See you in the dome, Emika.

 

That’s all he says. I wait for another message, but when none comes, I shake off my thoughts and swing my legs over the side of my bed. I hurriedly throw some clothes on, run a toothbrush along my teeth, bundle my rainbow hair up into a messy bun, and put in my NeuroLink lenses. For a moment, I stare at

my reflection. My pulse beats loud in my ears. I imagine Keira back in New York City, watching me in the game as she’s curled up on the couch. I picture Mr. Alsole doing the same, his eyes squinting with disbelief.

 

Time to go. I let out a shaky breath, turn away from the mirror, and rush

 

out.

Everyone else is already in the atrium, clustered around Asher as he brings up the morning transmission for us. Hammie nods at me as I join them. Nearby, Wikki hurries from one of us to the next, serving each person their favorite breakfast. Hammie’s is a waffle piled high with syrup, fruit, and whipped cream, while mine is a breakfast taco with an enormous dollop of guacamole. Ren, in typical fashion, is fussing over a platter of egg whites and boiled spinach, while Roshan just nurses a cup of spiced chai and grimaces at the plate that Wikki offers him.

 

“Not today,” he complains.

Wikki blinks at him with the most sorrowful look a drone can muster. “Would you like to reconsider? Scrambled eggs with goat cheese is your fav—” The mention makes Roshan turn green. “Not today,” he repeats, patting

Wikki once on the head. “Nothing personal.”

 

“Eat,” Asher says to him over his own plate of scrambled eggs. “You need something today if you want your brain to be functional.”

 

I try to follow his advice, but I only manage three bites of my breakfast taco before I push my plate away, full from my crowd of thoughts.

 

Hammie waves around a forkful of waffle and nods at the image displayed in midair before us. “Our first game looks like it’s going to be a fast one,” she says.

 

The first level that Hideo’s committee has created for our game looks like a world of glittering ice and towering glaciers. As I look on, the landscape rotates for us in midair, showing us a glimpse of what it will be like. Below it is listed a series of rules.

 

Roshan reads them out for us with a concentrated frown. “This will be a racing level,” he says, picking a piece of date out of his eggs and popping it in his mouth. “Everyone will be moving forward at all times, on individual hoverboards. If a player gets knocked off her board, she will be resurrected one full pace behind the others, at the lowest possible altitude to the ground.”

I take in the full landscape as it rotates, committing the terrain to my memory.

 

Asher leans back against his headrest and regards us. His eyes settle first on Ren. “Time to test your Fighter skills,” he says. “You’re next to me, wild card.” Then he looks at me. “Ems,” he adds, nodding at the rotating map. “You’re

starting on my other side. Hammie, stay a little ahead of her. Grab as many power-ups as you can and pass them to her. Roshan, take care of the wild cards and make sure they don’t fall behind if they’re killed early on. Let’s go win this.” I look at Ren. He gives Asher a single nod, as if he were here only for the victory, as if he hadn’t just visited the Dark World to help bring down the entire game. My hand rubs unconsciously at my wrist, where Hideo had wrapped the

 

invisible noose.

Two of us can play at this.

 

• • • • •

 

TODAY, THE TOKYO Dome is completely covered with the colors and symbols that represent us and the Demon Brigade. Through our lenses, we can see the image of a scarlet phoenix hovering high above the arena, alongside a horde of black-and-silver-hooded demons. Staring in the direction of the dome brings up a bunch of both teams’ statistics in midair. The Demons have won two championships. We’ve only won once, but we won it by beating them. I let myself think back on the insults that Tremaine and Max had thrown my way. Today should be an interesting match.

 

The inside of the arena looks even more spectacular. During the Wardraft, the lower arena was taken up by circles of wild cards sitting and waiting for their assignments. Today, all of that is gone, replaced by a smooth floor currently displaying a rotation of a red-and-gold phoenix soaring in front of the sun, and then fading into a demon horde full of grinning skulls and dark hoods. Ten glass booths are arranged in a circle on this floor, five for us, five for the Demons. In official games, the players step inside these booths to ensure that everything is exactly fair for both teams: equal temperature differences; air pressure; Link calibrations; connection to Warcross; and so on. It also prevents players from eavesdropping on commands given by their opponents.

