Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 138. Game Center (2)

We moved into the second waiting room. Compared to the near-empty registration zone, this place was alive—buzzing in its own weird, low-energy way.

There were close to a hundred people here, maybe a bit less, sprawled across rows of reclining seats arranged in tight columns.

It resembled one of those luxury airport lounges... if you stripped out the luxury and left behind an air of quiet dread. Every seat had a personal terminal screen, though most people ignored them.

Instead, eyes were drawn to the massive floating holographic display in front of the room. A semi-transparent 3D projection hovered midair, broadcasting the ongoing round in real time.

The colors were rich and high-definition, but nothing about what I saw looked even remotely like a game.

People weren’t just playing.

They were fighting.

Really fighting.

No firearms, no mechs, no overpowered laser cannons. It was all hand-to-hand, blade-to-blade, skill against skill.

Movement was synced to VR rigs, sure, but everything else—the strength, the speed, the technique—was pure stat and Rank-based combat.

One guy got his arm snapped backward by a berserker-type with a massive cleaver. Another fell into a crater created by a gravity-enhanced punch.

Blood sprayed like a mist. The pain was real, even if their physical bodies were fine.

Brutal.

Unforgiving.

And I couldn’t help but smile.

A slow, feral grin crawled onto my face before I even realized it. My blood hummed at the idea.

Beside me, Kaelira scoffed. "The hell’s with that face? You look like a creep. A full-blown lunatic. Stop it before I call security."

She was already slouched in one of the seats, arms folded behind her head, legs kicked up like she owned the place. She looked relaxed, but I could see the slight tension in her fingers.

I sat down beside her, still grinning.

"I’m just getting in the mood. Can’t I be excited for some good old-fashioned combat?" I replied, leaning back.

She raised an eyebrow. "You sure you haven’t done this before? Are you from western continent?"

I shook my head. Huh. Now that I thought about it, she didn’t really know anything about me. Not really.

Just my name, my rank, maybe my age. She’d probably assumed I was some random gifted guy with too much free time and an attitude problem.

"Nope. Not from the West. I’m from Alaris," I said, pausing for just a beat. "Son of Grand Duke Lucian Lancaster and Grand Duchess Isolde Lancaster."

Calling them parents left a sour taste in my mouth. Heck, the word parent was a rage inducing word for me.

But I wasn’t going to throw away the political and status power I get from being their son. I wasn’t stupid enough to do that just because of some childhood/teenage year trauma.

Her head turned so fast I thought she’d snap her neck.

She stared at me, wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape. "Y-You’re... a Grand Duke’s son?"

The way she choked on the words was almost endearing.

Her expression screamed what-the-actual-fuck.

She eyed me like I’d grown a second head, slowly pulling an inch away like I might explode into a ball of aristocratic ego at any moment.

"You are one of the tash," she muttered.

I shrugged. "Well, I’m different. Mostly. Subjectively speaking, I’m actually a good guy."

She gave me a look that screamed: You keep telling yourself that. fгeewebnovёl.com

Then, after a moment, her eyes narrowed just a bit. "If you’re a noble... why did you agree to kill another one?"

Her voice dropped to a near whisper. Cautious. Wary. But there was curiosity in there too.

I smiled—an infuriating, smug, overly dramatic kind of smile.

And then I leaned closer.

"You were too damn beautiful to ignore your plea," I said, hand to my chest like I was confessing some tragic poem. "It must’ve been lust at first sight. I was seduced."

She blinked once.

Twice.

Then frowned, turning her head with a scoff. "Lust... Lust... LUST? Seriously? That’s your excuse?"

"Would you prefer ’love at first sight’?" I offered with a shit-eating grin.

"Ugh. You’re impossible. Fucking lust?" she muttered, crossing her arms tighter. "Dumbass."

I chuckled under my breath.

But then I shifted, dropping the playfulness for a second. Just a second.

"Besides," I added, voice low now, "he’s not from Alaris. I don’t owe him anything. We’re from different continents. I have no ties to that bastard. And more importantly..."

I paused, letting the weight settle.

"I have my own reasons for targeting the Astreel family."

Her reaction was immediate.

Shock flickered across her face. Her lips parted just slightly. Her voice was barely audible when she asked, "But... I only wanted to deal with Vaylin."

I didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, I leaned back in my seat, folding my arms behind my head, mimicking her posture, my eyes fixed on the carnage playing out on the screen.

Someone had just been electrocuted by a thunder palm—lightning exploding outward in a white-blue shockwave that shattered a section of the arena.

