Page 128 of Light Leech

A deck appeared on my right and five cards floated before me with a slow bob. A video cube appeared in the air above the pixelated battlefield. As it rotated, each side showed a different angle. One focused on me, another on my opponent, with the other two forced on our respective platforms for playing our four legend cards, if my assumption based on Ralia’s rules was correct.

I prayed she taught me well, knowing that Ralia had her own set of rules for almost everything out there. Programming, hacking, speaking to authority; anything that required constraint usually changed according to her preferences. Unfortunately, it worked for her.

“Welcome to the first round of the Luminate Test!” I looked up to an artificial face on the video cube. It looked human enough to distract the untrained eye. Its face and voice were androgynous and lacked any qualities that would cause one to remember who it was moments later. Lacking all significant features and possessing the most vanilla forms of human identity, it was the perfect mask for whatever being was running this Test.

“Challenger PetNeb joins us on the red side of the arena. Let’s hear it for Challenger PetNeb!”

I stared across the arena at my opponent. The distance obscured her face, but I was sure it was as contemptuous as mine. How could she not be filled with resentment? Neither of us knew each other, but that didn’t matter. Failure could mean elimination. I didn’t care whatever self-adoring crusade she was on. Mine was selfless and for that, I had to be selfish. If she knew what my failure could mean, perhaps she would surrender, but I doubted the humility of a prideful Scholar. Perhaps I was wrong for thinking her motives were so shallow, but I couldn’t let any justification for mercy pass through. I had fed on innocents before and found a way to justify that. If ghosts lingered from these defeats, so be it.

“Challenger MayWat joins us on the green side of the arena. Let’s hear it for Challenger MayWat!”

The crowd erupted with mirrored vigor.

“The gamble deck has been set to match the theme for this round. This rounds’ theme is…” The voice paused as the field took shape, morphing from a nondescript pixelated field into a fleshy platform with a moist pink sheen. Small pockets dipped throughout the field with some bubbles popping up like mounds of malignant tissue. The edge was trimmed with villi that moved like sentient tentacles. “... the human intestine!”

Any idea what this means?

Zhu did not answer.

The announcer’s face vanished from the screen and a countdown appeared. “Competitors! You have ten seconds to place your starting cards!”

I panicked and chose the best combination I could form of a three cost, two cost, and left one spot open to play Zhu, the only five-cost card in my hand. I wanted to ask Ralia if every hand started with no ability cards or wondered if it was just my poor luck. Was it poor luck? Was this the ideal draw? Did whoever MayWat was know any better?

As I tapped the cards, they flew to cover the platforms numbered one, two, and three, leaving the forth open. Had Ralia said something about positioning?

I watched the video cube to grasp MayWat’s strategy, but it did little to help my increasing anxiety. She had chosen only two legends, placing them in the first and fourth positions. Looking up, I realized that she didn’t have the thirty five health that I had, but a mere ten. Either she relied on ability cards or knew exactly why she should rely on ability cards.

“The cards have been placed! Prior to beginning, we must remind our competitors and audience that all rules are subject to chance according to the will of the Testers. Begin!”

The crowd roared and our activated cards glowed. A stream of light erupted from each of the legends images and landed in a perfect arc on the battlefield. Each legend creature appeared as a living form of their card’s illustration. Zhu stood with his cartoonish accents, just as the card had shown. He looked over his shoulders at me and spoke, though his words came to me as the same unspoken telepathy. “Do not fail.”

I ignored him, not confident enough to offer any reassurance.

I glanced at the other two legends. The three-cost was a gaunt robot with human hands. The two-cost looked like a golem formed from needles. Glancing down at their cards I read the names Flesh Evangelist and The Pain respectively. I read over their abilities with a quick glance but lost my concentration as my opponent played an ability card that displayed itself as a giant hologram in the middle of the field.

Corrupt Leech: your opponent does not draw cards during their next turn.

The image disappeared and she attacked The Pain with one of her legends, a ball of energy with a single eye named He watches. Before I could even read what had happened, The Pain exploded and my card disappeared. Could I have chosen my blocker? Did all attacks leave the attacked unharmed? I was no game designer, but I was starting to wonder if this game was as flawed as any other pay-to-win collectable card game.

A light appeared above me indicating that it was my turn.

My lumens replenished, but was left with only two cards, not having redrawn any at the start of my turn due to my opponent’s ability card. With only two legends available, I summoned another two-cost.

A goblin covered with screens and displays called Digital Dependent. Was that a stab at me?

The announcer spoke as if my thoughts had been heard. Had this not all been a cognitive construct, I would have been more unnerved. I gave up my autonomy the moment I installed my neurospace.

“For those watching, you can see that the decks were not randomized but based on the competitor’s intelligence and cognitive workings! We couldn’t leave all of this up to skill in some game, could we? Let’s see how well our players know their cards! Not knowing one’s self is a major intellectual flaw!”

Any suggestions? I’m lost.

Zhu snorted and his laughter was physically audible. “You have eight lumens left to spend this turn.”

I know! I mean strategy-wise! I’m following impulses at this point and if this thing wants me to show my strategic prowess, I’m failing.

“Gamble.”

Are you sure?