 

The stadium is completely packed. An omniscient voice is already calling out each of our names as we enter the arena, the voice deep and reverberating, and as it does, each name rotates in flames in the arena’s center. The cheers send tremors through me as we file into the center of the arena and wait to be led to our booths. On the opposite end, the Demons arrive, too. “Ireland’s Jena MacNeil, the youngest captain in the official games!” they call out. “England’s Tremaine Blackbourne, her Architect! Max Martin of the USA, the Demons’ Fighter!” They go down the line. Darren Kinney, Shield. Ziggy Frost, Thief. She meets my eyes briefly, as if apologetic, but then straightens and gives me a determined nod. I stare back calmly. We may have been friendly at the Wardraft,

but right now, we’re rivals.

 

My attention turns to Tremaine. He’s glaring at me, so I decide to give him a dazzling smile in return.

 

The stadium voice announces my name. I’m deafened by the chorus of screams that come up from the audience. There are banners with my name on them, waving frantically in the packed seats. EMIKA CHEN! Some of them say. TEAM USA! TEAM PHOENIX RIDERS! I blink at them, bewildered to see the display. Somewhere at the top of the arena, the voices of the game’s analysts argue back and forth about today’s game.

 

“By all accounts,” one says, his voice deafening in the arena, “we should see the Demon Brigade slaughter the Phoenix Riders, currently the lowest-ranking team in the championships.”

 

“But Asher Wing is one of the most talented captains in the games,” another pipes up. “He has kept his wild-card choices surprising and mysterious. Why did he pick them? We’ll have to see. But don’t count the Phoenix Riders out yet!”

 

I step into my booth and let it seal me in. Suddenly, the world turns quiet, and the audience’s roar and analysts’ voices lower to a muffled din.

 

“Welcome, Emika Chen,” says a voice inside the booth. A red sphere appears and hovers before me. “Please look forward.”

 

This is the same calibration that I’d done when I first boarded Hideo’s private jet. They are making sure that each player’s calibrations are in sync. I do what the voice says as it runs me through the full calibration. When it’s finished, I look through the glass on either side and see each of my teammates in their own booths. The pounding of my heart fills my ears.

 

Out in the center of the floor, the lights dim. The announcer’s voice comes on in my earphones. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he exclaims, “let’s—get —started!”

 

The arena around us fades out, and we are transported into an alternate world.

 

Cold sunlight makes me squint. I hold up a virtual hand to shield my eyes. Then, gradually, the glow fades, and I find myself suspended in midair, overlooking a vast expanse of blue ice and snow-covered glaciers, all shifting and cracking under their own weight. The snow glitters under an alien sun in a million points of light. The sky is a sheet of purple and pink and gold, and giant planets are suspended against it, their rings curving past the horizon. Enormous ice monuments tower in the landscape, erupting from the glacier at random intervals. The monuments look carved from the wind, hunched and holed and weathered, translucent, and stretch as far as the eye can see. Even the music playing around us sounds cold—synthetic bells, echoes, a background wind, and

a deep, thudding, rhythmic beat.

 

But what really catches my attention are the towering cliffs of blue ice on either side of us, forming our path. Frozen inside this blue ice are enormous beasts. A polar bear as large as a skyscraper. A white wolf with a missing eye, its jaws frozen into a snarl. A snake-like dragon. A saber-toothed tiger. A woolly mammoth. I shiver in awe at the size of them. They look as if they could explode from the ice at any moment.

 

My stomach dips as I dare to look down. I’m outfitted in bright red Architect gear, my boots and thick hood trimmed with scarlet fur, and I’m standing on what looks like a hovering board strapped to my boots. Blue flames shoot from two cylinders attached to its base. To my left, Asher and Ren are both dressed in similar red snow gear, each of them also hovering in midair on boards. This is going to be a race.

 

To my right, our opponents appear.

The Demon Brigade is dressed in bright silver. Jena gives Asher a smirk, then a mock salute. Asher just crosses his arms and ignores her. Max Martin’s gaze sweeps coldly across us all. But Tremaine is the one with his full attention focused on me, his ice-blue eyes unreadable. He will be aiming for me, and I remember how I’d trained for him with the others, how Roshan had warned me of his adaptable nature. Nearby, Roshan’s jaw is set tight. The two refuse to look at each other.

 

“Welcome to the first official game of the championships!” we hear through our headphones. “Today, the Demon Brigade faces off against the Phoenix Riders in the White World, a landscape of speed, stealth, and quick thinking. There will be no time to hesitate!”

