Chapter 12: The Tournament Invitation

The Whispering Woods were unusually calm that morning, the breeze whispering gently through the trees. Kenny, Alina, and Lucas sat together on the training grounds, nursing sore muscles and bruised egos. The urban warfare simulation had left them exhausted but also more unified. There was a newfound sense of camaraderie, an unspoken bond forged through the heat of battle.

Kenny leaned back against a tree, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t know about you guys,” he said with a tired grin, “but I think my muscles are officially broken.”

Lucas chuckled, though his laughter was interrupted by a wince. “Same. I’m starting to think Thalos has a sadistic side.”

Alina remained quiet, her dark eyes distant. She was sharpening one of her holographic blades, the metal catching the morning light. “We did well,” she finally said, her voice steady. “But we’re still far from ready.”

Kenny’s smile faded. She was right, of course. Every victory felt like a small step up an impossibly tall mountain. They had gotten stronger, but the shadow of Specter—and the unknown dangers that lurked in the world of hologram battles—still loomed over them.

Before they could dwell further on their fatigue, a small, black drone zipped into the clearing, hovering a few feet in front of them. Its sleek design and polished exterior made it clear that it wasn’t one of Thalos’s training drones. A holographic message projected from its core, the words glowing with a bright, electric blue.

Attention: Kenny Valera, Alina Gray, and Lucas Thorne.
You are cordially invited to compete in the New Horizon Regional Tournament.
Location: Zenith Stadium.
Date: Three days from today.
This tournament serves as a preliminary qualifier for the Evren League.
Do you accept?

Kenny’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart jump into his throat. The New Horizon Regional Tournament. It was one of the biggest stepping stones toward qualifying for the Evren League—a chance to compete against some of the most promising warriors from across the region. His pulse quickened, and he looked at Alina and Lucas, who wore equally stunned expressions.

“A tournament,” Lucas breathed, his grin returning. “This is it. This is what we’ve been training for!”

Alina’s face remained unreadable, but her grip tightened on her blade. “It’s an opportunity,” she said, her voice carefully controlled. “But it’s also a trap if we’re not prepared.”

Kenny swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words. Competing in the tournament meant more than just fighting skilled opponents. It meant exposing themselves to the world of hologram battles, where every match was a chance to be watched, analyzed, and targeted by rivals—and, more dangerously, by those who had already shown an interest in them, like Specter and the mysterious voice from the malfunctioning simulation.

The drone hovered, waiting for a response. Kenny took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “We’ve been training for this,” he said, his voice growing stronger. “We can’t back down now. We have to prove ourselves.”

Alina’s gaze met his, and after a moment, she nodded. “Agreed. But we need to be smart about this.”

Lucas stepped forward, his energy infectious. “Let’s do it, then. We’ll show them what we’re made of.”

Kenny reached out, pressing his palm against the holographic prompt that read Accept. Alina and Lucas did the same, and the message shimmered before disappearing. The drone beeped once and then zipped away, leaving the three of them standing in a tense, charged silence.

Thalos appeared from the shadows, as if he had been watching the entire time. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—pride, perhaps—in his eyes. “You accepted,” he said, his voice as calm as ever.

Kenny turned to his mentor, determined to show no fear. “We’re ready,” he declared. “Or at least, we will be.”

Thalos’s gaze lingered on them for a moment before he nodded. “The New Horizon Tournament is no ordinary event. You’ll face opponents who have trained in elite hologram arenas, warriors who will use every trick, strategy, and ounce of skill they have to win. And the world will be watching.”

Lucas crossed his arms, a defiant grin on his face. “Good. Let them watch.”

Alina’s expression was more thoughtful, her brow furrowed. “We need a plan,” she said. “We can’t just rely on brute strength. We have to understand our opponents, analyze their tactics before they can analyze ours.”

Thalos tilted his head slightly, a hint of approval in his eyes. “Then you have three days to prepare. Use them wisely. Study the terrain of Zenith Stadium, research known competitors, and refine your teamwork. I will oversee your final preparations.”

Kenny’s chest felt tight, but it wasn’t just fear. It was excitement, hope, and the adrenaline of knowing that everything they had worked for was finally coming to a head. This was their chance—a chance to show the world, to show themselves, that they weren’t just amateurs. They were contenders.

The next three days passed in a blur of preparation. They trained relentlessly, running combat drills and practicing strategies tailored to the unique terrain of Zenith Stadium, which was known for its shifting arenas. One moment, it could be a lush, jungle simulation, and the next, a frozen wasteland of ice and snow. They had to be ready for anything.

Alina took charge of researching their likely opponents, her analytical mind piecing together strengths and weaknesses from archived matches. “This guy,” she said, pointing to a projection of a tall, armored warrior with a massive shield, “is known for defensive tactics. He’ll try to wear us down. We’ll need to be aggressive and force him to play on our terms.”

Lucas studied each opponent with a level of focus Kenny had never seen before. His usual carefree grin was replaced by a steely determination. “We’ll hit hard and fast,” he said. “No holding back.”

Kenny worked on his aim and reflexes, pushing himself to be faster, sharper, more precise. But in the back of his mind, doubts still lingered. What if they weren’t ready? What if Specter was watching, waiting to make his next move?

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, Kenny found himself alone by the campfire. The flames danced, casting flickering shadows across his face, and he wondered if he was really strong enough for what lay ahead.

Alina appeared beside him, her footsteps so quiet he barely heard her approach. She sat down, her expression softening in the firelight. “Nervous?” she asked, her voice low.

Kenny hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

Alina’s gaze remained on the fire, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Good. Nervous means you care. But remember, we’re in this together. Whatever happens, we face it as a team.”

Kenny felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. Alina’s words steadied him, and he realized that, despite the danger and the fear, he wasn’t alone. He had allies, friends who believed in him.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice full of gratitude.

Alina glanced at him, and for a moment, her usual guarded expression cracked, revealing something softer. “Don’t thank me yet. We still have a tournament to win.”

The morning of the tournament arrived all too soon. Zenith Stadium loomed ahead, its glass and metal structure gleaming under the rising sun. Crowds of spectators flooded the streets, their voices a symphony of excitement and anticipation. Drones hovered above, broadcasting the event live to millions of viewers.

Kenny, Alina, and Lucas stood together at the entrance, their holographic visors and gear gleaming. The weight of what lay ahead pressed down on them, but they stood strong, ready to face whatever the tournament would throw their way.

Kenny took a deep breath, feeling his heart pound in his chest. This was it—the moment they had been waiting for. “Ready?” he asked, his voice steady.

Lucas grinned, his confidence infectious. “Ready.”

Alina nodded, her expression fierce. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”