I let the silence stretch.

Let the weight of what I said linger.

Then, with a faint smirk, I said quietly, "You’re not the only one with a vendetta, Kael."

It wasn’t exactly a vendetta.

I hadn’t grown up dreaming of righteous justice, wearing capes, or screaming "For honor!" before leaping into battle. Nah, that wasn’t me. Never was.

But while investigating the Everhart estate, I’d stumbled upon a few things. Ugly things.

The Astreel family?

Yeah, those bastards had a long list of crimes tucked neatly into hidden folders and encrypted databanks.

And while I’m not the hero type—hell, most would probably label me the villain in someone else’s story—I still had a bottom line. A thin, fraying line, stitched together by personal bias, lived experiences, and a whole lot of buried rage.

But the thing I hated the most?

Child exploitation and sexual assault.

And lo and behold, the Astreel family had dipped their hands in that filth—and worse. Much worse.

I didn’t even care about all of it. Not the financial laundering, the organ trading, the collusion. Whatever. Let someone else be the crusader for that crap.

But those two things?

Those made it personal.

Still, my thoughts got shoved aside when the room suddenly erupted with noise.

Cheers, whistles, applause—a whole damn orchestra of overexcitement.

I looked around, mildly annoyed, trying to find the reason behind the collective shouting.

The massive floating holo-screen pulsed with light. The match had ended. That was the reason. Apparently, that was round three.

Stats popped up in shimmering blue font:

1st Place – 16 Kills

2nd Place – 10 Kills

3rd Place – 8 Kills

Not bad. Brutal but impressive.

The crowd clapped like it was a gladiator match—and honestly, it might as well have been. I leaned back, letting out a heavy sigh. Just one more round before it was our turn.

Yay.

Nothing like being stuck in a room full of strangers with anticipation-induced apathy setting in.

To kill time, I glanced at the personal terminal screen mounted beside my recliner. The display was already active, and I started scrolling through the content feed.

Mostly influencer trash. Fluffy content. "Behind the scenes of Limit Breaker’s latest VR dome!" and "Top 10 Battle Royale Moments That Gave Us Chills!" Clickbait garbage.

Everything felt like a dopamine void.

I sighed again and glanced around the room. Not because I was curious—just bored.

That’s when I noticed it.

The weird sluggishness.

At first, I thought a few people were just sleepy or tired. It was a high-adrenaline environment. Adrenaline crashes were common. But then I counted.

Not three.

Not ten.

At least forty.

Forty participants.

All slumped in their seats, heads nodding forward as if they were barely staying awake. Their eyelids fluttered every now and then.

Some even twitched in place, like they were in the middle of a sleep paralysis episode. Mouths slightly agape. Skin pale.

The hell...?

Something was wrong. I knew it in my gut.

I narrowed my eyes and was about to get up and walk toward the nearest one when Kaelira suddenly screamed.

"HEY!! WHAT THE FUCK!! WHAT IS THIS SHIT??!"

Her voice cracked through the air like a whip, catching the attention of a few around us.

She yanked on my arm hard, her grip tight, clinging like a frightened cat. Panic swirled in her eyes—real, unfiltered fear.

I turned sharply to face her, adrenaline flickering in my chest. "What happened? Why are you shouting?"

She took a second to regain her composure—just a second—before quickly jabbing a finger at her terminal screen.

I leaned over and looked.

At first, I didn’t understand. It was just a blog post. A forum thread with glitchy loading. Then I saw it.

In the corner of her screen.

A pixelated image. Not part of the blog. Not part of the ad banners or loading UI.

It was static.

Glitching.

A girl.

Hair the color of wilted violets, rich and deep purple. Crimson eyes, glowing faintly. Staring.

No blinking. No movement.

Just staring.

Right at us.

My jaw tensed.

It was a game character at a glance. Something out of a horror sim or psychological thriller. But this wasn’t a game. Kaelira hadn’t launched anything.

She was in the forums. Just text and news posts. She hadn’t opened a single application.

The figure wasn’t part of the terminal’s regular display. It didn’t match the interface lines. It existed outside the UI.

I frowned.

"Did it... move?" I asked.

Kaelira’s voice dropped. "No. But it was not there a second ago."

Her hand trembled just slightly.

I tapped her terminal screen—but the moment my finger touched it, the image flickered once and vanished completely. Like it had never been there.

She swore under her breath and sat back.

I straightened up and looked around again. The sluggish participants. The blank faces.

This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