 

Our team Artifact appears over Asher’s head, a glittering red diamond. A silver diamond appears over Jena’s head. Dozens of colorful power-ups pop up around the level, suspended in the air and over the monuments and down on the ground. I look over them, searching for any within my range that might be worth a grab.

 

“Emi.” Asher’s voice comes on in my ears, fed into our personal team loop. “The monument closest to you. See the Lightning power-up? Get your hands on it.”

 

I catch sight of a white-blue marble suspended in the center of a gaping hole in the first ice structure. In my mind, I bring up the 3-D rotating landscape we’d been shown before the game, as clear and detailed as if it were still hovering before me. I allow myself a brief smile. “Got it,” I reply.

 

“And what an interesting choice for Captain Asher!” the analysts are now saying. “Flanked on either side by not just one, but two wild cards in the Phoenix

Riders’ first match of the season. Emika Chen and Renoir Thomas must have impressed him during their training.”

 

“Good luck,” Ren says as the announcer reads out the familiar rules of gameplay. I know it’s directed at me, and as usual, I can’t quite tell if he’s saying it earnestly or maliciously. I give him a tight smile.

 

“Same to you,” I reply. Silently, I remind myself to look for the first chance to seize him.

 

We all tap our chests twice with our fists as the announcer finishes. The world stills. All I can hear is silence.

Then, the starting call blares.

“Game! Set! Fight!”

 

The world around us comes to life. Blasts of wind send snow flying high into the sky. The flaming exhausts on my hoverboard turn ninety degrees—I’m shot forward like a bullet from a gun. Instantly, my boarding instincts kick in— while the others around me wobble unsteadily, I crouch down in position, perfectly balanced. Asher glances at me in surprise. Snow rushes into my face, obscuring my vision. I blink it away.

 

Already, my board is speeding up. The white landscape rushes past me, and the ice monuments loom close. Beside me are Asher and Ren. Asher has started to pull ahead of us. I gingerly test my hoverboard, then realize that a button exists on the board beneath each of my heels. When I push my front heel down, I speed up. When I push my back heel down, I brake. I’ll have to be careful—if I brake too hard, I’ll stall in midair and go tumbling.

Beside me, Ren breaks away and heads off in Asher’s wake. I grit my teeth, then decide not to follow after him for now. Ren had heard Asher’s instructions to me. If I’m too obvious about trailing him instead of listening to our captain, he’ll know I’m up to something else.

 

The diamond shines brightly over Asher’s head. In the center of my vision hovers a transparent, circular map, showing ten dots for where each player happens to be. I nearly lose my balance as another blast of wind hits us. The first ice monument rushes toward me.

“Now, Emi!” Asher snaps in our comms.

I look at the Lightning power-up hovering in the middle of the giant hole in the structure. Then I shift my weight to my back leg. My hoverboard zooms upward. I hunch down until I’m as low on the board as I can go—the change speeds me up, and I rocket toward the marble.

I snatch it out of the air as I zip through the hole.

My memory of the 3-D landscape flashes in my mind. I see the way the structure looks on all sides, the crevices nearest it, and the way the terrain tilts.

In a split second, I make a calculation of how this ice structure might topple if I mess with it right now. Do it, I tell myself. I whip out a stick of dynamite from my belt and slap it onto the side of the structure as I pass through. Then I rush downward.

 

“Get out of the way!” I say through our secure feed.

Behind me, an explosion shakes the level. Snow and shards of ice fly past me. I cringe and duck down low on my hoverboard. The structure I’d blown groans, the sound echoing across the landscape, and I glance over my shoulder to see it toppling forward toward all of us. The other Phoenix Riders scatter, thanks to my warning. I dart sharply sideways, too, so suddenly that I almost topple out of control. At the same time, I aim the Lightning power-up straight at where the Demons are clustered. I throw it.

 

Lightning strikes all of them except for their captain, Jena, lighting up the space in a flash of brilliant gold. For a single, precious second, the Demons all freeze.

 

Jena only gets a chance to glance up at the giant, falling shadow before shouting a warning to her teammates. “Move! Move!”

 

But the Lightning attack has thrown off the Demons. Their players scatter left and right as the structure collapses in an explosion of cracking ice. They barely make it—all except for Darren Kinney, their Shield. The falling pillar clips him hard on his shoulder, and he goes spinning wildly out of control, disappearing into the cloud of white. His life bar shrinks to 0 percent.

