Avenia's distinguished guests arrived at another location.
It was a hall even more spacious than the banquet hall.
The decor had undergone a sudden transformation, shifting from luxurious gilded reliefs to a cold, hard sci-fi style.
The surrounding walls were covered in dark gray metal panels, embedded with countless tiny blue light points that resembled a starry sky or a running circuit.
The ceiling was extremely high, with dozens of massive holographic screens hanging down, displaying various scenes.
Ruins, streets, buildings, and the figures of participants fighting within the frames.
In the center of the hall was a massive 3D projection, casting a complete view of an abandoned city. Intersecting streets, rows of buildings, and a mix of ruins and dilapidated structures.
It was the real-time map of the Killing Competition game.
The map was scattered with numerous labels: Weapon Acquisition Points, danger zones, unknown territories, and so on.
There were also countless moving light points representing the participants.
Every light point was a life struggling for survival within the game.
On both sides of the hall were many comfortable sofas.
Next to each chair was a small console with one of those special helmets.
The silver-white metal helmets had smooth lines and several faint blue light patterns near the temples.
Quite a few distinguished guests had already sat in the sofas, donned the helmets, and closed their eyes with expressions of enjoyment.
Their consciousness was now on the virtual viewing platform, looking down on everything in the game.
Others were not in a hurry to enter, instead gathering around the 3D projection, pointing and conversing in low voices.
“Look at that contestant; I just bet ten million on him. His movements are very agile; he’s already taken out thirteen opponents.”
“That one won't do; he's too reckless. Look, he’s charging into a danger zone. The number of monsters that spawn there is three times higher than in other areas.”
“Good equipment is only found in danger zones. How else are you supposed to survive until the end without it?”
“What’s the point of having the life to take it but not the life to use it?”
“Bet on that one, Number 047. I’ve been watching him for a long time; his strikes are steady, accurate, and ruthless, and he’s very good at hiding. That kind of person lives long.”
A middle-aged woman in a red gown pointed at a rapidly moving light point on the map, her tone certain.
Those nearby leaned in to look and nodded one after another.
“Mhm, not bad. Just now in that block, he took out two ambushers alone and even dealt with a zombie while he was at it. Clean and efficient.”
“What are the odds?”
“It’s three-to-one right now, and it’s still dropping.”
“Help me put down ten million.”
Such conversations rose and fell throughout the hall.
Wagers, bets, odds, contestant numbers—it was no different from an ordinary casino.
Except they weren't betting on horse racing or boxing.
They were betting on human lives.
The Deep Blue Route representative, the middle-aged man in the gray robe, was currently standing at the edge of the 3D projection, in no rush to sit.
His gaze slowly swept across every light point on the map as if searching for something.
Someone leaned in nearby, asking eagerly, “Sir, would you like me to recommend a few contestants who are performing well? I’ve been observing for quite some time; I have a good idea of who’s who.”
He shook his head. “No need.”
The person took the hint and stepped away.
The middle-aged man’s gaze continued to move across the map.
At this moment, some participants were stationary, some were moving rapidly, and others were gathered together in combat.
He looked at one light point in particular.
Number 023.
The trajectory of this light point was somewhat unusual.
He wasn't the most active, nor the one with the most kills, but his choice of routes was always impeccable. He could avoid large clusters of monsters and bypass areas where multiple participants were lying in ambush, carving out an optimal path between resource points and safe zones.
It was as if someone were helping him.
The middle-aged man frowned and watched for a while longer.
In the area where Number 023 had just been, there were several zombies.
He had circled behind one of them and dealt with it with a single strike, clean and efficient.
Then he moved to another position and systematically killed the nearby zombies. Although a slight mishap occurred when killing the last zombie, his reaction was extremely fast, and he remained uninjured.
This participant's combat awareness and skills were indeed outstanding.
But if it were just that, he wouldn't be worth the middle-aged man's special attention.
What truly caught his eye was that shortly after the nearby zombies were dealt with, Number 023 suddenly moved rapidly toward a certain direction.
From the map, there were no Weapon Acquisition Points in that direction, nor were there any other participants.
Yet Number 023 ran without hesitation, as if he knew in advance that it would be safe there.
The middle-aged man narrowed his eyes. Number 023 looked a bit like he was cheating.
His gaze quietly swept the surroundings, looking at the crowd present.
If a participant was cheating, who was the mastermind of the mess?
At that moment, he suddenly noticed a man with hair down to his waist, holding a pet, chatting with people in the crowd.
The middle-aged man was somewhat bewildered. Who was so impolite as to bring a pet to such an occasion?
Wait, he didn't seem to have ever seen this long-haired man!
Back in the banquet hall, there had been no such person.
The other party seemed to sense his gaze and turned to nod in acknowledgment.
The middle-aged man was even more confused, his face gradually turning pale. That inexplicable sense of crisis had entangled him once again.
Rate on N.U.
