The block numbers vanish. The stadium falls to darkness except for the glow in the stands. Cornell’s stadium didn’t have stands or spectators. Twenty people would run around a two-level stadium, and whenever I played, the same person always came out victorious.

Glacia.

“We are moments away from the start of the tournament,” an announcer says, his voice booming through the stadium. “Competing tonight are one hundred Officials and Recruits. That is, four teams of twenty-five players. When one team remains, the tournament will end.”

The announcer pauses, and the arena is quiet for several seconds. Only muffled murmurs from the anxious crowd reach my ears. Then—

“Players, here are your teams.”

Green. The tips of my fingers, my knees, elbows, and shoulders all light up green. Voices sound off through my headset, people on my team telling each other their positions. One guy is about ten yards away behind a row of barriers.

“I’m near a ramp in the back left corner,” I say.

On my headset’s tiny map display, my position flares as I talk.

“I’ll find you,” he says, his own position flaring on the display. “Name’s Callen.”

“Arman.”

A number shimmers above the shelter: 100. This will count down how many players are left in the game.

The announcer’s voice booms again.

“Now for the sphere placements.”

An orb appears beside the shelter. I need to grab it before the player on Block 73 does.

“The countdown will begin momentarily.”

I keep my eyes on the sphere, poised to dart at it. I curl my fingers, slow my breathing. My heart thuds away in my chest and adrenaline gathers in my veins.

A timer flickers in the center of my display. Even though it’s only inches from my face, the projectors make it look several feet away.

10.

Blink.

9.

Blink.

8.

Blink.

I breathe in…and exhale to calm my nerves. I’m used to twenty opponents, but one hundred? How long can I last?

2.

Blink.

1.

A buzzer blares. I sprint forward and grab the glowing Hologis sphere just as red light spills onto the floor. The sphere turns green the moment I touch it. I hurl it at the girl who runs around the corner. She yelps, her suit flashes white, and the sphere ricochets down an aisle. She grunts in frustration and shoves past me, but doesn’t make it three more steps before another green player jumps out and tags her. Her suit deactivates, and the player count drops from 100 to 99.

“Easy peasy,” the guy on my team says. He must be Callen. He points down the aisle he jumped out from. “Some yellow players went into a shelter, and there’s a blue guy down that aisle.”