 

Darren Kinney | Team Demon Brigade

 

Life: -100% | STRIKE OUT!

 

 

EMIKA CHEN strikes out DARREN KINNEY!

 

He regenerates a good fifty yards behind me, with a new life bar.

 

“First strike!” the announcer screams in disbelief as the audience goes insane with cheering. “Goes to Emika Chen!”

 

Hammie whoops joyously over our comms, while Ren lets out a curse and Roshan sounds bewildered. Asher’s voice finally comes on. “Next time—warn me,” he shouts, even as his tone is one of admiration.

 

I’m trying to concentrate on the dizzying landscape that rushes past us. Jena’s Artifact hovers glittering and silver over her head. “You’re welcome!” I shout back. All around us come the screams and cheers from our invisible audience.

 

“I don’t believe it!” an analyst yells. “Another early move from a wild card

in the first game of the season, and what a move it is! She couldn’t have picked a more accurate way of toppling that structure toward the Demons. We’ve been underestimating Emika Chen. This is going to be a fun one, folks!”

 

Suddenly, one of the Demons sidles up to me, then spins around on his board so that he’s facing me. It’s Tremaine. My smile vanishes as he lunges for me, slashing me hard in the chest with the blade embedded on his armguard. My vision blurs scarlet.

 

Emika Chen | Team Phoenix Riders

 

Life: -40%

 

My hoverboard wobbles as I dart backward, and I nearly lose my balance. Tremaine lunges again. He’s so fast that his limbs seem to blur. If he knocks me off my board, I’ll go tumbling into oblivion and regenerate behind everyone. I’ll be useless for a long time. My hands scramble for the hammer at my belt.

 

Out of nowhere, Roshan appears on my other side right as Tremaine throws another strike at me. Roshan narrows his eyes and brings his forearms up in a bracing cross. The move activates his armguards—an enormous, glowing blue shield bursts outward from them in a circle, arcing protectively in front of us both. Tremaine’s attack hits the shield instead, sending sparks flying everywhere.

 

“Babysitting your new Architect?” he taunts Roshan.

“Don’t be so jealous,” Roshan says. He uncrosses his arms, letting the shield down for an instant, and lunges at Tremaine with his own fist. A smaller blue shield glows around his moving arm. It hits Tremaine hard enough to make him reel backward, dropping his life bar by 15 percent. The three of us maneuver down into a valley of snow-covered stone, then weave up to avoid a sharp outcropping of rock. I veer sharply out of the way as Roshan continues to fight with Tremaine—but Tremaine veers with me, determined to knock me down. My recollection of the landscape flies through my head. I use what I remember in order to avoid crashing against a cliff.

The analyst is talking so fast now that he can barely catch his breath. “And the Demons send their Fighter after Emika! Roshan comes to her aid! If Tremaine catches Emika at this outcropping—she avoids it! Barely! It’s as if she knows this terrain! Roshan shows us why he’s one of the best Shields in the games! He’s not letting their Architect fall, folks, not if he can help it!”

Power-ups zip past us. I eye them until I find what I’m looking for—a Speed Burst. It’s glowing bright yellow and hurtling near me. I take a mighty swerve toward it. My hand reaches out. I barely manage to grab it.

I use it right away. The world around me slows as I dash forward.

 

The light in this level is changing; the ice monuments are lit with golden rays and dragging long shadows across the glaciers. The cliffs of blue ice lining our path take on a darker, more ominous color, and the frozen beasts inside them start to look alive. From the corner of my vision, they seem to stir. It takes me a moment to realize that the sun is setting. If this keeps up, we are going to need some power-ups that light our way. I look forward, searching for Ren. Asher has handed off our Artifact to Hammie, who zips ahead of us all. Now Asher and Ren team up as they swerve toward Jena, who is sandwiched on both sides by Tremaine and Ziggy.

“It looks like we’re heading for our first showdown between the captains!” the announcer shouts.

 

Jena sees Asher’s move. She ducks low on her hoverboard and dives. Her teammates dive with her. They tumble until they look like they’re going to crash into the ground—and then suddenly pull up, so that they’re skimming right above the glacier. Asher and Ren dive down, too. Plumes of snow whip up as they zoom by.

