayed retro neon across the dim room, while an overhead fan turned lazily with an occasional squeak.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  A young man sat in the corner, utterly absorbed in his game.

  Skyler exchanged a glance with Lynn, then stepped forward. "Hi—we're here for the interview."

  Skyler leaned closer: the game was Knights of Valour, the character Zhuge Liang with an ice sword, abusing a bug to perma-freeze the final boss, Cao Cao.

  Dude, no honor at all, Skyler thought.

  The gamer was wiry, clad in stud-covered leather jacket and pants. Both sides of his head were shaved; the middle was a tall, bright-yellow mohawk—a walking broom.

  Tattoos sprawled over his chest, nape, and arms, in bizarre motifs—one was a pig's head shaped like a hair-dryer, which Skyler recognized.

  "Argh—"

  Cao Cao screamed in-game; the health bar hit zero, stage clear.

  The youth stayed seated, glanced up. "Just you?"

  Bruh, I just gained twenty charisma points—no respect?

  "And me," Lynn added coolly.

  The punk craned his neck; spotting Lynn, his eyes lit up.

  "Whoa, a hottie!" He sprang up, theatrically grooming his mohawk. "So, you two?"

  "Plus me?"

  Lifting the blue curtain, Officer Huang entered. "Sorry, running late—haven't started yet?"

  "We just arrived," Skyler replied.

  Huang spoke politely to the mohawk: "Allow me—this is our examiner for tonight, Mr. Wu Dahai."

  Hands in pockets, the punk smirked. "Call me Brother Hai."

  "These are my new teammates, Skyler and Lynn." Huang chuckled. "I lost last time; tonight I'm bringing reinforcements. Cool?"

  Fine—but if you lose again, don't bug me for the rest of the month," Wu Dahai said arrogantly.

  "Sure."

  "Let's start." Lynn flicked her wrist; a Tang-blade snapped into her palm.

  "Whoa, that's sick— telescopic, huh?" Wu Dahai's eyes lit up. "That's not stock gear. Where'd you score it?"

  "None of your business." Lynn slid into a ready stance.

  "Feisty— I like it." Wu didn't mind; he lazily dug at his ear. "So which of you three is up first?"

  "I'll go," Officer Huang replied.

  "Fine— same rules: three challenges. Pick any three cabs; beat me three times and you pass." Wu spread his arms.

  "Pick what?" Lynn asked.

  Huang smiled. "Forgot to mention: the interview is an arcade face-off. Any three machines— take him down and we're in. I've tried solo and lost every time. You two are younger; gaming should be your thing. Odds look better tonight."

  Skyler blinked. "When you said you were ‘too weak,' you meant in video games?"

  "Exactly."

  Lynn frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Why not just slice this idiot in two?"

  "Bwah-ha-ha— cut me?" Wu cackled until he wheezed. "Sweetheart, you've got no idea how power works! I'm being nice here. Push it and— well, even if the three of you jumped me…"

  He suddenly yelled, "—I'd still lose one-on-one!"

  Skyler sweat-dropped. Talks the loudest, admits the weakest—textbook paper tiger.

  Wu sniffed triumphantly. "Hey, my talent's not combat, sure—but touch a single hair and the organization's heavy hitters will drop by."

  "Easy, easy. We're all Awakened; no infighting," Huang soothed. "I'll go first— I pick a shooter."

  He slid onto a stool at an arcade cab and dropped in a coin. Wu followed suit.

  Skyler glanced at the marquee—Psikyo Strikers 1945 I.

  The game was Skyler's childhood nightmare; one coin never lasted five minutes. Vertical shooters were his bane.

  Huang and the "Broom-head" each chose a fighter plane and hit Start.

  "Standard rules," Wu said. "Three lives on paper, but for the match you get one. No bombs. First to crash loses."

  "Deal."

  Game on.

  Stage 1 was a breeze—sparse bullets, both players cleared it flawlessly and maxed their firepower.

  Stage Two brings a wall of bullets. Since bombs are forbidden, they rely solely on the primary shot. Pressure spikes; the pair weave left and right with nimble foot-—well, thumb-—work.

  Reaching Stage Three, both pilots are now fully dialed-in.

  Officer Huang's Gunslinger gift apparently buffs his shmup skills; he stays cool, inputs steady, fingers lightning-quick.

  When the Stage-Three boss appears, Huang stops attacking entirely. His intent is obvious: let the boss's curtain of bullets polish off Wu Dahai.

  Wu is agile too, but impatience creeps in—he hacks away at the boss while scrambling through the barrage.

  Huang, one hand on the stick and the other flicking ash, focuses purely on dodging.

  Skyler silently rates the swagger: a perfect score.

  Amid the dense bullet hell, Wu's plane finally pops. Huang lifts his hand; his ship explodes a heartbeat later—exactly one second longer than Wu's.

  Huang stands, dusts off. "Good game," he says blandly.

  "Tch, shooting games are all you've got," Wu grumbles. "Let's keep going."

  "Next round's yours," Huang tells the remaining two.

  Skyler raises an eyebrow. "Thought you were the hot hand."

  Huang chuckles bitterly. "I've tried them all. Outside of shmups he steam-rolls me."

  Wu rocks on his heels. "So, who's up?"

  Skyler meets Lynn's eyes. The girl lifts her Tang-dao and answers coolly, "I'll go."