Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 137. Game Center

Coming out of the store, we didn’t waste time. The shopping was done, the momentary peace snapped like a twig under foot.

I scanned the street until I spotted what looked like a sleek predator crouched on asphalt—metallic silver skin, black-tinted windows, and a low, aggressive frame that made it look more like a weapon than a vehicle. A floating board hovered above it with glowing blue letters: "TAXI."

But it had wheels.

Four of them.

No hovering. No anti-grav. No futuristic hum of arcane-tech propulsion.

Just standard rubber grinding the road.

I stared at it for a second longer than necessary, the bitter sting of disappointment chewing at my chest.

’Why can’t I have a flying car? Just why.’

This was Astreel, one of the most advanced cities in this simulation-wrapped world. And yet, I had to settle for a premium-grounded vehicle with the swagger of a sports car but none of the tech-flair.

With my dreams of high-tech flight thoroughly stomped on, I sighed and stepped forward. Kaelira was still at my side, keeping pace with practiced ease. She said nothing—probably sensed my internal sulking—but followed me as I opened the back door and slid inside.

The interior was spotless. Matte-black panels, leather seats that adjusted to your spine like they were reading your posture, and ambient lighting set to a soft cerulean glow.

There was no steering wheel.

No driver either.

Just a control panel up front and a card insertion slot glowing a faint green.

I pulled out my ID and slid it in. A hologram immediately flared to life from the dash—blank space requesting a destination.

I typed: Game Center.

A soft chime rang out. My RHB balance updated with a subtle ding as the payment was deducted. A green ring shimmered around the screen.

Confirmation successful.

The doors locked automatically with a gentle hiss, and the taxi began to move. Smooth and silent.

I leaned back against the seat. Kaelira sat to my right, her body slightly turned toward the window, her arms crossed beneath her hoodie. She wasn’t fidgeting, but I could see the tension.

Not from nerves.

Not entirely.

Her eyes scanned the city passing by—buildings, crowds, neon signs—and yet, none of it seemed to register.

There was a strain in her gaze. One I recognized.

Not the kind that came from upcoming battles.

But from ghosts.

"Hey," I said, voice calm but edged with that casual bite I knew she’d respond to. "Why’re you so tense? You nervous you’ll get flattened in the first five minutes? Don’t worry, abysmal skills might actually work in your favor. People love rooting for underdogs."

She turned to look at me, slowly, as if pulled from a daydream that tasted like blood.

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something—something sharp, something real—but the words collapsed halfway.

She shook her head, soft and quick, brushing the emotion away like dust. "No. I’m not tense. I’m a free mercenary. I’m not tied to any guilds. I’m not even native to this zone. My life doesn’t depend on RHBs to survive."

Her words were clipped. Clean. Rehearsed.

I nodded anyway. I wasn’t buying it.

Because I already knew what this was.

It wasn’t the tournament. Not the stakes. Not even the players.

It was him.

Vaylin.

The bastard.

Her sister’s tormentor. The one who marked her name with ash and shame. freewebnσvel.cøm

And now she was here, trying to act normal while sharing the same space as him.

Yeah. I knew.

I leaned my head against the window, letting the passing lights flicker against my eyes. Not because I was admiring the view.

My mind was elsewhere.

I wasn’t thinking about the Battle Royale anymore.

I was thinking about the Astreel Family. Vaylin’s bloodline. The enablers. The cowards in silk, hiding behind contracts and societal rank.

I wanted them gone.

Utterly.

And originally, I had planned to do it quietly—use the chaos of the event as cover, strike them from the shadows, bury the evidence.

But after listening to Kaelira’s story.

That felt... hollow.

No, I wanted Vaylin to see it. I wanted him to watch as his lineage crumbled beneath his feet. I wanted to carve it into him—slow, methodical. Let him try to claw his way out like he did with Kaelira’s sister. Let him act out, rage, break decorum, break control.

Because the moment he did?

I’d have legal cause to retaliate.

And the thing about retaliation?

It was easily justifiable.

The scale could be argued.

Lowered later.

After the damage was done.

With a cold smile tugging at my lips, I let my eyes shut for a moment.

That strange lethargy still hadn’t left me.

It clung to my skin like fog. Sluggish. Heavy. Not mental fatigue, but something... deeper. A soul-weight. The kind that didn’t go away with rest.

...

About thirty minutes later, the taxi rolled to a stop in front of a massive structure that practically screamed mainstream obsession.

"Limit Breaker."