 

I turn my board higher, trying to protect myself from all the flying snow. Ahead of me, Hammie whips her own board up sharply enough to veer herself off to the right. Her movements are so quick that I can barely keep track of her. She snags another power-up, a bright blue one, and then does a dizzying spin on her board to grab a third. She’s inching her way over to Tremaine.

I look back down at the crew skimming along the glacier’s surface. There are enough formations between here and the horizon for me to trap them in, if I can do it right. Tremaine is probably thinking the same thing. I point my hoverboard down and follow them, low against the ground.

 

“Emi,” Asher says into my secure comms. “Archway ahead. Blow it up.” “Got it.”

 

“Ren and I will veer off at the last second, go around behind Jena. When she and her team try to avoid the rubble in front of them, we’ll catch them from the back and take her Artifact.”

 

I nod, even though I know Asher can’t see me. “I’ll knock it out before they can say—”

 

My words die as an enormous shape explodes out of the ice cliffs lining our

 

path.

It looks like a prehistoric polar bear, except as tall as a skyscraper—and its jaws are open wide, revealing a row of sharp teeth, each one as long as the nearest towering ice structure. Its eyes glow scarlet. It lets out an earthshaking roar, then lunges toward the closest player.

The closest player is me.

 

My limbs go into autodrive. I slam my back foot down on the gas. At the same time, I swivel my hoverboard so sharply to my left that I spin 180 degrees. My board shoots me back in the direction I came. The bear’s mouth yawns on either side of me—its jaws start to close. Just a little farther. I shoot out of the beast’s mouth at the same time its jaws close, and the accompanying blast of wind sends me tumbling forward. The bear’s front paws land heavily, shaking the world.

 

Through the dust, Roshan appears and hurtles toward me—as if he were going to ram right into me. I throw my arms up instinctively. Then I veer sideways in a desperate attempt to save myself.

 

We narrowly avoid a collision. As he passes me, he grabs my arm and zooms upward as the bear lunges up for us again. Before I can protest, he puts all his strength into flinging me high—and I find myself sailing up toward the arch that still looms ahead. Below me, the bear’s jaws snap shut on Roshan.

 

Roshan Ahmadi | Team Phoenix Riders

 

Life: -100% | STRIKE OUT!

 

Nearby, another enormous beast explodes out of the ice cliffs. A one-eyed white wolf. Players scatter left and right as it swings its head around, jaws chomping. It catches Ziggy. She vanishes in its mouth, regenerating fifty yards away along with Roshan. Ren wobbles on his board and spins out of control as he tries to avoid the wolf’s gaping mouth.

 

This is my chance to get him. I turn my board in a sharp arc, then hurtle toward Ren. He sees me coming a split second before I ram hard into him, sending both us careening away from the wolf. I grab for his wrist until my hand finally closes around it.

 

The noose activates. I see it glow gold in my view, then disappear. A blue glow flashes around Ren before vanishing. An instant later, a file from him pops into my view. I grin. Broke through.

 

“Get off me,” Ren snaps, trying to yank himself free. His move sends us both tumbling off our boards and into the white land below. Everything goes bright in my view—and an instant later, I’ve regenerated a pace behind the others.

 

“And both Rider wild cards are struck out by a rookie mistake!” the analyst shouts. Ren shoots me a dirty look from where he’s regenerated several yards away from me. Asher scolds me over our line. But I don’t care. I’ve laid Hideo’s

trap. My focus turns away from Ren and back to the game.

 

I hunt madly for a sight of my teammates on my map. Finally, I glimpse Asher and Hammie hovering near the center to the archway, flying in tight circles as they are trapped in by two other beasts. Some Demons are heading their way, too.

 

I yank out my dynamite and zoom toward the top of the archway. As I reach it, I slap a stick of dynamite to the top of the ice structure. Then I pivot down and dart away right as it goes off. Another earth-shattering explosion—the impact shakes my board violently, and snow flies all around me, making me squint. I’m down to my last dynamite.

 

Behind me, through the dust, Ren materializes with Asher and Hammie on his tail. Our Artifact still hovers over Hammie’s head. I call to her, then toss her my hammer from my utility belt. Her hand shoots out and she catches it without even turning around, then winks at me in thanks over her shoulder. As she hurtles away from the nearest beast, she throws the hammer at its eye as hard as she can. It hits true, making the beast flinch away with a roar.

The Demons are above us, looking down. They have the advantage now, and they know it—even from here, I can tell that Jena has a grin on her face. She still has their Artifact, and it hovers over her head, silver and shining. Her lips move as she gives instructions to her team.

 

“Hams,” Asher says through our comms as we all continue to hurtle through the darkening landscape. “Give me the Artifact. Turn off your hoverboard’s lights.” His eyes are locked on Jena. “And get hers.”

 

Hammie winks at Asher as she transfers our Artifact to him. In the twilight, both our Artifact and our opponent’s glow with a noticeable blue halo. “Yes, sir.”

“Roshan, back her up. Ren, cut them off. And Emi—”

But I never get to hear what Asher wants me to do. An explosion goes off right above a monument near us, rocketing us all apart. Tremaine had thrown a stick of dynamite near us. A blur of light streaks past us and rams right into Ren, sending both of them tumbling. It’s Max. Ren lets out an angry snarl and flings the other Fighter off him. At the same time, Hammie hurtles out of sight, her hoverboard nothing more than her engine’s bright red sparks of fire propelling her forward. I don’t have time to think about where she’s going—because in the next instant, Jena comes rocketing down toward us with Darren and Ziggy at her sides. She’s headed straight for Asher. Asher bares his teeth and laughs, then rushes up to greet her.

 

My eyes flicker to the glacier’s ice below us. Along the cliffs, a white dragon is stirring to life, its movements cracking the ice that encases it. I narrow my eyes. If I can just gain control of that dragon . . . My hands go to the length

of rope dangling at my waist, and as Asher and Ren attack the Demons, I dart toward the surface and slow my board down near the dragon.

 

As I dive, I notice lights following closely behind me—somebody’s hoverboard is skimming the ground in the darkness. It’s Tremaine. And he’s closing on me fast. I only have time to look up once before he barrels into me. We both tumble straight into the glacier’s surface. The impact knocks us clear off our boards.

 

The world around me tumbles, and all I can see is flying snow and evening sky. Then everything blinks out—the next instant, both Tremaine and I have struck out and regenerated a full pace behind the others.

 

Tremaine turns a murderous look on me. My Speed Burst power-up from Hammie is still in my inventory—and now I use it. It disappears from my hand in a flash of light. The world rushes forward, and I can almost feel the blast of wind against my skin. Right as I yank out my own length of rope, the dragon finally breaks free from the ice. Its gaping mouth roars to the surface.

I fling my rope, aiming to lasso the tip of its nose. One try. Then another. On my third, I manage to swing the loop across the creature’s snout. The dragon pivots its head in my direction, then lets out a furious shriek. A column of fire bursts from its open jaws. I use the momentum from the rope to swing onto its head. My rope becomes a makeshift harness. Below me, Asher and Max are locked in battle.

 

“Move back!” I say into my comms. Asher’s eyes flicker briefly at me. It’s all the warning he needs.

 

I yank the dragon’s head down as Asher suddenly breaks free and darts away. The creature shrieks in rage, then lunges at Jena, the nearest player—all she can do is throw her hands up before the creature swallows her in one bite.

 

Jena MacNeil | Team Demon Brigade

 

Life: -100% | STRIKE OUT!

 

The audience bursts into excited chaos. I can barely even hear the announcer’s voice over it all.

 

A pace behind us, Jena blinks back into existence. Asher is already waiting for her. In a flash, he pounces right as Jena materializes. Before she can get a handle on what’s happening, Asher’s hand closes on the Artifact hovering over her head.

Game over.

The world is engulfed in scarlet and gold as an enormous phoenix bursts

into flames across the entire sky.

 

The audience explodes in wild cheers. “I don’t believe it!” the analysts are yelling over the chaos, their voices cracking from excitement. “It’s all over! Jena MacNeil and the unstoppable Demon Brigade—taken down by the Phoenix Riders in the most stunning upset we’ve ever seen! Oh my God! The Phoenix Riders win!”

Asher throws his head back, lets out a piercing whoop, and raise his fist in the air.

 

And that’s when I see the black figure again. He’s standing on top of the ice monument, clad in the same fitted black armor I’d seen on him in the Dark World. Zero.

A chill rushes through me. Why can I see him? Why is he here?

The world around us pauses. The dragon I’m struggling to control suddenly stops in midair, frozen, and then fades from view. The landscape darkens into blackness. I blink as the Tokyo Dome itself comes back into view, as well as fifty thousand spectators screaming wildly at the top of their lungs. To either side of me, my teammates come out of their booths.