That was the name of the game center.

A monolithic, circular building forged from interlocking panels of silver steel and high-grade tempered glass.

It stood like a futuristic colosseum carved into the heart of Astreel, humming with energy, light, and digital banners floating mid-air, showcasing scenes of blood-pumping duels and explosive battle royale highlights.

The kind of place that looked like it belonged in a cinematic universe, not real life.

Crowds flooded the entrance. It was a mess of bodies—kids dragging their parents, teenagers cosplaying their avatars, streamers setting up equipment, bored adults pretending they weren’t excited, and even a few elderly folks chuckling like they were still part of the gaming elite back in their heyday.

A chaotic sea of people.

All of them waiting in winding lines that spiraled out the door like snakes coiling toward prey.

I felt a twitch of irritation just looking at it.

Thankfully, we didn’t need to get tangled in that mess. Our destination was different. We walked past the main entrance and looped around the building toward the participant’s section.

And immediately?

It was like stepping into a ghost town.

No crowds.

No flashing signs.

Just a quiet corridor leading to a smaller, more discrete entrance.

I frowned, arching a brow. "Why’s it so deserted? I thought this battle royale thing was a big deal. Shouldn’t there be more players? Is this like... an elite-only bracket or something?"

Kaelira shook her head, her ponytail swaying behind her. "No, it’s not that. If the game wasn’t popular, no one would come to watch. You saw the entrance. Half the city’s trying to get a seat."

I eyed her. "You’re overestimating people. Most of them are probably here because of peer pressure. Or influencers. Or some fantasy about becoming the next PVP god by osmosis."

She chuckled dryly. "Maybe. But the real reason for the low turnout is the penalty. Ninety percent RHB loss on defeat. It’s brutal. Only psychos, rich people, or foreigners like me risk it."

That made sense.

A single loss could break someone’s entire build if they weren’t careful.

And considering how money and power were practically synonymous in this place actually everywhere, risking your RHB wasn’t just reckless—it was suicidal.

I stared at her, expression blank. "So you’re a genuine moron."

Her eyes narrowed.

I tilted my head slightly. "You PVP despite knowing your skills are abysmal. And with a ninety percent loss rate. Are you, like, financially masochistic?"

She rolled her eyes with practiced grace. "I already told you, I’m not native to Astreel. I don’t rely on RHBs to survive. I do PVP for fun."

"Fun," I echoed, chuckling under my breath. "That’s a strange way to pronounce ’public humiliation.’"

She gave me a side glare but said nothing, clearly saving her energy for the arena.

We moved on.

The entrance to the participant section slid open with a hiss as we approached. Inside, the vibe was completely different—cool air, ambient lighting, and clean white walls made of synth-alloy.

A waiting room stretched ahead with a few benches, a giant holo-screen playing highlights from previous matches, and a singular AI receptionist standing behind a sleek obsidian desk.

As we stepped forward, the humanoid bot raised its head and bowed ever so slightly.

"Greetings, dear participants," it said in a smooth, gender-neutral voice. "Welcome to the 345th Limit Breaker Battle Royale Tournament. Are you here to register as a solo, duo, or squad?"

I glanced sideways at Kaelira, arching a brow. "You want to play with me, right? Not run off and die solo?"

She smirked and nodded. "Yeah. Better than getting teamed up with a random. Besides..." She crossed her arms, voice turning playful. "You’ve spent so much time bullying me over my skills—I want a front row seat when karma finally hits back."

I raised both brows. "Oh? So you’re expecting me to fail now?"

"No," she said simply. "I’m expecting to be impressed. Don’t let me down."

The AI cut back in, clearly bored with the foreplay. "Registration fee for duo participation is 1,000 RHB per participant."

I inserted my card, watching the hologram flash. A beep confirmed the 2,000 RHB deduction. Another chunk out of my funds, but still comfortably above 6,000.

"Payment received," the assistant chimed. "Participants Cassius Lancaster and Kaelira have been successfully entered in the duo category. You will be placed in the fifth selection round. Please wait in the holding lounge until your number is called. Thank you and good luck."

The AI bowed again, its form fading slightly as it returned to standby.

Kaelira stretched her arms above her head. "Well, I guess we’ve got some time to kill."

"Yeah," I muttered, gaze flicking to the display screen showing highlights from past battles—explosions, mana storms, shattered armor, and screaming players. "Time to see what kind of insanity we just signed up for."

A slow grin pulled at the corner of my mouth.

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