 

“That was the most badass move I’ve ever seen!” Roshan exclaims, reaching me first and clapping me hard on my back. I open my mouth to thank him for protecting me, but Hammie hurls herself at me, smothering me and Roshan in a hug. I’m drowned out by the rest of our team piling on top of us. They crush me in, tangled and laughing. Blood roars in my ears. On the other side of the arena, the Demons are shouting at one another, and Tremaine is stalking away from Jena without so much as looking up at the audience.

My first official win in a championship game. But all I can think about is that Zero was there. I saw him. I search for Ren. He is smiling and laughing, too, but his expressions are off, forced. The smile doesn’t touch his eyes. He glances over his shoulder, as if he’d seen something the others didn’t. Then the tension breaks, and he goes back to grinning and hugging the others. He’d also seen the figure.

 

As I continue to cheer, I bring up the file that I’d managed to grab through Ren’s broken shields. There’s little there, as if I had pulled away before I could properly seize the data from him. But it did manage to grab something, possibly something Zero was communicating to Ren. The name of a program.

 

proj_ice_HT1.0

 

What? I frown at it, my thoughts racing, trying to make sense of the name. proj_ice. Project Ice? Does it have something to do with this White World level? HT. HT? Hideo Tanaka. Project Ice Hideo Tanaka. It could be a file connecting

Hideo with this opening game level. Right? Or—

 

Then, my heart skips in terror as I connect another meaning to the word Ice.

 

Oh my God.

Zero wants to assassinate Hideo.

And at that moment, every light in the stadium goes out.

 

 

20

 

The stadium plunges into darkness. Startled shouts come from the audience. Over the chaos, the announcers try to maintain some semblance of order. “Everyone stay in your seats,” one says, still cheerful. “It looks like we have a temporary malfunction, but it will soon be fixed.”

 

I stare through the pitch black at a red error message flashing in my view.

 

Incorrect User Access

 

The file that had activated now flashes once, then blinks out of existence as it self-destructs. I’m left staring at an empty shell, the only part that’s left of what the in-game object had retrieved. The file had been meant to destroy itself if the wrong user ever got her hands on it. Was the reason why Zero chose to keep messing with levels in Warcross because he has been passing information to his followers this way? And if that was true—who else in the games works for Zero?

 

But none of that matters at this very instance. While Hideo and I were racing to unlock data from Ren, Zero had been busy, too—glitching the arena itself. He had cut the power.

The security doors up in the balcony seats don’t work right now.

The realization hits me so hard that I can barely breathe. I place a call immediately to Hideo. “Get out of there,” I say in a rush the instant the call goes through. “Your life’s in danger. Right now. Get—”

 

I don’t even finish my sentence before I see a spark of light up in the balcony seats. It flashes once—twice—and then the blackness returns. People in the audience glance toward it, puzzled, but I know what it must have been.

 

Gunshots.

“Hideo? Hideo!” I say as I try to reconnect my call, but it doesn’t go through. I curse as I fumble my way through the darkness. The security teams have taken out flashlights, and thin rays of light float around the arena, cutting through the black. The NeuroLink’s connection also seems to have gone down, making it so that no one can bring up a virtual grid in their view to see where they’re going. I recall the stadium’s layout from my own memory—and before anyone can come up to me and stop me, I dart away from my station and hurry

through the darkness, relying on what I remember to navigate through the space. People protest as I bump past them. It seems like an eternity before I finally find my way to the stairs. I hop blindly up two at a time. As I go, I try to message Hideo.

No response.

 

As I reach the second landing, red emergency lights flood the arena. Even though they’re technically dim, I squint against them after the pitch blackness. Security cams blink on overhead. The NeuroLink comes back online, my profile rebooting in the corner of my view.

 

The announcers’ voices ring out reassuringly as they try to organize the audience. “Watch your steps, folks!” The audience doesn’t seem to realize that there was a gunman in here.

 

I reach the security box at the same time as I see Hideo’s bodyguards clustered around the area. My eyes hunt frantically for Hideo’s familiar face.

 

I nearly collapse in relief as I see Hideo crouched down in the security box room, surrounded by his bodyguards and colleagues. He looks unharmed. Beside him, Kenn is speaking rapidly to several of the guards in a low, angry voice.

 

“What the hell happened?” I say as I hurry over. “Where’s the shooter?” Kenn recognizes me and gives me a grim look. “The security cams up here

 

were looping old footage. Security’s swarming to try to catch the shooter.”

 

I turn my attention to what Hideo is doing. One of his bodyguards is on the ground, clutching his shoulder and grimacing. Blood stains his hands. I recognize him as one of Hideo’s faithful, ever-present shadows that I’ve seen go everywhere with him. Hideo’s face is clouded with concern, his eyes opaque with that deep, dark fury I’d seen before in his Memory. He’s saying something quietly to the hurt guard, who shakes his head and struggles to push himself to a sitting position. Beside him, one of the other bodyguards shakes his head as he listens to something on an earpiece.

 

“The police outside couldn’t keep up with him, sir,” he says.

Hideo doesn’t look away from the injured man. “Keep searching.” His voice is frighteningly quiet.

 

The bodyguard shifts. “They’re saying they lost him in the empty parking structure—”

“Then tear it apart until you find him,” Hideo snaps.

The bodyguard doesn’t hesitate this time. When Hideo glances up at him with a raised eyebrow, the man bows his head quickly. “Yes, sir.” He heads out with two of the others.

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Kenn says to Hideo in a low voice. “For the last time—I’ll handle things in the arena. Go home.”

“I can handle this just fine.”

 

“You do realize someone just tried to kill you, right?” Kenn snaps back. “This isn’t just some bug in the game—this is your life we’re talking about here.”

 

“And I’m no less alive now than I was before the attack.” Hideo gives his friend a firm stare. “I will be fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

 

This sounds like an old argument that Kenn has never succeeded in winning, and it occurs to me that this probably isn’t the first time Hideo’s life has been threatened. Kenn makes an irritated sound and throws up his hands. “It’s not like you used to listen to me at uni, either.”

 

Hideo straightens when he sees me. “If it hadn’t been for your call moments earlier,” he says, “I would be the one lying on the ground.”

 

A chill runs through me. In a single moment, my job has transformed from a thrilling chase to something much more ominous. I thought I’d been getting closer, making progress—instead, I’d stumbled upon something even worse. Had any of the other bounty hunters seen what just happened? I look back to the blood on the bodyguard’s shoulder. There’s a faint, metallic scent in the air. Hints of my old panic, the familiar desperation to solve this problem, rise in my stomach. Everything has a solution. Why can’t I find this one?

Hideo helps his injured bodyguard stand and talks to him in a low voice as another of his men drapes a black blazer over the bleeding shoulder, covering it from view. Whatever Hideo had murmured was too quiet for my translator to pick up, but it does make the injured man give him a grateful look. “Keep this under wraps,” Hideo says, eyeing us all. “The attack failed. We’re tracking the suspect. No need to panic the crowds.”

 

“Hideo—” I start to say, but stop at the look on his face.

“Go to your team,” he says gently. “Continue your celebrations. We’ll talk later tonight.”

“And you’re going someplace safe?”

He nods as the bodyguards take over for their hurt friend, then watches as they lead him to a set of private stairs. All I can do is stare. Hideo’s shoulders are straight, and his posture is calm—but his eyes are tense, far away from here. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. Even if he doesn’t show it blatantly, I can sense that he’s shaken.

 

Kenn finds my gaze and holds it for a moment. Talk to him, he seems to say. I can sense the silent plea from him, a friend who knows Hideo well enough to know how difficult he can be.

 

“Hideo,” I say softly. “You need to get out of here. Out of Tokyo. Someplace where you can keep a low profile.”

The lights in the stadium finally turn on, illuminating the space with blinding brightness. I blink away stars. Down below, the crowd murmurs in halfhearted confusion as they continue making their way toward the exits, but it is quickly replaced by cheering again as they celebrate the game. No one knows what just happened. Through the speakers, the security is reassuring the crowd, saying, “A transistor sparked in the upper levels of the dome, but everything is under control now. Please mind your steps and follow the exit signs.” As the people funnel out, Hideo turns to look at me. His eyes are still that dark color, and the look in them is furious, cold, determined.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. Then he turns away with his bodyguards.

 

 

21

 

If I thought the amount of publicity I’d gotten so far was overwhelming, it was nothing compared to after our first win. We’d barely made it out of the Tokyo Dome when the first enormous broadcasts appear on the sides of the buildings surrounding the arena, the headlines in giant, screaming letters.

 

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